Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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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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r A Strange Experience ............... Beatrice Sweet ’21 5 The Kind-Hearted Meddler....... Josephine E. Murphy ’21 6 Editorials................................................ 8 Alumni Notes ............................................ 10 Library Department............................9.......... 11 Exchanges................................................ 12 Athletics . ........................................... 12 School Notes 15

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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.