Kew Forest School - Blotter Yearbook (Forest Hills, NY)

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LITEKATQKE. -ff' Bleak WViiin1tcer 'RE dirty little boy's mother had no time for him. Her day was spent in the kitchen, a baby on one arm, dishes and pots on the other. When one baby grew large enough to drag on her skirts, there was another to be carried. It was every man for himself amongst his brothers and sisters, and Pop was a reeling creature to avoid. Through seven years of life the little boy grabbed and swore and fought. It was only after he had become friends with the small dirty dog that a puzzled look crept into his deep eyes, and he learned there was such a thing as affecf tion. Then he would watch his broken mother with hurt, wistful eyes. The small dog had a ratflike tail, and big flat feet that patted you wildly when the small dog was happy. The small dog was friendly, for he knew that if his ears were mismated, and his whiskers were rather peculiar, these defects would be overlooked if he were a gentleman at heart. He loved the little boy and the little boy loved him. The small brown dog sat between the little boy's knees when he ate, and noise- lessly consumed the bits of food that a grimy hand passed down to him. He slept on the little boy's bed, and was al' ways ready with a cold nose and clumsy, comforting paws if he woke trembling from dreams, dreadful dreams. He knew that there is nothing like small dog ap' plied to the chest for dispelling night' mares. He knew that there is nothing like a tangle of dog and boy for taking the terror out of the elevated's roar and the sordid memories of the day. But he did not know that it was because of the dose of small dog applied to the heart that something strange and hard growing in the little boy's eyes drew in its claws and stole away . The cold wind froze the little boy's nose as he came down the school house steps. It was nothing to the cold fear that froze his heart when he did not see the small dog. Every day that small dog had met him, every day since back be'

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THE BLOTTER 'Virgil Program T:-IE bimillennium of the birth of Virgil was celebrated at KewfForest School, by the following program: The Life of Virf gil, Robert Kelleherg The Georgics, Virginia Chalmersg The Aeneid, Nancy KershawgtThe Place of Virgil in World Literature, Muriel Fluhr. Dorothy VViicke and Frances Smith, who have spent all their school days at Kew-Forest. 24

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THE BLOTTER yond memory. The little boy whistled, and the noise of many cars swallowed the piping sound. The little boy called and called and a look of terror filled his eyes. He ran through the streets where he and the small dog walked. He searched the park where he and the small dog played. He did not look at home. It was supperftime when he mounted the steps and entered the flat. Rosie was painting her face at the mirror above the sink. Pop and Benny were sprawled on the bed, snoring, and children sat on the greasy floor. Ivlom had a puffy child on her arm, and a whiney child dragging at her skirts. She glanced at him and did not see that he was trembling, that his eyes gleamed under his tangled black hair. He's gone, said the little boy in a low voice, he's gone. ul got nothing for ya supper but soup, said Mom, shifting the baby. Mom, he's gone. What kin I do? Who's gone?l' 'LMe dog, Mom. What kin I do? MI dunno, said Mom in a dull voice. Don't wake ye Pa. 'fGood riddancef' said Rosie. The little boy looked at Mom, and he looked at Rosie. Then he slipped out and walked up and down the cold streets, calling- calling. Finally he asked the policeman if he had seen a brown dog with brown eyes. MSO ya lost ya mut, eh? Have a license, Kid? Well, then he's probably in the pound, Yeah, down by the river about ten blocks. Filled with wild hope, the little boy raced through the streets, along the dark river front, up an alley. There it was, a great wirefenclosed yard and in it were dogs and dogs. Breathless, the little boy sank down and pressed his face against the wire and called and whistled and called. There was a stir and a rush. A small brown dog dashed itself against his face and big clumsy paws patted wildly against the wire and the crying of a small brown dog sounded strangely human. Through the dimness gleamed the wistful eyes of watching dogs. The little boy sat down with his back to the February wind and drew a long breath that quivered and broke. A nose with peculiar whisk' ers was pushing itself through the wire that muzzled it too tightly for more than the very tip of a pink tongue to escape. Even though he went home very late, creeping into bed without a sound, he awoke early. There were men about the pound when the little boy arrived with half of his breakfast bundled in a news' paper. Edging his way timidly into the office, the little boy asked the pudgy man at the desk if he could have his dog. Got a license? The pudgy man had vacant eyes. A-a-No, I got noAlicense. us Can't have a dog 'thout a license. Then gimme one-please. at Two dollars, said the pudgy man. The little boy gasped. Two dollars! He walked slowly out to the yard. Two dolf lars! He laid his cheek against a cold, black button that wiggled through the wire. Two dollars! He could never get two dollars. There was a sudden creaking, a stOrm of wild, pleading cries. A great wire cage, full of tangled fur, and crying, was swinging out over the water at the end of a crane. For a moment it hung sus' pended, then dropped. The river swalf lowed the voices and in silence a small brown dog pressed trembling against the 26