North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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Z2 MANET He opened the cell door, and handed the clothes to Esther, who changed quickly, Whlle he waited outside the door. She came out, her iiair mussed. her face streaked with dirt from fhe floor. Together they hurried down the corridors, and out into the bloody, autumn air, where fhey were greeted left and right by the now 'iniversal greeting of Good-day, Citizenf' and Good-day, Oitizeness. Two weeks later they were on a leaky fishing boat, crossing the channel to Dover. ,They had gnade their way to the coast after many hard ilays spent in securing rides and lodging from fhe still revolting peasants. They stood at the stern of the boat and watched the bloody shores of France recede in the distance, thanking the inerciful God who rules our destinies. that they had been so mercifully spared. EDITH LLOYD, II-6. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW t ' I The back door bell of Mrs. Adams' big White house rang timedly. Mrs. Adams herself, clad in a severe, rather old fashioned gown, answered the ring, while the hired girlhovered -in the back-ground. COakleaves, Maine, still had 'ihired girls, not maids.5 U . The early April sunshine was peeking in 'hrough the crack, and when Mrs. Adams opened the heavy door, the sunlight came boldly in, revealing a shabby little figure who, however, came no farther than the threshold. Good morning, ma 'am, said he. fumbling .1 shabby little cap in his Wide, knotty fingers. I was a-thinkin' that maybe as it 's spring 1-leanin' time youid have some work to be done, as I thought that since I've been kinda' in the habit of doin' your chores, you'd be wanting me-. His voice trailed of expectantly. Mrs. Adams was annoyed. She didn't like men whose trousers had that peculiar habit of sagging in the back, and threatening to turn finder their heels. iiNo, she said crisply, There's no work for you to do. Now get along with you. The little old man's overalls seemed to sag a little more at her words. 'Now don't think hard on me, ma'am, begged the owner of the saggy overalls. I'm sorry to have bothered you, but I was just a- vhinkin'. There was a slight pause during which a robin hopped across the lawn and industriously pulled forth a fat worm. XVell, good-day. ma 'am. The pitifully disappointed look on the old 1nan's face was enough to soften the hardest heart and Mrs. Adams did not have the hardest. On second thought. said Mrs. Adams briskly. UAggie will perhaps find something to flo. Vonie in. Mrs. Adams returned to the living room after instructing Aggie as to what duties and What pay should be given to the old man. Seated in a wide chair with one leg up under her, Was Bette, Mrs Adams' niece. Wl1o was that adorably shabby little old fellow? she asked her aunt. That old man? Oh, he 's been around here since the town was built, I guess. His Wife died soo11 after the birth of their only son. The boy was a comely chap, and bid fair to turn out well, but when he was eighteen-that was about six years ago-he got a job in a bank, and soon after some money disappeared, and he was ac- cused. They couldn't prove anything, but the boy left town because of the disgrace. His father 's been getting poorer and poorer, but he still thinks that his son is a good boy, even though he never hears from him. Mrs. Adams stood up suddenly. But that's enough talk- ing: there's much to be' done. And she swept out. Poor old thing, said Bette, softly. Poor thing. It took Bette just two weeks to become fast friends with the old man. She learned that his name was Rogers, and that his beloved son 's was Jerry. He had dark hair, said Mr. Rogers one warm day, sitting down beside Bette on the front step of his little house, first pulling up his trousers, and then letting the fullness there- of settle down in back of him. Dark hair, not golden like yours. And brown eyes, like his mother's, and a tiny bit slanty, not blue and straight, like yours. And he was a good boy, Miss Bette, and don it you let no one tell you different. He never took no money. Bette was exceedingly sympathetic. She sat with her white elbows on her knees, heedlessly crumpling her white muslin dress, gazing With her wide blue eyes over the pasture. And you never heard from him? she asked. - .Never. But he 's alive, Miss, and don't you-. lVhat's the matter, Miss? Bette's wide troubled eyes turned to him. t'See that man going down the road now? she asked. VVho is he? S Him'? Oh, that's James Clarke. He was junior pardner of the bank where my boy worked. Why? Know him'?,' Oh no, no. I just thought I did. Come, letfs go inside and have lunch. Mr. Rogers followed Betteis sunshine figure into the meticulously clean house, Where he watched her prepare lunch from a basket which she had brought with her. Now I could have got some vittles to- gether, said the old man protestingly from a chair in a corner Where he sat much like a troublesome small boy put out of the way. I.know, I know, said Bette, her heart catching at his defiant pretense that he was

