Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 11 was too much to ask, he told himself. Still Julia Faxton was a nice girl. But — didn't he owe it to his aunt to grant the first thing she had ever asked? Yet, candidly, Kent Stewart could not give up his money without a great effort. He loved the idle, happy days, filled with golf, tennis, mo- toring, dinners, and parties. He was a coddled child of Dame Fortune, and could not readily relinquish his carefree life. During dinner he spoke little, going directly to his room when he had finished. He walked absently to his desk and picked up a snapshot taken on the memorable day when he had picnicked in the country with Julia. Now her eyes looked pleadingly at him, as before they had seemed to cheer him in his times of sorrow, spur him on to victory when defeat was imminent, and laugh with him when he was gay. Perhaps half an hour afterwards, he caught up his hat and went out into the street. The sun was hidden behind a mass of black clouds and soon big drops began to fall. It was late when he returned, and the flickering arc lights played upon the inky pools in the wet street. It was still raining and the wind howled dismally round the dark masses of buildings. But Kent Stewart's heart was light, for his decision was made and he had obtained the first job he had ever held. To be sure it wasn't much, but he and Julia could get along- — As he turned in at his own residence, he could see lights in the library and a bright fire crackling on the hearth of the great stone fireplace. He could see his Aunt Julie's plump form, and nearby a fair head bent over — yes, a tiny ball of white fluff. And outside the circle of light bent a violet shadow which escaped his casual glance. As he entered the hall his aunt's high voice called. Is that you, Kent? He came to the library door and saw Aunt Julie and her niece, Julia Faxton. It's no use, he said in a tired tone, I can't do it. I've got a job and I'm going to — Julia has some news for us, broke in his aunt. Julia, her poodle cuddled in one arm, stretched out a plump, white hand. On the fourth finger gleamed a huge solitaire. She nodded in answer to his bewildered glance. I've got myself engaged, she said in the childish tone she always fell into when highly excited. To Mr. Edward Channing Cox- well. The young man with the spectacles, said Aunt Julie aloud, but inwardly her heart was singing over and over, Bravo, Kent Stewart, bravo ! I knew you would do it. B — but, stammered Kent, I don't understand. You said — Meet my niece, said Miss Julia Faxton in a complacent tone. I believe you're not acquainted with her. At a faint rustle of silk, h e turned, bewildered, to see Julia

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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

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12 THE CHIMES Winslowe, her brown locks as tousled and charming as ever, her dark eyes as full of impish glee and tender love as only Julia Winslowe's eyes could be. An instant she stood poised, as a butterfly on some trembling rose leaf, and then an ever so slightly turned up nose with nine tiny freckles, impudent laughing brown eyes, and a face that altogether looked like an impish sprite of Maxfield Parrish, was pressed close to Kent Stewart's rainsoaked coat. And Miss Julia Faxton smiled on the two nieces who had been named for her. H. L. Wilson, '26. HARVEST TIME The weather is cold but bright. The days are shorter, too. The nights are chilly but clear. Each dawn brings frozen dew. The barren fields are frozen and hard. The frost comes every night. The squirrel is busy packino- nuts In his home all snug and tight. The turkey tries to hide away He knows his doom is near. The children hustle to find their skates And run to the pond with a cheer. This is the harvest time of the year, And the birds to the south have flown. The harvester goes forth to reap, And gather what he has sown. No man can expect to receive Any more than he has given. The man that gives the best he has Is the man that is nearest Heaven. Wallace Torre y, '26. THE TOWER Majestically it rises above the land; A tall gray spectre of better days. The b 'rds nest in its shiel Mng eaves And shriek encouragement As it struggles to reach the sky. Year in, year out, it has battled The howling winds and pelting rains. Year in, year out, the tentacles of tiny vines Wind about the weather'd shingles; Yet despite all Nature's protests. It still remains, through passing time. Showing its former splendor But undefeated! Jean Lawson, '26.