Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 come lame. She hardly heard a note which he played, she was so wrapt in joy at having found that which to her had been lost. After the last number she asked to see him privately. Of course her request was granted. Having been introduced she hesitated to broach the subject which was uppermost in her mind, so she began: “Senor, I wish to congratulate you on your success in music.” Angelo acknowledged the remark very gra- ciously and then the Lady thought it best to introduce her subject. “I wonder if you will think me prying and rude if I ask you about your early life?” Her kind eyes seemed even kinder, and her face younger now, as she listened for his an- swer. It came at last, “Why certainly not, my dear madam.” His curiosity was arroused now, for he wondered why this strange, motherly person could possibly want to hear of his commonplace life. “I wish to know if you remember anything of your mother,” she was saying. “I remember only that she was very kind and good. She died when I was but five years old, but father used to speak of her often to me. He said that my features resembled hers, but I hardly think they can because mother was very beautiful.” This modesty on the part of Angelo greatly pleased the Lady, but she went on— “Do you know that twenty years ago my young daughter, Anne, eloped with an Italian musician whom she met at just such a musi- cale as this? They were together almost every day after they met, and when he was suddenly called back to Northern Italy, be urged Anne to go with him. She dutifully asked my consent, but I—(her voice broke) I refused to let her go. I thought it strange that she did not make a scene, but I saw the reason when that night I found she had gone. My heart turned against her then, and I thought I never wanted to hear of her again. I did not hear, until seven years later when word came that she had died, leaving a small son to the care of her husband. Of course I knew the father would do all he could for the boy, but I thought that I could do more for him, so I employed searchers to find him for me. They did not succeed, and for thirteen years my heart has ached for the grandson I could not lavish love and care upon. “Tonight, I had almost forgotten, but when I saw your face it all came back like a flash. My boy, you have the very features of my daughter, could you possibly be my own, own grandson ?” Angelo’s face was a study. He was so taken aback that he could hardly utter a sound. It was now his turn to tell his story, so he began, relating in every detail the story of his life. One thing he omitted, however, how he became lame. Lady Montgomery noticed the omission and hesitatingly asked him, “Would you mind telling me how you became injured?” She immediately hated herself for asking the question when she saw the shadow that crossed his eager countenance. “It was an accident,” he said, “I was four years old when it occurred. My nurse and I were walking on a city street, and iii attempting to cross to the other side, I was knocked down by a pair of runaway horses. The carriage passed over my knees, breaking one leg and so shat- tering the knee of the other that when I re- covered, the shattered limb was much shorter than the other. I think my nurse never for- gave herself for letting me cross the street unaccompanied by her.” As Angelo’s story agreed almost exactly with Lady Montgomery’s, they both were satisfied as to the relation between them. When the fact was announced that the young Angelo Delani was the grandson of Lady Montgomery, his popularity grew more and more. Later, when the grandmother died, she left her entire estate to Angelo. He shared it with the now middle-aged Rosa Maria, who had assisted him in his time of need. We regret very much the delay in the publication of the October issue of the “Radiator.” This delay was due to the printers’ troubles which are so prevalent in the country at the present time and which even the staff cannot overcome. We hope that there will be no delays in the future.

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6 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR ANGELO DELANI Emily Wright, ’22. Rosa Maria, a celebrated contralto, having just delighted an audience with her singing, was leaving the theatre on her way home when her attention was arrested by the soft strains of a violin, faintly heard above the uproar of the city. It was unusual to hear a street musician in that part of the city, so she listened a moment. Gradually, as the simple melody of the music came to her list- ening ears, she began to wonder who was playing. She stepped into the street, and moving with the crowd came to the place where the violinist sat. Angelo Delani was poor, lame, and father- less. His father had been a great violinist and had taught the small Marco to play on his beloved violin. The boy, being of a musi- cal temperment, took to the instrument read- ily; but when the father died leaving him penniless, Angelo was at a loss what to do .to earn his living. Reduced to his last coin, he was forced into the street, and sitting in a remote corner, began to play to rest his tired mind. Gradually a group of listeners gathered, and soon, all unknown to Angelo who was lost in the land of music, a crowd was listening to the sweet tones of the violin so deftly played by one so young. Among them was the fair Rosa Maria, drawn by the strains of her favorite song, listening spell-bound to note after note. As the song ended the crowd dwindled away until only Rosa Maria was left with the boy. Angelo was sitting very still, utterly discouraged with life and all things in gen- eral, when— “Child! Where did you learn to play like that?” It was the beautiful Rosa speaking. “Oh, Senorita,” said the boy, startled, “I did not know anyone was near.” Then followed a conversation in which it was disclosed that Angelo was alone in the world except for some unknown relatives in Great Britain, whom the father had men- tioned once but