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MA NET 11 Her suggestion met with great approyal, and fifteen minutes later they were cantermg rap- idly down the main avenue toward the red glare. They galloped through a huge crowd of peasants, armed with axes, cleavers, knives and home-made firearms of all sorts, to the entrance of the famous prison, the Bastille, where mill- ing crowds were setting free the few political prisoners the prison contained. Raoul and Esther, very unimportant-looking in their dark habits, were immediately pulled down and dragged by the infuriated' mob and handed to a group of officials, who had them taken to one of the cells, which was sparsely furnished, and spattered with blood. An un- fortunate guard was sprawled on the floor with his skull shattered. The peasant jailor, his mouth snarling and his red eyes shooting looks of hatred at Esther and Raoul, dra0'e'ed the body out, cursing madly. Est-her laughed hysterically, Raoul, tell me, is it real, or am I dreaming some horrible nightmare ? ' ' Raoul, pacing up and down the cell, and avoiding blood-stains, laughed nervously. I don't know. Isn't it ghastly! Mon Dieu! Will we be killed, or will we stay here for- ever? Going over to her he remarked, I'm going to get out of here! Parbleu! There isn't a decent place to lie down ! He began to shout. and beat on the door of the cell. A guard, covered with gore, came to the door, and pushing the butt of a gun through the bars, struck him in the face. He stumbled back, tripped over Esther's knees, and fell, stunned. Esther slipped down to his side and after wiping the blood from his cheek, slipped into unconsciousness. The guard laughed raucously and went down the hall. A week later, Esther and Raoul, despon- dently looking out on the infuriated mob be- low, watching the eighth cartload of people go to cool the thirst of Madamoiselle la Guillotine, conversed in despairing tones. Esther broke out frantically. Raoul, why don it they take us out there also. and end this suspense? I can't stand this waiting! I think I'm going insane! All the others are gone. Our fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. Mon Dieu, why can't we die? Raoul turned, and taking her in his arms murmured, Ah, Esther, don 't talk that way. XVhatever happens, we 'll always know that we loved each other. And. Esther, can you really blame them? Oh, I know l'm talking foolishly for one who has starved and mistreated them. but think, for years they have been starved to death, worked to death, even put to death for minor offenses. Can you blame them? No, we can only blame ourselves. lVe've got ,just what was coming to us. You know, I don 't think they recognize us. If they did, we would have gone long ago. Db She listened in silence, and then nodded, her beautiful eyes streaming with tears. Yes, I think you're right. Oh, I can look back now and remember things! Why, my father actually beat a stable-boy to death one day! There was a pause, and then she cried out, Oh, can 't we get to England some way? Can't you think of some way to do it? 4'I've been thinking of a plan, he said. It sounds rather wild but there 's a chance it will work. At least it 's worth a try. Later as a guard was leaving the cell, Raoul brought the handle of the riding crop swiftly down on the man's skull, crushing it. He swiftly changed into the man's clothes, and dressed the man in his riding habit, after tying and gagging him securely. He then locked Esther in, so that no one could enter the cell and harm her, and pro- ceeded nonchalantly down the squalid, bloody corridor, his weeks, growth of beard and un- washed face effectively disguising him. The stench of the corridors and cells nearly suf- focated him. On the way out of the building he met a fierce-looking woman, armed with a revolver and three knives 4'Good-day. Citizen. 'I Good-day, Citizeness. ' ' Quick suspicion entered her eyes. Citizen, where did you get that ring you 're wearing ? His heart sank, but he said carelessly, Oh, from one of the prisoners. I told him if he would give it to me, I would free him. The fool! I shall rejoice to see his filthy blood streaming down the sides of the guillotine I Bon Good-day, Citizen ! HGood-day, Citizeness ! After walking a few paces, Raoul leaned against a spattered wall and wiped the perspi- ration from his face. Mon Dieu! I shall not have to go through that again, I hope! He walked away from the clanging, glutton- ous guillotine, toward the outskirts of the citv, after taking off the priceless ring that had been in his family for years. VVhen he came to a group .gf DOW1-ty- stricken hovels, he entered the last one, and came upon a dirty, thin child of six or seven. 'tVVliat. are you doing here? Your father sent me for you. HQ told 1115- to tell you that he would see you in from of the bastille. Hurry, and here 's a franc I found, digging into his pocket. The child greedily snatched the coi11 and ran down the street. before Raoul had entered the house. There were two rooms. a bedroom and a combination kitchen and living room. The floor was dirt. ln the bedroom he found a ragged dress and bonnet, which was too large but would have to do. ii He then went back to the prison, meeting none but a few drowsy gum-dg,

