Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR t bc Persian IRitg iKleu 3. Itomenfta, 191(5 8 L L“5 ,.ELL. Peg?” H Yy j Oh. Daddy. Mr. Russell wants to D lSbii sec the big one. He doesn’t know a thing about rugs, but he picked this out of the set 1 showed him.” Peggy’s eyes, to her father’s surprise, were dancing. However, he did not see anything in that statement to bring her joy. “I told you not to take that photograph, daughter.” He spoke slowly and dispiritedly. ”1 thought that would be his choice if lie wanted any. and we haven’t fourteen hundred dollars in the bank to put up for it.” “Never mind about the money. Daddy dear.” With this assertion. Peggy ran across the office to her father, rumpled his hair and gave him an encouraging squeeze. “If Mr. Russell wants that Persian rug. he will have it. I told him he could have it. but I also told him that we couldn’t get it here without at least a guaran- tee of expense, and lie gave me his check for fifty dollars immediately. About how much money could you get on a ‘return order’?” “We have four hundred odd in Hie bank. Peg, that’s all. And Basso Brothers have all our notes that they will take. We’ll just have to let the chance go by.” “We will just do nothing of the sort. Daddy.” Peggy Hayden was emphatic. “You know that poor Tom needs that trip this summer, and the profit on that rug would--------oh. it would do lots of pleasant things. I’m going out now to get the other thousand dollars.” “But. daughter, you------” But Peggy had gone. Her father sighed and shook his head. When Mr. Hayden’s fortune had been swept away in a panic, he had been brave enough to begin business over again, and held his head high even at the sign “Hay- den Daughter. Rugs and Antiques.” which had caused so much comment upon its quaint- ness. Mr. Hayden had been forced into the business of rug-collecting to support his in- valid son, who. the doctor said, must go abroad in the summer. In spite of the good man’s fears. Hayden Daughter succeeded— how much because of Peggy’s energy, no one, perhaps, but Peggy herself knew. “But then,” she confided to her crippled brother, “what’s the use of having half a col- lege education if you can’t make good? Rugs and antiques are all father knows, and I know more about them than anything else, and that isn’t much.” Peggy demonstrated that, if she didn’t know much about rugs and antiques, she could learn. One essential reason for Hayden Daughter’s prosperity was that Peggy never could wait to have people come to the store, but if they ever asked to see a certain article and promised that they would buy it some day. the young sales- woman would send letter after letter to their home, thus making the customers remember their promises, and procuring sales. Buyers knew that when the firm guaranteed a rug or bronze carving, the article was of value and worth buying, and Peggy guarded this reputa- tion as her greatest and most valuable stock in trade. Now came the opportunity which Mr. Russell saw only as a calamity. Peggy had. in her own words, “tackled” Mr. Russell, whom she coveted as a customer, and succeeded in get- ting him to “bite” on a photograph of a beau- tifully colored and designed Persian rug. It was a huge, antique pedigree, priced at $2,250. Basso Brothers wanted to sell it at wholesale for $1,100 and ship it from New York on a “return-if-unsold” agreement. “And where is she going to get the thousand dollars----” Poor Mr. Hayden shook his white head, and drearily went to a drawer to pore over a bank book. “It is all fixed. Daddy,” she cried, some time later, as she rushed into the room. “Now come over to the bank, and we'll send the draft; and the rug will come, and Mr. Russell will buy it, and Dmi shall have his trip, and you can keep that silk Mecca you want so badly, and I’ll have a new dress, and-------” Peggy stopped short for want of breath and Mr. Hayden stood looking at his daughter as though some ghost had shadowed his path. “Daughter, what are you talking about? Where did you get the money?” “Win. Dad! Where would I get it? From the bank, of course. I went to Mr. Prentiss, the president, showed him the check from Mr. Russell, told him what I wanted the money for. and showed him the photo of the rug. Me said it was very unusual, but he said he’d sign the note for the second name himself. I--------” “Peg. I can’t believe it. Why, it isn’t good business. And Mr. Prentiss of all people. Peg-----” “Don’t look at me like that. It’s really so. You haven’t forgotten that I roomed with Molly. Mr. Prentiss’ daughter, at Wellesley, have you? There is more than one way to make an omelet, if they all do start with

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 light shining in. I tried to turn my head, but the pain was too great. What an experience! I had often wished for excitement, and now I had it—a midnight ride in an aeroplane, lost in the darkness, captured and now a prisoner in a Mexican jail. As I was thinking over these things and wondering where Parker was. the door opened and a swarthy individual stepped quietly in. placed a plate of bread and a mug of water on the floor, and disappeared as quietly. It seemed hours that I lay in this condition, when suddenly I heard the distant boom of cannon 1 Could it be true? Perhaps Parker had returned safely and was coming to my rescue! A great battle would be fought; 1 would be freed and-------“Charles. Charles.” I heard someone call. The cell seemed to fade, the cannon’s roar grew faint, and looking around 1 found myself comfortably seated in a large armchair in my own home. It had all been a dream! I looked down at the newspaper on my knees proclaiming in big headlines, “Vera Cruz cap- tured! Aeroplanes a great aid to our vie- 3-ci'i'V), Cumt 's assistant S wab Ingham, 1916 06 ATE one summer afternoon, Molly was returning from the village where she had been with a basket of butter and eggs. She was seated in a high express wagon and Jerry was jogging along to his heart’s content. Suddenly she spied some luscious berries by the roadside and quickly she sprang out of the team. “I will only stop a few minutes,” thought the pretty maid, “and old Jerry will be all right. These berries arc really too good to leave.” She picked some berries and then wan- dered into the wood, where she plucked some wild rosebuds, with which she made a pretty wreath for her hair. Down the road came a large touring car, and in it was seated a young man dressed in white flannels. He was a young lawyer from the city, who was spending his vacation in the neighboring village. As he came to the bend of the road, he suddenly put the brake on his car. for there across