Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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20 THE SENIOR M24 GNET The Song of Love CHARLES MCCAFFERTY Applesaucely' growled the man op- posite me. Now what, Billy. I asked, idly. f'Aphasia,y' he answered, handing me the paper he had been scanning, and continued, f'You know. Man loses memory-found wandering days later and all that. I think its just a handy excuse for men seeking to avoid home troubles, or to escape their creditors, or some such- 'KHold on, there! I interupted angrily, I hope your remarks were not intended for me. I w.asn't in debt a cent and I certainly wasnyt married when-U f'Jove! he muttered, a troubled remembrance coming into his eyes, Grant, I forgot. Iim sorry and I apologize. No one doubted your sin- cerity, I least of all. A few words of explanation are necessary here. While flying in France during the war, I was shot down. Fortunately, I suffered only a severe blow on the head. The trouble resulted from this blow. Upon re- covering consciousness, I found the past a blank. However, I had fallen behind our own lines, and being well taken care of and sent home to fa- miliar friends and surroundings, I had in time completely recovered my mem- ory, as I then thought. It was this matter which had momentarily arous- ed me and which I now realized he had forgotten. I was about to tell him so, when VVillis Crane, the third member of our party, and hitherto silent, spoke up. I have a story to tell,', he said, while handing the near- est waiter a note, Hand I want you to listen. 'fBack in 1918,,'he began, 'fa young aviator had been granted a few days 'PH official leave. Wearied from partici- pation in the thoughtless, useless slaughter and destruction going on about him, he sought distraction by spending his leave in the south of France where the war's immediate presence did not make itself feltf' At the word aviator I had glanced up, sharply, suspecting I scarcely know what, but as his story continued I felt my interest begin to wrane. To the best of my knowledge, I had never been in southern France. f Ifhere in the south, my comrades voice droned on, yet with some qual- ity in it preventing monotony, he found his distraction by falling in love with a French girl of the better class who appeared to return this love. How far matters had gone, l can't say. At this mention of the eternal feminine, my spirit groaned aloud. I say this literally, for unconsciously I had uttered a cynical sigh. Recently since my return from France, I had had such an unaccountable aversion for most women that I was known as a women hater and had become a sub- ject for comment among my acquain- tances. My companions were aware of this characteristic. I sensed their glances fall upon me but the trend of the story remained unbroken. They were together constantly throughout his leave, Crane con- tinued, Hhe afterwards told me about it upon his return. But he seemed to he concealing something. I don't think he told me the whole story. At any rate, he returned from leave and within a week had been brought down in combat. 'His handling of his crip- pled plane is still a matter of discus- sion among members of that squadron.

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 19 muttering, I didn't mean to kill you, Mr. Sloan-I just meant to take the money and go, but when you came downstairs and caught me, I just had to hit you, with my gun-I didn't mean to kill you -and then he'd yell again. It was simple to hold him down, he was trembling all over, so I jerked down some of these ropes, to tie him with, and switched on the light, and then you came in. But where are Dad and Mr. Sloan? Sure- ly they couldnlt have slept through the noise ? Then Ted told him that his father was in the hospital ,seriously wound- ed, having been hit on the head with some heavy instrument--that the doc- tor's said he would recover, the shock being worse than the injury, and that he'd spoken just three coherent words, Bob was right! Oh, poor Dad, said, Bob, his voice husky. That brute shall go to prison for this, I haven't trusted him from the Hrst, but Dad did, and kept putting his money and valuable papers in that old desk over there. Of course he, indicating the figure at his feet, Uknew all about it. Dad trusted him w.ith every thing. Then, day before yesterday, Dad missed a lot of money and accused me of taking it. That was the last straw! That guy there, in the house, and me accused of stealing the money. Well, I told Dad that I was through, and wouldn't come back as long as this bird stayed. And then I got to Worrying, because Dad is old and has always been so good to me, and so I came back. He stopped, chocked, and then went on. L'Ted, old boy, would you mind tak- ing me over to the hospital, and this to jail?,' But Ted was already out of the house, and it seemed but a moment till the Chug-Chugf' of his battered Ford died awiay in the distance, leav- ing the street silent once more, and unaware that it was minus one ftrust- ed secretary'.

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 21 His skill was rewarded. He escaped with only a crushed-in side and a rather nasty crack on the head. The complete loss of his memory Cwihich you donlt believe in, Billyj resulted from this bump on the head. How- ever, given every care and sent home to familiar surroundings, in time, he apparently recovered. I found myself erect and grasping the table's edge in the realization, with these last words, that for some reason he was bringing my story into his narration. 'lCurse the fellow! I thought K'What's his object? And then I thought I knew. With some far fetched moral to drive home and to make it more impressive he was mixing my story in with incidents drawn from his own fertile imagina- tion. CHe was a fairly successful dramatistj. But why apparently re- covered? Could it be that-no, I would not allow myself to think of it and so I concluded that this 'was part of the fiction. I would have liked to treat the whole matter as a joke, but somehow his strange story held my interest so that I could not. His story took up a new trend. This brings us, he continued, 'Ito aviator one evening last year. The was dining in this very room. Com- pletely recovered, apparently, yet seized wiith some strange he was discon- tent. Some vague idea that hovered in the back of his mind, refusing to become a thought, was always with him and troubled him with thoughts that perhaps all was still not well. I was present that night, too. A strange thing happened. The orchestra be- gan to play 'fThe Song of Love from the operetta 'KBlossom Time. You know the piece. VVhile casually hum- ming the melody to myself, my gaze happened to fall upon the aviator. Thunderstruck at his expression, I stopped humming. He seemed to be moved by some strange force. I know now that his truant memory was trying to give him some clue from his past. The struggle was mirrored in his face. As the orches- tra neared the finish, one could see that he had almost grasped it. The idea Hitted elusively in his head for a moment, and then, with success seem- ingly assured, the song ended. And in the same moment the thought, so eagerly struggled for, escaped him. He leaped wildly to his feet and dash- ed blindly out into the night, cursing to himself, strange, vibrant oaths dreadful to hear. The narrator paused for a mom- ent, then went quickly on. 'fOnce more in this room I saw another strange event occur, with the same character and same motive force. Once again I sat here and watched that unhappy man struggle to master his lagging memory while the strains of that beautiful melody spread through the room. And again I saw its conclusion leave the puzzle un- solved. But this time a strange con- tentment surrounded him. Not curs- ing now, but dreamy-eyed, and hatless and coatless, he walked unheedingly out into the snowy night. And in some strange manner I sensed that he knew the same event must sometime occur again and that the next time victory would be his. The dramatist stopped abruptly. Billyls query showed in his eyes be- fore it reached his lips. YVas the story ended? I was too concerned with my own conflicting emotions to heed the answer. I, too, had questions to ask, but questions which I could not- which I dare not ask even of myself! His description of my feelings when that beautiful song was played-for only too plainly was he dealing with me now. How had he known? And why was he telling this story? What was its-here I stopped, with some vague dread of following this train of thought further. I emerged from a state of semi-coma into which my