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' MANET 13 well off, But you didn 't know I was coming, so I thought it safer to bring my own lunch. Besides, then I can have what I like best. She smiled and went over to him to give him a handful of raisins, a small boy 's treat. Everything is ready, she said presently, moving a bowl of tiowers so that the sun would strike them. Suddenly she saw that the sun- light was darkened, and looking up, spied a tall figure in the doorway. Mr. Rogers saw it too. My boy. My boy, he cried. Oh, you 've come back. I knew you 'd come back. He slid out of his chair and went over to put his arms around his tall son. Over his father's head, the boy looked at Bette. Suddenly she seemed to hear the thunder of wave in her ears, to feel a choking suffoca- tion, to hear a masculine voice say, I guess she's all right now, and to look up and see that same face. She turned, however, and leaving the father and son, went out into the sunshine. II James Clarke 's house was comparatively modern, and seldom used. At present its owner was seated in a comfortable red leather chair gazing with a smile on his thin lips at a photograph of a girl with wide eyes and blond hair. The ring of his door bell interrupted his thought. A few minutes later Clarke 's monsieur ushered in a young lady, and discreetly with- drew. Clarke's eyes shot from the girl 's face to the photograph and back. Why, my dear, he said with a smile, How remarkable to ind you here. It 's a small world-. Do be seated. Bette sat down on the edge of a chair opposite him. Jim, she said earnestly, I want you to do me a favor. You stole that money from the bank, didn 't you? Yes, said Clarke, looking amused. But I paid it back and everything's patched up quietly. ' ' But that's not enough. Bette 's hand clenched and unclenched on the chair-arm. I want you to clear the name of the boy who was thought to have stolen the money. But why, my dear? Because I know the father of that boy, and I want them to be happy together the last few years of the old man 's life. Clarke crossed the room and half sat on the edge of the table. I will on one condition, he said smiling. And that condition is-that you marry me. The phrase rang in Bette's ears: then it mingled with the horrid sound of thunderous waves, and a boy's voice saying, If I ever do go back, I won't stay. And dad won 't leave the place because Mom died there. And then again the words, marry me, and the waves-. Only on that condition? Bette's voice broke the momentary silence. Only on that condition. And James Clarke always meant whathe said. Well, said Bette, getting up and trying tml make her voice sound light, You're neithei brutal nor a drunkard, and anyhow I haven '1 made such a success of things in my part of the world. Let 's call it a bargain. III It was evening. T he cool grass swept Bette 's ankles as she walked slowly along the ridge of the hill, surveying the landscape below. She turned, hearing footsteps in the dusk behind her. Oh Dick-I mean Jerry. Funny I keel calling you by the name I once knew you by.' Not a bit funny. Only natural, Jerrg grinned. 'WVel1, Ilm clear. And dad's as happy as a lark. He 's running around telling everyone that he knew I was a good boy. An. I, Bette? He sat down on a rock and gently pulled her down beside him. Of course, the best one I know. Jerry laughed. I've a dandy job offered tr me since my name was cleared. And right around here, too, he said. The sound of a car on the road below caused them both to look down. That,s James Olarke's car,,' said Jerry casually. Yes, said Bette, quietly. You know, said Jerry enthusiastically. when I pulled you out of that shipwreck, and then said good-bye after only a couple of weeks of knowing you, I was somehow sure weld meet again, and we have. Yes, said Bette sadly. We've met-tc part again. A grinding crash silenced Jerry's puzzled reply. Good heavens! he cried, jumping tt his feet, Clarke's car has smashed into an- other on the curve. lVait here, I'll go find out what happened. He ran off down the hill, leaving Bette tc- wait and wonder in the growing darkness. It was almost a half hour before he reap- peared, and Bette ran down to meet him stumbling in the dark. IVhat happened to Clarke? she demanded breathlessly. Clarke-Clarke's dead. But, we hardly. know him personally, Bette. It 's too bad but-. Bette's voice was low and hurried, I knov -we hardly know liimf' But Bette, you said just before the accideni that we'd met to part again. said Jerry, as the thought suddc nly reoceurred to him. What did you mean '? Bette smiled up at him through the darkness.. Never mind, she said. IV Back in his tiny house, little old Mr. Rogers was trying on a new pair of trousers, which oddly enough, sagged in the back. HAZEL BORNE, 11-1.