Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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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.

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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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16 THE CHIMES THUNDER CAVE While traveling in Italy, I stayed a while in a small village not far from the foot of the Alps. One afternoon my guide called to my attention a dark spot over half way up one of the smaller mountains. ''That ' said he, ''is called Thunder Cave. Why is it called that? Has it ever been explored? I asked. No, it never has. It is believed to go into the very heart of the mountain, he replied. However we may go up and look at it and on the way I will tell you why it is called Thun- der Cave. Then while we walked up the mountain trail which wound its way so peacefully along, the old guide told me this story : About forty years ago a young count gave a magnificent party to all his young friends of the village. I, said the guide, was one of the invited. About fifty-three young men and maidens came to the party, which lasted for three days. It was a splendid affair. Every conceivable kind of game, sport and entertainment was provided. For the third night the count had planned to have all go at night and explore the cave on the mountain. This plan at first met with many objections by the parents, but at last they were convinced that no harm would come to so many at once. So we started at midnight from the villa. It was a beautiful night following a very hot day. We had not gone far when a slight breeze sprang up, and dark clouds began to gather. These signs passed unnoticed by the laughing, jovial crowd which made its way up toward the cave. With us was a guide who came very much against his will. He had been told to go with us into the cave. But when we arrived, the young count suggested that we leave the guide outside and have the fun of exploring the cave ourselves. It was decided to toss to see who would remain with the guide. It fell to me to stay with him. Then they passed into the darkness of the cave, their torches casting weird shadows on the musty walls as they moved along. Gradually their voices died away until only an occasional echo resounded to our ears. By this time, it had begun to rain so we moved inside the mouth of the cave. The guide prepared a fire and we sat down on either side of it. The minutes dragged slowly by, and our conversation soon ceased. Now came a flash of lightning followed by a low rumble of thunder. Each following crash was louder and each succeeding flash brighter. Suddenly we jumped to our feet; the whole mountain shook violently and from the very center of the darkness which followed the flash of lightning, came the echo of a weird scream. The guide's face turned white while we stood