Hammond Central School - Spotlight Yearbook (Hammond, NY)

Page 12 text:

12 HAMMOND HIGH HAPPENINGS THE DAY OF DAZE By Dorothy Conger A whir — the grating and grinding of brakes — the frightened scream of a child, and the sudden halt of a graceful limousine! A deathly silence of the hilar- ious group, gathered in the car, followed this outburst. In a flash, the girl at the wheel snatched open the door and gazed in horror upon the marble-like face of a small girl. The afternoon sun stretched its great, yellow fingers across the green park, filled with holiday loafers, ontc the white brow of the child, lying huddled in front of the automobile. A tremor passed over her meager little body, which, for a moment, strove to regain con- sciousness, then lapsed into passiveness again. Unmind- ful of her lovely tea frock, the girl gathered the child into her arms and gently placed her in the car. Steer- ing through the curious, gaping crowd, which had gath- ered, ever conscious of excitement, Anne Trezvant let out a burst of speed and flying by seemingly endless traffic cops, buildings and patches of green, which might have, at a decent speed, resembled land, she at length, came to a stop before the Mercy Plospital. With a flutter, a pair of pale eyelids flew open, re- vealing a pair of dark blue eyes, which seemed to be the largest part of the pinched, little face, which looked pathetically up at Anne, without recognition. They snapped shut and the child again passed into a state of unconsciousness. Anne stretched her stiffened muscles and rose to meet the approaching surgeon. “She will

Page 11 text:

 ■ daf f m . . Vi inter He nr y ( Three Men U

Page 13 text:

HAMMOND HIGH HAPPENINGS 13 never be able to walk,” was the verdict which met her straining ears. With a hopeless gesture, the girl made her way from the austere place of healing. The blue, morning sky cast its lazy reflection upon an artificial lake, bordering a sweet, old-fashioned gar- den. A few feet beyond this, the tracks of a recently- built railroad rose. Amid a bed of exquisite tea roses, a child, upon whose countenance was imprinted a sweet patient expression, reclined. A sparrow fluttered to her shoulder, where it rested a few mintues before con- tinuing its flight. Two squirrels approached her, eager for the breakfast she never failed to supply, all of which made it evident that she was well-acquainted with these woodland people. Her gaze wandered to the great, old mansion, a short distance from the garden. It seemed only a fantastic dream that she, an orphan girl, should be a participant of this magnificence. And yet, it must be reality — for as she gazed wonderingly about the grounds, her foster sister waved gaily to her, as she sped down the walk on her way to school. Five years sped by on golden wings of happiness for the little lame girl, until she reached her eighteenth birthday. She had become a cultured girl — a girl, marked with the stamp of wealth and good breed- ing. Although she was still chained to her wheel chair, she found comfort and joy in her beloved violin and spent many delightful hours with her old friends of the forest. To them, she was able to vent her hopes and despairs, which were much too turbulent to confide to a human being. Her foster parents' wealth had gained for her the care of famous surgeons, but the ultimatum was always the same: That there was about one chance in a thou- sand of her ever walking. They had predicted that by