Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

Page 13 text:

SOMKRVILLK HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 B $3oarMng School lEpteofce 36v? Wattle Classman, 2 ., ’OS T was after class, and five girls were as- sent bled in one of the classrooms of a boarding school. These five were called the ‘Quintette by all the rest of the girls in the school, because, where a person saw one of them, he might be sure that the other four were somewhere in that vicinity. Usually at this time of day all the girls went for a walk with Miss Jennings, but the weather had been so disagreeable that they had re- mained in the house for the last few days. Oh. girls. I do wish it would clear up. It has been raining constantly for the last three days, and as yet there is no sign of it stopping. This weather does make me so homesick. The speaker was a girl of perhaps fifteen years of age. Her name was Flower, and the name was exactly suited to her. She was very lovely, with brown eyes, auburn hair, a sweet mouth, and a little round chin in which a dimple played hide and seek. As she sat there leaning back in her chair, her hands locked at the back of her head, and her eyes fixed dreamily on the ceiling, she was a pic- ture worthy of any artist’s pencil. As her words did not require an answer, she con- tinued. Anyway. I am sick and tired of school. Pretty nearly every night we have salt mackerel for supper, and then I drink so much water that every time I eat anything, a piece of bread, for instance, I can hear it splash.” “Well.” ventured a pale girl with a high-pitched voice, if you are so sick of school, why don’t you leave? Why don’t I go to heaven?” cross-questioned Flower sarcastically. Recause I can’t—that's why. but school would be a little better without the salt mackerel—and Miss Jennings. Flower was the favorite of the school, so much so. in fact, that even the teachers let her have her own way in many respects. So the girls all clustered around her. and Helen, the youngest of the five, plucked up courage and said, Flo. dear, never mind the salt mackerel, or Miss Jennings, either, but please tell us a story. Flower was very tender-hearted, and Helen said this in such a pleading voice, that she could not resist her. though she said. I can’t get the thought of salt mackerel out of my head, but I will tell you what my grandmother told me once when I was complaining about my salt supper. The girls all clapped their hands in high glee to think that they had been able to get Flower in good humor again, and she began :— “The iast time 1 went to visit my grandmother, she told me before supper that we were going to have salt mackerel for the evening meal. 1 always •expressed my likes and dislikes to her very freely, so I told her that 1 disliked the fish very much. Rv wav of enticing me to eat it. or at least I sup- pose that was the reason, she said, 'Flo, if you eat ten pieces of salt mackerel to-night for supper, and then go to bed without drinking any water, a vision of a beautiful young woman will come to you in your dreams, and sav to you. Wish ! and your wish will come true!”’ I thought that I saw through her scheme, so I decided not to try it. Rut now. girls, so long as we are going to have the fish for supper to-night, why not try this, and assemble here to-morrow after class and tell what we wished? While eating supper. Miss Thompson, who pre- sided at the table, thought it queer that the Quin- tette ate so much salt mackerel, and that they seemed to relish it so much, but nevertheless she made no remarks about it. Recause.’’ thought the good soul, the poor things might have studied st hard that they could eat almost anything. After prayers, the five began to get so thirsty that they thought they had better go to bed and try to sleep it off. So they bade tile other girls good night and went upstairs. Flower lay with eyes wide open until ten o'clock, and all the while she thought that she would choke. The minutes went by like hours, but at last the clock struck eleven. She thought that she could stand it no longer: she got up and tried to bury herself in a book. She could not get her mind on the story, and sat still and tried to think of home, or anything, in fact, but her thirst. When the clock struck twelve, she could stand it no longer. She went to the door and listened. All was quiet without! She gently unlocked the door, and tiptoed to the bathroom on the other side of the hall, and drank until she had finished four tumblers of water. She tiptoed back to her room, crept into bed. and the moment she touched her head to the pillow fell asleep. When she awoke the next morning, she found to her dismay that it was fifteen minutes later than she usually got up. She jumped out of bed. made a hasty toilet, and arrived downstairs just as the bell for prayers was ringing. She glanced over at her friends’ places, and they all seemed to be looking well, but not very happy, and somehow they seemed to try to avoid looking at her. The impatient five could scarcely wait until after class, but it came at last, and the girls all quickly assembled in the appointed room. Fach wanted the other to tell her experience first, but finally it was decided that Flower should begin, because it was she that suggested the plan. and. besides this, she was the eldest. After some hesitation. Flower told all. but to her great surprise, none of the girls laughed, or even smiled, as she expected they would. On inquiry, they confessed that they had all had pretty nearly the same experience, and. after a hearty laugh, the girls decided to eat what was set before them and not grumble.

