Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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-2 MIND AND HAND. I saw him fly out of the door, and for a moment sat stunned. Then, giving vent to a piercing shriek, I ran out into the street, just in time to see Billy change his course and fly over the housetop, far, far away. I covered my face with my hands and stumbled back into the house. What should I do? I could not, posi- tively could not, face my sister and tell her. But Billy was gone, irrecoverably gone. A ray of hope came to me suddenly — the bird at the store; but that would be telling a lie, a thing she despised. Should I tell the truth and see her sorrow, or lie and bear the self-reproach and in the end her contempt? But she loved the little fellow so much. The fear that I might still change my mind hurried me to the store. I bought the bird, but how unlike Billy he was. When I put him in Billy ' s cage he flut- tered about, making plaintive litte cries. I knew he would betray me, and shook my fist at him in anger and despair. I heard the gate slam and knew my sis- ter had come, so I picked up my work and tried to be composed. First the thread tangled, then the needle bent, and then it broke, and I began to cry. My sister stood in the door watching me and taking off her gloves. At last she said Well, what is the matter, child? I made no answer. I did not dare to look up, so I sobbed a little harder. She came to me and picked up my work. See- BOOK-KEEPING ROOM.

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i ■ ' • ' • • • • • • •a?-, 2 yUv v Tk Y wvew. . v W OUR BILLY. |INE is a simple story, but to one who leads a quiet life, the smallest inci- dent has its weight. There are six of us at home — three boys and three girls. Since my mother ' s death my sister has been housekeeper. She re- signed all the gayety of the social life that was then opening to her to become a mother to us, the younger ones. All her time is spent in governing the household ; all her plans are for the welfare of her younger brothers and sisters ; she is con- stantly devising new schemes for the com- mon good and we are sometimes led to believe she cares for nothing else. She has one pet, a little canary bird. My aunt gave him to her when he was only a few months old and he soon became her greatest delight. She hung about his cage till he knew her face, held him in her hand till he was no longer afraid and was ready to tend him any hour of the day. He became so tame she would open his cage and let him fly about. When she worked, he sat on her shoulder; when she sang, Billy sang. In singing, his little throat swelled almost to bursting with the love and gratitude he bore her. But to us he was a little fiend. If one of us ventured to put his hands near the cage, Billy would fly at them like a little fury, his wings outspread, his eyes spark- ling and all the while making a furious little squeaking noise to inspire terror in our hearts. He teased the cook by throw- ing seeds out of his cage to the dining room floor. His way of annoying papa was peculiarly funny. Billy ' s cage hung near the head of the table where papa sat at dinner. One day papa began to brush his head impatiently, first with one hand and then the other, Na — what is that? He looked around and there was Bill} T , his head stretched out as far as the wires of his cage would allow him, throwing seed shells that were on the ledge outside of the cage, down on papa ' s bald head. Papa punished him for this severely by bringing him a great bunch of seed grass. You may well suppose we were fond of him. On the avenue, on my way to school, was a bird store. We had stopped there so often to supply Billy ' s wants that we were well acquainted with the owner and we sometimes stopped just to see and hear the birds. There were hundreds of canaries in little wooden cages. Among them was one who seemed to me to be just like our bird. Sometimes I wished we had him, too, to be a twin-brother to our pet ; I wondered if he had the same tricks, but when I brought my hands near he would flutter about affrighted. One afternoon I was left at home alone. To amuse myself while I worked I opened Billy ' s cage, forgetting that all the doors in the house were open. Billy hopped out gaily, glad of his freedom, but after a few moments evinced a desire for the greater freedom of the outside world.

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MIND AND HAND. L3 ing nothing so very wrong, she said: You ' ll find a package of needles in my basket. I did not rise to get the needles, so she stood quietly by me. At last she said: There is something else the mat- ter; I want you to tell me. The only answer she received was a command to Go ' way. She went to the bird, I suppose to wait till I was quieter. When she neared that dreadful cage she started, then called to him, Billy, Billy. The little creature fluttered about frantically. She turned to me, her face white with horror. Sister, did the cat catch him? No answer. In a few moments she added, in a broken voice, Well, it is better he died at once than to be out alone with nothing to eat and the cold to fight. That settled it ; she should believe him dead; I could not tell her the real truth now, still I would say nothing about it. The bell rang. Exultant voices were heard outside, Missis, Missis, here ' s your bird; we caught him out there by Court Street And half a dozen ragamuffins tumbled in, holding out Billy, our darling, to us. I was relieved. Billy is safe and mo re impertinent than ever. But somehow, strange as it may seem, the new bird is the dearer to me. Theresa Marie Bell. MECHANICAL DRAWING ROOM.