Tuscola High School - Tuscolian Yearbook (Tuscola, IL)

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11 “Palmer dear, Palmer dear, where have you been? “I’ve been on Pembroke to visit a queen.” “Palmer dear, Palmer dear, what did you there?” “None of your business.” Little Miss Chapman went to the cupboard To get her poor Billy a bone. But when she got there the cupboard was bare So for supper young Billy went home. Hickory Dickory Dare Whitey Baker ran up the stair Three steps at a time He thought it was fine But Wulliman was there. Mable and Irene went to the office, John and Dean stayed at home, Ruth and Don were on flunker’s list, In detention there was a groan; But the good little Freshman cried Tee-Hee-Hee, all the way home. Mister Wulliman has lost his list, And can’t tell where to find it. Leave it alone and we’ll go home, Don’t worry; we won’t mind it. DID YOU KNOW? That Dean Rice has gone to sleep so many times in the Study Hall that he thinks the bell is an alarm clock? That mumps are contagious, that a kiss will carry the germ, and that Elizabeth N. and Weldon 0. had the mumps at the same time? That Mellroy Ross, during his birthday party, while trying to find something about which to laugh, was told to think of Ruth. “No,” he said. “I can’t do that; our affair is too serious?” That certain Junior boys thoroughly enjoy going with Freshman girls, even if they do write Bedtime stories about them? That there is no use in studying because: “The more you study, the more you know The more you know, the more you forget The more you forget, the less you know. So why study ? The less you study, the less you know. The less you know, the less you forget. The less you forget, the more you know. So why study ? “Words brought me here,” said the prisoner. And the judge made them into a sentence. THE TUSCOLIAN Storekeeper: “This ten-cent piece doesn’t ring good.” Harold Reed: “What do you want for a dime, a set of chimes?” Miss Sluss: “How is it that you haven’t made more progress? At your age I could read fluently.” Harold Todd: “Probably you had a better teacher than I.” Paul Snider: “I gave our sick pig some sugar.” Dola O’Neal: “What did you do that for?” Paul: “To make it well. Haven’t you heard of sugar-cured hams ?” Dorothy Brown: “Elinor, why hasn’t Mr. Wulliman much hair?” Elinor: “Because he thinks so much.” Dorothy: “Why have you so much?” Elinor: “Because—go away and don’t ask such silly questions.” Quite matchless are her dark brown i-i-i-i-s She talks with perfect e-e-e-e-s But when I tell her she is y-y-y-y-s She says I am a t-t-t-t-s. Link B.: “Do you think it’s unlucky to be married on Friday?” Richard: “Why would Friday be an ex- -eption ?” OlIR SCRAPBOOK The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la, Had better be careful or they Will get up too early, and little Jack Frost Will pinch them for getting too gay. the king's hell (Continued from page 9) “Very true, and most admirably expressed,” said the King. “My Juniors, what is your royal pleasure?” “Your Royal Highness,” returned James and Harrison Ro-mine, in perfect unison, “we suggest a half-holiday for all.” “Yea, yea,” uttered the Juniors in one accord, and the King in his most benign manner said, “It shall even be so.”

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THE TUSCOLIAN 13 Who’s Rita Rita was loath to air her family troubles but under the circumstances she could not lie to the frail little lady. “Sometimes she does, but usually she’s awfully strict. She will probably be lying in wait for me when I get home.” At the angry gleam in Mrs. Lyman’s eyes as she said this, Rita knew she had made a mistake. Mrs. Lyman turned to her husband in a determined way. “Fred, I feel certain that this Miss Tythe is not Rita’s aunt. I want you to look into the matter. I won’t rest until you do.” “Why Marie, they could have us arrested for questioning anyone’s right to her niece. It’s just your imagination working overtime.” Mr. Lyman was plainly shocked at the idea. “Well, maybe so, but it won’t do any harm to go and have a talk with her. Certainly she won’t be angry if you tell her it’s just a notion of your wife’s. I don’t care what you say about me.” “Well, we’ll see, Marie. But we can’t do it tonight. I’ll go see to-morrow evening.” “Very well. Just so you see soon,'” During this conversation Ross and Rita had been sitting very quiet and white-faced. Now they rose and slipped from the room. “I’ll take you home,” Ross said, as he helped Rita with her coat. “It’s almost eight o’clock. He took her to her front door but left immediately. As Rita opened the door, her aunt came forward with a sterner face than usual. She was naturally a harsh woman, almost six feet tall, with straight, iron-grey hair and an aquiline nose. “Rita,” she demanded in an ominously quiet voice, “where have you been ?” “Why Aunt Cora, I’ve been at Ross Lyman’s. His—” “You’ve been where?” demanded Miss Tythe, fiercely. “I’ve been at Mrs. Lyman's,” Rita repeated in a scared voice. “Don’t let me ever hear of you being there again,” her aunt said sternly. “But what’s this I hear about Mrs. Lyman being ill?” she went on in a different tone. “Why yes,” Rita was glad of any respite from the tongue-lashing, or perhaps worse, that she feared. “She’s been ill ever since the disappearance of her daughter, Ross’ twin sister, when they were three years old.” She watched her aunt’s face as she said this. Miss Tythe turned pale but said nothing more on the subject. “You’ll go upstairs to bed now, young lady, if you please,” she said briskly. The next morning when Rita was awake she heard her aunt preparing breakfast. As she hurridly dressed she reviewed the proceedings of the night before. “Tonight is the night Mr. Lyman comes,” she thought, rather scared at the idea. As Rita entered the kitchen, her aunt looked up and remarked in her usual brisk fashion, “You won’t go to school today, Rita. We’re leaving for California tonight. I’ve decided I’m too old for these cold winters here. We’ll have to pack today.” Rita stopped and stared at her aunt.. “Leaving for California? What on earth—” Then suddenly she understood. She was so startled she could say no more. Her aunt looked at her peculiarly but her face was expressionless. Nothing more was said during breakfast. Both were busy with their own thoughts. After breakfast, Rita went up to her room on the pretext of packing her clothes, but in reality she was watching for Ross. “If I’m not at school this morning, he’ll think there’s something wrong and come down at noon.n' All during the morning nothing was said except the few necessary remarks about packing. At noon, three trunks stood packed in the front hall. Rita went to her room to watch for Ross again. She had a note tied to a rock ready to throw out at him. In a few minutes she was rewarded. She saw him coming hurriedly down the street, not pausing until he came to her house. He started to enter the gate but as he heard her whistle he paused and looked up. She heard her aunt coming up stairs so she tossed him the rock and leaning far out cried “catch,” in a loud whisper. She had just time to motion for him to go on when her aunt came into the room. “Rita, what are you doing?” she asked irritably. “Just saying good-bye to the old place,” Rita answered with a perfectly sober face. She even managed the glint of a tear. “Getting awfully affectionate all of a sudden,” Miss Tythe snapped as she turned on her heel and left the room. Rita glanced out of the window and saw Ross standing by a tree reading the note. She heard her aunt enter the storeroom and close the door. “I suppose she’s, going to look over some old trunks,” Rita thought. “We’re safe for a while.” Just then Ross finished the note and looked up with a stern expression on his face. She leaned out the window and said, “O. K.?'’ “0. K„” he answered. “Tonight at (Continued on page 15)

