Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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18 THE CHIMES FINE FEATHERS Carolyn Poland, '29 Emily was walking home from school in a very unhappy and discontented state of mind. Indeed, this was not the first time; for many, many, nights before that, she had done the same thing. But tonight she was even more unhappy than ever, for Grace Whitman had come to school with a magnificent new fur coat, and also both Mary Stone and Laura Bates wore new silk dresses. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of them gaily parading the school building and showing off their new clothes. ''Why can't I be like them? she thought bitterly. 'Wh y can't I have fine clothes like my other school mates, instead of this old blue jersey with the moth holes that I've worn every day this winter? She remembered the scornful glance that Mary Stone gave her and her blue jersey as she went past her. More hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Why is it that some can have all the money and clothes and others not? It's unfair! Why isn't my fatner a million- aire? Oh, how I hate my dirty home beside that of Mary Stone ! And how I hate this blue jersey ! All of a sudden a plan dawned upon her. She knew that there was a party at school several nights ahead, and that probably Grace Whitman would be there with her new fur coat. When the party was not quite over, she would make an excuse that she had to be home early and slip into the dress- ing room, quietly take Grace's fur coat, and escape with it. The idea thrilled her, as she thought of how furious Grace would be, and of the clothes that she could buy from the money she would receive from selling it. She even began to quicken her step, and her heart grew lighter as these thoughts came to her. At last the waited-for night arrived. Just as she had thought, Grace Whitman came and wore her fur coat. Before the party was over, Emily quietly left the room when no one noticed her and slipped into the dressing room. On one of the hangers was Grace's fur coat. As shp looked at the beau- tiful, sleek fur, she hesitated a little. ''What right have I to take what belongs to someone else? she thought. But the minute this thought came to her, she immediately brushed it away from her. Besides, she thought, what's a hundred dollars or so to a millionaire like Mr. Whitman? She grabbed it from the hook and quietly slipped out the back door. But when she was safely on her way home, something seemed wrong. The coat on her arm suddenly became a burden to her. Her step began to drag, and her heart felt heavy. A tiny voice inside of her kept saying over and over again, You did wrong to steal that coat; you did wrong to steal that

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THE CHIMES 17 we can. I can feel it in my bones that something is going to happen. Nothing bothered Larry for very long, and he was almost ready to fall asleep. ''Oh, never mind, Bob. It's almost morning, and we'll be on our way before long. It was well into the 'Vee hours when Bob finally went to sleep. He was surely making up for lost time. In fact he sounded like a saw mill in action. As the sun was just creep- ing over the hills, both boys woke up with a start. Theirs was a rude awakening. Through the open window came the strains of 'The Campbells are Coming. This gave the im- pression of a screech owl rendering a solo. Superstitious Bob immediately solved the mystery. There, he declared, 'T told you something was going to happen. That's the warning. I've heard of things like this happening before, and the victims disappeared from sight like magic. Here's where I pack up my dry goods and get. Larry was thoroughly aroused by this time and was al- ready packing his belongings. He suggested that they go down the back stairs. They got this far but no farther. Here they met the old gentleman who had ushered them in the day be- fore. He had the boys' breakfasts on a tray. Bob read the question in the old man's eye and immediately began to ex- plain. As the man listened, light dawned upon him. Suddenly a fit of laughter seized him, shaking his whole being so that he capsized the tray and its contents down the front of himself. When he recovered suflficiently, he bega-n to explain. Why, that was Maggie, our cook, out in the back kitchen. She can't tell time. One verse is a soft boiled egg, and two a hard boiled one. Stacks and stacks of chimneys rise, Silent sentinels to the skies, Row on row, like soldiers there. Stubby, short, and gaunt and bare. Some are new, and some are old ; Some are gray with ancient mold, Clustered o'er the battered slates, Gaunt and bare, like boding fates, Rising o'er the gleaming tiles In sunset glow, for miles and miles. From haughty buildings on the squares And those that line wide thoroughfares ; And from them floats the wisps of smoke Bespeaking presence of human folks. CHIMNEYS Barbara Colman, '29

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THE CHIMES 19 coat . She tried to drive it away from her, but still it per- sisted. At last, with a great struggle, she managed to push it from her, but not wholly, for deep, deep in her heart it was still there. She even managed to whistle a little tune, but it was forced. When she was in her room, she flung the coat over the arm of a chair, hurriedly undressed, and jumped into bed. But as soon as the light was out and all was dark about her and she could near no other sound save that of the beating of her heart, that little voice came back to her with even more force than before. The whole air seemed to be full of voices that all said, ''You shouldn't have stolen that coat; you shouldn't have stolen that coat! At last she could stand it no longer. She jumped out of bed, kneeled by her little window, and looked down upon the peaceful roofs of the town in the moon- light. High upon a hill she could see Grace Whitman's huge house. ''Yes, it is true, she almost thought aloud. How foolish it was of me to do it. All the fur coats in the world aren't worth the price of dishonesty. I would rather go naked than steal again. Besides, what are clothes anyway? Noth- ing! After all, they don't amount to anything in the long run. It's what you are that counts, not your clothes. Why, I would rather be the poorest girl in the world, and be kind hearted, than be rich and be like Grace Whitman ! I will take Grace's coat back to her tomorrow night. The next day at school there was much talk about Grace's stolen coat, but Emily took no part in it. Every time it was mentioned, it was just like a sharp dagger piercing her soul. Ihat night, a much damaged Emily with a large bundle under her arm walked up the hill to the Whitman mansion. She walked boldly up to the front door and rang the bell. A maid came to the door, and after finding out whom she wanted, disappeared. Soon after, Grace came to the door. Oh, hello, she said carelessly, and none too graciously. What do you want? Grace, said Emily, I have brought back your fur coat. It was I who stole it. But I want to tell you that I am very, very sorry. Oh, so it was you; was it? said Grace with all the scorn she could muster, for she could not help but admire one who could steal a thing and then so boldly return it. I might have known it all along. If you're so anxious to return it, hurry up and give it to me. At that she snatched the bundle from her hands and slammed the door in her face. I am thankful Fm not Grace Whitman, thought Emily with a smile, as she was on her way home. I'm glad I'm just me. Science Teacher — Name some liquid that won't freeze. J. Harris — Hot water.