Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

Page 13 text:

SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 9 Helen Lawton's room. and she stopped in con- fusion. Ruth rose from her desk, her face flushed with embarrassment. “It's all right. Miss Lawton is farther down the corridor. The intruder was impressed, first by the sweet- ness of the little hump-back’s voice, and then by the sadness of the beautiful eyes. “I’m awfully sorry I intruded so. I am sure you understand. Do you know if Helen is at home or not? Ruth shook her head and smiled. “Xo. 1 do not. For some reason the girl lingered, and a faint flush crept up her checks. “Will it—will it be too—too forward if I — T stay a little while with you? she stammered. Ruth smiled and held out her hand, saying: “If you only knew how lonesome I've been. Come over on the divan. She closed the door, and then smiled happily at her guest, who was curled up among the cushions. “This is the most comfortable couch I’ve ever seen, and this is the dearest room in all Maynard.” the girl said. “I think it's pretty. Arc you a new girl? “Yes. I'm late in coming. Helen Lawton is my cousin. “Oh! Ruth jumped in her surprise. So this was Helen Lawton's cousin, whose coming had been the talk of the school for weeks! Xever before had Maynard had as a member the daughter of a well-known musician. “My name is Lorraine Adair, but every one calls me ‘Robin Adair.’ Now tell me yours.” “I am Ruth Pare.” “Are you the daughter of Pierre Pare, the writer? “Yes.” Helen didn't tell me his daughter was here. Ruth flushed and walked over to her tea table. I doubt if she or any one else here knows his daughter is here.” Robin looked up quickly, with a surprised look in her eves. “Why?” Ruth drew the table over to the divan and began making tea. Ask your cousin. Robin Adair. she answered. I understand. Robin said quickly, and then added doubtfully. “At least. 1 think I do.” They were silent while the water was boiling, and the little hump-back cut the bread in thin slices and daintily buttered them. Robin, you are the first girl in Maynard to step foot inside of my rooms. The girls don't know what they've missed. she said smilingly. Ruth, may I come often? May you? Oh. Robin Adair! and Ruth’s head went down among the tea cups. This was the first of many pleasant days. Girls began to find out the good times that were to be had in the little hump-back’s rooms. P y Thanks- giving time it was the custom for the girls to drop in for tea. ()f course there were some who cared little or nothing for the hump-back herself, but simply for the daughter of Pierre Pare, the famous writer. On the other hand, there were others who had learned to love the girl for herself: but of all these. Robin Adair reigned supreme in the French girl’s heart. Robin Adair sat playing her violin in Ruth's room one stormy afternoon in early December. The girls had all gone to their rooms, and the whole house was quiet. Ruth lay on the divan watching the rain beat against the windows. Robin began to play The Rosary. and Ruth sang it in French, softly, yet clearly. She forgot that Robin was there: she forgot everything ex- cept her great love of music. When it was fin- ished. Robin crossed over to her friend’s side and stood looking down at her. Ruth, why didn’t you ever tell me you sang?” she demanded. “I never sang to any one but father before. she replied modestly. Oh, Ruth! You've shut us out from the pleasure of listening to a wonderful voice like yours. Why have you? Ruth covered her eyes with her arm. and the tears rolled down her cheeks. Xo one would enjoy listening to a hump-back sing. she murmured. “Ruth, don’t! Robin cried, kneeling down, and drawing the dark head into her arms. “Please don't, dear. Why won't you sing for us? We all love you so. “You have made them love me. Robin Adair, and Ruth smiled out from her tears. P’raps, but. anyway, we love you. So won’t you sing for us? Xo. dear. Xot yet.” Robin was silent for some time, and they lis- tened to the rain and the wind. Finally Ruth

Page 12 text:

8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR day. as his time was taken up with recitations. It was o’clock, and the last recitation was almost over. Wcynian. who had given very little time to his regular studies in the last few days, had failed repeatedly. “Mr. Weyman,” said the master, “there is a little matter of about thirty lines of Latin which will. I am afraid, detain you after the bell.” Weyman, who had other plans for the after- noon. sank back into his seat with no very good grace. Along towards the middle of the after- noon he heard voices outside the open window. One of the speakers was Harris: the other he did not recognize. Hello. Harris!” shouted the unknown, have you got your purple dye made yet for the com- mercial chemistry course?” “Oh.” laughed Harris, “don’t say a word. I was in the ‘lab’ last night after a book, and I saw a test tube of dandy purple dye some fellow left outside his locker. I guess it belonged to some chemistry shark like Weyman; it won’t be any bother for him to make some more, so I just tipped the stuff into my tube. I guess he won’t miss it. and here the voices grew faint. Well! ejaculated Weyman. and then words failed him. Still. he said after a few minutes, thinking with a growing smile of satisfaction, I hate to think of what will happen when that young thief uses that strong acid for a dye.” IRobin Hbair ISy IDUOrefc %. BmiclL X., 'll HE was seventeen years old. with everything in the world that money could give her. except a straight body. She was a hump-back, a ter- ribly pitiful hump-back, and her small, wizened face, with its beautiful deep brown eyes and tender mouth, was even more pathetic than her mis-shapen body. Ruth Pare had come to Maynard Academy with a hope of finding one friend among the many girls. So far she had failed, and even the teachers bothered little out of class about the shy. deformed girl. So she went along week after week, month after month, a lonesome, unhappy girl, in spite of her well-filled purse. Ruth’s rooms were the best at Maynard, and were the daintiest in their furnishings. They overlooked the campus, and from their windows could be seen the new gym and the little ivy- covered chapel, and beyond that the lake, now covered with many small boats. The sitting-room was furnished in dark red. with heavy curtains. The divan by the largest window was piled high with pillows, and in each of the many easy chairs was a large, comfortable cushion. In the darkened bedroom beyond lay the little hump-back, her pillow wet with tears. From without came the voices of the girls, all bent on pleasure, with never a thought of the wretched little girl in her room upstairs. At each new sound Ruth’s tears started afresh, and her poor little body shook with uncontrollable sobs. Why wasn’t I born straight?” she moaned. Am I always to be friendless? Am 1 to go through life without a friend?” She wiped away her tears, and lay staring up at the ceiling. 1C very now and then her lips quivered and the tears gathered in her eyes, but they did not fall. She went over that dreadful scene in the schoolroom, where the girls had openly laughed at her. They were reading As You Like It,” and the teacher had thoughtlessly asked her to take the part » f Rosalind. Ruth, without raising her tear-filled eyes from her book, had murmured that her throat was sore, and had begged to be ex- cused. The hour had passed away somehow, and Ruth had hurriedly left the room. Just as she had passed through the door, she had heard Helen Lawton say: Ruth Pare as Rosalind! which speech had been followed by a peal of girlish laughter. Ruth rose from her bed, bathed her eyes, and went into the other room. She sat down at her desk by the window, and wrote a pitiful letter to her sympathetic father. While she was writing, a knock fell upon her door, promptly followed by the entrance of a pretty girl of eighteen. ()h! I beg your pardon. I thought it was

Page 14 text:

IO SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR sang softly a low, crooning lullaby of her own composition. The shadows lengthened, and the night closed in. The room grew dark, and the fire on the hearth burned low, yet the girls did not move. Suddenly Robin turned Ruth’s face towards her. and asked: “Ruth, in return for what you say 1 have done for you. will you sing for my father and for us girls?” The fire gave one last leap and then died down. The wind howled and wailed, and the rain beat against the windows furiously. “It's the least 1 can do in return for all you’ve done for me. Yes, Robin Adair. I will. The girls in the house were all surprised to hear a voice, full and sweet, singing an old. dearly- loved song. ()ne by one the doors along the cor- ridors gently opened, and the words of Robin Adair came clearly to them :— “What’s this dull town to me? Robin’s not near. What was't I wish’d to see, What wish'd to hear? IBoncst or SHsboncst Bv Bapbasar He Baobbtflian, 'll surroundings. His bright countenance took on a sterner look, as if he were condemning—face to face—the author of a certain sentence with which he strongly disagreed. He even thought aloud: You curse against eternal truth. The motorman. as if on an impatient quest, was making time. Before he put on the brake, lie quickly turned a sharp corner and threw Mr. Jones to the opposite side from where he was standing. One of his hands went through the window. The broken glass cut his arm and face, and in a critical condition he was carried to the hospital. In spite of sensational reports, Mr. Jones returned from the hospital in two weeks, chiefly to attend the suit brought in his behalf. His wounds were still bandaged, but the danger mark was passed. Slowly walking up to the court on the trial day, curious Mr. Jones noticed a leaflet, which he picked up and read. He paused and read again. His every action and appearance showed much interest in his discovery. Without realizing it. he had reached the court S a car approached the black and white sign post, I will see you at the church next Sunday, remarked a tall man politely to a forlorn- looking lad. and. with a smile on his face, mounted on the approaching car. Before the car had stopped, the conductor rang the starting bell, and the motorman, quickly turning the brake, muttered: Those funerals. . . . Is a corpse more important than a living man?” I he irritated state of the motorman’s mind pre- vented him from realizing the kind greeting of our friend. He had even forgotten to notify the con- ductor of the new passenger’s ride. Mr. Jones meditated over the sermon he had heard, while he in vain held his car fare in his hand. The conductor did not relieve him of it. Temptation crept in. A sharp mental discussion followed, and Mr. Jones finally decided to keep the nickel. Once more Mr. Jones was lost, this time on his magazine page. He had focused his thoughts on his reading, and was no longer conscious of the Where’s all the joy and mirth Made this town a heav’n on earth? Oh! they’re all fled with thee, Robin Adair. “What made th’ assembly shine? Robin Adair. What made the ball so fine? Robin was there. What when the play was o’er. What made my heart so sore? Oh! it was parting with Robin Adair. “But now thou’rt cold to me, Robin Adair. But now thou’rt cold to me, Robin Adair. Yet him I loved so well Still in my heart shall dwell. Oh! I can ne’er forget Robin Adair.”