Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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-W iX153 .?. 'TWWYKX-siis K N1ndl':- fxu-.I , ' , Q1-Q ii... . 'w-gp- A A A i g lla ss-A --K JKGUQT LJ I! Q YQ My OLD HEYIUUCKV HGNIY r- X P' xg X 'Mix y I . X' N '4 Q ' D g 47 . f I , i E it 14, J ' 1 lil l' ' F 1 12 - -:H-Q I '41 ww FT . 1- x. ff M 1- f n.---- . .Q Q, T IS rather amusing, perhaps, that we Hoosiers should print in our Annual such a sketch as this, about Kentucky. The picture which the following prose-poem presents, although it is true to Kentucky, could also be painted in honor of our Hoosier,State, ' 'v for it is a picture of home. Can't you taste fried chicken and lg. country bread and butter along with this? We know you will because of its unique style.-The Editor. BLUE GRASS waving in the warm breeze, TALLTREES arched high above, SUNLIGHT PEEPING through the leafy domes AND SPANGLING with yellow glory the blue grass belowg THE DROWSY hum of bees: GORGEOUS BIRDS and their songsg THE LOWING cattle in the distant pastures, AND THE rumble of a wagon as it rolls over the wooden bridge down the road: INDISTINCT VOICESQ THE PANTING of a dog napping in the shadeg GROWING ROOSTERSQ cooing pigeonsg A NEGRO'S weird melody from the faraway fields, where the dusky workers are busy at the plowg THE SQUEAK of the old pump in the back yardg THE SONG of the faithful old black mammy as she goes about her workg A FEW moments of suspended silence- THEN THE thud of a falling apple in the orchardg THE SPICY scent of Wild blossoms Heating from everywhere, ALL BLENDED together and subdued as in a blissful dream- MY HOME, KENTUCKY. -FRED LILLIAN DEMPSY. find the sketch delightful and refreshing, as well as attractive, sv

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astra amsc nlne c1unRml n.ar with wide-open eyes at the shadows, shot through with points of light, dan- cing on the opposite wall. . ' f ' Everything seemed quiet, and yet Constance felt that all was .not Well. .Was that a slight noise at her shutters? It might have been her dream of the cold plunge that had aroused her, but she was so alertly awake, and the silence was imbued with such eeriness! Ah! A slight noise at her shutters made her turn. hastily in that direc- tion. Surely she was not mistaken, although things appeared wraith-like, 'de- spite the rasping noise at the window. She fancied she could discern a leering face outside. To save herself from a panic she tightly closed her eyes. Half unconsciously she repeated the lines she had been committing to memory when she fell asleep. They were the Lady's Words in Comus. if ' 'F That He, the Supreme God, to whom all things ill- Are but as slavish oflicers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if' need were, To keep my life and honor unassailed. . if ' it Constance stirred restlessly as shesilently repeated the wordsQ and she Hung one arm out across the pillow. . p . - Something crashed to the floor! Constance caught her breath, then relaxed as she realized that she had' knocked the volume of Comus from the bed. But, however inadvertently it was done, the act had served. The rasping sound ceased abruptly, and the shadows wavered strangely. Silence once more. By and by the girl's eyelids closed and she slept from sheer weariness and relief. . Outside the darkness remained mute until the moon faded and daylight came. Houses have no voices, nor the brown earth, yet they related the story the next morning, which Constance understood as well as if it had been articulated. On the ground underneath her window were impressions of heavy shoes-deep prints, as though the heels had been forced into the earth to insure a firm foundation. The window sill, just below the catch of the shutters, bore the marks of a jimmy which had started but not completed its flagrant work. . ' Inside the room, by the bed, lay the Hglistering guardian -a copy of Mil- ton's Comus. S -VIVIAN I. ROSS. 41

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e--crm DYKYLI C-+iv'l HREE figures were grouped about the grate fire in the living room. The one seated in the deep arm-chair, in the firelight, was a young man of not more than eighteen, an invalid. Oh, yes, he would have told you, he was a dragon the family. He never did anything for themg they were always helping him. His brother, the man in khaki standing at the left ofthe mantel-piece -his brother Art didn't chum with him. And what was the use of anybody's chumming with an old invalid! Yes! and he was a grouch, too. Oh, he didn't blame Art for letting him alone! He -in fact, he wouldn't want Art hanging around babying him. Ugh! He hated being babied! Except by Sis. But Sis was different. Somehow, he always felt in another way when he thought about Sis. She always understood. When a fellow's back had felt like sixty all day, and he got to thinking about what a bore he was-nothing to do, nothing to say, wondering why he'd ever been born--then it was that Sis showed her metal. She didn't say, 'Now, you're just tired out-that's .all that's the matter with you, and you'd better come on to bed, just as if he were some little kid. No, Sis wouldn't act that way, even though she was the lonly mother he had any more. Sis would come and sit on the arm, of his chair and tell him in a thousand ways that she understood, and that she was there to help him. And Sis was there this evening. She hadn't left him in the lurch on the night of Art's departure. Somehow he felt sure she knew, although he'd never said anything about it, how he hated the sight of that khaki on Art. It re- minded him so of what he might have been. But this evening he wasn't going to hate it. He wouldn't be a cad like that. If things did seem all one-sided, he would just forget it. Even if Art didn't care anything about this-this-cripple, he'd try to make it up to Art this last evening. ' To clinch his good resolution he had brought something he knew would please Art. He'd heard Art asking Sis for her picture to take away with him, but because she had no recent one she fancied his having, she didn't give it to him. To be sure, she would send one later, but transportation overseas was risky. So he-he the good-for-nothing Koh, yes, that's just what he was, no matter what you said about it!-he'd brought a little locket Sis had given him several years before, with her picture in it, and had resolved to give it to Art just before he left. He would keep that locket in his right hand, and then when he and Art shook hands at the last-then that hateful thing that came inside him and made him do those little things-that thing couldn't stop him. He would give that locket in spite of himself. He would get the best, for once, of his over-sensitive, strained nature. j