Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 9 When the cold wind shakes the tree-tops, When the blue sky is o'ercast, When the golden woods are dying, Then we know October's past. Anna Healy, '28. THE THREE JULIAS A hot August sun poured down on a sea of bluest sapphire dotted with tiny white sails. The waves rolled in upon burn- ing sands, whose colorless expanse was dyed with the bright hues of countless sunshades and beach apparel. The gay throngs basked in the sun or frolicked about on the shore and in the water. Among these carefree crowds Kent Stewart tramped moodily, gazing at the far horizon with unseeing eyes. The faint sea breeze ruffled his hair and the sun glinted in his curls, as though they loved to nestle there. His ath- letic form, his bronzed skin, the powerful muscles, the car- riage and the beauty of him, likened to him to a young god of Olympus. Thus thought Julia Faxton as she watched him swing across the sand. A thin treble startled him from his revery. Instantly he recognized that voice and half turned, his first impulse to run. He wanted to be alone — to tnink the thing out. He turned back again and slowly approached the spot where, un- der the gaudiest umbrella on the beach, a plump, good-na- tured looking girl with weak, blue eyes and wispy yellow hair, reclined against a pile of red cushions. Nearby lay a box of chocolates and a novel, while cuddled in the girl's arms was a shaggy, white poodle. ''Oh, Mr. Stewart, she murmured, ''isn't it hot? The crushed ruffles of her organdy, the red cushions, the woolly poodle and her avoirdupois confirmed the statement. Do sit down, she rambled on, and, as he started to make a trivial excuse, added, Sit down. I want to talk to you. Kent spread his six feet of sinewy frame on the sand and raised his eyes with polite interest and mild curiosity. It was seldom that those eyes were serious, but now they gazed into hers with unfathomable graveness as though some profound sorrow or some daring plan lurked in their blue depths. I'm so lonesome, said Julia Faxon. And she rambled on about some recent garden party to an unappreciative listener. Suddenly Kent Stewart's tanned face lit up with gladness, and joy replaced for a time the gloomy suggestion of his eyes. Julia Faxton's gaze followed his across the sands to where a lithesome young figure in a green bathing suit racpd across the beach, closely followed by a young boy. Julia Winslowe couM outrun the fleetest. She scaled a huge rock which stretched long arms into the sea, and stood poised an instant

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8 THE CHIMES were empty) reeled dizzily and crashed to the floor. Ranny saw whole constellations of stars and what seemed to be all the wealth of the Pharaohs of Egypt falling down on him with all its regal splendor. When he came to, he found himself upside down, his feet occupying a packing box while his head rested in his mother's ostrich-plumed Gainsborough hat. In his undignified descent he had plunged thru Aunt Emma's horse hair sofa. His shoulders were now wedged in it in an uncomfortable position. All around lay the treasures of the Magi which he had seen going down. When Ranney had extricated himself, he found these to be Christmas tree trim- mings, tinsel, gaily colored balls, beads, miniature Santa Clauses, cotton snow, all smashed into pieces. 'Charles Rannon! Whatever are you doing so long and what is all this unearthly noise? Nothing, I just fell down. Be down in a minute, reTDlied the battered boy, hastily sweeping the debris into a tool chest. ' I see the old chair now, as he spied it under the shelter of a wide-spreading hoop skirt. Ranny wiped the perspiration from his face and started down stairs with the antique chair, where he found the furniture all covered with a fine white dust, the plaster wh 'ch had descended in a cloud when the earthquake occurred. Son, I should think that you could find a chair without making all that noise. I thought the roof was falling in, scolded Mrs. Rannon. Anyway, I suppose I must forgive you for spoiling my furniture and ceilings as long as you brought my chair down whole. Boys are such blunder-busses. Oh' mamma, it wasn't anything at all, nothin' at all, Ranny innocently replied, rubbing a black and blue spot. Barbara Colman, '29. SUNSET A sunset ne'er did I behold As this one with its specks of gb d, Its dashing reds, its orange bright, Its blues, and lavenders, and white, The sky made rosy with its light Foretells, with beauty, a perfect night. Eleanor Cole. '26. OCTOBER When the nights are long and frosty When the days are cold and clear, When the golden woods are calling. Then we know October's here.

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10 THE CHIMES on its farthest extremity, her slim body swaying gently. And as her pursuer drew near, a green meteor flashed through the air and was lost in the blue below. Then there was the gleam of brown arms swimming toward shore ; and she stood dripping with brine, panting, laughing, glowing with life, as she waited for her brother. Kent Stewart made a moveme nt to get up. The girl spoke in a tremulous voice. Julia Faxton could cry very easily and now she was very near tears. Kent doffed an imaginary plumed hat and bent low. ''It is indeed grievous to me to be compelled to leave you thus soon, he declared elegantly. ' Yet I must needs depart. The half sob changed to a giggle. Julia Faxton could also giggle very easily, and Kent Stewart had provoked merriment from far more solemn people than she. She watched him dart away, come unawares upon a slender figure in a green bathing suit, and bear her into the waves. And Julia Faxton sighed. As Kent opened the door of his aunt's home, he found his temporary gaiety slowly being replaced by his earlier mood. That morning he had come face to face with a problem which had been brewing for some time, and now a decision was inevitable. Kent Stewart had been left at the age of three, a penniless orphan, to the volition of the Fates. And the Fates had been kind to him. Adopted by a maiden lady with a kind heart and a slender purse, he had spent the first few years of his life playing and working with those no better off than he. Then Ezra Faxton had died, leaving his money to his unmar- ried niece, Julia. His other niece, Mary, had married a weal- thy young man, son of a Wall Street broker, and his only nephew, Stanly Faxton, had married against his uncle's wishes. Therefore Julia Faxton had, thanks to the eccen- tricities of an old man, inherited the whole fortune, and from that time on Kent Stewart was brought up in the best of so- ciety. He went to an exclusive preparatory school, and thence to college, where he was known for his football rather than any merit in scholarship. After a prolonged tour of Europe, he came home to enjoy the idle luxury of the rich. He was soon the darling of the women and looked upon as an all- round good fellow by the men. The summer after his return he met Stanly Faxton's daughter, Julia, a plump demoiselle much like her aunt whose name she bore, in more ways than one. Soon after he had met Julia Winslowe. Funny they should both be named Julia. Now he and Julia Winslowe were engaged. And that is where the trouble lay. He had been informed that he must marry Miss Julia Faxton's niece, or lose his inheritance, the wealth, the position, and the many blessings (if they be blessings) which accompany them. It