Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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 Dearest Jane: I hare bought the tickets for the play and will meet you by the big gate at eight-thirty tomorrow night. Yours, Arthur. Just as I left for school next morning. I let the note slip naturally from my I ook. right where Mother would see it. All day I wondered about it and the result. It was a hard day and I grew more pessimistic as the front door hanged behind me that afternoon. Mother met me in the hall. Your father thinks it will be all right for you to go to the dance after all. So he and 1 will take you. Without hearing more I turned thankfully into my room—and there on my l ed lay that frilly dream of a dress! Kathleen Mckkkl. ’18. SPRINT, MKMRR XCKS “I)e springtime sun is shinin’ jes’ as warn as he can he. n' de mockin’-bird is singin' in de bloomin’ apple tree, While de ole man is a-dozin' by de little cabin do' Jes’ a-dreamin’ an' rememberin’ !c days of long ago. “How de young fo'ks after sunset, when ole night druv day away. I'sed t’ gather in de quarters for to sing an’ dance an play An' I amongst de udders, to de banjo's thumpin’ tune. Used t’ laugh an' dance an’ sing dere neath the golden southern moon. “Whilst de ole fo'ks on de do' steps scraped de fiddle for de dance I«aws a mercy! How deni niggers used t' shake dev feet an’ prance! n' de mammies stood a-bcatin’ time, an' swayin’ to an' fro. Like de saplin’s on de hill-top when de lazy souf wind blow. “Hut dat’s gone now, an’ dese niggers wid dere hi-falutin' ways I'ergit de good ole customs of de Ante-Helium days. An’ stead o’ dancin’ in de moonlight in de good ole-fashioned way. Dey ape de white fo'ks doin’s wid dere “Cullud Cabaray. “Hut don’t think dat I’sc complainin’. Lor', I'se happy as kin he! 'Caze I’se jes a plain ole nigger, an' dat’s all 1 wants t' l e Till ole Gab’rel blows his trumpet for to bring to life our dust: Den I hopes to he a angel, on de Right I land, wid de Just.” Pace In'riily onr —William Kinc., 11).

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clay for tennis, and. as I was up early. I saw Arthur, with a racquet under his arm. pass our house. I snatched up mine and rati out our hack gate, just in time to l:e sauntering leisurely along when he turned the corner. 1 heard him whistle, then: Good morning. Miss Jean. I didn't know you were an early bird, too. Tennis today?” Yes, it's fine for tennis, don't you think? And Tin Jean, please.” ‘•Jean it is then, and you’re going to play a set with me, aren’t you ?” That fitted my plan nicely, so we walked on to the court, talking only as young folks can. He was a dandy player and I enjoyed the game so much that we played another, and I was late for breakfast. “Mow was the game, Jeanie?” Dad asked, and I began an enthusiastic re- f ort. Whom did you play with, dear?” trout Mother, and 1 could feel her start as 1 answered sweetly. Arthur, Mother. Didn’t you see us walking to the court together?” Then 1 added a few of my partner’s charms. Utter in the morning I picked up a boo’c —it happened to be Tennyson, and went to the hammock. By the time Mother came out I had succeeded in getting a dreamy, far-away, sentimental expression on my face. I’m not that way at all, and 1 nearly choked. I felt so idiotic. Do you want to go to town with me this afternoon, Jean? I have quite a deal of shopping to do. You need a new dress. I lad you rather have a green linen or a pongee? she asked. I believe I’ll stay here ami read: I’m very much interested in this, and I opened the book to Uauncelot and Elaine.’’ You choose anything you please for my dress.” Very well.” she answered, and left me with a puzzled frown on her face. I went in swimming instead of reading Tennyson. From then on the boy next door was very much in evidence. I didn't enjoy the time very much—he was conceited ami silly too. but I had to go to that dance, lie went to church with me and was very attentive. At dinner, Mother said: “Jean. I’m sorry I can't let you go to that dance, but you know how 1 feel.” Oh. yes. and I don’t mind so much now. There are other things in the world, bigger, better things than dances, don’t you think?” I asked innocently. I could feel their startled glances meet over mv head. That night Mother and I were on the porch when Arthur came over. She was in the shadows, in the swing, and I was in the moonlight on the steps. I le talked very low and we seemed very much engrossed in each other, just as I wanted us to appear to Mother. I could hardly sit there when he began to he sentimental, and only managed to do so when I thought of my plan. There was only one more day. and so that night, with my door locked, I wrote a note, on pa|»er not my own and in a masculine hand, 1 wrote— Piiffe twenty

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