Annie Wright School - Shield Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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8 THE H Y A K talked at once, and the confusion was increasing momentarily, when Miss Mills, the principal, appeared. In a few moments she had quieted the girls, and learned from Florence the story of the hurytlar. Accompanied by several of the braver teachers, she started down- stairs in search of the burglar. Just as they reached the foot of the stairs the front door banged, and they heard rapid footsteps descending the front stairs. “He is gone. said Miss Mills, and her unconscious sigh of relief was echoed by the teachers. Order was restored and soon the Seminary was as still as the proverbial mouse. Outside, three young fellows were congratulating the erstwhile burg- lar on the success of his final initiation “stunt. From now on he was a member of the b »st fraternity in the high school. IN THE TWILIGHT. I ast of our dnv-dream comes to an end as the slowly fading sun touches the tfeetops on the hill, and out of the darkness, dim shadows rise which reach up. and away, stretching thenmelves to the skies. We see dimly the great old mill, w ' hich today was covered with golden light, and everywhere there seems stealing upon us a feeling of loneliness and sorrow for all the golden hours of sunlight, and youth, which fade, alas! too soon; and. when once lost, only the memory lingers with us at twilight to bless us alike with joy and sorrow. Hut twilight hours must come to us all, and if the golden hours of life were sweet and pun we have still their joy to remember. Life must have that dim vast twilight which brings us all to thoughts of prayer. Often when life is happy in the golden hours of youth, in twi- light Cornell its awe. thrilling us. We look to the sky whence cometh the light, and we are thankful for the stars which shine for us in the still dark hours of night. They seem to promise that another morning shall soon break forth with a glory that shall be everlasting. We dn not understand the clot ids and the shadows, and we often forget that the same kind Power that controls the winter controls also the spring, and twilight too is ruled bv that same Power, which causes the first sweet breath of morn. Olue KtNNicurr.

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The Hyak Vol. VII Tacoma, Wn, Dec., 1907 No. 2 THE BURGLAR. Florence awoke with a start, and sat up in bed. For several minutes she listened breathlessly, but silence reigned supreme over the Seminary, so she lay down again and closed her eyes. “It must have been just a dream ’ she murmured, sleepily. “I guess T didn’t hear any burglars after all. No, there it goes again.” This time he was sure she heard someone in the hall, and being unusually brave for a girl, she slid out of btnl and going to the door, she listened There was someone there all right; she could hear hands groping along the wall and stealthy footsteps. Suddenly the invader struck a match, and it must have burned his fingers, for he said something, a single, eloquent, heartfelt word; quite unfit for publication, but nevertheless a much-used word. I he burglar must have been a persevering sort, for he struck another match, and Florence being sure that real burglars never did such things, opened her door ever so little and peeped out. A tall youth with his hat turned up after the manner of high-school boys, stood in the uncertain light, and Florence was trying to decide whether or not to scream and raise the house, when the match went out. Florence shrieked; the young man said something and started to run along the dark corridor, stumbling along in his haste to be gone. The shriek had the desired effect. Teachers and girls rushed into the corridors; everyone

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THE H Y A K 9 JOE’S CHRISTMAS HI FT. I ho sweetest flower that blows I give you as we part: For you it is a rose, for me it is my heart. Little Joe as lie worked sang these words very softly, almost below his breath. and thought it almost the sweetest song he had ever heard. Jo worked hard and fast, his usually pale face flushed, his frail body aching from the weight of the large pieces of wood which he was piling. He did not heed this, however, except when he was twice compelled to stop and rest. For had he not a dear object in view? What was the pain compared to that ! It was Friday. The following Tuesday would be Christmas. Joes face brightened as he thought of the Christmas gift he was to give. “I know she will like it. he thought. He had been pondering for a long time as to what he should give his beloved teacher. 1 1 is heart sank that morning when he went to school, for the last day had come and he had thought upon nothing which was good enough for her that could be had for ten cents the sum a neighbor had promised for piling his wood. He had remained sad and abstracted all morning thinking of one thing and then another that he wanted to give her. but sadly shaking his head after each one as the vision of his lonely dime arose. The afternoon came with the problem still unsolved. The tears which had come to his eyes, while thinking of his disappointment, were quickly succeeded by a smile when he remembered now that the difficulty was cleared. This the teacher herself had unconsciously cleared; for. when singing the song she had gladly consented to sing for her pupils— the song he was softly singing to himself— a t their Christmas program that afternoon, the thought came to him that a rose at this time of the year would be just the thing. He finished his work, washed his hands and face, combed his hair and started for the florist ' s, not daring to trust the precious dime even to his pocket. He himself picked out the most beautiful rose in the store, and eagerly told the clerk he wished to purchase it. The clerk placed the beauty in his hands, and Joe in turn slipped the coin, still hot from his tight clasp, to the clerk’s hand.