Page 12 text:

6 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR ©leanfcra: B XUalc of fftallow’e £ve J5y IDavicn H. Uountfjobn, X., '0(3 HE young folk of the little town of Pascclle had planned a Hallowe’en surprise party at the house of Olcandra, an Indian maiden, who lived in a log cabin in the midst of a field just outside the town. Three years before she had come, a wanderer, to the town of Pascclle. She had for a small sum obtained a log cabin, de- serted by lumbermen, for her abode. She had even worked up a trade in vegetables, and was respected in the town. During her three years’ stay on the outskirts of Pascclle, she had learned many cus- toms of the Palefaces. Xannctte Macv. the parson’s fair-haired daugh- ter. had a very romantic disposition, and was devot- edly attached to Shakespeare, as well. She was ex- tremely fond of weaving Olcandra into weird tales, and amusing her companions. She even said that Olcandra must be an exile from some wandering Indian tribe. On the morn of October 30 a crowd was gath- ered in the hall of the schoolhouse to make plans for the next evening. Roys were selected to carry the tubs and apples, pumpkins large and round were solicited, and the festivities were arranged. Meanwhile Olcandra was in the village that morning to sell some vegetables of her own raising. Hearing her name spoken through an open win- dow of the schoolhouse. and mindful of the coming Hallow’s eve. Olcandra was on the alert. Tipping her basket, she spilled the contents and stooped to pick them up. Aha! She had heard! She knew! The gleaming eyes and expectant countenance of the wanderer Olcandra appeared beneath the frill of a large gray hood. A sweeping black cape con- cealed the agile form and many-colored attire of the erect Indian maiden. She was hastening to the woods for evergreen to decorate her cabin, and wood to build a bonfire. Oleandra was the only daughter of Big Chief White Head, the leader of a small remnant of the Wanapanachi tribe. At the death of her father, possessed with a taste for the more civilized cus- toms of the Paleface, she had broken loose from her people and wandered down the Mississippi bank seeking her freedom. Ever since Oleandra had deserted her clan, she had been diligently sought bv Eagle-beak, the suc- ceeding chieftain of the tribe. Bent on restoring her to her race once more, Eagle-beak was still energetic in his search. On the night of October 29, Eagle-beak had passed through the village of Pascclle, and the gleaming eyes of Olcandra had seen him go. Straight on lie went, nor did he dream of her existence there. The sun was setting, clothed in splendor, send- ing its glorious tinges of rainbow colors far up through the sky. The autumn leaves accentuating these fantastic surroundings gave the place a singu- larly fanciful appearance. A huge bonfire was crackling and shooting its darts of flame up into the air by the side of a log cabin, in the door of which stood Oleandra. her bright eyes glistening with excitement. The shadows deepened, and shouts of laughter rang out into the night air. Xearer and nearer they sounded, until they reached the cabin. The door flew open, and there stood—Oleandra? Xo! She wore a gray cloak! She carried a broom! And a staff! But yes. it was Olcandra's face. She smiled and stretched forth lx th arms. “Welcome! Do not fear. Oleandra plays the witch. She sweeps the cobwebs from the sky. Enter.” Oh. horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee. Come on. every- body.” 'This from Xannettc. who could not resist the temptation of inserting a Shakespearean quota- tion at this juncture. 'The merriment of the evening was greatly be- yond every one’s expectations. A Hallowe’en party, indeed, it proved to be. The lighted pump- kins were set up. the apples were bobbed, and more than one had his head ducked, but the happiest of all was Oleandra. The wanderer maiden danced the characteristic war dance and muttered weird in- cantations of the tribe. At last the great bonfire went out. and the merry crowd dispersed. $ ’ Fifty years had passed, during which it had been the custom in the town of Pascclle for all Hal- lowe’en festivities to be held in Wanapanachi’s field, the dooryard of Olcandra’s home. ()n the night of the fiftieth anniversary of Olcandra’s Hallow's eve. the village folk were once more assembled, and in the midst of their festivi- ties. when a shadow fell on the ground by the side of the blazing bonfire. The eyes of all were turned to the new-comer. Behold! An old and lean In- dian. with feathered headgear, a tawdry garment, and long leather leggings fringed with gaudy beads, ilis face was marked with the lines of age and toil, and his countenance was savage with anger. 11 is belt of human skulls told of his ghastly deeds. Aha! Eagle-beak has found his prize at last! The Wanapanachi will have their revenge!” In consternation the village folk dispersed, nor did they linger, for the old warrior drew his bow as if to shoot. The following morning a note was discovered stuck in the door of Xanncttc's abode, and this is what was found therein :— “Farewell. Oleandra joins her tribe once more. To the children of Xannctte I give my treasures. Search under pile of bonfire ashes and you will find their hiding-place.”

