Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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SPECTATOR 21 to bed soon, Nathalie. You must be rested so as to be ready when called upon at any time. Pray fervently, dear. Good night.” Good night’” answered Nathalie, and when her mother had gone, she undressed very quietly and went to bed. That night, Nathalie had a very beautiful dream. She dreamed that she was a little shepherdess and that she went with the shepherds to see the new born King. When they reached the stable to which the star had led them, a little boy, who was dressed in white, came forward, and, taking Nathalie by the hand, he led her to the manger, saying: “Come see the Christ-child, Nathalie.” It was Bobby! Then the stable faded away, and Nathalie opened her eyes to see her mother leaning over her. “Nathalie, Bobby wants you, dear.” So taking her mother’s hand, she followed her into Bobby’s room. When they reached the door-way, her father came for- ward and led her to Bobby’s crib. There she saw a little face so pinched and white, that she was alarmed. “Is this Bobby?” Nathalie asked in surprise. For he was a very different little boy from the one she had known two weeks before. Just then Bobby opened his eyes and asked in a little, weak voice: “Nattie—tell me—the story— of— the Christ- child.” “Courage, dear. Do your best,” whispered Mrs. Ware, and she felt much comforted. Then, holding his little hot hand, Nathalie told, just as she had dreamed it, the story of the Christ-child. When she had finished, the room was in perfect silence. Bobby’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling. Nathalie thought he was asleep, and was going to leave him, but he opened his eyes and asked: “Did Santa Claus—come?” “Yes, dear, do you want to see what he left?” “Yes, please,” he answered.

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20 SPECTATOR Candle of Life THE CANDLE OF LIFE Elinor Geis T7 It was an ideal Christmas Eve. The moon glided slowly across the black sky, and shone on the snow, making it sparkle like millions of tiny diamonds. It had been snowing all day, but now the snow fell very slowly from the heavens in little thin flakes. Nathalie stood by the window in a pretty blue bed room and looked out at the beautiful scene before her. Only a few people hurried up or down the street, their arms filled with packages. Now and then an automobile flew by, only to leave the street in silence again. The church across the way was still brilliantly lighted, and Nathalie knew that the nuns were adding finishing touch- es to its decorations. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she did not hear her mother steal softly into the room and close the door after her. The room was in total darkness, but Mrs. Ware did not turn on the lights. Seeing Nathalie by the window, and not wishing to frighten her by approaching her too suddenly, Mrs. Ware called softly: “Nathalie, dear, are you here?” “Oh, it’s Mother,” answered Nathalie. “Turn on the lights, Mother. I was thinking so deeply that I didn’t real- ize how dark it was.” “No, no, dear, it’s beautiful here in the dark. Besides, Nathalie, I want to talk with you,” added Mrs. Ware with a catch in her voice. “You know, dear, that Bobby is very ill. The fever is making quick headway.” She stopped suddenly, and Nathalie felt for the first time how serious Bobby’s ill- ness was. She tried to say something, but couldn’t, and stood very still while her mother proceeded in a low tone: “The tree is trimmed, the candles are ready to be lit, and everything is in readiness. The doctor said we should have all completed so that Bobby may see it when he opens his eyes,—God grant he may soon,,’ she added. Then, “Get

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22 SPECTATOR Mrs. Ware opened the door into the playroom, where stood a beautifully trimmed tree. The candles were burn- ing brightly, and they gave forth such a glow of light, that Bobby’s eyes were somewhat dazzled at the sight. At the very top of the tree was a little white candle which burned very, very low. “Is that—the candle—of life?” asked Bobby. A white star was below the candle, and Bobby whispered to Nathalie: “And is that—the star—of—Bethlehem?” Surprised and excited, Nathalie could only whisper, “Yes, yes!” Mrs. Ware then carried to him his toys, but well she knew that he wolud never play with them. Suddenly, Bobby pushed away the toys, and closed his eyes. His face was very white, and his breath came short. Mrs. Ware turned pale and clasping Bobby’s hand, she whispered in a tense excited whisper, “Bobby! Bobby!” Bobby raised his big blue eyes and looked wearily up at her. “I’m—so—tired,” he breathed. The little candle flickered, fought desperately for a moment—then went out. Nathalie sank to her knees with a sob, and buried her face in the covers. Bobby’s life had gone out with the Christmas Candle of Life!