Oakwood Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (Toronto Ontario, Canada)

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away from the hunger of youth to know what can appease it. Beetie: I must be wily. My na- tion is at stake. I will send faith- ful William to his Bishop's aid. Auntie: What is my suffering to hers 'F My heart is not empty. It cannot be, once I have been happy. But the hunger of youth, who has not experienced? The starvation of one who is ready to live and has not yet lived. I'm starving her. The Black Empire was desperate. Her castles were shattered, her soldiers slain. She stared at the board, made a fatal move. Then she hurried back to her dark thoughts: I must be practical. I can send her away to school, to board. I can give her up to her friends. I can step out of her way. Her Queen had fallen. Beet- ie, elated: 'tCheck! Auntie looked up, terrified. Slowly the warmth drained out of her face. She was going to suggest it now. She must paint it bright. lleetie must not suspect, or she would not consent. Then her flow- er would be but a weed, if revealed. It was a sad flower. Auntie moved a pawn. That would delay the Kings death. His death was inevi- table. She looked at Beetie. How slend- er, how alive were her hands, as they hovered over the ancient pieces! How the soft light in the room slept in her smooth hair! What an infinitude of varying emo- tions swept ac1'oss her mouth! Auntie began: Beetie- But Beetie's thoughts had been interwoven in the game also. She startled, one piece in her hand. Auntie-I have been thinking- I want to say something- She looked at Auntie's face, rich with the years, at her eyes with the sur- prise of selflessness and interest in them, at her chin, lifted with the reassurance and power of what she had been given and what she had done without, in the past. As THE OAKWOOD ORACLE Beetie spoke her mouth was worthy of her thoughts. 1 noticed to-day, at noon in school how difficult things are go- ing to be. People seem so c1'uel, sometimes, girls, I mean. I do not understand. It hurts me. And yet -I want some of them terribly, for friends, -stiffening of her mouth - And you, Auntie. I love you best. I can show you my actual self. I can see you as you are. We are real. Those others are real, but not to me because they do not care. I am bewildered with them. She put down the piece on the board, bent her dark head. I don't want to shrink here with you. I want to dare things. But, I just wanted to explain how I need you. How you are always putting a meaning into things. Even when I am unhappiest, I am not lost. I have you. She passed her strong hands over the outline of the Queen. I trust you. I live with you. Beetie's eyes were full of what she was thinking. Her voice dropped. Auntie, you do not de- spise me when I admit I am afraid of living. I have not lived yet. I do not know. How can I trust what I do not know '? Sometimes I feel things cannot be worth while. Then I want to know. I must know. You have lived. She was speaking very quickly, strong with her conviction. I can see that you are happy. I know that life must have been goody I am sure of it, when I look at you. Her look was a long drink to her young thirst. I'm afraid I'm getting all mixed up, and involved, but I would not have tried to tell you all this had I not noticed that you looked wor- ried over something and I felt you had given me so much. I had to try to help you too. She gulped, It's awfully hard to try and ex- press what I mean. Auntie was leaning back in her chair. She was very, very tired. The music had Page Twenty-Three

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THE OAKWOOD ORACLE come back into the day. The light dearie. Thank you. That was all in the room was good. She looked there was to say. The chess game at lleetie happily. continued. Neither lost. It was a I-l understand Beetie, my draw. jiluscuhitrb Crash! Thirty doors flew open. .-X vague, indefinite, growing, thun- dering noise sniote the ears of the trembling council. The school had risen. Led by the Fifth, a howling mob of students poured through the halls, demolishing everything in its path. Their frightened custodians fled to the shelter of the inner sanctum, and heard with white faces the approaching tumult. Suddenly a rush of feet in the room above brought down the plas- ter, and the piano banged out a crashing challenge, while a hun- dred voices rent the air in ear splitting shrieks of joy. To the archives. Burn the prison records, shouted the lead- er, Follow me, comrades. To the archives, repeats the crowd, and the streaming mob overturns lockers with a crash. Beneath, the senior and junior consuls with the assembled senate, are hastily deliberating. On all sides are cries of despair. One sen- ator's teeth are chattering, so cool he is in the face of danger. A crowd of humanity pours down each stairs. Burn the records, shouts the mob. Disperse the senate, shouts the leader, but the senators, all but one, have already gone, via the win- dows. The archives are in the hands of the mob. The last rays of sunlight are supplemented by the blazing symbols of despotism. The fire and sun sink low. The late senator creeps cautiously away. Oh, freedom's dreams at last have come, We talk, we smoke, and chew our gum, Oh formula of figures not, Oh be forgot, oh be forgot. Comrade Fenelonski. Shekels Little silver pennies, shining in the sun, 'l'ell a tale of long ago, Little bits of silver show, lllints ol' former days, of glory gone. Little silver pennies, shining in the glow, Of a thousand lamps, The eerie flares of camps, Long burnt, shimmer in their silver row. Little silver pennies lying peaceful now, Wand'ring at an end, Never more will they befriend, The lost tribes of long ago. Page Tll,'l'llf1l'Ffllll' II.S.K. V.ll.