Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY 11 Mr. Walters, I jest dropped in to rest on my way home. I must be goin ' . Late that afternoon Robert Van and James Vernon returned to the hotel, tired, but satisfied. Say, Jim, said Robert, I ' m sure this is just the place we want. There ought to be quiet enough here, and that man thought he was putting something over on us, renting that house, said to be haunted, for thirty-five a month! What a lark! You ' re right, Bob; and when I said we didn ' t want to be disturbed, he looked at us rather suspiciously. I foresee fun ! Bob and Jim caused further comment when they went to buy furniture the next morning. Their lavish way of ordering, and immediately payment surprised the clerk. The wonder of the clerk was increased when they ordered them sent to the Old Boynton Place. He started to say something, but checked himself and replied, Very well, sir, instead. Bob and John had not been settled long when numerous boxes and crates began ar- riving at the station, addressed to them. This, with the fact that they kept to them- selves, made them objects for speculation in the town. The new teacher was questioned concerning them, since her name, Lucille Vernon, was the same as Jim ' s, and because she had arrived on the same train. To these inquiries she answered, You had better ask Mr. Van. He ought to be called R. S. V. P. since he keeps to himself, and you can ' t ask him questions. R. S. V. P.? queried her landlady. Then when she repeated it to her neighbors, she declared, I suppose we ought to call him R. S. V. P., ' since the teacher said so. She ' s so educated. Thus, unknown to Robert S. Van, he be- came known in the village as R. S. V. P. Some of the boys and girls who took French with Miss Vernon could have answered, but they were not consulted. One evening Jeff Davis was walking, (hovering would be a better word) as had become his custom. Suddenly a scream pierced the air, followed by low voices and another scream. Then something that sounded like furniture scraping. Jeff started running and did not stop until he reached home. The next day he told of his adven- tures, and this added to the mystery. Meanwhile, Say Jim, while you were out last night, I got dandy programs on the ra- dio, especially a play from New York. A woman screamed so realistically that if I be- lieved in ghosts, I would have been scared. As it was I jumped. Oh, Bob, that must be what Jeff Davis is talking about downtown. It seems I ' m cleared as he had seen me on the street earlier in the evening. He almost as much as says a ghost walked up herje last night. While later he declared it didn ' t sound like a ghost ' s scream, but a human being ' s, added Jim. Great guns, groaned Bob, they ' ll be say- ing I ' m a murderer next. It ' s a pity a per- son can ' t do anything without telling every- one who and what he is. The next day a woman came to the house soliciting money for a bazaar of some sort. Jim came to the door, his hair rumpled, with a large black apron on, and with a vial in one hand. He seemed in a hurry to get rid of his visitor, and promised her that both he and Bob would give her ten dollars next Monday. She left and soon another rumor was about town that something mysterious was going on up there. Meanwhile Miss Vernon was becoming more and more popular in the high school. The school board was urging her to come back the next year, but she would promise nothing. Matters came to a climax when the sheriff arrived at the Old Boynton Place with a search warrant. He declared to the as- tonished Bob and Jim that mysterious doings were going on there and that they must be stopped. His search ended for a short time when he came to the comfortable living room with an especially fine radio set. After tuning in Bob told him about some of his recent pro- grams, especially the play with an all-star cast. He told of the curious effect the scream had on him. The sheriff seemed perplexed, and turned to Jim. You were seen with a vial in your hand. Are you sure it wasn ' t to be used in some underhand way? Yes, sir. Oh, Jim, we may as well tell him the whole thing. Hmm — a confession? Well, of a sort. You see, Jim and I were college friends. He became interested in research work, while I cared for writing. We both wanted to work hard so we looked for a quiet place. Jim ' s sister is the only relative he ' s got. They ' re not poor, but they ' d rather work

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10 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY Sam ' s cheerful face reminded him of events long past. The boy (you see) had not for- gotten Mother ' s advice and was well on his way to advancement. One rainy afternoon the boss, after tell- ing him to deliver a message expected short- ly, left for his home at about three o ' clock. As the note would perhaps necessitate Mr. Goodhue ' s taking a long trip, it was very im- portant. About five o ' clock Sam set out for his employer ' s home in the dark, rainy streets. When, cold and damp, he reached the house, one of the servants said that Mr. Goodhue had gone to his country home to find some business papers relating to a new account. The telephone had been put out of commission by the storm, so the weary boy set out for the country. At the end of the car tracks he descended and, after look- ing around in the murky, rainy, atmosphere, started on the four-frnile trudge. It was dark ; he was tired ; his clothes were wring- ing wet ; the mud was slimy and treacherous, and still four miles to go. Dark woods on either side; unknown darkness ahead and be- hind and still three miles. At last the lights of a house peeped through the mist just as a car came slipping and tearing through the mud. The boy wearily heard the gardener say, Master had just gone back to town to finish his work. Again the wearing, heart-break- ing, three miles. Smush, smuck, went his shoes, sinking and then rising out of the everlasting muck. Twice he resumed his toil. At last came the trolley and the last of his money, then his employer ' s house, the open door, the note, Mr. Goodhue, oblivion. He awoke in a wonderful, soft bed with his kind friend ' s and his wife ' s faces beam- ing over him, then learned a wonderful piece of news. Mrs. Goodhue had recognized his locket, when the doctor had come, as the same as the one which had disappeared from her dressing table ten ears (before; the same time at which her little boy had been kidnapped. Sam was Mr. Goodhue ' s son, John. Afterward it was found out that a nurse, after kidnapping John, fearing pursuit, had abandoned him in the slums where he had