Brearley School - Brearley Book Yearbook (New York, NY)

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SOME ONE OLDER Yes, said Cousin Alice. We all miss you so much since you moved into the city. Did you know, Maria, the McGills have let Lena go, after all these years? It seems that she just couldn't remember her place, and then she was so old and getting very disagreeable. Of course it was a shame but- Mother! jane almost pounced into the room, not even noticing Cousin Alice. Mother, Winnie telephoned. She wants me to come uptown for lunch. Some of the other girls are going to be there, and I want to go. But, Mother, Eileen said that she was coming over this afternoon, so will you just tell her I had to go. Nicely, you know. I don't think she'll mind too much. Mother was quite equal to the situation. Sit down a minute, jane, she said very calmly. Heres cousin Alice. You haven't seen her for a very long time. Oh, how are you, Cousin Alice? Mother, you will tell Eileen nicely, won't you ? That's little Eileen Owen, explained mother to Cousin Alice. She's so fond of jane. Of course jane is older, but-well, the child doesn't have many pleasures and jane is .vo sympathetic. just now when she's studying hard for college, though, it's quite a drag on her time. Yes, of course, murmured Cousin Alice, but, speaking of colleges, Christina Merton is doin ver well at Smith. She's a 'unior now and 'ust as Y J popular as she can be! On all sorts of committees and things. Wl1y, isn't that nice! Mother sounded really glad. I did like Mr. and Mrs. Merton. They were very English, but so nice. I'll never forget how Mrs. Merton did all her own work in that big house with those two children. And jane was so found of Christina. Of course, Christina was older but-well, Jane was always so advanced for her age. Christina was a very pretty child, too. Do you remember her, jane ? Yes, said jane, and turned away. At the mention of Christina Merton something deep inside her cried out and eager memories came crowding on top of one another until her mind was nothing but a whirling mass of shapes and H81

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THE DEATH OF LESBlA'S SPARROW flirom the Latin of Catullurj O Venus and O Cupid, mourn Where'er you be! And everyone Who claims to be of mortal born, All nature under the bright sun. The sparrow of my lady dear Has died. It was her sole delight. She nevermore his song shall hear Though this was dearer than her sight. As honey sweet this sparrow was, And ne'er ignored its mistress, for She was a mother to him, as Each day she loved him all the more. RUTH LAMBERT SON N ET Uirom the French of Louise Labij While that my eyes with tears unshed are wet, And I regret past happiness with you, O just as long as, sobbing, sighing, too, Both quieted, my voice can be heard yet, And just as long as, guided by my hand, The gentle lute about your graces sings' And just as long as to my soul it brings Contentment, to desire, to understand Nothing save you, I shall not wish to die. But when I feel my weeping eyes are dry, My voice is hushed, my hand is powerless, And all my soul, in this our mortal stay, Can show no longer any tenderness, Then may death darken my serenest day. ! BERYL DAWSON l 471

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sensations, all slipping away from her. Then pictures began to form. The first to come was their old house, building itself out of the far corners of her mind, with its brown walls and corners and the dirty-white pillars of the porch. There was the bumpy gray sidewalk and the big linden tree and the grass, scrubby in places where they had skipped rope, and there was-she could have jumped for joy to see it-yes, there was Henny's bicycle left lying on the front lawn with its wheel in the air and the handlebars stuck savagely into the turf. Christina Merton, then, was not really a pretty child, as Mother had said. It was something else. She was tall with shiny, straight, black-brown hair and red cheeks. Her nose curved in a way that was all its own and she talked in a way that jane loved to hear. Her voice was different,-clear, smooth and quick at the same time. She was ahead of jane at school and was leader in almost every thing she did. jane's mother knew Mrs. Merton, and Jane went to Christina's house and Christina to jane's. Wlien they were alone, they played dolls and ghosts and dressed up and had wonderful times. But when one of Christina's friends was there, it would all be different. Jane couldn't tell why. Mary Crawly was the worst. She used to tease jane and then Christina would, too. That was the worst of all. Christina was never on her side when Mary was around. They would stand together and giggle and have secrets, and when jane screamed at them, they only laughed. Now the picture of the house came back. This time there were some chil- dren over by the privet hedge. They were tearing and peeling long supple strips of it to play circus with. There were herself and Henny and the Cartwright children. Now a group of three little girls, three older little girls, came walking along the grey sidewalk under the trees. Their feet clattered on the pavement and their voices on the air. There were Christina and Mary Crawly and Viccy Hewett. Mary's arm was around Christina's neck and their laughter seemed to prick and jab with pointed tongues at the small girl by the privet hedge. She stared at them but Christina did not even say hello. Then jane found herself looking at the world through a fierce cloud of hate for Mary Crawly. Little waves of hate broke over her and left her gasping. She took a long, writhing privet shoot in her hand, and, followed by the Cartwright children, marched to the attack. The enemy saw the coming danger but did not condescend to realize it. They walked with deliberate slowness, their arms about each other's necks. Every now and then they looked back over their shoulders and sent out whoops of laughter at the sight of jane, pudgy, red-faced, her eyes glazed with hate. They should have seen the privet-whip concealed carelessly l49Il