State College High School - Maroon and Gray Yearbook (State College, PA)

Page 10 text:

jlfplAI QON AND GqAY y Dear Sir: I have read your advertisement in the “Telegraph, and 1 would like to have you meet me at Turpaney’s” to-morrow afternoon at two o’clock to assist in choos- ing some clothes I need. I shall be inside the store. Yours respectfully, Then came the sad part of the affair. In opening the letter Bertha had been too hasty. She had torn the piece of the name off by mistake. Only the very end of the last name could she read. It was “rnet”. She looked anxiously around for the pieces but they must have blown out of the win- dow. Over-joyed at her luck, Bertha closed her office and skipped home to tell the good news. Her parents were still dubious but agreed in letting her try it until she was tired. The next afternoon Bertha was con- ducted in a taxi to “Turpaney’s and found to her great surprise that it was a men's clothing store. She tried to calm her wildly beating heart by thinking some poor woman didn’t know how to dress her little boy, but she doubted it very much. She entered slowly and looked around her for signs of some woman. Besides the clerk the only other individual in the store was an old man of rather portly pro- portions. He was fuming up and down the store looking out every other second, and muttering to himself. “Now why doesn’t that racsal of a clothes chooser come? Where can he be anyhow?” These and a few other broken phrases Bertha heard, convinced her that he was her first customer. She was very fright- ened but she approached him timidly. “If you please, sir, I think I am the person you are looking for, she said. “You?” he stopped abruptly and looked at her in astonishment, Well I should think not! I’m not looking for any woman. I’m the man, then, said Bertha de- terminedly. “I'm the person who’s sup- posed to advise you on clothes anyhow.” The man was finally convinced of his mistake and decided to let Bertha advise. At her direction he bought a very suitable suit of grey and a hat to match. As he walked from the store with his young ad- visor he learned of her first attempt at business after her interrupted school career. He seemed very interested and Bertha did not mind confiding her troubles to such a benevolent old gentleman. It seemed that he was living all alone, except for servants, on his country estate and found to his sorrow that his wardrobe had to be re- plenished. He always hated that job for he knew' he did not dress tastefully. How - ever he w as too proud to ask help from his friends or househeeper and wras too stub- born to listen to what his tailor said. One morning he had happened upon that ad- vertisement and he immediately saw the solution to all his troubles. His name proved to be Farnett, Emmet B. Farnett, a successful, retired broker. He saw Bertha home and even spoke with her father for two solid hours. At the end of that time both men seemed very pleased and the next day at her office Bertha received a check besides a letter from her first cus- tomer which read. My dear advisor: I am sending a check w hich I hope will both cover advising debts and college ex- penses. I want to hear from you regularly after you go to college and when you return I, myself, shall help set you up in business. I really think you have great talent in that line. Sincerely your friend, Emmet B. Farnett. L. N. T9