Page 14 text:

8 SOMERVILLK HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR XLhc Coming of Bbtgail y y fl arion Goodwin Eaton, X., '0(5 ISS MARIA'S niece was coming to visit her. and there was great excite- ment among Miss Maria's neighbors. Parson Cook’s wife had found out the news. She had seen the spare room comforter airing. and had hastened through the yard of the big house, that shut off a more extended view, to interrogate Miss Maria. She was armed with a quart of straw- berries as an excuse, and though Miss Maria was reticent, she was like a sponge in the hands of this skilful extractor of secrets. “Good morning. Miss Maria, want a whole quart or a half this morning?” said Mrs. Cook. A quart, please.” replied Miss Maria in her thin, sweet voice, like the high string of an old violin. While she took the berries into the house, Mrs. Cook looked eagerly around the yard, and even tried to catch a glimpse of the sitting-room through the vine-covered window that opened at the end of the porch. This back porch faced the south, and a row of tidies and braided mats were sunning on a line strung across from the shakv posts. On a line in the yard, between two great oak trees, was the comforter, and beside it more rugs, one of them with an impossible puppy woven in the centre. “Cleaning your spare room? Mrs. Cook called into the kitchen. Yes, I am,” said Miss Maria, coming to the door. Going to take the carpet up?” Well. no. it didn't seem dusty. lied Miss Maria bravely, though she knew her neighl or knew it was because she could not afford to hire a boy to do it. Land! what’s the use, when you don't have no- body to use it? Mrs. Cook replied tactfully. Miss Maria bridled. I'm going to have some one to use it.—my niece, Abigail Jenner. She’s coming to live with me this summer,” she added proudly. The parson's wife knew that she had gained enough for one day. and hurried home, stopping at the door of the big house to tell the news. The next night Abigail arrived, but so late that only Mrs. Clarissa Jones, who lived directly oppo- site. could have seen her trunk carried in the door where Miss Maria stood holding a smoking lamp above her head. But Mrs. Jones was fast asleep. Ivarlv the next morning Abigail awoke, and lay still a moment wondering what had roused her. The roosters were comparing breakfasts on a” sides, but above their cries came the notes of a re- vival hymn, sung in a harsh, shaky, and somewhat hoarse tenor. Hastily donning her dressing- gown. the girl knelt on a cricket by the open win- dow and peered sleepily out. The sun, too, was still sleepy, and in the long shadows the cobwebs still lay. The voice came really from further up the street, but echoed back and forth between the houses till it was hard to locate it. Miss Maria’s house stood in a quarter-acre of unkempt yard. Two terraces sloped down to the street, and two crumbling flights of steps, with a weedy path be- tween. led to the front door. The blinds were sag- ging. and the house had not been painted for many years, but woodbine had clambered over the porch, and the apple trees had grown close around it as if to hide the lack. Across the way Mrs. Jones' white house set close to the street in a friendly manner, and presently Mrs. Jones came out on her piazza and called to her neighbor next door. The parson ain't so hoarse this morning, and he’s sung six hymns without stopping. Guess his cold’s better,” and she laughed in a jolly, side- shaking fashion. Her neighbor answered her, and all the neighborhood knew it was time to be up. W hen Abigail came down, there was a smell of coffee in the house, and the table was already set. Her aunt sent the girl across the street to Mrs. Jones' for the eggs, and then they sat down to breakfast. After the morning work was done. Miss Maria sat down to her knitting, and her niece stepped out on the front porch with a book. It was a morning in late June, and though it was Saturday, all the children were in the woods hunting for pink lady's slippers for Flower Sunday. Occasionally some farmer’s team jogged along, and once an auto- mobile rushed madly by. the dust settling slowly be- hind it as if even the road was turning up its nose. Presently far down the road Abigail heard a merry, tuneless whistle. A small girl and a little black and white dog tumbled through the fence of the big house next door and ran down the road, to come back with a young man carrying a big suit- case. He glanced up at Abigail, and then turned to the small girl. Abigail caught the word peach, and saw the little girl shake her head se- verely, and then begin to talk, meanwhile checking off items on her fingers. Through the hedge of honcy-sucklc bushes she saw them go up the steps of the big yellow house to the porch, where Sirs. Jones was standing. Then Abigail went in tactfully to interrogate her aunt about their next-door neighbors. She soon found out that their name was Parker, and that, though Mr. Parker was a native of the town, he was contaminated by Mrs. Parker, who was city folks,” and looked upon as a nice woman, but cranky. 1 think. said Miss Maria. I just heard the son go bv. You can always tell his whistle because tlicre isn't any tunc to it. Maybe you heard him, too? Yes,” said Abigail tentatively, “he had a dress- suit-case.” Meanwhile Mr. Parker had greeted his mother and Mrs. Jones with the announcement that Abi-