USA > Indiana > Hancock County > Greenfield > Camaraderie : the annual of the Senior Class of Greenfield High School, 1916 > Part 5
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"Caught ye this time, didn't I?" And there was no laughter in his voice. "Hand it to me."
Willie stooped, picked up the paper and gave it to Mr. Todd, who opened it and read aloud: "X+y=xy."
"Humph! it does, does it? Well, I am glad someone is in- terested enough in algebra to work out such a simple equation. Get to work now."
With this he turned and walked back to his desk.
For five minutes hardly a muscle moved in Willie's body. Then, quick as a flash he caught up that little missive, which he had saved. With trembling hands he opened the note and read : "Please, I wasn't laughing at you at all in algebra class. I was laughing at a picture that Bob drew of Mr. Todd." No signature was on it, but why should? there be? As a pair of brown eyes looked up they looked 'straight into a pair of gray ones. The gray ones were very bright with tears which had come in that two minutes of awful suspense.
That evening a gentleman in knee trousers strolled down Main street with a dainty little girl. Neither of them knew that the algebra teacher stood on the corner of Main and Penn- sylvania and laughed until he cried as he exclaimed : "So, my young gentleman, x+y=xy, eh ?"
Cora Jackson, '16.
" NOVEMBER THE FIRST"'
The turkey strutted through the gate, His colors showing bright. A man came up with ax in hand, And he did shake with fright.
His feathers fell, his colors dimmed; And he was not so brave. The ar, when held above his head, Showed him the cold, dark grave.
What was this ar? Who was this man? What was the turkey proud? Why did his colors lose their light? Why thought he of his shroud?
The man was Mr. Larrabee ; The ar, the law he made; The fowl was Juniors of sixteen- That's why he was afraid.
-Vera Burton, '16.
1916
CAMARADERIE
GROWING YOUNG AT SIXTY
Mr. Bennett eagerly absorbed every word of the magazine article, "Growing Young at Fifty." Finishing this he gazed at the lamp for some time, then turned to his wife, who was sit- ting at the other side of the table, placidly knitting.
"Rachel, do you realize that we have fallen into a state of lethargy? We are slowly losing our vitality and individuality in this atmosphere of quietness. What we need is excitement. This man says everybody can grow young if he has a mind to. We are only sixty. I mean I am, and you are fifty-eight. Let's try it. Now, Eleanor wants us to come to that 'dingfoddy' of hers, that open-house reception she called it. Tomorrow we'll huy all sorts of regular clothes. See if we are as old as we think we are."
Mrs. Bennett looked rather dubious, but finally she said : ".All right, father, but I think it's kinda risky."
The next day Mrs. Bennett went down town with her hus- band. They decided that shoes were the keynote of every cos- tume, so entering a shop, started their shopping.
"Shoes for this lady, please."
"I have something that would be very nice for her, I think," and the salesman, returning, presented an old lady's shoe, with a "comfort" hecl.
"I said shoes, not a grandma's footease," shouted Mr. Ben- nett indignantly.
"But I am a grandmother, Samuel," gently interposed Mrs. Bennett, "and anyway I-"
"No, you are going to have shoes, not carpet slippers."
Mr. Bennett decided on a beautiful shoe, of the rather ex- treme gypsy style, and as it looked nice and didn't hurt, as long as she sat down, Mrs. Bennett made no objections.
Other articles of dress were purchased, in harmony with the shoes, not only for Mrs. Bennett, but for her huhband.
At last Mr. Bennett led his wife to the cosmetics depart- ment.
"I know you're just as pretty as anybody, but let's see what these will do for you."
The willing saleslady brought forth a nice little pink cake of something.
"Here you are, Madam, Sempre Giovene, 'always young'."
"Here, Samuel, I think I will take this. It says on the wrap- per, 'Home product, made by a widow to support two children,' I know that anybody that would work so hard wouldn't put anything bad on the market."
The day of the reception came, and both of them felt very excited. Mr. Bennett was like a boy, even the wife was feeling real "pert" over the prospect.
At last they were ready and the electric was at the door.
Arriving at the house, their daughter greeted them with amazement.
"Why, mother! What have you done to yourself? You look ten years younger. And papa, too."
Mrs. Bennett sat still as long as she could, and kept quiet. for she felt conspicuous, but she could escape notice no longer. for her daughter demanded that her parents stand in the re- ceiving line.
