Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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24 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Then brushing her short light brown hair out of her hazel eyes, she looked about her. “What a gorgeous place! Oh, look at the lovely birch trees, and over there, that marvelous pine grove. I’ll wager one can get a fine view from that window,” she added, pointing to a large French window high up in the castle and right over the river. “Gee, Dicky, how you do jump around in your conversation. Well, come on, we’ll have to go over part of the castle before the workers from the village arrive. I believe I’ll have all the rooms cleaned, for I guess they’ll need it.” As they worked their way back, they continued their inspection. Tim pointed out to the girl many well known landmarks. “See, Dicky, there is the family graveyard. Over there in that small cot¬ tage lives a hermit. Boy, didn’t he hate us because we lived here! He hates anyone who even enters the castle.” They raced each other up the steep banks to the castle. As they reached the door, the girl hung back as though some ill foreboding breath of air had whispered something repugnant to her. But, perhaps not to be outdone by her friend, or perhaps, more truely, not wishing to stay alone in the strange, unusual, formidable surroundings, she entered the ancient house with an unfathomable apprehension. Tim stepped in ahead of her. He immediately hurried down the hall to the kitchen and began foraging manfashion in a large pantry. “Oh, heck! All of mother’s preserves are gone, and I know when I was camping up here for a few days last fall, there were about a dozen jars left.” “Never mind, Tim. You most likely ate them, or perhaps some of your old chums who knew about them came by, forced their way in, and helped them¬ selves during their stay.” Just then they heard the workers arriving, and they hastened to greet them and give them some orders concerning the future work. As Tim entered the drawing room, he noticed footmarks on the rug. He asked Dicky if she had come in ahead of him., but she answered in the negative. He discovered that the footmarks led up to the davenport and then he noticed its burden. Dicky stopped, turned pale, then hurried forward and examined the piti¬ ful form. Her nursing training now stood her in good stead as she again examined the body. ? It only a child and he was killed by a blow of a dagger from behind. Oh! she added vindictively, “How I would like to get my hands on that cowardly, hateful murderer!” As she stood there, she noticed that a ray of sunlight had filtered in through the dusty windows across the dingy rug spattered with blood. It had stopped at the motionless corpse on the davenport as if to make a bridge by which the soul of the victim might pass from this world into the celestial world above. She shuddered, then turned, and quickly left the room. One of the men recognized the child as one of the children of a well known family in the village. I he child was considered strange because he was always administering to the sick instead of running and playing like others of his age. They immediately formed a searching party to go through the castle and see what other horrors, if any, it held. They searched the first floor methodically, going through the dim dusky mysterious rooms. They found nothing. 1 hey started on the second floor, but before they had gone far in the search, they were stopped by a scream from one of the nearby rooms. They all stood

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THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 23 heavens. The stars up there were twinkling. They were not warm and friendly. They were not cold and disapproving. They were merely remote, wholly unsug- gestive of any sort of intimacy between my sphere and theirs. I ran my eyes over that great expanse of sky, sky, sky. How utterly alone I was! The universe seemed the gigantic scheme of some great juggernaut who did not care for me. I was but a witful amoeba carelessly tossed into the middle of a great onrushing flood-swollen river. I was a mad creature in a cell not padded, but with iron walls. Oh, how I felt the oppressiveness of mortal existence! My affairs did not matter at all, but I wanted them to matter. O, Fred -. Fate, Fred, is peculiar. Fate sent you into my office this morning with a great burden on your heart. It sent you out comforted. It sent me into my garden tonight quite at peace. And it has sent me out of it raving. Listen, Fred: The only reason for my irritability during the past few weeks has been the ex¬ cessive amount of work that I have forced myself to do in preparation for that Harrowby trial. Morrow is a hard attorney to defeat. I’m going to ask you to take that case for