become ragged and dirty, after playing all day. By some chance he had become caught in a crowd of children going to the country, by means of the Fresh Air Fund. The time of his arrival was verified later by the natives of Danville, proving that he was John Goodhue. John often thanked God for the advice which Mother Carey had given him, Per- severance and Patience overcome all things, for it had restored to him his mother and father. Keith Middleton, ' 27. R. S. V. P. As the train drew into the quiet station at Littleton, the few ne ' er-do-wells who always met the trains, moved a little to see who, if anyone, had arrived. The first person whom they saw was a young girl, attractive and well dressed. Her luggage was distinctly new looking, and con- sisted of a large trunk, two shiny suitcases, and a hatbox. Wal, observed Jeff Davis, one of the town ' s do-nothings, thet must be the new teacher. I heard she was comin ' terday. A short time afterward a young man, about thirty years old, alighted from the train. Now the loungers began to take no- tice, for they had expected only one pas- senger at the most. This man had an air of mystery about him. Not that there was any- thing sinister about him, but he kept glanc- ing at the girl and then at the train. Soon a third person had stepped from the train. Great guns, declared Jeff, I don ' t know when so many people have come at once on a train since I ' ve been meeting ' em. Oh, I forgot that time the Woman ' s Club had the State something or other come. Seven peo- ple came that day. By this time the third passenger had joined the young man, and was talking with him, and they soon set out toward the village. One would think from the description of the train-meeting that Littleton was a sleepy country town. Not at all. There are always a few loungers who meet the trains even in large towns. The hotel was a three-story affair which served the needs of the traveling salesmen who often stopped there. The mysterious stranger and his companion had reached the hotel, registered, and gone to their rooms when Jeff Davis reached there. First making sure that the clerk was not about, he quickly opened the register and there read, Robert S. Van, New York City, and James L. Vernon, valet, New York City. Hmm, mused Jeff, valet, New York City, wonder what they ' re doin ' here. Yes,

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12 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY than play lazy. So Lucille looked up a small place in need of a French teacher, and we followed after. I, to go on with my writing and Jim to go ahead with his research work. My real name is Robert Stevenson Van Plank, and Jim ' s is Robert L. Vernon. I thought if I gave my real name, I ' d be swamped with offers from clubs to speak be- fore them, and I wanted to work. It ' s pretty hard to be famous, eh, Jim? You ' re right, Bob, and Lucille wins a five- pound box of chocolates from both of us. She said we couldn ' t stay in the same town that she did and not be found out. Now that you know who we are, Mr. Sheriff, I can tell you we like Littleton, and we are going to buy this place as a retreat, and Lucille ' s going to teach here one year more at least. Doris Demers, ' 28. STORRY HOUSE Oft times as we sat around the fireplace toasting marshmallows and popping corn we would tell ghost stories. The room was full of shadowy forms from the flickering fire, and the wind howled around the house cor- ners which made us shiver the more when one of us told an especially ghastly story. Most of these stories were centered about the old Storry house, which was about two miles from Chester, where we lived. Storry house had been vacant ever since we could remem- ber, and it was said to be haunted by Eloise Storry, a young girl, who walked about the house with a lighted candle. Everybody shunned Storry house, believing it to be haunted. One evening, Lynn Breele, the only one of us who had ever dared to go near the house, dared us to visit Storry house on the next Saturday. At first we girls said we did not wish to, having other things to do, but we really were afraid to go. At last we assented with many misgivings. Accordingly, the next Saturday we set out for Storry house. The house itself is made of brick, and is a fine example of old South- ern architecture. Around the vast grounds ran a stone wall which was still firm, in spite of having been neglected for two score years. The garden was a tangl ed thicket of weeds and vines. Lynn, as leader of the expedition, went boldly to the kitchen door and flung it open. We all hung back, but at last plucked up enough courage to enter. The dust was ankle deep, for as we walked we sent clouds of it flying which made us sneeze. The kit- chen was the same as it had been years ago. Next came the dining room. There ' s Eloise Storry, cried Jean, in a voice of terror. We all made for the kitchen door. Fraid-cats, taunted the boys, it ' s only a chair with a sheet over it. Fraid-cats. We came reluctantly back to the dining room a little ashamed of our fear of covered chairs. Then as we explored the library, one of the boys whispered, Listen, do you hear footsteps? We listened carefully, but heard nothing. That ' s your imagination, Dick. Never- theless, we were ready to make a dash for the kitchen door if we did hear something. Then, never-to-be-forgotten-time, as we turned to leave the library, we heard some one say, Put the case here, Joe, so no one will stumble over it. We stood there like a bunch of mummies, so frightened were we. Bootleggers, was our only thought. It grew darker, and still we stayed in the li- brary, too scared to move, as we still could hear voices. Then to cap the climax a light appeared and a hand came in the door with a lighted candle. Hey, you kids, get out of here now. You ' ve done enough sight-seeing for today. Next Saturday the Storry family is coming here to live. I ' m a painter, and I want to close up the house now. Don ' t fall over that case of paint in the hall. Carol Bingley, ' 28. THE M. F. High school opened with much excitement, especially for the Freshmen, on a day early in September. As the pupils filed out of the assembly room to go to their classes, one girl said to her friend, We have quite a bright lo(Jkirig Freshman class this year. Let ' s hope that they live up to their looks. One day, before the Christmas vacation, a group of boys and girls could be seen stand- ing around the bulletin-board. What is so interesting? one of the teach- ers asked, coming up to them. They all be- gan to talk at once, but finally she saw this notice posted : The Mystery Deepens M. F.