Bancroft School - Blue Moon Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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56 THE BLUE MOON Henry Esmond whispered softly to her, HI want To Have and To Hold you, and he put his arms around Mary's Neck. Tish, Tish, murmured Mary, It was Springtime for Henry, and he was all Love. There was a Silent Wz'tness to this love affair, a Mr. Aesop, a man of uncertain reputation, who let it be known throughout the Judith Paris that he thought Mary a Bad Girl, who would try to hurry Mr. Esmond into a Consolation Marriage. Just an Impatient Maiden! When Henry heard this tale, he rushed madly to Mary, who denied all such rumors, and cried wildly, The Cheat! That's only one of Aesop's Fables. Time flew as it will when one is with Good Companions, and only Twenty-four Hours remained before the boat docked. The last evening Henry, determined to be The Conqueror, averred, The Crisis is reached. You must decide Tonight or Never. He was in Suspense. As she looked into A Pair of Blue Eyes. she felt The Call of the IVild and answered, I Surrender! The Sentimental Journey ended the next day. ELEANOR THAYER and FAITH ADAMS, 1933 A THING OF BEAUTY THE sun was just up one day as I was walking through the woods. It was during the season when lady's slippers are in blossom, and there were clumps of pink ones everywhere. I turned a bend in the narrow path I was following, and there, against a background of dull gray rock, stood a beautiful white lady's slipper. The ground was damp and covered with green and gray moss, and her fresh, oval-shaped leaves lay in a circle around her stem. She stood up straight and held her lovely white head high in the air. No artist could paint a more beautiful picture. ELIZABETH BRANCH, 1934 A NIGHT IN A TAVERN 1585 I AM sitting on a remote bench in a squalid tavern on the outskirts of London. I have drunk a few mugs of ale and am wholly satisfied with the world in general. Since my last bed was too hard, I have decided to make merry with my friend, the inn-keeper. He is a good soul and has al- ways lent me a few shillings to pay my many creditors. The door opens, let- ting in a gust of chilly air, and I draw my meagre cloak a little closer. A rowdy crowd has staggered in and is shouting for beer, and yet more beer. They are ragged and ill-shaven, and at first glance, would be called merely a group of merry-makers. But, upon closer examination, I find them to be an acting

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THE BLUE MooN 55 by nipping me gently. Oh yes, Bessie and I were the best of friends, and often when we were separated for the night, we both cried. Her beautiful brown eyes would fill with enormous tears and she would moo in a melan- choly tone outside my window. In the summer of 1928, when I was ten, we rented a cottage on the Cape. There was no barn, but Bessie soon trained herself to sleep on a cot in the kitchen. She swam beautifully, and we made it a habit to go swimming every morning at ten o'clock. Bessie adopted a sort of cow-paddle, and I rode on her back. One day when I was out rowing, I fell overboard and nearly drowned, but Bessie arrived in the nick of time to rescue me. Do you wonder I loved her? . Now I come to the tragic part of my story. One day I was invited to go on a visit and accepted with alacrity, thinking of course that Bessie would go with me. Much to my astonishment and dismay, the conductor would not allow Bessie to share my compartment on the train, so I could not take her. tOf course I would not trust her to the baggage car.j While I was away. Bessie wept and pined, and I was poisoned by the milk I received lnever before having had any milk except Bessie'sj. So Bessie and I both died, and are now buried in the same grave. ANONYMOUS lOn request, the author will furnish proof of her veracityfb FAITH ADAMS, 1933 A NOVEL EXPERIENCE LEANING on the rail of the S. S. Judith Paris, Mary Leith looked back at France and sighed. She turned to her Maid-in-Waiting and said, Emma, We are on our Westward Passage. Only Yesterday I was Paris Bound, and today I am A Free Soul! That night at The Captain's Table she found herself seated between Miss Pinkerton, an elderly Woman in White from Cranford, who believed in Perfect Behaviour, and Henry Esmond, a young man full of Sense and Sensi- bility. Tell me all about yourself, said Henry Esmond as he leaned toward The Lovely Lady. My Story wouldn't interest you. As You Like It, but I should be glad to hear it, Well, to begin, I was born at Northanger Abbey. a Bleak House. The Family intended to marry me to Silas Marner, Once a Grand Duke, and I had The Education of a Princess, but I ran away at Seventeen for America. At this Miss Pinkerton interrupted to tell them that the rest of the table had already adjourned to watch the Wl'Ul9f,S Moon on The Waves. Later on the top deck Henry had Great Expectations, but Mary had Pride and Prejudice. She was soon found to be an Ex-Wife and people thought her A Lost Lady, but they were wrong. The Gay Year was over and she was glad to be Far from the Madding Crowd.

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THE BLUE MOON 57 troupe. It is queer that they should come here, when there are so many inns near the theatres, Perhaps they are traveling actors just entering London. After quenching their thirst, one brings out a fiddle and another sings, and the tavern is livened with hilarious music. A man comes toward me and sits down at a nearby table. He seems more gentlemanly than the usual fre- quenters of this tavern. He puts his head in his hands and stares at his fellow actors. His lips move, and I catch a phrase of what he is murmuring: Time and the hour runs through the roughesz day. I nudge a neighbor, who, in response to my question, mumbles, That's Shakespeare-just lost all his money on some gamble-writes plays and acts. The name is unfamiliar, I take one last draught, pay for it with a promise, and shamble out. ELEANOR DANIELS, 1935 MORNING . HE grandfather clock in the hall musically strikes six notes. Drowsily you listen to it, secretly wondering why in the world clocks have to strike anyway: they are just a bother, waking you up at such unearthly hours. As you turn over for another forty winks, you realize with a start that you are in the country now, and six is the rising hour here. Tentatively you stick one foot out. Brr -- it's cold. Hastily you pull the aforesaid foot back into the warmth of the bed. Then you make another try at it, Taking a long breath, you pull both feet out and plant them firmly on the cold floor. Donning your slippers and bathrobe, you go over to close the win- dow, and an icy breeze greets you. While you are shutting the window, you find that Old Man Winter and Jack Frost have been having a merry time of it, for the landscape is blanketed with fluffy snow, the kind that packs down into wonderful slides. Getting dressed, you welcome the heavy clothes that you scorned on leaving the city. As you go down the stairs to the kitchen, the smell of bran muflins floats up to you, and makes your descent even more rapid. When the cook isn't looking, you steal one of her hot, crispy muflins, and everything looks rosy again. On your way out to the barn, you are greeted by the sun, which is making the snow sparkle like millions of little diamonds. In the barn everyone is busy, some milking the cows, others putting hay in the stalls, and you feel in the way. Wait, what's this? A hungry little kitten is cautiously trying to steal some milk from one of the pails. Look out, there! No, she doesn't look out, for in she goes with a wail of despair. You play life-guard and pull her out, all wet and dripping. After you have comforted the kitten, you get permission to give the sampled milk to the calf.