Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

Page 19 text:

PLATMATE5 The next day found her again, driven by a yearning which she could not suppress, standing once more by the opening in the fence. All moming she had wandered around, sadly and restlessly, and now she had come here, to end the struggle and readjust her view of life. She noticed, with a sickening heart, that the pretty flowers had gone from the little boy's door-perhaps the little boy had taken them with him: for she knew now that she would never see them again.- Slowly she was striving to reorganize her world-to go back to the days when she had not known the little boy. And, from those days which seemed so far away, she found herself trying to recall Dadda, the old playmate, Dadda, who had been such a faithful companion in the days before the advent of the little boy. But Dadda, who had never failed to answer before, seemed far away and unreal nowg she seemed to have vanished into that same unfathomable abyss into which the little boy had passed and from which mother said he could never come back. And Louisa, sadly gathering up the dirty rag doll, turned and walked sorrowfully, aimlessly away. 'FP - V V ' - 4, I: ' . 'A 4 .Q ' I 'jQ51,.j, rfvsttmhef l , ixglgfa-'savvy SW r W- Q ' A ..- 53'-sf,f!'f ., 1 J .1'f',,i-f. -+- J- 1 V. 91131 5 . V f L -1

Page 18 text:

PLATMATE5 To a child accustomed to hearing only English such a torrent of rolling German was at least terrifying, and the friendship came near terminating there. But Louisa's genial smile saved the day. They were good friends after that. To be sure, they could not carry on a conversation at all, but Louisa would bring out some decks of cards that found a place among her varied playthings, and hour after hour the two children would sit beside a table and match cards, contented with each other's company. Louisa would talk in her animated way, while the little boy listened cheerfully and courteously, understanding never a word. Then Louisa would listen attentively while he prattled innocently to her, and they were both very happy. But one day the little boy did not come. For a long time the little girl waited patiently, but in vain. The next day it was the same, and the next, and for many days after that the little girl wandered restlessly around, making many trips to that opening in the fence to gaze with wistful, hopeless yearning at the window in the little yellow cottage. Mother had told her, in a hushed, sad tone, that that carriage which came so often to the house next door belonged to the doctor, and Louisa, in whose infant mind that word was intimately connected with a certain agreeable confection known as sugar pills, was almost jealous of her little neighbor. But mother's face was very grave, and Louisa was oppressed with all the weight of an incomprehensible mystery. And, like most children who, for the first time in their careless existence, realize that they cannot make others understand, or that there is something which they themselves cannot understand, she stole away to find a corner where she might cry softly for awhile. And after that she did not ask her mother any more questions. But she still watched the little yellow cottage as before, and then one day she noticed, with a heart full of envy, that the little boy had the most beautiful flowers on his door that she had ever seen, more beautiful even than those which father had brought home when it was mother's birthday. And still there was no little boy, and the curtains in the little yellow cottage were closed. The very next day it was that mother wanted her to play all afternoon in the back yard, instead of wandering around in front to look at the little boy's place on the front porch, and mother would not even let her go to the windows when she came into the house. That night her mother told Louisa that the little boy had gone far away, so very far that he would never come back again to be her little neighbor next door. And Louisa listened, wide-eyed and silent. Q

Page 20 text:

rs ff serv G-'-as S915 4. 'DX' i B4 I Yssj :ox f A .SOUTHERN NIGHT MARGARET NEWCOHB T was a balmy nrght rn late August and hlgher m the heavens It shone on the old lane bordered by the honeysuclrle hedge sn- whlch was heavy wrth nts mynads of creamy blossoms rt srlvered through the wrld grape vme whlch covered the upper veranda and lard a gentle touch upon the whlte head of an old man who sat m the shadow of the vme Through the trees and shadowy arbors were barely vrslble the outlines of the house old and stately surrounded wlth tangled gardens The alr was heavy wrth the sweet fragrance of blossoms The moonbeams were veiled at times by soft bright clouds Sweetly and at first gently then swelling to a full rich tone came the words of 'Maryland My Maryland sung by an old colored 'mammy whose voice was full of a pathos suggestwe of remembered joys and as it came to the ears of the old man he shifted in his chair and then- buned hrs face in his hands Wfiia? DIL 9' Sl 9' . W3 fi s A A are Maryland mm ,saved slowly higher and s R3 p 9