Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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PETER PAN IN SILENCE N Kensington Gardens its was twilight-in Kensington, London, that merry daytime abode of sunny babies, white-clad nurses, and throngs of gay, careless little boys and girls. It was a strange, hostile twilight whose gray shadows made shapeless blurs of the trees and statues. An eventide loneliness breathed from deserted walks and lawns. Chill breezes whispered faintly, Rest .... Rest. It is such a trouble to be happy! Into this cool, hostile twilight wandered Alice, a little fair-haired six- year old, escaped from her nurse and coming, as a dauntless few had before her, to explore the regions of fairyland. Yet what a world of seeking lay behind those wide blue eyes. In and out she threaded her way, stopping every once in a while to shake her head in despair. '4Dear, how queer it looks! she murmured. When Bobby and I came through with Nurse, it was different, and much nicer. But I mustn't lose my way, because I must find Peter Pan, I must! And in other parts of the garden, the very same Peter Pan was sur- veying his dominion with impatient eyes. H'm. They all say they love me, these children. But not one of them has the courage to stay behind after closing time to really play with me. I did, once, when I was a real boy. Oh, I was a clever one, then! And wouldn't I show those boys some fun, if I were back again, wouldn't I just! Now you must know that though the fairies loved Peter Pan very dear- ly-indeed the queen secretly worshipped his golden curls and gleaming teeth, they rather distrusted him. He was such a queer, mischievous fellow that they feared to let him out among the children, as he had pleaded, in case he might grow suddenly tired and assume his own form toj join in the fun. That was something they could not permit. The queen herself, in all the splendor of her elfin velvet and ermine, had warned him. We have decided to grant you plea, Peter Pan, because we are all very fond of you, as you know. 'slndeed and I thank you, Lady Queen, Peter bowed humbly before her. But there are certain laws to be obeyed, the Queen continued, trying to be stem though smiling graciously at Peter's bow. One of these laws is that a fairy must never be seen in his or her original form, by a mortal. And after all, you are a fairy, aren't you, Peter? Indeed and I am not! Peter answered indignantly. I had a real mother once, and she was ever so much prettier than any of your fairies! Be still! The Queen was regal, sharp. Then abruptly descending, she asked almost shyly, Prettier, even than the Queen? Way! said Peter tactlessly. Well, resumed the queen angrily, you cannot say you are a real boy, so we consider you a fairy. And you are never to move from the statue which we have decided to give you. If you do move, or utter a single sign or word, you will be punished by having to remain thereafter in that form forever! All these days a wearisome duty he had found it to obey, never more wearisome than tonight. He fretted and fumed and watched the big London Page Seventeen

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INTERVIEW WITH FAITH BALDWIN 66 E'VE been chasing false alarms all moming, Miss Baldwin said as she welcomed us into her charming home. My six- year old has been sending in fire-alarms and we've had the whole company here. It's been quite an exciting Sunday morning. I don't know much about high schools or high school girls. I'm writing a story about high school girls, but I'm setting it in the country because I feel that city girls are so sophisticated. fWe began to feel a little self -consciousj. It's dilhcult to remember my school days. I went to school here in Brooklyn and then to a finishing school. When I came home I didn't have much to do, so I wrote lots of abominable verses. My father threatened me with all sorts of things if I published them. I didn't till I was eighteen and the book was well received, much to everyone's wonder. That same year I went abroad. When the war broke out, I retumed, and spent my time at Camp Mills, where I published a small newspaper for a club of girls, and or- ganized dances for the boys. It was quite a job and I hated it-especially the paper, but I did it. Soon after that I became engaged and went down to Florida. From there I sent my first novel which was lost in the mail and as I never keep copies, it just wasn't till one day it turned up, and after many adventures was published. When I returned from Florida I was married-but not to the one I was engaged to, she added hurriedly. We struggled on in a small flat. After my four kiddies were born I began to write again-novels now. First I had a job writing continued stories in newspapers. Terrible stuiiil But it was real experience and it taught me a lot about writing. Then I began writing serials for magazines. One of my latest, Ali- mony has just ended in 'Cosmopolitanh One Incredible Year is now running in 'Good Housekeeping'. At this point, our conversation was interrupted by a childish wail from somewhere in the upper regions. That's one of the twins, slightly annoyed at something, Miss Baldwin said nonchalantly. I realize, Miss Baldwin continued calmly, that I don't write best- sellers. I really don't try to. I want to write books that everyone will enjoy-an amusing, interesting novel and nothing more. Miss Baldwin told us she wrote in the house, surrounded by all sorts of noises, with the family all around her, the telephone and doorbell ringing frantically. She writes right on the typewriter and is so used to it that she says she wouldn't be able to write if she had to use long-hand. fShe's a two-fingered typist, howeverj. She showed us the library, where she works. It is on the ground floor. Three of the walls are covered with open book shelves, one section containing all her own books. In the centre is her desk and a comfortable chair. On the walls are many pictures, a darling one of her two oldest, and the original paintings of her first book jackets. Do say a prayer for my grass, she said as we were leaving. Bemice Stamilman, Ag8 Page Sixteen

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clock so closely that he could almost see it tick off the minutes. Suddenly his attention was arrested by a soft rustling as of autumn leaves, and out of the tree-darkened paths a little girl stepped. That strained, seeking expres- sion was gone from her eyes, and instead, relief and joy shone out. It would be hard to tell Peter's feelings as he watched her. She was an awfully little girl, he thought rather contemptuously, and she couldn't be very brave, for she had been crying. But it tickled his vanity to think she was one of the children who did care enough to stay behind and speak to him. Oh, Peter Pan, she was saying, Pvc been so afraid I wouldn't find you. Everything is so dark and still-and queer. I know the fairies must be watching, for I saw the end of a wing disappear around a bush. Do you think they are angry at me for coming after closing hours? But I had to see you, Peter. They said you couldn't talk any more .... the children did. They said you are just a stone statue, and it's all make-believe that you ever lived at all ...... and they don't believe .... Oh, Peter .... they don't believe in fairies! She bent forward in hushed expectancy. So I came myself, Peter, to hear what you would say, so I could go back and tell them that you are alive. Please talk to me, Peter! The moon shone on her fair hair and tear-wet lashes, and it turned her little face to a silvery whiteness that made her eyes very large and dark blue. Peter, generous, impulsive soul, was moved. Dear me, she is a nice little girl, even if she does cry, he said to himself, and I wish I could talk to her for just a minute, Then remember- ing the long forever of the queen of fairies, he shuddered and stayed silent. Breathlessly Alice waited. 'iWhy Peter, are you angry at me too? Peter hated at that moment the fairy queen and her laws. He thought it was a shame that Alice should have to go away believing him a statue, when he was really such a clever fellow .... She was crying brokenheartedly now. Oh, Peter, tell me they were wrong. You can talk, can't you? Say that you can! Peter felt a lump rising in his throat when he heard the imploring note in the tiny voice down there. No one could call him anything but careless, no one could call him wise, yet he realized how much it would mean to Alice if he refused to speak. Within him surged a flood of heroism which made him oblivious to consequences. He stepped down from his pedestal with a noble air. Of course I can talk, little girl. Pm. ap great fellow, I am. I' can do almost anything you ask me to. I killed five pirates and ever so many Indians, 'n I can fly higher than any of the fairies, 'n I'm chief of the army in the Neverland, and he hopped up and down on one foot and grinned broadly at the blissful Alice. Oh .... she breathed joyfully. And in the sweetness of her over- whelming admiration Peter quite forgot the great sacrifice he had made. Comelia A ugwsta Newton, Bg3 Page Eighteen