Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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6 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR ashen-white face, with large, agonized, burning eyes and a bitter smile. I think that it was then that I became semi-con- scious. As in a trance, I saw the hat in her hands. I saw her face vanish, the body, and finally only its hands remained. The hands thrust the hat into the opening where it fell at my feet. The ghastly hands then pushed the oak panel in place. After a few moments of complete stupe- faction, I roused myself and stumbled to my room. Some three or four hours later I solved the problem of the hat as I sat trying to puzzle out the tangle. At the time that I was at the inn, there was a lady living there, who had worn that very hat to a garden party. The next night, she had told me that the hat had strangely disappeared. This, then, was 'Hie hat which had disap- peared. without a doubt. These events seemed so absurd, that I began to feel my- self living in a veritable land of mystery! In the morning 1 told my story to the hotel guests. When I had finished, a young scientist spoke up. He said that it was very evident I couldn’t have been dream- ing, so there was only one answer to the problem. “Don’t you see,” he continued, “that this is a case of the materialization of a spirit? Absurd theory, but the only one that can be made. I connect it with the history of this house with which you are all familiar. The finery-loving Quaker girl materializes in the night, after the established customs of ghosts. She finds Mrs. Harrington’s beautiful hat and steals it, hiding it day- times behind the oaken panel, where Mr. Towning hid.” “So,” said Mr. Towning, “I was forced to draw that conclusion, for it has never been explained otherwise. That is certainly the strangest experience I have ever under- gone,” he concluded. We all agreed with Mr. Towning that the story was most strange. And as the rain pattered noisily on the roof of the little cot- tage, I peered fearfully into the dark cor- ners of the room, half expecting to sec— the young Quaker girl with her white face framed by the picture hat! THE KIND-HEARTED MEDDLER Josephine E. Murphy, ’21 Miss Matilda Gifford kept a little bakery on the corner, the one where you go down a few steps and the bell tinkles when you open the door. Miss Matilda was thirty-five; she pos- sessed a bank book with a credit of two thousand dollars, kind gray eyes and a very sympathetic heart. Two or three times a week a customer came in, in whom she became interested. This was a middle-aged man wearing spec- tacles. His beard, slightly gray, was neatly trimmed. He spoke English with a French accent. His clothes were worn and darned in places, but he was neat and had excellent manners. His purchases always amounted to two stale loaves. Fresh bread was five cents a loaf. The stale loaves were two for five. One day Miss Matilda saw a- reddish brown stain on his finger, and then and there she decided that he was an artist and very poor—no doubt he lived in a garret and ate stale bread. As said before, Miss Matilda had a very sympathetic heart and she could not help thinking of the poor artist eating his lonely meal of stale bread. In order to prove the theory as to his occupation, she took from her room a paint- ing that she had bought at a sale, and laid it against the shelves behind the bread coun- ter. It was 'a Venetian scene, and she thought no artist could fail to see it. Two days later the artist came in and asked for ffie stale bread, as usual. “You have here a fine picture, madame,” he said while she was wrapping up the bread. “Yes?” said Miss Matilda, smiling gracious- ly. “I do so admire art and painting.” “Ze balance is not in good drawing and zc shad- ing are too dark.” So saying, he took his par- cel and hurried out. “Yes,” Miss Matilda thought, “he must be an artist,” and she took the picture back to her room.

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5 V T-£ Ouvie.lqzo. SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 212998 A STRANGE EXPERIENCE Beatrice Sweet, ’21 It was a cold, rainy night, and father built a fire in the wide fireplace of the little cottage. Our family had hardly settled around the blazing logs when we heard a knock at the door. The visitor proved to be Mr. Towning, a jolly, middle-aged gen- tleman, widely known on the beach for his genial ways and story-telling talents. We welcomed him cordially and made way for him at the fireside. The conversation turned to the old cottages in Gloucester (the beach where we were spending the sum- mer.) “I had a strange experience in one of the oldest houses in Gloucester,” said Mr. Towning. “It is a long story, however, and I fear it would bore you—” “Oh, please,” I broke in, “do tell us! We would love to hear it.” To hear a story from this man was indeed a pleasure. “There is an old house,” he began, “near Folly Cape in Gloucester, where a Puritan family lived in the seventeenth century. It is used now for an annex to the B— Hotel, and many visitors go there simply for the historic value of the place. I spent a week in this house two summers ago. One night during my stay I found it impossible to sleep. I arose, and, thinking to while away the time, picked up a pamphlet from the table. This pamphlet told the history of the annex. It seemed that a Puritan family had lived in the house many years before. The father had been a stern Puritan, and the mother a meek, gentle little woman who dared not cross the will of her husband. There was also a daughter, Mercy Dan- forth, a high-spirited young woman who had a great passion for finery. Mercy’s father forbade gewgaws of any kind, which made Mercy very unhappy. Mercy had a lover, also forbidden by her father, whom she met