Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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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.

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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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18 THE QUIVER WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN WITH FOOD FROM AMERICA Little Olga tightly held the ragged black shawl around her shoulders with one small, dirty hand, and with the other she dragged her three-year-old brother through the crowds of children already gathered to meet the incoming train of the American Relief Administration. Now she could see it approaching in the distance, winding along like a serpent and occasionally giving a shriek to announce its coming to the eager, half-starved children. It was moving very rapidly, but to little Olga and Ivan it seemed to creep along like a snail. Would it never come ? It was pitiful to see the thousand children collected there. They stood so very quietly, not at all like normal children, and watched the train with their big, expressive eyes. Olga felt as though she no longer had strength to cling to Ivan’s hand and she thought it was slowly slipping from her grasp. Looking at him. she wondered vaguely at his hollow cheeks and his thin body; but if she had looked around her at the other children, she would have seen that Ivan was by no means the only starving child. The small, pinched look was stamped on all those pale young faces. Indeed, if she had gazed into a mirror, she would have seen the face of any one of those children reflected in her own countenance. She was aroused from her stupor by the hoarse shouts of the others and by Ivan’s tugging at her hand. The train had. at last, reached the station. It was bringing food, she told Ivan, as she pointed out the Red Cross to him. Olga found herself in the midst of a rushing crowd. Everyone had seemed to gain life in an instant. Each of them knew that he would soon have food, and all were prepared to give the “American Relief lady” the best smile they could summon to their dry lips. For an hour Olga waited for the food tickets, standing with the others near the great train. She waited patiently, for she knew that there were a thousand other starving ones who must also have food. While she watied, Olga watched the women and men from the train rushing hither and thither, some distributing tickets, others going about numerous other duties. One Russian officer reminded her of her father, who had fallen during the war in the service of Russia. Finally she was sent with two tickets into one of the restaurant cars, where she and Ivan were seated at a small table and were given two bowls of hot, nourishing broth. Never did food taste better to hungry children! Ivan’s eyes shone as he devoured his portion.