Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE EAST E RN ECHO lately! He's only been giving you the little plays that don't count. Anne dropped the dishes into the hot water with an emphatic splash. Will shrugged his shoulders wearily. If I had said anything, I would have been fired altogether. No, Anne, welll just have to grin and bear it. Guess the kids will have to stop their dancing lessons. Vile wonlt be able to afford it on my salary. 'fOh, VVill, not Claire. She's doing so well, I was talking to the professor just the other day. He said that Claire shows extraordinary promise, only she ought to practice more. Daphne will never be more than just a mediocre dancer. Couldn't we let Claire keep on, and just have Daphne stop? VVell, mused VVill, I don't like to show any partiality between them, but it would be a shame to spoil Claireds possible career, so I guess we'll do as you say. Er-will you tell Daph about it? Mrs. Turis agreed, but a sigh of misgiving escaped her lips as she bent over her dishes. It was going to be hard to tell Daphneg she would be so disappointed. The child was just a silly little dreamer, though, she would never be a suc- cess as a dancer. And besides, in their straitened circumstances, it could not be afforded. She hoped that Daphne would understand. ik lk Pk Pk HK High school days with their joys and sorrows came and went. The Turis girls duly attended, studied, played, and eventually graduated. Then the all-engrossing question of their respective fu- ture careers held the interest of the Turis house- hold. It went without question that Claire would continue to study dancing and try to climb the ladder of success. But Daphne-. As Mrs. Turis said one night a few weeks after graduation, HI don't believe she wants to do anything but dream. She doesnlt want to stay home, can't do office work, doesn't want to go to college. It's too much for me. HDonlt you have any particular ambitions, Daph? asked her father perplexedly. KNO, dad, I just feel useless. I don't really know what I want to do, replied the girl wist- fully. 'fSay, I have an idea, said Mr. Turis after a few moments of intense thought. 'fI'Iow would you like to try your hand at newspaper work? I think I can persuade Cooper to give you a chance. You mean reporting? Why, dad, I had never really considered that. I got good English marks Fifteen in school, though. I wonder if I could do it? Re- porting! I think Ild like to try it, daddy. Will you ask Mr. Cooper about it tomorrow? 'fAll right, girlie, I'll see what I can do for you. That might be just the work for you and you might make good at itfl Thus Daphne became a cub reporter. Her career was very short. I'm sorry, Miss Turis,', said the city editor blandly after Daphne had been there for two weeks, 'tbut your services will be no longer re- quired after today. Your writing is a bit too fanciful and poetical for newspaper work. Have you ever tried writing poetry 7' Poetryl echoed Daphne in surprise, I could never do that. I'm not a geniusfl One doesn't have to be a genius to write poetry, mused Mr. Cooper. A'Nevertheless,'l he continued more briskly, we won't need you any- more after today. That is allfl I seef' whispered Daphne as she walked away. Automatically, she put on her hat and coat, and, drawing on her gloves, stepped out into the busy street. Now, what was she to do? She was not fitted to do the only thing she cared about doing. How she longed to dance! That evening as she sat in the Packman Thea- tre and watched her sister dance, the longing be- came twice as unbearable. Claire was like a beau- tiful, fragile doll. Her every movement was tech- nically perfect, but not a bit of feeling was ex- pressed. Claire lacked the one essential quality which would make her famousg she lacked emo- tion. Her dances should have been poems in move- mentg in reality, they were only the usual dances. Suddenly, as Daphne sat there in the darkened theatre. she felt an unquenehable desire to ex- press the feelings and emotions which Claire was unable to express there on the stage. What was it Cooper had said? Have you ever tried writ- ing poetry ? But no, of course she couldn't write poems, no use thinking any more about that. Later, for a long time she sat in her own room thoughtfully looking out over the sleeping city. Finally, she went to her desk, and took out a piece of paper and a pencil. And far into the night, she poured out her dreams of spring, and sunshine, and golden butterflies. Pk :sc :ic be af Mr. Turis sat down at his breakfast table one spring morning about a year later and unfolded his newspaper, while waiting for his breakfast. As he glanced over the pages, two articles in the personal column caught his eye. The first one read, CCUlIffIl1lCd on page 991

