Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

Page 10 text:

8 THE EASTERN ECHO China Dogs Berta Deussen, 1924 HERE was a deep silence in the room when the attorney's voice ceased. For an instant everyone was too astonished to speak. Then Mr. Morris's voice broke the still- I fT Pfiriirlv e 3'5-nik ness. Well, he exclaimed, I always did think that Emma was queer, but why on earth she should make us spend a week in that spooky old house of hers before we inherit her money is beyond me. Same here, said john, but we should worry. I think it will be fun to unearth some of the ghosts, don't you, Sis? What would you do if you suddenly met one in that long, gloomy corridor? I'd never breathe again, I know, she an- swered, and I think you're real mean even to suggest it. I'1l never get up courage to put a foot inside that house now. Mother flew to the rescue. The very idea, Jane, she said. The will stated that we all have to go, and that ends it. Sl00,000 is not to be disregarded. And think what would happen if we did not get it! I should say so, groaned John. Imagine Cousin George getting it all and spending it on his stupid collection of china dogs! I believe I'd rather throw it away. Mr. Morris then declared himself: George isn't going to get it, I tell you. You children will stop your foolishness, and we'll all leave for Williamsville tomorrow and get it over with. I can't understand Emma's motive, Mrs. Morris repeated. I just can't understand it. Perhaps, the attorney suggested, my cli- ent thought that you would become attached to the old homestead and continue to live there. She hated to think of its passing into the hands of strangers. Well, whatever her reason was, the terms of the will must be car- ried out. You all have my deepest sympathy. The surroundings are not exactly-er-pleas ant out there. I certainly hope that you will meet with no trouble. I-Ie gave them the key to the house and took his leave, shaking his gray head doubt- fully. I-low ridiculous everybody is about a few days' stay in an old-fashioned house. The ig- norant people around there spread those silly ghost stories. Every old house has some story like that connected with it. lt's all absurd- absurd, and Mr. Morris strode up and down the cheery room with firm strides. I quite agree with you, answered his wife. No sensible person would even consider those stories. What I dread most is the utter dull- ness of that town. It will be a good chance for me to catch up on all the new novels. The next morning the family was awakened by the patter of raindrops on the window panes. It was a dismal group of people that assembled for breakfast. John did not seem so eager for ghost-hunting as on the previous day. Jane, anxious to learn the worst, asked for all the details of the spook-stories, but no one cared to satisfy her curiosity. Spooks, it seemed, were not a favorite topic of conversation. Nora, the old cook who accompanied the fam- ily everywhere, served in silence. She prefer- red to have the money go to the old dog col- lectin' man as she called him. John had gleefully told her the weird tales about the old house the night before, adding skeletons and black shadows from his own fertile imag- ination. The journey on the train to the little town of Williamsville was tiresome and slow. The train stopped at every little wayside station, discharging or taking on passengers. The car wheels seemed to sing some melancholy tune as they bore the passengers nearer and nearer to their destination. At last the conductor called Williamsville, and the family trailed out of the train on to the small, dirty platform of the station. It was late afternoon and was already grow- ing dark. As they drove through the town in an ancient, rattling wagon pulled by a thin old horse, the driver, an old darkey with gray hair, talked constantly. Ah suttin'ly am s'prised to find anybody coming to live in Miss Morris's old house. They say thereis ha'nts there, and one night I done saw- Never mind, Sambof' broke in Mr. Morris, hurriedly. How far is it to the house? It's at the other end of the town, suh. Quite a bit back from the road, too, and there's no other house close. Oh, Dad, let's go back, pleaded Jane. I don't want to live in a dark, gloomy old house even for a week. Aw, Sis, talk sense, said John. You're nothing but a scarecrow, afraid of ghosts.

Page 9 text:

THE EASTERN ECHO 7 success, and happiness, and he kissed her smiling lips. Hand in hand they passed on in the moon- light as if walking on air. Although there were many questions about the past six years that Cynthia wished to ask, she was silent. Cynthia, Tom said, as they neared her door, don't ask me about my life during those six years of wandering, but read that book. It tells everything. At times l gave up hope and was desperate, but your memory urged me on to write, to write until I could give the world something, and you are the heroine of that book. It has been successful. Now l am ready to renew my plea to your parents. Cynthia, smiling through her tears, said, Oh, Tom, you are wonderful, and I know your book will be. With a boyish smile Tom said, I am com- ing over tomorrow to hear your criticisms of my stories you have read. Don't be afraid to criticize me as you used to. I suppose l shall have to wait a few days to hear what you think of this last book, but if you aren't too tired, please read the last paragraph tonight and don't forget that you 'are the heroine and l'm the hero. He said goodnight and slipped away quick- ly. She gazed after him until he was out of sight, and then entered the hall. Flinging her- self on the staircase, she opened the book. Smilingly she read: They were married in May under the blossoming apple trees where togeth- er as children they had spent many happy hours, and they were not less happy now. She closed the book, and with shining eyes softly tipped up to her room. ln the wee hours of the morning, when the Christmas star was paling and all revelry had died out, a light still burned in the corner room of the red brick house on the hill. Cynthia was reading the twelfth chapter of A Roll- ing Stone. We :Zara K 4.411 . - dvi? :J l I gig THE NIGHT-THE DAWN , Miss Aucs G. MALLALIEU. Blotches of street and blurred sidewalks, Shadowed and dull in the lights' pale glow, 1 Dim and cold in the night's faint edges, 1 Caught and held the frolicking snow. A5 Rollicking whirls of playful crystals, Careless of all save their purposeless selves, Tumbled about in the shining storm 5 Like ice-bound sprites, the Frost-King's elves. For this was the night to be playful and merry, And what cared the throngs for the wind and the snow! Though jostled and crushed by the care-free crowding, Their faces were radiant, with love all aglow. To make others happy their mission tonight, Forgetful of self, the delight of giving Had sped away every menacing thought, And filled each heart with the joy of living. lnto the shadows they hnally vanished. Again undisturbed the snow flakes could play, M' Like powder puffed by the fickle breezes gg- J Unsteady upon the sidewalks they lay, 'Q Until the calming Dawn surprised The feathery mists with her pageant bright: Then they glided away to the blue sky's edge, Expectant and hushed by the growing light. ?, I The opalescent Dawn had framed is The world in a halo, as if to lift The mortal thought above itself To the Christ Child-eternal Wisdom's Gift. 6

