Reading High School - Arxalma Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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THE RED AND BLACK ,.,-,,.-.T.,- ,.,,,. , ,gvlkaiw Y Val. XVI. READING, PA., JUNE, 1913 No. 9 ' - 'faaig.gisii1a.. fff Q Q i- eY3iiIiiiQl5i 'ili'liiiii gig, i V .Q-.lp5.v,p TIIQREQIE if if f y- if l ' 1nt g . .:nti. lil1aE ..i i .- X -U I M :Lb ,Q wiv, Q A- Zf?4ff 'VJ' V .A - . lvzgf-Y -' - f4- -. -ar.-Q..- f - . --- D l ' fffg EDITORS-John G. Noll Wilbur Moyer , STRANGE GODS nr wimsuu M. Monza, '13. HE went up the narrow steps gaily, almost with a romping step, her parasol tucked under her arm, the feathers on her hat nodding above the expectant turnings of her head. Instead of two years ago it seemed but yesterday that she had said good-bye to this place, walking down slowly and look- ing bat-kg instead of a society beauty of transcontinental reputation, she was to- day the Elizabeth of the old days, who had so often climbed those wearisome stairs with tired feet in worn shoes. Her breath was faint and quick when she paused before a door at the head of the third landing and gazed at a. small, brass plate upon it as if it were the face of a dear friend. DANIEL VARICK. Then he was still in the building-she would see him-she would hear him say Beth -they would touch hands over the separation that had been as thorough as the splitting of a mountain by an earth- quake. She had not been fully aware un- til this moment how much this visit meant to her, and she realized now that if Dan were not in, the missing him would hurt her more than her gay, friendly seek- ing of him clearly explained. Her hand was already poised to knock when the sound ofa nian's footsteps came to her, and a voice she knew well hummed an old familiar song she loved and had often sung. She was sure of her welcome, sure of her charm as she knockedg her smile almost impertinent. After the door was opened the look changed slowly to dismay, then to disappointment. A young man in a 1J?li!lt01 S blouse filled the space. His thick, round throat was bare above the turned-in collar, his sleeves rolled above his elbows. His coarse waving hlond hair hung low over a. straight black brow. He had true, clean, lighting eyes of an undecided gray and full lips that at the present moment were unsmiling, and almost unfriendly. He was gripping the handle of a chafing dish, and he continued stirring something with a big spoong Elizabeth did not know what, but it smelled savory.

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6 THE RED AND BLACK Oh, hesaid in a fiat, colorless voice, it's you. Don't you want to See me, Dan? Elizabeth asked with insinuating gracious- ness, smiling feebly. Don't you really want to know me anymore? Come in, he said briefly, glancing at the chafing dish. I hope you'll excuse this unsightly evidence of ecomony, in- dustry, and lunch. My minion has not appeared to-day. This frequently happens of Sunday. on'Monday, after the laxity She has written me that she has 'ulsters on her throat'g and, with a flourish he carried the chafing dish into a darkened little alcove. Why, I don't mind, Dan- Elizabeth began with eager, condoning smile. Oh, I beg pardon, he interposed light- ly but definitely as he came back, I must apologize. Had I known you were com- ing, of course- and the sentence was completed by his refastening his collar and vigorously unrolling his sleeves to the wrists. Chilling though the welcome was, Elizabeth paused at the door of the big, bright studio, and looked about with dreamy eyes. Every little detail winged a memory to herg memories of the days when life to her had meant dreams and accomplishment, clay to be modeled by her febrile fingers under the prod and fire of inspirationg sacrifices to be made, rent paid with difiiculty and food often taken, from necessity, in homeopathic doses. Then as if by witchcraft all had been changed. Her father, after fifteen years of mining prospecting, had made a dazzling fortune in a far, isolated, north- western place, and had come out of the solltudes with the appetite of the starving for all that his gold could buy him. He was a rough grim man, with no artistic understanding, and one of the nrst things he had demanded was his only child. She must cease what he termed working for - ha forget that she had ever been anything ...ne what she was expected to become-Peter Alliens heiress, with a fortune to make longing eyes blink, able to buy whatever there was for sale in the high places of the earth. Well, she had made her choice two years ago, and Dan Varick had not forgiven her for it. Have you been back long? he asked. Only a week, Dan, and I came on the Deutschland. We found a furnished house on Park Avenue that does very well. She paused and added wistfully: I wanted to rush down here the first day, Dan. Your victoria is vastly becoming to you, Elizabeth. I saw you in it in the park yesterday-all tea rose colored lin- ing, and the men on the box all tea rose colored, too. Are they waiting for you now? She could not prevent an absurdly craven touch of apology from creeping in- to her Voice as she answered: Yes,I couldnft walk in these clothes, you know. I wonder how they'l1 stand the smells. The onion soup odor from the Italian restaurant around the corner is particu- larly strong on Mondays. A look like that of a misunderstood child rippled over the ivory pale oval of her face. It pulled on Dan's heart- strings. He had never seen her eyes more lovely, the pale blue light edging the dark iris so luminously. Certainly riches were vastly becoming to her. Why could he not softeng Why did he almost hate her?-and hate her most of all for coming in this azure, disquieting spring weather, with her haunting voice, and endearing smile, awaking the past and filling the room with ghosts? You're angry with me still, said Elizabeth, in her smallest voice. Yet what could I do, Dan? How could I have refused to go to Dad? .He ignored the question, stood up hastily, and walked up and down, his face lifted to the light. And yet, he said regretfully, you had talent-some genius. You were begin- ning to be known. ' It was terribly hard, she sighed. But you had it-your gift, he insist- ed 5 the gift given you of God-the magic in your hands of creating beauty. And you chucked this over for a carriage with a tea rose satin lining, and all lt stands for. He leaned against the wall and bit- terly studled her, from her artificially waved hair to her big-bowed shoes. You sold lt. You can live without it. Talk of 'messes of pottage' and 'selling birthrightsf Why, Good Lord! This beats 'em all! Elizabeth began tracing something on the floor with her parasol. Shadows pass- ed over her face, lightly, and left it as