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One hour later gentle Mrs. Bennett seized the arm of her husband and drew him into the library.
"Samuel Bennett, you tell the man to call the machine. I'm not going to stand this torture one other minute. My feet are killing me now, and I haven't had off my flannels for years in the winter time. I felt a draught and I know I am going into neuralgia."
To her surprise Mr. Bennett agreed readily.
"All right, Rachel, all right, I'll have it here in a minute, and I'll run up and get your wraps."
They made the trip home in silence, but as they went into the house Mr. Bennett said :
"Well, my dear, I guess we are too old to try this. I find it isn't correct any more to stick one's napkin in the top of his vest, and say, Rachel, did you notice that article was "Grow- ing Young at Fifty"?
Elizabeth Jackson, '16.
OBSERVATIONS FROM A FREIGHT TRAIN
Luke Simpson was a brakeman on the fast freight running between Indianapolis and Chicago. His route took in many small towns and a few large ones. The rural scenery through- out that section of the country through which he passed was possessed of that air of contentment and ease which always hovers over the rich lands of the Indiana farmer.
Luke was a queer young fellow, about twenty years of age. He had been left an orphan when very young and was at this
time very anxious to get married and settle down. Thus, you see, with this one desire uppermost in his mind and heart, he naturally made himself very susceptible to the charms and beauties of the fair sex. He had been in love several times, only to lose "her" at the very last moment. However, he was a determined young fellow and faithfully believed that some day he would meet the right girl.
One beautiful day, as he was passing through that particular part of Indiana, which seemed to rival heaven itself for beauty and grandeur, he was dreamily looking into the future and wondering how and where this uncertain, roving life of his was going to end. His attention was from time to time drawn from himself and centered on some magnificent field of oats or wheat waving gently with the breeze, or a cool looking woods with its deep foliage and impenetrable thickets. Then as he passed a beautiful country home and hungrily observed the tranquility and beauty of it all he longed to possess such a home and live in contentment and ease.
Suddenly he noticed, seated in a large front window of one of the finest looking country mansions he had ever seen, a beautiful country maiden. She was a blonde and beautiful, wonderfully beautiful. Luke admitted to himself that she was the most wonderful and charming creature he had ever laid eyes on, and immediately decided within himself that she was the "right girl." Then she waved her hand at him. His heart leaped and he almost fell off the top of the freight car upon which he was perched.
Days passed by and each day "she" sat at the window and
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each day they waved at each other and seemed to become closer and closer. Luke from time to time dropped a nice box of candy or some other present off the train to a couple of small boys, whom he supposed to be her brothers. A note attached designated that it was for "her." He received in return some notes handed to him by the same boys. He found that her name was Goldie Berger, that she had been sick, but best of all, that she was desperately in love with him.
Finally, Luke determined to visit "her," and after attiring himself in his best suit, buying a new hat, etc., he called, one fine afternoon. As he approached the gate he saw "her" sit- ting in the same rigid, yet lady-like attitude, at the window, seemingly more beautiful than ever. As Luke approached the door a wonderful change came over him. He almost fell to the ground. As he stumbled his hat fell from his head, a look of inexpressible horror spread over his countenance and large beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. He abruptly turned, picked up his hat and started hurriedly for the gate.
There, above the window, was a weather-beaten, dimly-let- tered sign, and below it, in the window, comfortably seated in a chair, with her beautiful glass eyes turned heavenward, was a magnificent waren figure, with painted cheeks and the whit- est of teeth, clothed in the most elaborate and costly garments. The sign read: War Figure Works, War Figures Made To Order. Silas Simpkins, Proprietor.
It may further be said that as Luke stepped out of the gate he saw the two giggling boys around the corner of the barn completing the devastation of one of his fine two-pound boxes
of chocolates, and upon his looking back at the window he saw the waxen hand of Goldie wave advertisingly to the pas- sengers aboard the Hoosier Limited as it lumbered noisily along.
Paul Rhoadarmer, '16.
TOM, DICK AND HARRIETTE
Yes, again it was Monday morning and the beginning of an- other tiresome week of school. The first bell had rung fully five minutes before Harriette came running down the steps, her hat in her hand and her books under her arm.
It was a beautiful spring morning. Just as she reached the sidewalk she met Dick Chancellor.
"Good morning, Dick," said Harriette, "I don't believe I've seen you since last night !"
"Didn't we have a bully time?" said Dick. "I think Miss Woodberry was a star for chaperoning us on the winnie roast."
