Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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FRANK K. TWTTJ.TiTt , 21. ' HE SUMMER sun had set behind the western hills and the shadows, already dim, were gradually growing fainter around the little farm-house. In a nearby thicket, the wild things were beginning to disturb the nocturnal sway of solitude. The wooden latch of the barnyard gate clicked, and a taU young man, muscular and tanned from the heat of the noonday sun, walked across the yard and awk vardly seated himself on the back step. Heaving a sigh of relief, he drew a red bandana from his pocket and mopped his brow. He sat there for quite a while, fanning himself occa- sionally with his straw hat and watching the beauty of the western sky as it slowly faded into dusk. Then his attention was attracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. The smell of tobacco smoke, carried on the evening breeze that had begun to stir, told him that his father was coming. Immediately he arose. Around the corner of the house came a little old man dressed in a brown corduroy suit and puffing on a corn-cob pipe. The wrinkles in his face and the shuffle of his leathern boots told of his advance in years, but that he still re- tained the spark of youth was made evident by the twinkle in his eye, and his habit of humming old tunes. Judging from his son ' s attitude that he wished to speak to him, the father walked to him, and, putting one foot on the steps, took his pipe from his mouth. Pa, began the young son of the soU, now as I ' ve been with you since I was a little feller, workin ' an ' doing chores for ma when I was only knee high to a grasshopper, an ' then since I ' ve grown up, I ' ve been a workin ' fer you, a helpin ' with the plan tin ' and harvestin ' and feedin ' and milMn ' and a hundr ' d and two other things that I do for ma, don ' you reckon as how you might give me now that creek-bottom land yon side o ' the river, as you promised to settle on me? Old Jake Simpkins looked at his son Avith a scrutinizing eye. It was true that from boyhood Lemuel had been a great help to his parents. He had saved them many steps by his presence, for they had yet to receive his first refusal to do their bidding. Since his eighteenth birthday he had received from his father half of each year ' s proceeds in crops together with his board and clothes. Besides this regular compensation, his father had promised him the creek land, in itself a rich dowry, as a settlement. But why should he have

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TBe AsseiviBiy fian ciqck MARGAKET THOMAS, ' 20 D BAR OLD CLOCK in the Assembly Hall, You know our troubles, one and all — Know when we ' re early, Know when we ' re late, Know when the teacher murmurs, wait, Dear old clock in the Assembly Hall. Dear old clock in the Assembly Hall, You know our deeds one and all — Know when books were stacked. Know when bells were swiped, Know when we hung black and white. Dear old clock in the Assembly HaU. Dear old clock in the Assembly HaU, You know our secrets, one and all — Know things you must never tell. Know things that would mean our fall. So keep the secrets for us all, Dear old clock in the Assembly Hall.

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asked for it at this particular time? Why had he not requested it before? Old Jake could not help thinking that there was something in the wind when his son spoke of receiving his share immediately. Wal now Lem, he replied, just tell me what ' s in that head o ' yourn to give you such a notion? Aint the old folks good enough fer you anymore? Aint you had all you could eat an ' all you wanted to wear, besides your share of the crops and all the other privileges a feller ' d want? Tell me, Lem, what ' s put such a notion into your head? Lem looked at his father rather sideways and shifted his feet uneasily. I — I aint complain ' of our grub, Pa, it ' s as good as Squire Turndale ' s, ner am I complain ' of anything else; but I just want to start out fer — fer myself and — and have a hum of my own. A hum of your own, Lem! Why — Y — yes, Pa, a hum of my own. I ' m calculatin ' on — on hitchin ' up with S— Sally. We— The old man was completely taken back with astonishment. What he had least expected! — was it aetuallj ' to come true? Lem get married! Why he was too bashful to have thought of such a thing. Surely there was a mistake somewhere ! You mean you, Lem Simpkins, my hoy, is goin ' to git married? T— that ' sit, Pa. What did she say when you asked her? I — I aint asked her yet. His father looked at him a moment and then laughed. I ' m afraid you never will then Lem, fer you ' ve never been able to git rid o ' that bashfulness of yourn, an ' like as not, it ' U stay with you, now, forever. I ' ll not let it get the best of me fer once anyhow. Pa; not till ' I ' ve got my girl. But I wanta know if it ' s all right with you an ' if you ' ll settle on me the creek land like j ' ou said ? ' ' Yes, my boy, your old dad ' 11 do all that he can fer you an ' more, tort. But I ain ' t calculatin ' on you really hitchin ' up, Lem, fer I know your failin ' , but if you do, fer strange things ' 11 happen sometimes, you ' ve sure got my good will, and the good Lord bless you both. ' ' Thank you. Pa, ' ' said Lem earnestly. One o ' clock of the next afternoon found Lem dressed in his best and on his way to Sally ' s. As he walked along the main thoroughfare of the little village, he would not easily have been mistaken for a city lad. His clothes by their coarseness and loudness proclaimed that his home was and always had been in the country. His cheap grey suit, apparently ready to rip if given the slightest opportunity, was more than one size too small for him; while the shortness of the trousers and sleeves made very conspicuous his immense, unpolished shoes and rough, knotted hands. Other features of his dress added