Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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14 THE CHIMES Jeannine, who had thought of how nice it would be to tell Louise all about the wonderful times she had been having, was surprised to find herself not the least bit enthusiastic. Somehow she just couldn't be. How pale, insignificant and uninteresting seemed the things that she had been doing beside those of Louise. However, she answered as enthusiasti- cally as she could, ' 0h yes, of course ! The social life this sea- son is certainly wonderful ! Invitations coming in every min- ute. I love it! Of course you know I made my debut this spring. I had the most marvelous time ... and so on. They talked on and on until they could talk no longer. After Louise had gone home, after spending a most delight- ful week-end, Jeannine went up to her room. She wanted to be alone. Why did she feel so tired all of a sudden? That happy feeling of exhilaration seemed to have completely left her. She seemed restless, dissatisfied. But why? She had everything that she wanted. Jeannine knew why, but she was afraid to admit it to herself. She knew that she didn't have everything she wanted. Louise's happy flashing eyes as she told about her work, haunted her. Those words kept running through her mind, 'I'm having the most wonderful time! and It's the most wonderful work in the world! I love it! Jeannine could see Louise now as she spoke them, so happy, radiant. She glanced down at the morning mail. All those invitations which had thrilled her a few days ago, seemed to mean nothing to her now. She wasn't even inter- ested in opening them. All the week Jeannine seemed listless, unhappy. All the time she could seem to hear Louise's words and see her happy face. Jeannine thought it all out. She knew now what she wanted. It was work. Work, like that Louise was doing, which would help some one. After all, she wasn't doing any good playing around in society. Society was empty, fruitless. She knew now that it could never thrill her again as it used to. While Louise was helping poor needy people, she was at some dance or tea, having a good time. She wanted to work! She must ! Jeannine thought over what kind of work she would like to do. Should she do what Louise was doing? No, that would be impossible, because she wasn't talented along those lines. Then what? Nursing? A thrill went through Jeannine. Nursing! Why, that was just what she should do! She had always been interested in it. Without even thinking it over, she decided. She would be a nurse ! Jeannine's mother, who had noticed how listless and un- happy her daughter had seemed during the last week, noticed how happy and radiant she was at the supper table that even- ing, and said, ''You seem happy tonight, Jeannine. 'T am, answered Jeannine with a mysterious smile. Carolyn Poland, '29.

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THE CHIMES 13 into her blissful reverie. She found herself thinking of her school days, of that little girl with the long pigtails, who marched every morning to the little country grammar school ! And boarding school! How much fun she had had there! She smiled at the time when she and Louise had . . . Louise ! Jeannine jumped. Why, she hadn't thought of Louise for ages! Louise, the closest girl friend she had ever had. To whom she had confided all her girlish secrets ! Louise ! Why, she hadn't seen or heard a thing of her for two years ! When Jeannine had come to New York, they didn't see much of each other afterward, of course. But then, they had kept up their friendship, had visited each other, written. But some- how, after she had entered the social circles, she had just forgotten all about her. Louise ! She could never like any one quite so well as she did Louise. What good times they had had together ! Jeannine was suddenly siezed with the desire to see her. She must ! Oh, to talk over every thing the way they used to. Where was she, what was she doing? The last that she had heard was that Louise was attending some small college. But she had graduated, of course, nearly two years ago. She could write to her home town where her parents without doubt were living. Jeannine jumped out of bed at the thought and immediately wrote a long letter to her. She could hardly wait for an an- swer. She waited a week, and finally received one. It was a short note saying that Louise would love to come, but could only stay for a week-end. Jeannine was more excited than she had been for ages. She planned all sorts of things, crammed every minute that Louise would be there full, except the first night when they would want to be alone and talk. Louise came. After their girlish embraces were over, and the excitement died down, they talked as never two girls talked before. ''0, Jan, burst forth Louise enthusiastically, 'Tm having the most wonderful time ! I took up social work my last two years at college, as you probably know, and now I am working in a little mission in some Italian slums. And, 0 Jan, it's the most wonderful work in the world! I love it! If you could only see my darling children, and their little, dirty up-turned faces when they listen to me tell them Bible stories. I adore them ! And I do all sorts of things for those poor foreigners, Jan. I teach the mothers how to live in a cleaner, more sani- tary way, and help the husbands get jobs. 0, I can do count- less things ! I could talk forever about my children ! Louise talked on and on about her work. Finally she stopped long enough to get her breath, and then said, And what have you been doing, Jan? I suppose you've been having a perfectly marvelous time.

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THE CHIMES 15 A DOG'S LIFE In our most varied household, the family dog certainly has his trials. Mother and Dad hold opposite sides on the dog's privileges ; and I, being a girl, am Dad's partner in the battle. Mother insists that Rover shall not lie on the couch ; Dad asserts that the dog is a good dog, and has every right in the world to lie on aforementioned couch whether dog hairs are sprinkled profusely over that article or not. When I insist that the dog be my bedfellow, then a terrific and unceasing combat ensues; and dog hairs, bedclothes, cleanliness, the rights of this much-discussed canine, and all other things related to beds, dogs, et cetera become hopelessly confused. Finally this tangle becomes straightened out when, and only when, I retire in utter disgust. Oh yes, and another problem which the keenest mind would find intensely difficult to solve. How can a dog keep his feet dry? Were there every any dogs' rubbers or overshoes or even rubber boots invented? If so, I should like to purchase a pair to preserve peace in the family ! That dog has the most unusual and extraordinary faculty of seeking and finding the muddiest mudholes and the wettest water in the whole universe. Footprints on the sands of time are nothing in comparison with ''footprints on the floors of oak — at least, mother wails and moans whenever such a mark ap- pears on the living room floor. Poor old Rover, his life is surely hard! Bickerings, quarrels, and debates are held over his body every hour, yes, nearly every minute of the day. In the future I expect to arrive home from school sometime and find his body mangled and scarred; part of his limbs in one place, and the remainder scattered hither, thither, and yon over the whole city of Scituate. In Rover's case it's ''He doesn't like a family; but that's his weakness now! E. M. M. THE GOLFER There it goes, in the rough again. Why do I play the game, I would like to know? All I do is lose balls in woods and rough, and spend money for new ones. This money- wasting game! Show me the person who invented it for just about a minute. I went around in eighty-four Monday and today it's a hundred. This is the last game of golf I will play. This set of clubs goes into the fire when I get home, I'll bet. The golfer goes back to his office before going home and reads his mail. In it are four invitations to a tournament and he is all excited. Operator give me 840 quick! hurry! I hope I will be in time to get a chance to play in that tournament. I don't want to miss it. Boy, take this telegram and rush it to the telegraph office ; sent it rush. That's the way of the golfers. Clifford Blanchard, '31.