Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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16 THE QUIVER V. When my brother entered the first grade at school, he came home every day for about a week and said that the teacher kept saving, “Cigarette! Cigarette!” to them, and he wanted to know what she meant. So one day when my mother met a little girl from Raymond's class, she asked her what it was that the teacher said that Raymond thought was “Cigarette. The little girl thought a minute and then said, “It must he ‘sit erect’; that sounds a little like ‘Cigai ette,’ doesn’t it?” FRANCES F. TAYLOR VI. One day last summer, my aunt bought a number of lobsters for dinner and carefully showed the new maid, Stella, how to cook them and then take the small green vein out of each one. She then went upstairs to dress, leaving Stella to complete the preparations for dinner. When dinner was ready, Stella brought in the platter, apparently covered with nicely cooked lobsters. Imagine our dismay a moment later when my aunt exclaimed, “She has thrown away all the meat and has brought in—the empty shells.” FRANCES F. TAYLOR. VII. When I was a little girl, our family occupied a cottage at Newport, R. I., from July to September. We were all there with the exception of Father, who came on Thursdays and Sundays. All through July I did not feel lonesome for Woonsocket or my little friends, hut in August 1 longed to come hack. I used to cry and beg Mother to come home, but she always told me that it was much more comfortable in Newport. 1 could see neither sense nor reason in Mother’s argument, so when Father came, I begged him to take me home; hut he told me that there was no one at home to take care of me. It was customary for someone to escort Father to the boat. One Monday morning, Benjamin and I went. Father took me on hoard while Benjamin went for a short walk with some friends. When I came off the boat, my brother was nowhere to he seen. I told Father that he would have to take me to Woonsocket because I could not go hack to the cottage alone ; so home to Woonsocket I came, dressed in a thin white voile dress, without a hat or coat. When we arrived in Providence, Father telephoned Mother so that she would not worry about me. In Woonsocket, he bought me a hat and a coat. He then took me to my grandmother’s, where 1 remained for two long days, after which I was glad to have my aunt take me hack to my mother, sisters, and brothers. IDA ESTHER FALK.

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THE QUIVER III. 15 When I lived in Brockton and was about three years old, I had my first, and only, experience in a police station. I was always very adventurous and assertive. At this youthful age, I was accustomed to go down to my father’s store on Main Street. It was rather a distance from my home, through the congested business thoroughfares. I always left home with Grandma’s command, “When you are crossing the streets, be sure to look to the right and the left,” ringing in my ears. One day a meddlesome, but well-meaning, lady saw me on Green Street and thought that I was lost. She proceeded to take me to the station. Proceeded is good, because I kicked and “protested” all the way. I knew where I was going and I didn’t want any unnecessary interruptions. Things didn’t fare much better there, because I stubbornly refused to tell my name, “Gaga Randall, destination, or home address, but just kept asking questions. In des peration. they gave me crayons and paper. Finally, I had been gone so long that Mother called up the station to see if I were there. Later, they gladly surrendered me to my father, for, I am told. I held the championship for question-asking for many years. GLADYS V. E. RANDALL. IV. When my sister, Marion, was four years old, my sister, Gladys, was only a few hours old, and to the elder this difference of age seemed a great deal, and she longed for Gladys to grow up quickly so that they might play together. Now Marion had always disliked to eat the crusts of her bread, and the nurse had told her that if she would only eat them, they would make her grow and also make her have curly hair, her two great ambitions. Marion, therefore, used her little brain and reasoned that if crusts would make her grow', why would they not make her little sister, Gladys, grow? So the young thinker saved the crusts from her bread for three meals, by putting them on the board under the dining-room table. As soon as she had a little stored away in her secret hiding place, she stole into the bed-room, where, lying in a crib, was Baby Gladys, whom the nurse had left for just a moment. Marion stuffed the crusts dowrn the helpless infant’s throat, and. when the nurse came in a few seconds later, she found Gladys choked almost to death. BERTHA L. H. RANDALL.

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THE QUIVER IF I COULD LIVE AGAIN THE LAST FOUR YEARS 17 When you truly regret a foolish act or a sin of omission, your mind returns incessantly to the error, and as you reproach yourself, you sigh, “If I could only live that over!” Then, try as you will to forget your mistake, it will always remain fixed in your memory. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that I must be lacking in conscience, for no such regrets concerning the last four years are rankling in my soul. However, I have a vague intuition that it would be quite the right thing for me to strike an heroic pose and cry out, “Oh, that I could live the last four years over! Shades of ye wasted study periods, hours lost to idle dreams, haunt me no more!” Then, with deep sighs and a self-conscious smile. I would declaim for hours on how I should have abstained from my semi-annual afternoon at the movies, from drawing pictures during the geometry class, from gossip, clubs, and magazine stories, and from powdering my nose; but, most of all. I would regret the day during my Freshman year when I played hooky and took a long hike one beautiful March day. During all this oration, I should feel myself sinking trom the position of a lazy sinner to that of a prating hypocrite with an eye to being complimented by an admiring audience, that, at the proper point, would exclaim, “With what a noble, thoughtful air she speaks!” Thus encouraged, I would continue : “My friends and teachers tell me that without doubt I could have won honors in High School. In fact, the most reliable critics say that I might easily, with a few extra hours of concentration a day, have stood first in my class. Oh, little Freshmen, take my advice: waste not your study hours in play, lay aside your dreams of next summer’s fishing, and grasp Golden Opportunity. It passed me while I slept! It is too late for me to remedy my error, but I trust that I shall impart to you—” At this point, I should probably be assisted from my soap box pedestal by some firm-minded friend. But in serious and solemn conclusion, let me say that if I were to live the last four years again, I should probably do just as I have already done. MILDRED HATHAWAY.