They both rushed into school breathless and were in their seats just before the last bell rang. Dick sat across from Harriette, while Tom Hammond, Dick's chum, sat in front of her. The three had been the best of friends since they were old enough to pull each other's hair and fight. The fighting was mostly between the two boys as to which would give the sun-baked mud pies to the girl ; but she sometimes fought for the pie before it was baked, saying that her dollies were hun- gry.
"Oh, my," whispered Harriette to Tom, "Dick and I cer-
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tainly had a narrow escape this morning, and that old bear of a principal would simply eat us alive if we were tardy."
Harriette did not half have her lessons that morning, as she had been up late the night before. Tom, Dick and Harriette walked home together that noon. "What do you say," said Dick, "to having a hay ride this evening? Father told me this morning that we had a dandy big wagon at the farm that would be fine for a hayride. So, if we can all go I'll tell the man at the farm to bring the wagon in this afternoon."
"Oh, that will be great !" cried Harriette. "Get some pa- per and we will make a list of folks real quickly and each of us can tell part of them after dinner."
And so the hay-ride was arranged.
Harriette went back to school with a light heart. They were going to have such fun! It wasn't to be just a hay-ride, they were going to take a lunch to the woods. Every now and then Harriette whispered to Tom that it was the longest three hours that she had ever spent.
As soon as school was out the girls hurried home to get the lunch baskets, while the boys went to Dick's house after the wagon. "Tom," said Dick, "supposing you and some of the fellows go down and get a couple of gallons of ice cream, while the rest of us get the wagon."
"Good suggestion," said Tom, "come on, some of you, and go with me."
At 4:30 all were assembled at the appointed place and as the
wagon drove up all gave three cheers for Dick. The baskets and freezer were put into the wagon and all climbed in.
"I get to sit in the end and dangle my feet," said Harriette. But as she sat down she got a little too close to the edge and went tumbling out in the dust. Tom jumped out and ran to her. "Are you hurt?" he asked. "No, I guess not," laughed Harriette. "Well," said Tom, "you have been wanting to know what to do in the tryout for the Dramatic Club. Allow me to suggest that you be Humpty-Dumpty and I will be one of the King's Men." "I know I'm all together, but I don't suppose I look like it. Is my hat on straight?"
A few weeks later, when the ANNUAL was published, there was a picture of Harriette scrambling in the dust in true egg fashion. The picture was entitled, "Harriette Harley Trying Out for the Dramatic Club."
Harriette blamed the accusing picture to Dick, who had to confess that he had taken his camera for a group picture, but after he had taken the one of Harriette he thought he would keep mum about it until it was printed. "I know it was a mean trick," explained Dick, "and I'll pay any penalty you wish to impose." "A box of candy, please," laughed Harriette.
When the box came she realized that Dick was still teasing her about her fall, for it was filled with candy Easter eggs and creamed filberts, which when they were little children they had always called Humpty-Dumpties.
Marcia Hough.
1916
CAMARADERIE
AN ILL TIMED EXPERIMENT
As Don Antley stood on the front steps of the Humphrey summer home he looked as if he was settling some mighteous problem, but as a matter of fact he was only making a self-in- ventory, which was very satisfying to himself. Yes, he could now contemplate marriage. Before this he could look on the marriage of his friends with feelings equally intermixed with pity and censure, for according to his opinion a man who mar- ried before he was well established in his business or profes- sion was a cross between a fool and a criminal. But consider- ing his recent successes in the financial world he had good rea- sons to be a bit vain of himself.
Just then the breakfast bell sounded and put an end to his musings. Mr. Humphrey, his host, made the guests known to one another, for most of them had arrived only the evening before. One young girl, a Miss Baldwin, particularly caught Antley's attention. In her fresh white linen she seemed to be an embodiment of an early summer morning. Owing to Mr. Humphrey's kindness he was seated next to her at the table. When the meal was over he asked Miss Baldwin to accom- pany him on a walk around the grounds. She graciously as- sented and commenced to pin on her Panama hat upside down. He told her of her mistake, and as she wasn't over eighteen, he attributed this little episode to maiden's shyness.