clandestinely outside her house. This lover brought her a pair of fine kid gloves. The very night she was given them, her father discovered the poor girl with the gloves in her hand. In a fit of rage, he threw the offending articles into the fire. Then there followed angry words between the testy old gentleman and his daughter, after which Mercy ran from the house and threw herself into the water off Folly Cape and was drowned. It was half-past two when I finished the little story. Suddenly I heard a short, dis- tinct, scraping sound. It stopped. I wait- ed tentatively. Again I heard it. Fold- ing my dressing-gown around me, I opened my door and stepped into the hall. At the end of the corridor I descried a woman. She started to descend the stairs. Startled and suspicious I walked quickly after her. At the head of the stairs I peered over the banister. The figure had reached the foot of the staircase. The moon sent light enough through the front door glass so that I could see that the figure, girlish and slender, was clad in an old-fashioned Quaker gown, over which a long, dark cape was thrown. The girl was standing before a long mirror, and was trying on an elab- orate picture-hat. A cold chill trembled down my spine. The girl’s costume was of another age, but the hat—that flower-laden creation—was a modern hat. I wondered, I puzzled, I pinched my arm to see if I was asleep—but no, this scene was real! I leaned weakly against the balustrade, and at once froze into an upright position again. A ray of dawn shot through the glass, and the girl at the foot of the stairs started and sighed audibly. Then, without seeming to have moved, she was on the staircase trav- eling upward airily, deliberately, mystically. I looked about frantically—I must find a hiding-place, I thought. I saw an open door in the wall and darted in. Gad! I shall never forget those next few moments! My eyes were glazed. My hands were like cakes of ice. The fig- ure had stopped in front of the closet. For an instant I saw the face. It was a ghastly,

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 After this when he came he would chat for a while across the counter. But he kept on buying stale bread; never cake; never a pie. She thought he looked thin and pale, and she longed to add something to his small purchase. But she did not dare. She knew the pride of artists! One day the usual customer came in and laid his nickel on the counter, and called for the stale loaves. While Miss Matilda was reaching for them a fire engine clanged by and the artist moved toward the door as a person naturally will. On the bottom shelf was a fresh pound of butter left by the dairyman, and with a knife she made a cut in each loaf and in- serted a large piece of butter, and when the artist returned to the counter she was doing up the bread. When he had gone she won- dered if she had been too bold. For a long time her mind dwelt on the subject. He would prepare for his lunch of dry bread, He would slice into a loaf and then—oh! The front door bell jangled viciously. Some- one was coming in, making a great deal of noise. She hurried to the store. Two men were there. One was a young man whom she had never seen before, and the other was the artist. His face was very red and his hair was rumpled. His fists were clenched, and he was shaking them at no other person than Miss Matilda, and he was muttering strange French words she had never heard before. The other man tried to draw him away. “No, I will not go until I told her,” and so saying he pounded on the showcase window. “You have spoilt me, you meddling woman!” Miss Matilda leaned weakly against the shelves. The young man took the other by the collar and led him out. Returning, he said, “I suppose you want to know what the row is about. This man is an architectural draftsman. I work in his office. For many months he has been making plans for a new city hall. He had finished inking the lines yesterday. You know a draftsman always makes his draw- ing in pencil first. Then when it is done he rubs out the pencil lines with handfuls of stale bread crumbs. It’s better than rubber. He has been buying the bread here, and, well, today—well, you know butter—oh, well, his plan is simply no good now.” And poor Miss Matilda is now heard to sigh, “Oh! the ingratitude of men!” KAPPA ALPHA PI Gamma Alpha chapter has begun another school year in the same whirlwind fashion that has been characteristic of the fraternity in former years. A dancing party was given at the Heincmann House on October 9, and was a success both socially and finan- cially. All of the seventy-six brothers who were in the service, a record of which we are proud, have returned with new ideas to bring us into closer brotherhood and co-op- eration. As has always been the case, “Kappa” is well represented on the football squad by Captain “Jack” Reardon, “Steve” Patten, George Dowd, “Nick” Chase, and “Jim” Ryan. Dowd is now out of the squad, as he broke his collarbone at practice. The last school year was one of the most successful in the history of the chapter. A small dance at Grantunbry Bungalow on December 7, 1918, a bungalow party at Fitzedward Bungalow on February 13, 1919, and a large dance at the Heinemann House on May 8, 1919, completed the so- cial events of the year. These were all a great success, both socially and financially. Kappa Alpha Pi hopes that the activi- ties of the coming year will bring the fra- ternities into closer co-operation with each other, and with the faculty, and also wishes to pledge its support of the faculty for the coming year. At a meeting of the Inter-Fraternity Council of 1919, the following rule was passed: “No recognized fraternity in Som- erville High School shall pledge a man be- fore the issuing of . the second report card of his sophomore year.”