not called by name. He was now fourteen years old and had been living in an attic room with his old nurse. She had but recently died, and now Angelo was turn- ed into the street to starve. Rosa Maria was fascinated more' and more by this strange, lame lad who could play so beautifully. Be- fore the conversation ended she had deter- mined to take him to her home and care for him. Meanwhile, Rosa Maria’s old chauffeur had begun to get uneasy about his mistress. He had seen her turn down the street, and as it was very late, and she had not returned, he decided to find her. He had walked down the street a way when he saw his mistress and the boy coming toward him. When they met, Rosa explained that she was taking the boy home, and accordingly the old servant took the lad into his arms and made his way back to the car. We must now leave them on their way home, and skip over the space of four years in which Angelo has grown to be talf and manly. He is now eighteen years old and has studied with celebrated masters in Germany and in his own beloved Italy. We find Rosa Maria and Angelo journeying to England to visit the Senorita’s friends of whom she had often spoken to him. A month later. Lady Vincent, a friend of Rosa’s was preparing to give a musicale. Lady Vincent’s musicales were very popular among her many friends, and she wished to make this one better than usual. Having lately met the young Italian violinist and heard of his success, she determined to have him play at her musicale. When she asked him he replied that he would be very pleased to assist her. The night of the musicale arrived, and a close observer might have noticed in the audi- ence a white-haired, refined appearing gentle- woman. She possessed a clearly cut profile, rather stern lips, and very kind eyes. This was the Lady Montgomery, a lover of music and a very dear friend of Lady Vincent. The first numbers of the program were up to the standard of Lady Vincent’s musicales, and then came the announcement that Senor Angelo Delani would play a few selections as a special favor to the hostess. The moment Angelo came before the audience Lady Mont- gomery might been seen to start suddenly. Where had she seen those features before? The expressive eyes, the clearly cut profile, and the kind but rather stern mouth. Then, for the first time, she noticed that he was lame. She wondered how he could have be-

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR A COURAGEOUS CROOK Charles Platt, 21. On a hot sultry August day, a motorist, touring through the country section of Vir- ginia was forced, by engine trouble and short- age of gasoline to stop at a small garage in a little country town. As the motorist looked hot and tired, the garage-keeper, who was also the stationmaster and postmaster, besides being the police and fire departments, invited him to be seated. The motorist, thanking him, sat down on a rickety chair at the end of the platform (the garage was also the railway station) and took a survey of his surround- ings. It was a typical country town of tre hilly section of Virginia. A short distance from the highway was a cluster of old-fash- ioned houses, evidently composing the vil- lage. through the midst of which ran a wind- ing street. Further away the motorist could see the farms dotting the country-side, while the hills rose hazily in the distance. Such was the dead silence, that the motorist, in order to break it, inquired, “Is there ever any excite- ment around here? The stationmaster an- swered from under the auto, the nasal twang of his voice cutting sharply through the heavy silence. “I couldn’t say thar was,” he answered. “About the only thing that thar’s happened in the last ten years war a fire in Judge Carle- ton’s house, about five years ago. What gave the excitement was a burglar who war thar the same night. The judge kept a small gar- age which was jined to his house, and he used to throw all the oily rags into his cellar. That were what started the blaze. Anyhow, the judge woke up that night and saw someone walking around in his room. Hashing a light. The judge jumped halfway out of bed and then jumped back again. The burglar jumped around like a flash and rammed a gag in the judge’s throat. He was going to tie him up when suddenly he stopped and snuffed the air. “Have ye got a fire in yer furnace?” he asked the judge. The judge managed to shake his head no. “Wait here then,” com- manded the crook, not stopping to tie him up. for the judge was too skeered to move. The crook sneaked out of the room but was back in a minute. “Yer house is a-blazing,” he said, “I’ll let you go if you don’t say a word about me.” He raised the revolver menacingly. The judge pulled out the gag, promised to be silent and jumped from the window into the garden below, yelling, “Fire! Fire!” In a moment the whole town was out. The fire spread over the house quickly and the judge ran and got his wife out just as that part of the house collapsed. Suddenly the judge gave a yell. “We’ve left the baby behind!” he cried. Someone spoke at his elbow. “Where is the baby?” asked a familiar voice. The judge turned around to see—the crook. “Up there,” he said, pointing towards the room over the garage. Without a word, the crook ran into the house, up the burning stairway, and crawled through the smoke-filled hall into the blazing pedroom. Grabbing up a small rug he wrapped it around the baby and ran back to the hall. The stairway had disappeared. He stumbled back into the bedroom to the window. The garage below was blazing. There was only one thing left to do. The villagers below heard his voice above the roaring of the flames, and caught the baby as it fell. Suddenly, with a blinding flash, a large tank of gasoline exploded, showering burning oil on all sides. The “crook” had no time to jump. The whole side of the house blazed up higher, tottered and then collapsed. The next day the town subscribed a sum of money for a tablet of marble to have en- graved on it the four words, “To a Courageous Crook.”