It was a beautiful morning in late May, and they left the grounds belonging to Mr. Humphrey's home for a short coun- try stroll. Things seemed to be progressing smoothly and
Antley was flattering himself on his conversational powers with the feminine sex, when his companion suddenly stopped, and, after she had removed her hat, took a small gold vanity box and powdered the top of her head. Mr. Antley was completely astounded. Although he supposed this was only a foolish fad he was disappointed that this seemingly lovely creature could be so light headed. After this Mr. Antley was not anxious to continue the walk and they turned back towards the house. As they entered the door Miss Baldwin quietly picked up the doormat, and carrying it into the house, deposited it on the buffet. Mr. Antley could no longer make excuses to himself for such actions. He had many strange theories regarding women (all men do who are not intimately acquainted with the fair sex and therefore know no better), but not a single one that would fit this case. Mr. Antley joined the group of men and tried to think no more of the affair. But he was keenly disappointed in Miss Baldwin-not only in her strange actions, but she seemed silent and self-conscious.
About two hours after lunch, when all of the guests were divided into various groups, Mr. Antley again approached Miss Baldwin, and this time he completely forgot the happenings of the morning in her bright and witty flow of conversation. In Mr. Antley's own language she was a star. Soon lemonade was served. But what was Miss Baldwin trying to do? Kneel- ing at his feet she poured about half of her glass of lemonade upon each of Mr. Antley's shoes. He could stand it no longer. but jumped to his feet and strode off. Was the girl crazy, or was this only some of the feminine coquetry? If so, he could
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stand no more. He was not in a mood for companionship, so he went to a secluded spot in the garden. He had not been there long when a soft voice called: "Mr. Antley!" Turning around he saw Miss Baldwin, and at first she was almost re- pugnant to him, but as he looked at her more closely there was something in her face that reminded one of a penitent child.
"I know you are angry, but one question I must ask you first. Do you think I am mentally unbalanced?" "Well, eh, no, not exactly."
"Then I am done with Uncle's experiment. You know he is a physiognomist. I am his secretary, and as his helper I pledged myself to do three ridiculous things in order to find out if people are quick to doubt another's sanity. I was so sorry that I had to try them on you, but Uncle insisted that I keep my promise.
He assured her that she was forgiven and moved to make room for her on the garden bench.
Eva Knight, '16.
When the world is bright and gay, We are very fond of play. But hark! there comes a sudden woe, For someone has said, "Go to the Assembly room below."
Johnnie's had trouble down in the cellar- You can always tell when you hear him beller "Who's been doron there monekying with the fans? If I ever catch him I'll see that he's tanned! I went down and fixed the blamed things, Then went upstairs to hear the kids sing- And it started to get hot and they all yelled, 'Air!' And I came hikin' right down the stair. Say-who's been down there monkeyin' with the fans? If I ever catch him I'll sce that he's tanned!"
-Hclen Morgan.
MY FIRST POEM
When asked to write this poem, I scratched my head in vain, Till every word I ever heard Gave me a tinge of pain.
I searched the English language To get an inspiration, So that on Friday I could make An S in recitation.
I guess this poem's perfect In meter, words and rhyme, But. I think I can do better When asked to, the next time.
-Asa Morton Goodwin, '16.
1916
CAMARADERIE
HOOKWORM
Sarah Wilson was a large woman, with a complexion of a deep ebony hue ; therefore it was according to the nature of things that she should feel a secret pride in her slim decorative yellow-skinned husband, who was, in his Sunday clothes, of her procuring, a striking figure.
Sarah for many years worked on uncomplainingly, cheer- fully, happily. She not only supported the family, including Andrew, but she made the garden, attended to the children and kept Andrew's clothes in such condition that he was the envy of every negro on the plantation. That Andrew was lazy and good for nothing did not trouble her in the least, until Sallie Jones came to the plantation.
Now Sallie was of the same taffy color as Andrew and she was not unlike Andrew in her distaste for labor. She was withal a finished coquette.
At church, the first Sunday Sallie was in the neighborhood, she selected, with great foresight, a seat in the amen corner, where she could look the congregation over at her leisure. Sarah noticed her roving eyes, and she noticed also that they lighted with mischief whenever they rested upon her and Andrew, sitting high up in the church in their Sunday finery. Consequently she was not greatly surprised at Sallie's after- church behavior.
"Introduce me ter dat han'som well dressed gen'man," the big woman heard her say in a languishing voice. And from that moment the "han'som well dressed gen'man" was Sallie's
slave. Andrew came home only to sleep. Sarah looked on her recreant husband and the flirting damsel as they passed her gate on their way to picnics and various other pleasure excur- sions, and she made no sign. But no more was heard her tune- ful song as she hung out clothes that rivaled snow in whiteness.