me, for I shall not be here when it comes up. I see no reason for prolonging the existence of an amoeba. I am writing this in my study, but I shan’t do the deed here. I’ll be, as you would say, “half-decently reticent” about the affair. The deed will be done out in the garden after I have posted this letter to you. Goodbye, Fred. I’m sorry that I could not regard the heavens with your eyes. BOB. Robert Cenedella, ’28. THE INHERITANCE. The icy wind swept up the steep hill. The drenching rain fell in torrents, while in the dark castle all was silent. Suddenly a moan was heard in the dis¬ tance. It steadily increased in volume until it could rightly be called a scream. A thin figure jumped from the covered davenport and hurried out into a dimly lit hall. Silence, then was heard a sound of running feet, a thud, a diabolical laugh. Then silence again. Into the drawing room slouched a bent ragged-haired being, dragging along his burden. He laid it on the davenport and vanished as if in mid-air. In the distance one heard the noise of a heavy door slowly closing. i Although there were gleams of sunlight throughout the dark castle, it ap¬ peared forbidding and dismal to the two young people standing on its shadowy threshold. “Oh, Tim, how terribly gloomy it is. Listen to the river. Why it is the only happy living thing around. Let’s go and see that first.” So the two walked away, down over the steep bank and rocks to the river. Behind them stood the grim stone castle as if overshadowing their youth and vitality. “Well, Dicky-girl, what do you think of this half of my inheritance?” asked the young man as he leaped expertly onto a large rock on the very edge of the river. He turned and held out brown lean hands to help his companion as she also leaped forward, but not until she had gained a good foothold did she answer him.

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THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 25 as though frozen to the spot, then rushed in a body toward a large oaken door at the end of the hall. Tim opened the heavy door slowly. The air that came out was foul, with a peculiar odor, as though the room had been shut up for a long time. With one fearful glance the group took in the blood-stained surroundings and also the stooped, neglected-looking man who was standing in a large open French window. As they started toward him, he gave one backward glance and disappeared from view. There rose to the horrified ears of the group the sound of a dia¬ bolical laugh and a huge splash. Elizabeth Sails, ’28. X THE UNKNOWN. “London Trust Company Looted! Gas Cloud Overcomes Guards. Cypher Message Left in Vaults. Raiders Escape in Mysterious Plane.” Fred Burton was reading the news as it flashed over his television machine. With an exclamation of surprise his usually good-natured face clouded. “Who would have thought it?” he mused. “A plane able to escape the police ships with their 1981 equipment, their Z-ray guns capable of stopping any motor, and their speed. Why, that plane must have been traveling more than 600 miles an hour.” An urgent buzzing on the opposite side of the room interrupted him. Hurriedly he read the message from the instrument, “Ser¬ geant Fred Burton is to report for duty at once at the New York Airport.” A few minutes later Inspector Merriwell was saying to him, “We have solved the cypher message, but the answer seems almost incredible. Here! Read it for yourself.” Fred picked up the typewritten sheet. “You are probably wondering,” he read, “who I am and what my motive is. The first question is immaterial; that I am an inventor is sufficient. My motive is more complex. I have no need of the money, myself, as I am working alone. I am giving time and service for humanity’s sake and am trying to save the world from the curse of wealth. My next move will be at the New York National Bank. This information will be of no use to you, for you can never guard the fourth dimension. Signed X.” “Curse of wealth! Fourth dimension! Why, that’s—but it can’t be! He died escaping from his cell in the asylum.” “So we all thought,” said the Inspector. But no one else could have such ideas. It must be Hilton, the insane inventor.” Monday night was dark and cold. There seemed to be no one around. But inside the vaults of the First National Bank photophones were recording every¬ thing that went on, while ou tside, out of range of the anaesthetic gas, Sergeant Burton, with three police planes, was awaiting the arrival of X. However, all this preparation was in vain. A large gray plane swooped down; a mist of pink gas enveloped the building. A long tube-like projection extended down from the plane and seemed to pass through the roof. The photophones in the vaults showed a man materializing from space; the money-bags were loaded into the