Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 11 at this time Benny never knew. The fact is, Benny didn't know the winds very well, anyway, having devoted the greater part of his high school life to the study of football. lie had never quite under- stood, either, just why the school committee allowed such books as Vergil” in the schools. It is much more important to know the football rules for the season than to be able to state from what j oint of the compass Xotus and his brethren are wont to issue forth. That is indisputable. But some wind or other must have blown the fel- low in through the grim old gate that guards the blessed region, for there he was right in front ot Benny's window, glorious in all the splendor of a new vest, which would certainly, in the diversity of its colors, have rivaled Joseph's famous garment, lie was puffing away at an enormous pipe, and casting glances of pride upon a large bull pup which accompanied him. lie was not at all bad- looking. was Cogan. At first sight you would call him handsome. Then you would pause and re- flect. Finally you would come to the conclusion that you didn’t like his looks. You have seen such chaps: so have I. You can, therefore, form for yourself a mental picture of this one. Cogan was looking for Benny. The latter ap- pearing at his window and nodding permission. Tige—the pup—and his master plunged into the hallwav. and were admitted by Mason, Jr., into his sanctum. Cogan's first words were plain and to the point. “What arc you going to do about it? he asked as iie sank into a chair, and coolly relit his pipe, which had gone out during the journey upstairs. Do about what?” queried Benny, making a mis- erable attempt to appear surprised. “Oh. I know all about it. answered his visitor with a short laugh. Had it from the party him- self, you know, he added. Warned me to be- ware. lest I. also, follow in your footsteps. Savey?” Benny grinned feebly. And wliat are you going to do about it?” pur- sued Cogan. Do? repeated Benny dully. Yes. do! What are you going to do?” I don’t know. Leave town. I guess. Go to South Africa, the Philippines, any old place.” Nonsense, old man. said Cogan. Cheer up. How much do you need?” “Fifty dollars.” replied Benny with a gasp of hor- ror at the enormity of the bill. Cogan laughed loud and long. Is that all? he asked. Bennv looked at him in astonishment. Isn’t that enough?” he said. His visitor was silent a moment. He seemed a trifle uneasy. Mason.” he said abruptly, “Bob is a wonderful player, isn’t he?” Benny looked at the speaker in some surprise. “Of course.” he answered. He’s the support of the team?” “Yes. sir!” replied young Mason proudly, but still mystified. Take Bob away to-morrow, and what would happen?” The game would be lost, was Benny’s prompt reply. He went over and took a position by the window to watch for his brother. The conversa- tion had reminded him that it was almost time for Bob to return from practice. Cogan shot a stealthy glance at the young fel- low and hesitated. As he stood there, leaning against the window sill, stalwart and rugged, and big of limb, he looked so much like honest, true- hearted Bob that the tempter wavered. The strain told upon Tige. He got up from his seat upon the rug. and, going over to Benny, sniffed about his ankles. The boy turned and caught Cogan's searching eye upon him. Come. Cogy,” he said, out with it! When I see that look. I know you want some dirty trick done. Out with it! What is it this time?” Well, Benny. said Cogan very gently, if you want that fifty very bad. if you don’t want your father to know how you’ve wasted the money lie gave you to live upon---- He paused and puffed his pipe carelessly. Go on! cried young Mason eagerly. When Bob comes in and gets his pads off to- night. Cogan continued, you fix that old sore on his knee so that he can’t play to-morrow. An accident, you know. Push the door against it. or something of that sort. Lay him out somehow, and I swear you shall have fifty dollars cash to- morrow night.” From somewhere in the distance came the sound of Harvard cheers. Benny went across the room and opened the door. You must go, Cogan, he said. Bob is coming.” The first half of the great game was over, and the score 12 to 0. in favor of the blue. The little band of Yale rooters clustered in one corner of the bleachers made the air heavy with the sound of their cheering. The Harvard men were strangely silent. Down bv the side lines the Harvard captain and coach were holding a council of war. Without Bobby Mason,” the coach said sadly, we haven’t the ghost of a show.” The captain shook his head mournfully. We haven’t another man that can play in his position.” he said. I can. remarked someone in the circle of men about them, and all eyes turned upon the speaker. It was Bennv Mason. Whv, kid. said the captain kindly, vou re too light. That Yale fellow would kill you.” “Give me a show!” demanded Benny eagerly. 