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THE TUSCOLIAN 15 Who’s Rita (Continued from page 13) seven. Then he waved, smiled, and was gone. All afternoon Rita roamed about the house. “I don’t see why I couldn’t go to school to say goodbye to the kids,” Rita muttered sullenly. “No need getting sentimental because your’re leaving for the winter,” her aunt snapped. “You’re not leaving this house. Understand?” and she went out and slammed the door. “Humph!” remarked Rita to herself, as she paced the floor. “She won’t feel so gay tonight.” Suppertime came at last. As seven o’clock drew nearer, Rita became more nervous. After supper they changed to their traveling clothes. With all her faults, Miss Cora Tythe dressed well. “The train leaves at 7:45. We’ll leave at 7:15,” she remarked as Rita came down dressed for the trip At five minutes of seven someone knocked at the door. Miss Tythe frowned impatiently, but stepped forward to open it. In came Mr. Lyman, Ross, and Officer Kinney, the policeman. Miss Tythe put her hand to her head and muttered a low cry that sounded like, “It’s all over.” “Now what does this mean?” sternly demanded Officer Kinney, before she had gotten her breath. “Mr. Lyman explained the situation to me and it sounded like a crazy idea of his, but this puts a different light on the matter. Is this girl really your niece ?” “Why of course she is!” Miss Tythe answered in a dignified voice. “How dare you insinuate that she isn’t.” “There's no use for you to argue all this out,” Rita remarked coolly. “I’ve something here that will settle the argument.” She reached into her pocket and drew out a letter, yellow with age. It was postmarked Los Angeles, Calif., Sept. 6, 1917. Rita unfolded the letter and handed it to Mr. Lyman. No one paid any attention to “Miss Tythe” who sat bolt upright on the couch as if turned to stone. Officer Kinney and looked over Mr. Lyman’s shoulder as he read it aloud as follows: Los Angeles, Calif., September 6, 1817 Hortense: I have the girl. Will bring her to you on Tuesday. Name is Ruth. Won’t have much trouble with her. Have place pick-out in East at Archdale, Vt. Pleasant place. They won’t be apt to search there, until Tuesday. Jim. When Mr. Lyman paused, the perspiration was standing on his forehead. He looked from Ross to Rita and from Rita to Ross. Then he said in a queer, shaky voice, “So Marie was right! Our daughter!” Suddenly “Miss Tythe” began to laugh a shrill, hysterical laugh. All turned to her in amazement. When she got her breath, she said in a strange voice. “Well, we got our revenge. That’s all we wanted so we’re willing to suffer.” Then she began laughing again. “But Dad, who is this woman?” Ross asked with a bewildered frown on his face. “She is an ancient enemy of mine, son,” Mr. Lyman remarked with a weary smile, “but I never dreamed she would go to such lengths to get revenge. She and her husband were down and out. They applied to me for help while I was chairman of the organized charities in Los Angeles. I gave them help several times, but he was such a worthless scamp, they were always destitute. One time while they were down and out their daughter took ill and died. They blamed it on me for some reason or other. This was their way of getting revenge.” Mr. Lyman passed a hand over his eyes and sighed as he finished. “But Dad,” Ross persisted, “why didn’t you follow them up if you suspected them ?” “I did, my boy. I did everything in the world to find them but they were gone completely. At the time people said it was the “perfect crime”. I never told your mother I suspected them. She was so broken up we left town immediately and traveled in Europe for a while.” Just then Rita cried out. They all looked and there lay “Miss Tythe” in a crumpled heap on the cot. “Call a doctor, quick!” ordered Mr. Lyman. Ross did so and soon Dr. Wakely was there and took charge of the woman. “She’s just received a severe shock and her heart’s gone bad. She’ll be all right soon.” He stepped to the telephone and called an ambulance. When it arrived he took her to the hospital, accompanied by Officer Kinney, who was to arrest her as soon as she recovered. “Why, just after you left at noon, I went out in the hall and saw Aunt Cora, I mean —her—going down the steps with a box of waste paper. Then I noticed a letter lying on the floor. It looked so old I thought maybe it was one of her love-letters so I picked it up and read it. As soon as I saw what it was I decided to keep it and let you accuse her, to (Continued on page 17)