Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER teachers. I was eager to meet these wonderful people, but I feared that, among them, I should appear ignorant and countrified. Grace Nelson called for me in an automobile. She sat in the tonneau with a young man, whose name I understood to be Mumpsy. 'f'he driver’s seat was occupied by a plump, solemn-faced youth, whom 1 shall call Mr. X. I took the seat beside him, and he proceeded to entertain me. I learned that he was the son of an associate of William Rockefeller, and that he had just returned with his father from the Rockefeller mines in the West. I asked him leading questions about his travels, but he kept the conversation on a strictly financial basis. He spoke solemnly of big deals in Wall Street and on ’Change. He was very amusing, but not by the greatest stretch of my imagination could I call him clever. When we reached the club-house, I was introduced to a great number of boys and girls. Then dinner was announced. In the brilliantly lighted dining-rocm, I could observe my new acquaintances. They were indeed wonderfully dressed, but there was something about them that did not quite come up to my expectations. The boys were weak-looking and too well groomed. The girls resembled the ladies one sees in musical comedies. Their table manners were by no means perfect. My dinner partner, a chinless youth, generally known as “Buddy,” devoted himself to me. As per instructions, I began to talk in a low voice about athletics. He waived the subject as “an awful bore,” and discoursed at length upon the newest dances. The young man on my right claimed my attention and told me that my gown was “perfectly fla-fla.” Not certain whether I was being complimented or not, I merely smiled. I spoke to him about music. He told me that he preferred musical comedy to opera. I learned that Caruso was too droll for words” and that Mary Garden was “a winner,” but her growns were “absolutely weird.” In desperation I turned to “Buddy, who informed me that the salad was “beastly.” Suddenly I heard a squeal. A girl had thrown an olive across the table, hitting Grace Nelson squarely on the nose. Grace responded by throwing a radish. The young men entered the fray, and soon a veritable battle was raging. I shrank back, aghast. Where were those well-bred, cultured young people of whom Ethel had spoken? The girl opposite me threw back her head and uttered a loud guffaw. Immediately her partner slipped a salt-cellar into her open mouth. I noticed that three of the girls were smoking cigarettes. I felt ill. At the height of the confusion, the orchestra struck uo a syncopated

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 » THE QUIVER A LITTLE JOURNEY INTO SOCIETY 250 Ballou Street, Woonsocket, R. I., March 20, 1915. Dear Miss Mowrv: Perhaps you will be interested to hear about an incident of niy summer vacation. It was an experience that is now of interest to me, but, at the time, it was far from pleasant, for it caused the destruction of some of my illusions. While I was staying at my sister’s home, I received an invitation to a dinner and dance at the Country Club. The affair was to be given by Grace Nelson, an acquaintance of mine. As I had never attended a young people’s dinner-party, I was over-joyed at the invitation; but my brother-in-law refused to be enthusiastic. “I’m not sure you’ll like it, Dot,” he said. During the next few days, my sister told me about the young people whom I was to meet at the dance. She said that they were children of the oldest and wealthiest families in the city; that they were being educated in the most select schools in the country; that they had been given every opportunity that wealth, position, and breeding could offer; that, consequently. I, who had had few opportunities. must be very careful of my conduct. She instructed me to be modest and gracious, and to speak in a low voice. “I don’t know these young people very well,” she said, “but their parents are our friends. Be careful, Dot, and don’t disgrace the family.” When the evening of the dance arrived, I was filled with nervous delight. My good friends in Woonsocket were polite enough when it was necessary, I thought, but they were not especially clever. Now my dream was to be fulfilled. I was to meet clever, well-bred boys and girls, who had traveled extensively and had studied with the best

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8 Till ; QUIVER melody, and the dance began. Pleading a headache, I sat out as many dances as possible, and watched the others. It was not a pretty sight. The dancing was fast and furious. The girls became red-faced a.. i tousle-headed with the heat and excitement. Those who were the noisiest and did the most daring deeds were the most popular. Then, involuntarily, I became the most popular girl there. While drinking punch with the pompous Mr. X. I dropped my fan. He stooped to pick it up. A maid, passing by, struck my elbow, and before I knew it, the contents of my punch-glass were dashed over Mr. X’s hean. Horrified, I stood speechless. I felt that I was grinning foolishly. Mr. X stood up, his beautifully correct evening clothes dripping with punch I became aware that everyone was laughing and cheering me. Mr. X himself was laughing uproariously. Then I realized that they thought 1 had done it purposely—they considered it a clever joke. I remember the rest of the evening vaguely. I know that I danced almost without ceasing. I was very hot and terribly tired, but I could not get away from my admirers. At last it was over. The stars were dim, and a pale light showed in the east, when I reached home and tumbled into bed. At luncheon next day I told my interested relatives about mv experience. My mother and sister were shocked, and I could see that they were anxious to find out whether or not I would cultivate my new acquaintances. “Now that you have made a hit with our best young people,” said my brother-in-law, “I suppose you will be in the social whirl for the rest of the summer.” Just to tease him, I hesitated a moment. “No,” I said firmly, “never again will I attempt to rise above my humble station in life. I swear it.” And up to this time I have kept my vow. Sincerely yours, DOROTHY PRARAY. 16. WHEN COMPANY “DROPS IN” One cold day in February, I accomplished about eight days’, work: to wit, I chopped and sawed one-half of a cord of wood, sifted a pile of ashes that had been accumulating since the beginning of winter, carried three hods of coal up to the kitchen, and ran about seven errands. This, together with the fact that I had not had very much breakfast, made me feel “as hungry as a bear.” I was planning, however, to have a nice dinner of corned-beef and cabbage, apple pie and cheese, and tea.