1 only want a show. You can’t be. beaten any worse than you're being beaten now. can you?” The boy’s earnestness amused the big captain. “Let's try him,” he said to the coach. As the kid savs. we can’t be beaten any worse than we are now. There's no harm in it.” Get into vour togs, young Mason!” was all the reply the coach made. But when the boy had

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10 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR. ‘By A. M. W., Latin School. EXXY MASON sat by the window of his room in the old dormitory, and looked out across the campus. John, the orange man, was slowly making his way through the network ol paths, his sedate little steed stalking along with a degree of dignity that showed him to be fullv aware of the honorable position he occupied as a favorite of the Crimson, and an animal whose privilege it was to precede that proud chariot which the sons of John Harvard had presented to his mas- ter. Now and then a smiling bewhiskered old face peered out from the depths of the cart as John rec- jovs in store for him. In his hand he held a letter. He had pressed it into a crumpled, uneven wad of paper, and time and again he pinched it savagely and angrily. He dared not write home for the money, he told himself. Rut he could not obtain it in any other way. he reasoned. Money he must have, but how. whence? Poor Penny arose and strode rapidly up and down the length of the little room. This was 1 Jenny's first year at Harvard. Being, then, a Freshman, he had indulged in most of the follies common to that animal. He had kept late hours: he had gone in town too often: he had COGAN SHOT A STEALTHY GLANCE AT THE YOUNG FELLOW AND HESITATED. ognized some acquaintance among the passers-by. Once in a while a student strolled by whose ex- cited manner and eager look betokened the coming of some great event. A laundry wagon was pour- ing forth a multitude of newly-laundered shirts and collars; somewhere in the distance a street piano was grinding out cheerfully a few variations of Fair Harvard.’ and an enterprising young Hebrew who had invaded the sacred precincts was selling yard after yard of crimson ribbon and neck- wear. A certain air of suppressed excitement hovered over the place: the game was to come off on the morrow. Benny Mason, as we have already said, looked out upon this scene tinged by the fading light of .the setting sun. The old dormitories and halls, and. in the background, a glimpse of the ivy-robed chapel, seemed to form for the picture a beautiful and artistic frame. Benny’s heart was heavy; the morrow had no moved in a fast set; and now, at the end of the sec- ond month of his college career, he found himself stranded and threatened with a lawsuit. Benny realized that he had been foolish ; also that a sport- ing life docs not agree with a Freshman. If he had come to this conclusion a month earlier—ah, well, we all know those saddest words of tongue or pen”! The strangest part of it all was that our young friend had committed all these misdemeanors in the face of the fact that he roomed with his elder brother Bob. Bob was a Senior. That in itself says much. But when we add that he played tackle on the Crimson eleven, that says a great deal more, and explains, also, why Benny was left too fre- quently to his own devices. Bob was often out of town with the team, and so thoroughly devoted to the cause that lie neglected somewhat the welfare of his younger brother. Witness the result! What ill wind blew Cogan on to the campus just

