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

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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-

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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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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:—