Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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14 THE CHIMES And thus she rambles on for maybe a half-hour or more while the rest of the family sit around and groan at the seem- ingly useless chatter buzzing over the line. Why, in half that time dad could be putting over a dozen important deals, and mother — why mother could say as much as sister in one- tenth the time. No line of fluff for her either, plain facts were good enough for mother. Meanwhile, Jim, the youngest member of the household wears a woe-begone look on his map of innocence. He has promised faithfully to call up his best pal. Buddy B. to see whether the aforesai d could go on a camping expedition. Now that sis has the phone, there is no hope of ever calling Buddy; for Jim has been warned not to call Master Buddy's mother during supper time as that is the worst time to ap- proach her. Consequently if Jim waits, the senior member of Buddy's family will arrive home and then hope will be entirely abandoned. After much gritting of teeth and inward swearing, Jim finally secures his sister's wandering gaze and frantically motions his desires. With a mask-like expression on her face, sister continues to ramble. Five minutes more pass, and suddenly she has hung up the receiver and is again patting her marcelled think- tank. With a gasp of relief Jim springs for the instrument of worry. Getting Buddy he gulps, ''This is Jim, canyago? Ya can? Oh gosh, gee whiz! She did? When? Tomorrow? Aw- right, goo'-by. And so the conversation goes, sometimes differing in thought but usually following the same trend. Have you a little telephone in your home? If you have, listen in sometimes; c'est tres amusant. Margaret L. Cole '25 HOW THE FLAG HELPED FRED Fred was just getting over a case of mumps. He had thought it quite the thing when he first was taken sick, for every other boy in the neighborhood had three weeks' vaca- tion about that time. When he caught cold with them, it had not seemed quite so funny. So after three weeks' illness, here he was at Grandfather's place in the country recuperating. Grandfather had a wonderful place, Fred thought, from the big farmhouse out through the fields to the old windmill, that rose from the top of the hill. He never had thoroughly ex- plored that windmill and this he intended to do.

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THE CfflMES 13 A SEAGULL Out, out, o'er a roving sea. Out, out, where the wind blows free. Up, up, in a cloudless sky, Down, down, where the waves ride by, Out, out, where freedom lies, — There are places a seagull flies. Out, out, where the storm king roars, Out, out, past the rocky shores, Up, up, on a wave's white crest, Down, down, on its billowy breast. Out, out, o'er the deep blue sea, — That's where a seagull's happy and free. H. M. Healy '26 WONDER WHAT A TELEPHONE OPERATOR THINKS ABOUT? A very interesting diversion is that of listening to the conversation of the different members of the family as they are called to answer the phone. Usually father's calls all pertain to business matters. He answers his calls in an abrupt, brisk voice, his line going something like this : Mr. Jones speaking. What, the Blackstone agent? 0 yes ! Yes ! Fine, meet you at quarter to one on Thursday at the Ritz. Thank you, good-day. Of course if the person at the other end of the wire is some especial pal of dad's, the conversation is more personal and usually decidedly humorous. Mother, on the other hand, sits down to a good hour of gossip with her neighbor. Her conversation runs like this: The club, oh yes. Who do you suppose will be the next president? Mrs. Brown? Why my dear she can't even run her own house let alone managing a woman's club. Yes, they asked me to do it, but of course I said no — . And so forth ; every bit of politics, local or national is dis- cussed by mother. Now that women have gained the vote they evidently think it is up to them to prove that they are capable of fulfilling their exalted position. Sister, when called to the phone, pats her hair, powders her nose and sometimes even changes her dress before she is able to answer. Very likely it proves to be a chum of sister's and their conversation progresses thus: Oh, is that you Ma-bel ? Well, I've got something wi-ld to tell you. Didja see those lovely hats for only a dollar? Ray- mond's basement, marked down. Yes. No — Who? Sam Black? Oh, My de-ah he's a regular King Tut, either that or a soup sandwich, eh?

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THE CfflMES 15 It was mid-winter, and such a winter. Ice and snow every- where. Grandfather said it reminded him of the winter they were snowed in and had to tunnel their way out to the stock. One morning after breakfast, Fred decided it was a good time to chmb the windmill. Out he went, all bundled up as warm as heavy knitted things could make him. The windmill stairs went round and round inside. At the top of the stair- case was a door that opened out onto a sort of a veranda, cir- cling the top of the mill. The flagpole was on the other side, and from it waved Old Glory, where it could be seen for miles around. Out upon this veranda Fred carefully climbed. The ice and snow was hardened on the floor and made the footing pre- carious indeed. If I could only get around by the flagpole, he thought, I could see all around the place. Maybe I could see Grand- father coming home. Cautiously he edged nearer, grasping the rail tightly. At last he stood just in front of the flag. As he gazed downward, he saw a team coming up the road. It was Grandfather. He had been sure he could see him. But what was that cracking sound? Something was giving way. He was slipping. With horror he realized the railing was breaking. He tried to step back, but it was too slippery. He slipped forward and as the rail broke, he fell over the edge. What was that that flapped in his face? The flag! He grabbed it frantically and held on for dear life. He began to shout. Grandfather was too far away to hear. Could he hold on until he came? His mind pictured the ground twenty-five feet below, covered with hard ice. Would Grandfather hear him when he did some? Grandmother, all unconscious of what was happening was making molasses cookies, his favorite. He began to shout again. His voice was hoarse, and his hands felt as if they would irop off, they were so numb. Minutes seemed hours to the ;error-stricken boy holding on to the flag. Hark! was that )nly the echo of his own sobs? No, it sounded like Grand- ather's voice. 'Hold on, Fred, I am coming. Nearer and learer came the welcome sound. Without risking the icy eranda. Grandfather climbed a ladder up to the flag and its urden. When Grandfather's arms clasped him, Fred knew 10 more. The next task was loosening the frozen fingers rom the folds of the flag. An hour later, wrapped up in a warm blanket and sipping ot ginger tea, Fred said a little weakly, '01d Glory certainly elps a boy. Just think, Grandfather, if it hadn't held. Ruth LaVange '27