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12 SOMERVILLE 1IIGII SCHOOL RADIATOR gone, he remarked, half hopefully, He may do something, after all. lie nearly made the team this fall.” When the referee’s whistle sent its shrill sum- mons across the field. Mason, Jr., was at his brother's post of duty. When the referee’s whistle sounded for the last time, a little group of men were bearing off the field a bleeding, battered mass that bore here,and there a slight resemblance to Benny Mason. And across the lines surged a waving, shrieking crowd of lunatics, eager to catch a glimpse of the jjoor bruised figure upon the stretcher. Bobby Mason sitting in his own room, nursing his knee and cursing his luck, heard a great roar of voices, growing louder and louder, until, look- ing forth upon the campus, he saw four men bring- ing upon a stretcher a limp and apparently lifeless form which instinct told him was Benny. Behind and beside him was a gaping crowd. Up the stairs came the human burden and its bearers. The door opened and they brought him in. Hullo, Bob! said a weak voice coming from the depths of a mountain of bandages. We won after all.” Don’t talk now.” commanded the doctor who had accompanied the triumphal procession. Help him to bed. boys,” he added. But I sav, fellows,” persisted Benny, let me go. I want to punch old Cogan’s head.” He’s a bit groggy, Bob,” said the doctor. Nothing dangerous, you know. He’ll come round in a few minutes. He’s a brother to be proud of. Never mind questions now; you’ll read it in the papers to-morrow. I’m off to patch up the other victims. Good-dav.” Fifteen minutes later Benny rose up in bed. What’s all that noise out there? he asked. Onlv the fellows cheering for you, that’s all,” replied Bob sardonically. II’m! said Benny. We won, after all, you know.” Bob laughed. Judging from this letter,” he said, producing a crumpled piece of paper for his brother's inspection, “and from the full and free confession in regard to Cogan that you’ve been making to the bedpost for the last ten minutes, old man, I should rather say we did win. after all.” “Can you forgive me, Bob?” asked the boy eagerly. Sure,” answered Bob. It’s all my own fault, anyhow. I ought to have kept an eye on you.” And wh—what’ll father say? queried Benny fearfully. Say? Why, my dear young innocent,” replied Bob, just what he said to me three years ago, when 1 was up to the same tricks: ‘Dear son Ben- iamin : Enclosed find check for requested amount. Don’t be so foolish again. Father.’ That’s all.” Benin's eyes opened to an abnormal extent. And 1 11 study three hours every day,” lie said, “and never cut a recitation, and---” That’s enough, old man.” interrupted Bob. Don't add lying to your other sins. Hand me my cane I’m going out to drive those howling idiots off the face of the earth.” HIS “CEWPUD.” By Mary Elizabeth Grimes, L., '02. OR days and days there had been a ceaseless downpour throughout the New England states. There seemed no end to the piles of heavy clouds that, hung so darkly over the cities. Sheets and sheets of water poured down upon the already soaking roofs and pave- ments. making travel in Boston almost impossible. To add to the discomfort, a strong east wind was driving everything and everybody before it. Copley square seemed especially destined to suffer the most severe violence of the storm. There were few who braved the weather to venture out on such a day, yet when the wind seemed to subside for a moment, a form issued from the door- way of the Art Museum. One person, at least, would not be daunted by the storm, which seemed only to blow her soft hair more mischievously across her rosv cheeks, while it kept both hands busy with her umbrella. Grasping it firmly with one hand, she opened it with the other, and soon found herself scurrying towards the library at an unusually rapid rate. Just as she reached its marble steps, the wind suddenly changed, and began blowing her back to her starting point. But it also caught in its grasp another whose umbrella proved the sail that was carrying him to ruin. A sudden tearing of silk and splitting of umbrella ribs warned each of the other’s presence, and both looked in dismav toward the cause of the disaster. But the look of dismay changed rapidly to one of keen delight, then with equal rapidity to cold in- difference. Neither spoke. About one year before this time Helen Dean and Jack Forbes had parted “forever.” The cause was a mystery to all their friends, and probably to them- selves, also, yet so it had been. Both had had leisure to regret the anger of the moment. Jack, among cowboys in the West; Helen, during the long winter of her art studies. Pardon me. Miss Dean. I am very sorry this accident has happened. Will you not step into the library for a moment while I get you an umbrella? Yours is hardly fit for use, I fear.” How coldly he seemed to speak, while her heart