the road was a horse and wagon, and the horse was nibbling grass. Jack, for such was the young man’s name, tooted the horn, but old Jerry, unconcerned, continued his nibbling, and gave an occasional glance at the goggled driver. The tooting of the horn continued and sud- denly a dainty maid emerged from the wood. Her black, glossy hair, crowned with the rose- bud wreath was somewhat disarranged, and tiny curls played saucily around her temples. On her arm she carried a basket of berries. hat a picture, thought Jack. “Oh. I’m so sorry that I have delayed you.” said Molly, but Jerry is just so stubborn, he won’t move for any one but me.” “I don’t blame him.” thought Jack. “There, let me help you turn the team around,” but old Jerry only moved for his mistress. Molly jumped into her wagon and was soon on her homeward way again. Jack spent the following few days in think- ing of a way to find out where the little maid lived. “If I had only asked her,” thought he. One moriting while speeding along the road, he noticed a large old-fashioned farmhouse on the hill. Me was very thirsty, and as country people are hospitable, lie thought he would stop and ask for a drink. On nearing the door he heard a sweet voice singing, and upon knocking once, who should appear but his girl.” She was dressed in a large white apron, and a snowy cap sat jauntily on her head. Jack was too surprised to speak, so the girl, who recognized him, asked him in. Not only did he receive the desired drink of water, but comc delicious cookies, which she was baking, and a glass of creamy milk. It suffices to say that this wasn’t the last time that Jack visited the farmhouse, for hadn’t he found “his girl”? Early the next summer there was a pretty country wedding and the two chief participants were Molly Fairfield and Jack Wellington. When they started off on their honeymoon it was old Jerry who carried them to the sta- tion.

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 9 breaking eggs. I forgot to say that we sign some sort of a bill of sale of the rug to Mr. Prentiss until it’s disposed of.” Peggy and her father immediately left the store and hastened to the bank triumphantly. A week later the rug came and Peggy, with her letter of notification to Mr. Russel), written in advance, went out to mail it. The rug found a conspicuous place in the window, and Peggy, on her way back, stopped to look at it. Just at this moment, Peggy heard a shriek and turning about saw flames shooting out of a window in Robbins’ shirt factory not more than three blocks away. She ran to the place where the crowd was gathering, and as she looked up at the burning roof, she saw three girls. Peggy told one of the firemen, but he told her that nothing could save them, as the town had not been furnished with a fire net and it was impossible to get to the top of the build- ing. The girl thought for a moment, then with a shriek she ran to the store, dragging a young fireman with her. “Quick, the Persian rug-------- it will save them------hurry.” As there were only a few minutes left before the walls would collapse, it made it impossible to explain to the bewildered, red Armenian clerk, who was urg- ing them not to take so costly a rug. As Peggy reached the foot of the building, one of the girls was about to jump when Peggy shrieked to her. The girl could not understand, so she leaped, but was caught in the rug which had now been turned into a net. The second girl leaped and was caught, then the third, and the rug gave way in the middle. After the excitement was over, Peggy went to see just how much damage had been done to the rug. when Mr. Russell came into the store. Both Peggy and her father tried to conceal the hole, but truthful Peggy turned to Mr. Russell and said, “Mr. Russell, there has been a fire as you know, and as Hillsdale is not supplied with a fire net. I had them use this rug. Of course, it is not good to you now. but to me it means a great deal, as it saved three girls’ lives.” Mr. Hayden, surprised by the confession, tried to explain further. Mr. Russell interrupted, “You certainly are a life saver as well as an efficient business woman. I must confess to you that the rug seems more to me now than it did when I first saw it a few days ago. when I chanced to go bv here. I am the rightful owner of the Rob- bins’ factory and the town has asked me to build a fire escape for over a year, but I kept putting it off. If you had not used that rug. I should have been put in a prison, responsible for three ciris’ lives. Here, please accept my check for $3,350 and send the rug to my home in New York just as it is.” Hn ©ointon Cbangefc GlaDvs JE. Beefier, I ERE. at last, we are to have a va- cation ! No more school for a week, and that means no more home lessons. Wish I never had to go to school anyway. It’s all foolishness learning ancient his- tory. and all such crazy stuff. I believe I’ll say I’m sick and not go to school any more.” Clara sat looking out the window, filled with thoughts of her dislike for school. Someone rapped on the door and she snapped out. “Oh, come in.” The door opened and a tall girl of sixteen entered. “Well. Clara, are you glad or sorry to have a vacation? I can’t say truthfully that I am glad school is closed, although I am tired.” “Well. Edith, perhaps you arc not glad, but I can say with the utmost truth that I wish every school building in Christendom would be burnt and that we would all be so old when they got them rebuilt, that they couldn’t make us go anv more. “You never need worry when reports come out. because you are always sure you will never find even a ‘C’ on your card, while the only thing I ever get a ‘B’ in is algebra, and that is easier than anything else,” replied Clara. “Well, how do you look at school? Will you please tell me how you feel when you get up in the morning, and think of school?” “When I get up in the morning, I always think of the horrid old prison I have got to be penned up in all day and recite horrid old good-for-nothing lessons. I don’t think any one really cares for school, do you. Edith? Tell me. honestly now. don’t you look at school just the same as I do?” “No. Clara.” replied Edith, “I never think of school as a prison, or lessons as good for noth- ing. When I wake up in the morning, I al- ways feel very happy, to think that I am not crippled, or sick, so that I can not go to school. Ever since I was a wee little girl in the pri- mary grades. I always have thought of school as something to love and as almost sacred. School has always seemed to me like some big-game in which every person, at some time, takes his or her part. Each grade, each division, and