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THE EASTERN ECHO 'KI suppose so. Now, go ahead and eat your supper. Daphne, take more spinach than that. But Daphne did not even hear her mother. Her mind was far away in the cool recesses of a green forest. She was not dancing this time, however. Hnddled at the foot of a tree, she was watch- ing a gorgeous dancer named Lady Clarissa. Pk Pls Pls Pk Pk One by one the lights in the theatre flashed off, and soon only the footlights gleamed in the darkness. 'Wave after wave of soft music rolled ont over the heads of the tense, expectant audi- ence. Thousands of eyes were focused on the tiny part in the gorgeous curtains. Slowly, slowly, they separated and there, revealed in the power- ful gleam of a spotlight and poised gracefully on tiptoes. stood Lady Clarissa, the dancer. Daphne held her breath in wonder. The hgure bending, swaying, dipping on the polished stage was so beautiful, so light and free! She wished Claire would stop eating those chocolates. Every time the child put her hand into the bag for an- other candy, the paper crackled, and Daphne did not want to be reminded of material things. How she wished she could dance like that, like a spirit from another world! The afternoon passed in a maze of enjoyment, and the entire audience sighed when the curtains closed for the last time. That evening the family was assembled in the living room. Mrs. Turis was sewing, Mr. Turis reading, Claire playing with her doll, and Daphne staring pensively out of the window. Finally, Daphne went over to her father and said, Daddy, may I take dancing lessons? Mr. Turis looked into the grave face of his little daughter and said kindly, A'VVell, now, we've never talked about anything like that before, have we? VVhat makes you think you could dance, Daph?l' 4'Oh, Daddy, I just feel that I could,'l she re- plied seriously. t'If Daphne takes lessons, I want to take them, too, spoke up Claire decisively. May we both take them, dad P 'Wvhat do you think, Annef' asked Mr. Turis. VVell, if we can afford it, I think it would be a good idea. It would at least teach them to be graceful-Daphne especially, she's as stiff as a boardf, Oh, we can afford it. I suppose, O. li. kiddies, yonlre off on your dancing careers. lint now, yon're off to bed. Scootf' As the two little girls obediently went upstairs. Mr. Turis tried in vain to forget the hurt look which he had surprised in Daphne's eyes after her mother's last remark. Finally he could not help commenting upon it to his wife. You really onghtn't say things about Daphne in her or Claire's presence. Anne. She'll be get- ting an inferiority complex if you always remind her of her stiffness and so on. You kno','.', we can't all be Lady Clarissasf' The child is entirely too self-centered any- how, VVill. A few plain truths now and then won't hurt her. replied Mrs. Turis with some heat. Upstairs, Daphne was already in bed. Her eyes were tightly shut but she was not asleep. She was a golden butterfly, Hitting in the cool, green woods. Say, Daphne, dancers make heaps of money, don't they? remarked Claire thoughtfully. Daphne did not hear her. Pls bk Pls its Dk For three years now, the Turis girls had been taking dancing lessons from Professor Sigmon. For three years, Daphne had been practicing her steps daily, at first happily and hopefully, and finally desperately. But you must relax, you must limber up, the excitable professor would shout. HNow watch Claire. See how easily and lightly she moves, how gracefully she sways. But you-you are too stiff! And Daphne would blush and tremble and be- gin to cry. And as she stood at the window and looked down at the streams of traffic below, she would close her eyes and pretend that she was in a cool green forest where golden butterflies were Hitting over clumps of purple violets and where there was no one to criticize. One evening toward Christmas, when Mr. Turis came home, there was a discouraged droop to his shoulders, and he ate his supper in silence. Xl'hen the children had gone upstairs to do their homework, and Anne was clearing away the sup- per things. he strolled into the kitchen and stood staring morosely out the window. Something's happened, XYill. XYhat is it? asked his wife anxiously. Yes, something has happened, Anne. I got a cut in salary today, Cooper said my last re- views haven't been so good and they don't feel that I'm worth what they've been paying ITIS. I am to get thirty dollars a week from now on. From fifty dollars to thirtyl Oh, VVill, that's terrible! lYhy didn't you tell Cooper a few things? VYhy didn't you ask him to give you a couple of decent shows to write-np for a change. No wonder your reviews haven't been so good F ourteen

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ICYSCPGPQI' By LXIARTHA A. M. THOMS, '32 Straight Into the starry sky It rises gracefully. Laborers Dug :loop into the earth And laid its flftll f01l7ldUll07'l.S'. Stool-ercctors S'ZQ'fII'H1Cd like busy ants Oifcr the dirty girders. Briclrlayvrs Flared one brifls on the other Slowly, with raro and effort. And now, The fl1II.Sl1Ull building .ftar1a'.9- Giant, glvanzing, strong. I Shall make my life a shaft Rixiug straight and true. flml I shall siriffc as farnestly As effmrt warkn101z da. W, .lonquil Hy LENORE QQHINN, '33 From thc wary heart Of the awalecning earth Comes the johquil: 14 goldmz trunzfmt, tgllllllltllfltlfj Spring. Sixteen