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Iff'MAROON and G AYffl il'l, , JIm’i.i- :---:- tenance. Just as she expected beseemed, disposed to treat it as a joke. “And just what is my grown baby going to do?” lie inquired seeing that his wife and sister both seemed struck dumb with astonishment. Are you going to be my floor walker or elevator boy?” “Father, 1 am not fooling.” said Bertha in reproof. I shall not work in your store at all. 1 said 1 would work for myself. “You can do nothing of the kind, put in Aunt Madge sternly “The very idea! “It's you who gave me the idea, Aunt Madge,” said Bertha” so you shouldn’t say ‘no’ so hastily.” “Well, what is it?” asked her mother. “Simply this,” explained Bertha “1 shall give advice on clothes. There are oodles of poor women in this town who have no taste and who need advise like I gave Aunt Madge this afternoon “Thank you,” said Aunt Madge tartly, “so I have no taste have I?” “You know I didn’t mean that, hastily amended Bertha. “Go on,” commanded her father. “There are lots of people 1 could give it to—I mean, who could buy it. I wouldn t need any equipment then, except words of advice and I have them. “Yes” interrupted Aunt Madge who couldn't miss this chance I have noticed you are quite proficient in that line. Even Mr. McCoy looked doubtfully at his daughter and said “Words are cheap, you know my dear.” “In wartime I suppose words can raise in price like everything else, answered Bertha defending her cause stoutly. ou know Father you could let me have that little office over 18th Street that you can’t rent. “You are right, dear,” laughed Mr. McCoy, “Everything seems to be with you. That office—well, advice doesn’t take much room, I guess. They talked a short while longer and Bertha went to bed confident that she had won her battle. Mr. and Mrs. McCoy talked awhile and decided it was best to let her do as she pleased. The office was perfectly safe and it was better for her to find out for herself that business was no cinch, rather than crush all her youthful ambition. A week later found Bertha in an office chair behind a desk in a very small room overlooking a busy city street. She was waiting for customers. On one side of her was a large pile of style books, which she had been studying diligently but just then she was reading her advertisement in the newspaper with joy. It sounded very busi- ness-like. Certainly people would be at- tracted by' it. Also there was the neat sign on the door. She had taken care not to sign her name in either places she thought it did not sound well. Just McCoy’s Opinions on Style. Advice given on Clothes seemed enough. The clock on the wall ticked loud and the hours passed, very slowly but surely'. By' noon some of the ardor had left Berthas face. But on she must! She could im- agine the smiles of her aunt and father if she came home without a customer. She ate her luncheon without relish. By three o’clock in the afternoon she was very much distressed. Four o’clock—nearly' heart- broken; she decided to cry for ten minutes. Five o’clock—she began to pray. Five- thirty the postman was coming. She jumped up, the picture of excitement and anxiety. What if he hadn’t a letter— what if he had a letter! The postman opened the door, looked in curiously and handed her a small white envelope. Bertha having found no clue from the outside of the letter, tore it open quickly and read the following:—

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BSjjIAI pQN and GI AY AN EVENING IN A HAUNTED HOUSE T T was a beautiful evening. The eve- ning star had just appeared and was hanging low in the west surrounded by the cloudless blue sky. Back beneath it, stretched the irregular crest of the big woods. To the north, south, and east could be seen small patches of woods sur- rounded by green fields, like islands in a green sea. Here and there were small groups of ill-painted buildings that were connected by a network of brown roads. But there was not even a weed grown foot- path to the dark forbidding group, lying nearest the big woods. Often had I asked the reason but I could get but one reply, “It’s haunted. We must not talk about it.” This night I resolved to explore. I was ‘new’ in this part of the country and fresh from the city. I naturally had taken a regular arsenal with me and to quiet the chill that would creep up and down my spine I put one of my revolvers and my clasp knife in my pocket. I walked quick- ly to the top of the first rise, which in fact was the only real hill in the region, and was just going to climb over the fence and cut across the fields when I was called by the farm boy of the place where I was staying. It was while I was waiting for him that I saw the before mentioned scene. But I had not long to wait as he soon came pant- ing and blowing to the top. As soon as he got breath enough to speak he said, “Ye don’t mean to say that yer goin’ over ter that house do ye?” “Why, surely. Why not?” said I. “Well this here’s all I got ter say. I f you wants ter risk yer blamed neck with a haunted house, yer welcome to it, but jest take it from me; when yer gets to foolin with hants it’s goin’ too fer. I was not used to being talked to in this manner and I replied rather sternly, “Is that all?” The manner in which I said this silenced the boy and he answered a feeble “yes”. The moon was just rising and shed a pale light over the surrounding country, as I pushed my way through the tangled briars and tall weeds to the rotten and worm eaten porch. My nerves were all a tingle as I climbed through the hole that had once been a window. Once inside I took a look around. The moon shining through the window shed its light full on an old table. Nearby was a chair, and as my eyes became more ac- customed to the dim light I could see a door and two stairways, one leading to the second floor and the other to the cellar. The other room contained nothing of inter- est so I made my way to the second floor over heaps of plaster, that had fallen from the walls and ceiling and blocked the passage. Having reached the top I inspected the only room there. It contained two old beds upon which were faded and rotted quilts. At one side was a trunk that was in such a state of decay that one kick, from my heavy boots, sent the lock flying. In- side were clothes of all descriptions and one rusty sword which I decided to take as a souvenir. Opposite the trunk was an empty closet but as this did not interest me I decided to explore the cellar. After half crawling, half sliding down the stairs, I reached the cellar. I could feel the steps give every step I took, but at last I reached the bottom. Here I had to use my little pocket flash light that I always carried with me. The cellar seemed to be divided into two parts and after finding nothing of interest in the one part I started into the