Newton High School - Newtonian Yearbook (Newton, MA)

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14 THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL to get food. Beyond their houses is the great sea where one can bathe every day, and where the water never gets stagnant. But no one can drink it because it is very bitter. And there are big canoes with white sails that go sailing over it until they disappear, they become so small. She.-I will not mind the hot days, but I am very much afraid of the cold nights .... Joba.-Oh, we shall get along finely. Lie quietly, for you will need a great deal of strength .... Why do you shiver so violently? She.-I am afraid of the black clouds over us. They shut out the beautiful sky and the gorgeous sun. I could not live without the sun .... joba.-I am afraid that it is going to rain .... She.-What is rain? joba.-It is great streaks of water coming down from the sky. It makes the ground quite soft, but all the plants grow very green again. We have a lot of rain about this time of year. It has been late coming, and that is why the plants were so red in the forest. CPanse.j She.-The last bit of sky has been covered up for a long time, and I was watching for it to look out again .... I am so afraid! Joba.-Of what? No one is near us, and I would kill any that came. They know it, and that is why they have left us alone. She.-It is not that .... fShe shrieksj Something bit me .... Joba.--Where? She ftrembling from the shockj.-I have wiped it off with my hair. . . I did not see it, it must have been very smallg but how it hurt! joba.-It was a sand Hea probably .... It is beginning to sprinkle .... How white you are! . . . I think we had better move on, even if it does rain, for the warriors will come here, perhaps tomorrow, and one can be seen a long way over the sand. ' She Cshrieks againj.-The sand flea bit me again in the face. He is biting, he is biting .... joba.-Why, there is only a drop of water on your face .... fThe rain descends in torrentsj She Qin agony, rolling over and over in the sandj .-They are biting me, every- where they are leaping over my body, they are freezing me, they are piercing me with daggers of ice, they are eating my very vitals .... Help ! help ! help ! . . . QShe quivers violently for a moment, then is silentj joba Qin terrorj .-It is the rain that is killing her! . . . She must not die ! . . . I do not even know her name yet! . . . CH e takes ojf his grass cloak and spreads it over hem joba.-Be firm, that is rightg this will not last .... See, I have stripped myself for you .... QHe looks wildly aroundj She does not hear me! There is no shelterg not a stone, not a tree, nothing except these flat sand-hills ....

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THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 13 The Priest.--And take with you the Witch! joba.-She is no Witch. The Priest.-Then will she undergo the test of the burning oil? joba.-No, for it is not fair! It is only the witches themselves that survive it. Let us in I I will make full amends .... QA man has climbed a palm tree and is vigorously shaking the branches. Several people have found gongs and are ringing them continuously. Others are blowing discordant conch shells.j The Priest.-Go, or I will turn the warriors loose on you. Joba.-But we will die if we go back to the forests .... The Priest.-Fougmou will sharpen our spears against you. He himself will pursue you. Joba.-joba will protect us against you, for this is his daughter and I am his son. Beware of his wrath! The Priest.-He withdraws his protectiong see, the clouds are covering his face for the first time in months .... Joba.-It is but the winter rains! They are belated .... The Priest fto the crowdsj.-Joba withdraws his protection! They are doomed. Let them reach the jungle. After that they may be killed .... fjoba and the woman flee. The gong rings still more loudly. The warriors go for their weaponsj Scene 3. CThe desert. A vast wilderness of sand, blown here and there into hillocks. The sky is filled with dark clouds moving hither and thither, disclosing now and then a little corner of blue sky.j Cjoba and the woman enter, exhausted. He is supporting her. They sink down behind a tiny hill. joba looks at the sky and shakes his head, then turns to the woman again.j Joba.-We can rest here. We have thrown them off the track. They thought we would Hee to the forest, but the beasts there would have killed us at night, for we would have no tree palace, as they think. The brutes! If they had but one neck, how I would love to throttle them! She.-It is getting dark and cold .... Joba.-Be quietg you are tired, and cannot afford to exert yourself. I will see if they are near us .... CHe crawls on his stomach to the top of the sand-hill. Cautiously he peers around for a long time. There is no one in sight. He comes down again.j Joba.--We are saved! There is no one anywhere near us for miles. They have all gone to the forest, where a tiger may carry one off. We must cross the desert, which will be difficult, for the days are so hot and the nights are very cold. Then it is so hard to get water, but luckily I have my water-skin. We must save. When the desert is crossed, there are fine green trees and people with white skins who build their houses out of stone. They are very kind and will help us

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THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 15 She is dying, I know .... fHe falls on his knees.D joba, hear me, your son! If I ever was dutiful to you, help me now. She will die, die, can you hear? . . . He will not listen, he, too, turns from me .... Oh, great clouds, cannot ye be touched with pity? . . . Help! . . . i' CHe remains on his knees imploring the inexorable hecwensj A Romance in a Teacup BY JULIA RAYMOND SCHMALZ, 1910 5 T was the first day of the month. june had come in gently, bringing ,Ig with it balmy days, the scent of spring flowers, the busy chirp of YH birds, and the hum of bees. The season had dealt especially kind with the little town of Wetherby, for the rolling fields were now soft and green, and the trees never before looked so stately and luxuriant in their spring regalia. The broad main street was like a green-lighted aisle beneath its canopy of dense, wide-spreading willows, that almost met overhead. The late afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows, and the active life of the town seemed suspended for a time. The solitary postman was making his last round for the day, and had stopped rather longer than customary at Miss Roslind's door. He took an especial interest in her geraniums, and also, as he used to say, very seriously, Five minutes with Miss Roslin' is minutes well spent. This afternoon, as usual, Miss Roslind sat sewing on her little square veranda, which was a perfect bower of flowers. The crimson rambler, which ran over the whole front of the quaint little whitewashed house, shut in the veranda like a screen and made it very cosy. There was a window-box in every open latticed window, and a row of them ran down each side of the broad front walk to the little swinging gate. Vases of cut flowers stood on the bamboo tables, and the air was heavy with their perfume. Miss Roslind was sitting at a low tea table which was daintily arranged for two, in her lap her forgotten embroidery, and in her hand an open letter. It must have been an hour later when Angelica came out to the veranda to join her aunt in their customary cup of afternoon tea. The old lady was still sitting, deep in thought, with a far-away, dreamy look in her eyes. She roused herself with a start when she saw her niece, and began to make an unnecessary clatter with the teacups.