Richmond Hill High School - Archway / Dome Yearbook (Richmond Hill, NY)

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'fLew dear, it's late. All right. All right. -my hat. He set the old straw at a ra- kish angle. Bye, dear. And see that Greta upstairs doesn't make the supper tonight. The screen door again slammed, Mabel began the dishes. An uneventful week passed, broken by the advent of the new iceman, something of an improvement over his predecessor, a theatre party on Friday, and Jhaane's increasing absences from the Tra- vers' home of evenings. i Lew was indifferent about these mysterious nocturnal amuse- ments. It was Saturday and Jhaane had just left, going out in a red velvet creation. Why, where are you going? Mabel asked, genuinely sur- prised as she viewed the red clad figure sauntering about in all her ruby glory, from lips to toes. In as occult a manner as possible under the circumstances Jhaane drawled, Out, darling, out into the starry night. Don't wait up for me. Can't tell how long I'll be gone. She smiled, a honey and caramel smile, and was gone. Mabel turned to Lew. My wrap! she said indignantly. My new-oh well. We never venture out of this place any more, anyway. Wonder where she's going? Lew was annoyingly indifferent. He didn't care if she were go- ing to play tick-tack-toe with the Brain Trust, and said as much. Oh, Lew! protested Mabel. How can you be that way, with Jane's career to think of? You know, --this last coniidingly- I think perhaps she has some big contractor interested in her, and is going to surprise us with a booking! Really, Lew. Yeh? -pessimistically. Perhaps-perhaps she'll be in a show. . .0h nothing vaudevilley. Classical perhaps. You know Jane is,. . .well, she's exotic. A roar. Exotic! Mabel, honey, don't be funny. Thus this issue of the conversation closed. Jhaane continued wearing her man-on look, and being tantaliz- ingly reticent concerning the whole thing. She even touched Mabel for the money for a new gown, this time a shimmery b-ack satin unadorned save for pearls, destined to give a Garbo-Dietrich effect. Lew said that whatever she was up to, it was good for her. Why I've even seen her looking enthusiastic a few times lately, he remarked, confessing himself stunned by this phenomenon. What an improvement! Several Saturdays afterward Jhaane slipped out quietly while Mabel and Lew were viewing the latest-or practically the latest- THE SENIOR DOME -:- Page17

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Jhaane sat up straight-for her. Lemon cream cheese, she corrected. , Mabel choked on a piece of bacon, and furtively noticed that Lew greedily devoured four eggs instead of his customary two. Oh Jane! she reproved. CShe was still Jane to the kid sister.j I told you to heat the lentil soup. VVhy, dear, -to Lew- I had potatoes and meat and beans all ready to be warmed up-and rice pudding. Jane! . An ominous silence. Jhaane shrugged her drooping shoulders. Lentil soup! So very. . .plebeian! This as she daintily nibbled a supper-roll, of the variety known as 'Jewish seed.' It was very good salad, Mabel. I took it from the recipe that Mrs. Duvon D'Arville used at the Theatre Guild Banquet. The Theatre Guild Banquet! Lew struggled viciously with an egg. Majestically, The Theatre Guild Banquet. Marie Bassile, Edmond Stone, the Baron Von Helm-people- glaring at her brother-in-law -- who appreciate delicacies were there. Then, rising from the table and waving a demonstrative hand about, somewhat in the fashion of a band-leader, Lentil soup, eggs, gar- bage, husbands. . . Weiss' ice-truck had just stopped at the door. It completed Jhaane's train of thought. . . .and. . .icemen! she said with the utmost disgust. Plebeian! Menialsl UghI ' She wrapped her velvet dressing gown with the somewhat mangy fur more tightly around her, and slunk up the stairs. Ughl reiterated the husband. If she thinks she. . . A ten-cent piece, Joe. . . and be careful about the milk bottle. Joe shambled in and expertly swung the cake of ice in the box in the manner calculated to make the most confusion. I ain't gonna deliver the ice no more, Mrs. It ain't a payin' job with these here frigidaires. But my cousin's gonna take the route, and I'd like you to take from him if you can. Mabel was very housewifely. Why certainly, Joe. I'm sorry you're leaving. Have you a job? A promise of one. Well, my cousin'll be around early to- morrow. Good day. The screen-door slammed and Joe shambled down the alley. Lew put down his napkin with a little flourish. Inventions, he said in a profound and superior husband-like manner. They're putttiling men out of jobs every day. Look at the steamshovel. Look at e. . . . . Pagans 'rr-In SENIOR-DOME

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hit at the neighborhood theatre. , Mabel did not wait dinner. .She rarely had to anymore. Always rather good-looking, but never popular, Jhaane suddenly seemed to have become a belle. Why she even got flowers-tall red roses, superb and swaying in.a black vase. Mabel was a woman-a sister- and curious. Lew was a man-a brother-in-law-and relieved. I Sunday morning Mabel went into Jhaane's room with 'a tray. Jhaane often had breakfast in bed. At least it gives one a little at- mosphere of refinement and luxury, she would say as she ate a substantial two eggs. The room was quite empty-the bed, as Mabel had left it the previous aftemoon. On the ruffled satin pillow-a Jhaane innova- tion-there lay a note on large scented lavender paper, in Jhaane's own cultivatedly individualistic handwriting. Curiosity and a dozen or so other emotions consuming her, Mabel tore open the envelope. Shaving, Lew heard a crash and a little feminine scream of- what was it?. . .surprise?. . .from Jhaane's room. He rushed to find Mabel standing wide-eyed among the fallen fragments of the break- fast tray, the note in hand. Why, honey, what is it? Lew sputtered through the lather on his face. Jhaane's-Jhaane's eloped.i. . .eloped with Kelly-Mart Kelly! Eloped? Hot dog! --But who is this Kelly guy? Kelly? Mart Kelly? Why he's the iceman! UNUSUAL PRAYER T0 BE GOOD - I wish that only love could fill my heart For- when my mind recoils in deadly thought, The loathing and the love are sometimes caught- Great strength I need to keep the two apart. Oh, God, let not the hate come out on top, Or long years after I will need recall That ere I let my bruised and tired wits fall, From its sacred niche I let my proud soul drop. Lily Sinowitz, '34 Pageis THE smuon DOME