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

Page 7 text:

BERTHA’S BUSINESS CAREER BERTHA McCOY sat, chin cupped in her hand, on her front porch steps and stared thoughtfully into space. Thinking was not usually one of Bertha’s character- istics, for she was too energetic and always too busy to merely sit and think. But to- day she gazed moodily at everyone and showed every symptom of absent-minded thought. Last week had finished a school career for Bertha. She had graduated with fifty others of her class; a new white gown hung carefully in her closet like fifty other white gowns in her class mates closets, and she had received a reasonable number of presents. But the expenses in- curred by her graduation had taxed her parent’s income to the very limit and, although nothing had been said to the effect, Bertha felt that she should get into some business. However, Bertha was like many other young ladies, she had no special line in which to excel. She could cook, if she had to; sewing always went hard; music required too much practice and patience—attributes which Bertha sadly lacked; painting—well, art of any kind seemed impossible. In High School she had not taken a business course because she had intended to go to college. Not until her senior year did those terrible business failures occur which made it impossible to think of college. She was aroused by her aunt’s voice call- ing her. “Birdie—Birdie! Come in a minute, please.” Bertha slowly arose to her full height of five feet, five inches and sauntered in. “I want you to give me a little advice, dear,” said her aunt, who was studying a style book. “I can't decide whether to get this green skirt which is box-pleated and costs $9.50 or------” But the look on her niece’s face caused her to stop there. Bertha stopped mid- way across the floor and first a look of in- credulous joy flashed from her blue eyes. She began to hop up and down and clap her hands in ecstacy. “Stop acting so foolish,” said the aunt, “As I was saying-------” “Joy, joy,” interrupted Bertha “Don’t you see Aunt Madge? Don’t you see — “Quite well, 1 think,” answered Aunt Madge, a trifle shortly. “1 see enough, Bertha McCoy, to make me think you are decidedly impertinent.”

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ADVISORY HOARD Prof. W. O. Heckman Miss Carolyne Buckhout Miss Laura Jones Editor-in-Chief......................Mildred Ailman '18 Associate Editor........................Ellen Hassel ’19 Business Manager.................... Lawrence Runkle ’19 Advertising Manager.................... Ralph Taylor ’19 Subscription Manager..................Clifton Pierce ’20 Assistant Manager.......................Nevin Robb ’21 Literary Editor..........................Ruth Kapp T9 Associate Literary Editor............Elizabeth Lowry ’20 Exchange Editor.........................Belle Ailman T8 Associate Exchange Editor.............Helen Woodruff T9 Athletic Editor......................Richard Ernesti T9 Joke Editor............................Ross Edmiston T9 Entered as second class mail matte., March 3. 1915, at the Post Office at State College. Penna., under the Act of March 3. 1879. PRINTED BY SCHOLL LITHOGRAPHING COMPANY. WILLIAMSPORT. PA SUBSCRIPTION School term—$1.00. Single copy 15 cents. Commencement number, 25 cents. Published by the students of State College High School.

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“Hush,” laughed Bertha running up to her aunt. “You’re a dear. You have given me the lovliest inspiration--” “Are you or are you not going to talk common sense with me?” demanded Aunt Madge thoroughly out of temper. “Yes’m,” said Bertha meekly. Aunt Madge took this to mean that she was and thereupon launched into a de- tailed description of the season’s skirts in general and the green one in particular. And now tell me ,my dear, which one you would get, she finished and waited for Bertha’s answer. Bertha, who had not heard a word that was spoken, woke up suddenly to the fact that she was addressed and answered ab- sently, “Oh, the green one, by all means.” Aunt Madge was completely satisfied and dismissed her with a sweet smile. That evening when the family was all gathered together around the library table Bertha thought it a suitable time to broach the subject of her business career. She was a trifle timid about it. As she was the only child, her parents had more or less guarded her from even the thoughts of making her own way in the world. They had always regarded her as a mere child and had treated her suggestions and ideas as childish whims. They would always listen then smile as much as to say, “What a dear, well-meaning child she is.” Bertha had grown to hate that smile. Now she dreaded its appearance, yet she began bravely. “Father.” No answer. “Father,” a little louder. “George”, said Mrs. McCoy seeing Bertha’s flushed face and realizing some- thing unusual was about to happen. “George, I think Birdie wants to speak to you a minute.” “Oh—eh—eh, what?” said Mr. McCoy turning abruptly and, laying aside his paper, he looked over his glasses. “Birdie —you say? Well, well, the dear child—the dear child.” He waited a moment while Bertha strove to collect her thoughts and begin in the best way. Mr. McCoy removed his glasses and settled himself comfortably in his chair although looking a trifle down-hearted at the thought of his interrupted news-read- ing. “Well-a, Father I wanted to speak to you—” No that wasn’t the right way to approach so vital a subject. Bertha paused help- lessly in the middle of her sentence. Mr. McCoy, however, took another meaning out of that silence. He looked over at his wife and winked knowingly. “There, there, dear,” he soothed Bertha leaning over, and patting her hands gently, “Father won’t make it so hard for you. I know little girls like pretty frills and chocolate pills sometimes.” Here Mr. McCoy laughed heartily at his own joke and continued “its only natural. I guess Father’s been a little stingy with spending money for you lately, so I’ll give you a brand new half dollar and save you the trouble of asking.” He placed the half dollar on her folded hands and a broad smile spread over his kindly face. Bertha looked up in desperation. He did not know it, but he was making it all the harder. This time she did not give herself time to think but came to the point as fast as she could. “Oh, Father, I don’t want the half dollar I don’t—I won’t, 1 mean, need it. You see I thought—I’ve decided to start in business for myself. I’ve graduated now and I ought to do something for myself. You need all your half dollars but I thank you very much just the same even if 1 don’t—I mean I won’t need it.” She paused for lack of breath and gazed earnestly into her father’s perplexed coun-