Page 11 text:

THE EASTERN ECHO 9 Well, I don't care, she snappedq You're not so awfully brave yourself. l bet you'd run faster than I would if you really saw one once. Here we are, said Mrs. Morris with pre- tended cheerfulness, as they turned from the road into a gravel drive. 'Tm sure we'll have a nice stay here. It's so nice and cosy and old- fashioned. But her remark fell flat. It was a dismal scene that met the eyes of the drenched group. The house looked bleak and unfriendly in the swiftly gathering twilight. The branches of the tall trees that shaded the porch swayed in the wind, and the rain fell unceasingly. The evi- dent haste of the old negro to deposit bags and suitcases and depart did not brighten the gloom. Old Nora stood sullenly by, while a continuous stream of water flowed unheeded from her umbrella into the brim of her hat. The old door creaked on its hinges as they entered the house. The covers on the chan- deliers and the furniture looked like silent ghosts staring out of the gloom. No one spoke for an instant. Then the usual good sense of Mr. Morris asserted itself. He quickly lighted the candles in the chandelier and started a roaring fire in the grate. Crazy notion, this not having electric lights and steam heat in this barn, with all the money she had! Feels like a morgue, he muttered. When they had all dried out somewhat, he sent Nora to the kitchen to prepare dinner, and helped his wife to remove the covers from the furniture in the dining room. Then they as- cended the creaking stairs and chose the rooms they were to occupy. l'd like this one in the front, said Jane. It's farthest away from the one where Aunt Emma died. If there are any ghosts they would surely be there. I wouldn't go into that room for a million dollars. Theres no reason why anyone should go into it, answered her mother. lt's locked and it can stay just as it is. It hasnit been opened since the funeral. johns voice broke in at this point: The roof leaks in my room, Mother, and l'm not going,to sleep where I'll get drenched. You may take that room at the end of the hall, then, she answered wearily. This house is certainly in awful repair, but I guess we can stand it for a week. They all went down to dinner together. Nora had managed to start a fire in the old coal range after a long struggle, and the hot food cheered them all. But after dinner, gloom descended again. The living room was cfeerless, and the cold, painted faces of an- cestors on the walls seemed to look down in disapproval. At Nora's piercing shriek when a mouse ran across the kitchen Hoor, their tense nerves seemed to snap. Oh, Mother, I don't like it here, sobbed Jane. l..et's let the old money go to Cousin George and his china dogs, and go home. I think some sleep would do us all good. said Mr. Morris. We're just tired, that's all. But there was little sleep for anyone that night. The pouring rain on the tin roof of the porch, together with the moaning of the wind, kept them all awake. A shutter on the south side of the house had broken loose from its fastenings, and banged loudly against the wall. Suddenly Jane shrieked aloud. They found her buried under the covers, moaning with fear. Oh, l saw it, I saw it, she wailed. It was big and white, and went 'Whoo-oo-oo'. lt was only your imagination, dear, soothed her mother. Surely you don't really believe in ghosts! But l tell you I saw it, and it waved its arms at me. Nonsense, child. Go back to sleep. You were only dreaming. It will soon be morn- ing. Morning dawned bright and clear. 'Jane was convinced that she had been dreaming and bore the jeers of her brother with good grace. They explored the house from top to bottom, leaving only Aunt Emma's room un- disturbed. The week wore slowly on. During the day all went well, but at night there was something abroad in the old house that mystified its occu- pants. Strange sounds, lights, and shadows made the nights unbearable. Mr. Morris al- ways found some explanation, but even the best of his reasons lost force with repetition. During the last night of their stay, they were all gathered in the living room. Jane was playing on the old square piano. Everyone was looking forward to the departure for more cheerful surroundings. Suddenly the door from the dining room opened and a draught of wind blew out the candles. A tall, white- clad figure stood framed in the doorway. They all gazed at it in horrified fascination as it glided slowly across the room, gleaming weirdly in the pale moonlight that shone through the windows. It moved toward the door that led to the hall. But Fate, who is supposed to have no con- trol over the supernatural, beings, intervened. A small rug directly in the path of the ap-