Sarah could have whipped Sallie without exerting herself over much, and such a proceeding would not have been con- trary to the social ethics of the plantation, but the wife did not choose to recognize the yellow flirt's existence in any way whatever.
Of course Sallie had lovers galore, but from the first she neg- lected every one of them for Andrew Wilson, who was quite old enough to be her father. However, despite Sarah's blind- ness where Andrew was concerned, she read Sallie aright. It would give the mischievous flirt more joy, she knew, to humil- iate her than any pleasure Andrew could possibly bestow, for which reason she made no sign at the open flirtation.
All the other colored women would look at Sarah in a pitying sort of a way, shake their heads and whisper, "What can she mean?" But Sarah's pride held her aloof, and as to all out- ward appearance she was the same hard-working, good-natured patient slave to her children and Andrew.
One day, Sallie and Andrew strolling home along a cool, . shady path from a picnic passed Sarah, who was working in her garden after a hard day's ironing.
"Oh, Mr. Wilson," came floating back to Sarah on the soft evening air, in the coquette's most approved manner, "is ye got a engagement tomorrer ?"
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CAMARADERIE
"Not if yoo is after needin' of me, Miss Sallie," answered the flattered Andrew.
"My garden is a needin' uv mo than I is, and dat am a sayin' a heap," chirped the yellow girl.
"I sur be over early, ye can depend on me, honey."
And the next day Sarah could see her lazy, indolent hus- band working hard in the broiling sun in Sallie's patch of ground, while that lady reclined in a hammock in the shade of a huge tree and directed his efforts.
All that day Sarah wore a deeply thoughtful look, and in the late afternoon, when she went to feed her chickens, and missed the finest of the frying size, her face settled into very deter- mined lines, indeed.
That night Andrew came home groaning, his muscles ached from the unaccustomed labor ; but his condition did not inter- fere with his appetite, which could always be depended upon. After he had eaten the supper of Sarah's preparing (Sallie's hospitality did not extend to cooking for her suitors), Sarah closed both doors, and what went on in that cabin that night no one knows, but the next day Andrew worked in his own garden, and from that time on he finished his work before seek- ing the fair one's society.
When no more offerings of chicken and other delicacies were laid on the coquette's shrine, and as Sarah continued to ignore her existence, her interest in Andrew ceased and she turned her attention to more profitable fields, and Andrew re- covered from his midsummer madness.
After Sallie had no longer any interest for him he thought
that Sarah would permit him to resume his idle, well dressed living as before Sallie's existence. But the mischief had been done. His Sarah saw things in a different light now. His su- premacy was over. Sarah still cared for him, but there was some precious quality gone from the feeling, something that could never return.
Andrew's disinclination for work grew upon him, and every day as he dug or hoed in the garden he tried to think of some way to convince Sarah that he was unequal to the tasks im- posed upon him.
One afternoon in the early fall Sarah saw him coming from the grocery, gazing steadily at a newspaper he was carrying. She was puzzled, as neither she nor Andrew could read.
"Sarah, honey," he began as soon as he reached the yard, where she was hanging out clothes, "I has got the hookworm decease. Jist look at dis picture of de curly creatures. My stomach is full of dem."
"How did you find dat out?" inquired Sarah dryly.
"Dem folks at the grocery store was a readin' it to me, and I sure has got ebery symptim of de decease."
"What air de symptims?" asked Sarah with an anxious note in her voice.
"De symptims air dat ebery minute ye feels like ye can't work another bit, and if ye do keep on workin' hit will sho kill ye. Yoo is hungry all de time and yoo has got to be fed, and if ye haint fed, fer if dem worms don't get enough to eat they go to work on yoo insides."
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CAMARADERIE
Andrew settled sadly down on the doorstep in the sun, and after a few groans and sighs went to sleep.
Sarah stood for a long time gazing at the sleeping man and the newspaper; then quietly dressing herself in in a stiffly starched pink dress and a white apron, she walked into town, to the office of a young doctor, the son of one of her old-time white patrons.
"Marsa Doctor, do you reckon my old man done got the hookworm disease?" was her anxious question, after she had described the late scene with her husband.
"Don't give yourself any uneasiness about Andrew, Aunt Sarah," the young doctor answered her with twinkling eyes. "His trouble can be cured, I think. Watch him closely tonight and I will see him tomorrow morning."
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