Pelham Continuation School - Pelham Pnyx (Fenwick, Ontario Canada)

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THE PELHAM PNYX I5 After the wedding, Janie was taken in a new car to Dr. Jim's house, sit- uated in a fashionable part of town-she had said good-bye forever to the be- draggled street on which she had been reared. Jim and she were not going on their honeymoon yet-maybe in a couple of months. Jim had a funny new experiment and he just had to stay and see it through. Two months later Janie was lying on the warm sands of Carry Beach. Jim had brought her here for their 'honeymoon and had rented a ring? cottage overlooking the quiet little lake. I-low different all this was from her former life. She had not seen her mother since she was married, hadn't bothered to find out if she were well or in need. As she lay there she thought of her life before her marriage. I-ler father had died when she was tiny. All she remembered of him was his deep gentle voice, his tenderness towards her mother. his doggedness to find work after a war which had left him all but useless, till finally in a long cold spell he was stricken with pneumonia. Janie remembered but slightly the tiny funeral procession consisting of three cars. All she remembered clear- ly was her mother's tears and her own lonely frightened heart. Things went from bad to worse after that, her mother moved to the tiny house on the other side of the tracks. Truly she had found vvork, but it was scrubbing floors in downtown offices and they didn't pay much in those days. Janie recalled how her mother had scraped to send her not only to public school but to high school afterwards. She certainly was a lucky girl, for no other child in the neighbour- hood had had that opportunity. Then she had ITICI Jim. It happened one night while she was at a tiny supper house in a better part of the cityetwo blocks from the hospital. She had a job there as hostess. She didn't enioy it nor did it pay her well, but it was something. All that evening they had danced and talked because he was lonely, she eager to listen. Here was some- body from that other world, her world, her parent's world. l-le told her of his work, his studies and how he enjoyed her company. At that she blushed, confused in the sudden overwhelming joy and reawakened interest in life. Would she meet him again the next Friday at the same place? Yes, she would be there. Four months passed, then came the night when she met him on the street and he had proposed going to her place and meeting her mother instead of eating at the club. She was terrified to think what he would say when he saw where she lived, but he insisted they go. He did not seem to notice the narrow filthy streets and ugly houses. He entertained them royally with his cheerful banter mingled with common sense and educated talk. Janie knew Ma Perry took to the young man and he to her mother. She was glad for them and a shy hope sprang in her heart for herself. Maybe-Then it all came at once. They were walking through the park along the side of the river. I'm leaving for Montreal to-morrow, Janie, only for a few weeks. At her sudden start and paleness it suddenly came to him that she was going to miss him more than he had realized. I shall miss you, she stumbled over the words, How long, really? Oh, about seven weeks, it's a new course . .Janie, . . I . . Look, Janie, if we were married . . I mean . . well, we wouldn't have to be sep- arated. Thus it was settled, but Ma Perry persuaded them to wait, to see if he were successful. That's what I did, Janie. I got married before your father was on his feet. Then the war came and you. I-Ie never could get a hold on life after. They waited for over ten months. One thing, they were sure of each other. Only Ma Perry had misgivings and these she locked in her heart. Now they were married and she was lying here in this glorious sunshine revelling in her new life.

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I4 THE PELHAM PNYX ... STORIES AND ESSAYS M. A MOTHER'S SACRIHCE by Myrtle Walker, GRADE XII AT THE striking of six o'clock, Ma Perry's feet came in contact with the coldness of the bedroom floor, she had a lot to do this morning. To-day Janie was marrying the young doctor from the other side of town. Though filled with many misgivings as to the outcome of her daughters marriage, she as- sumed an air of quiet assurance. At least outwardly, nobody knew that her heart was heavy within her, for though her girl had gone to high school, she was not of Dr. Jim's class. Now, ain't that fine! she had said on the night that Janie, coming in late from the dance, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of love and tears had told her. Jim has asked me to marry him, ma, but her heart was heavy within her. Making her way to the window she stole a few minutes, looking down on the squalid street-strewn with paper and bottles dragged from open ash cans in the night by prowling hungry dogs, to prepare herself for the day. She sighedgthe night had been so long, without a wink of sleep. From the house across the way, she saw a man come out, lunch pail under arm, and hurry up the street. He had to leave early with five hungry mouths waiting -and then the baby only a few weeks old, but already sick and ailing. If only he could have a draught-proof house and decent food, she thought. Then tumbling from the house next door she saw three tiny thin dirty boys begin to sprawl in the thick dust in front of their door. They were such noisy children and always up at the crack of dawn. By noon they should be as dirty as usual, their high voices, mingled with the whine of factory whistles and the ragman's cry, grating on the nerves. How she disliked this place-the children ill-clad, thin and listless, the adults gaunt, weary, and irritable. The low tumbling down houses seemed to be pushed out of shape by the tall frowning brown-faced, bleak-eyed tenements on either side. From window, to window strung across the narrow alley-ways, hanging from fences and widow sills were dirty torn undergarments, dresses-the clothes of these families. Hastily she donned her clothes. She had wasted too much time already. Thank goodness, the day would be too full of work and excitement to be able to give her worries more than a passing thought now and then. Coming down the stairs, she shivered. They couldn't afford to keep a fire in the house all night, and when the wind blew down the openings between the houses, it sent its icy breath up and through the cracks in the walls and floors of the ugly old house. At half past ten Ma Perry watched Janie, and while helping her bathe for the first titre in many years, she thought how far apart from her daughter she had been. As she dusted the slim body with faint-smelling powder and clothed her in the line garments, she realized that probably this would be her last chance to be intimate with Janie. She knew that after to-day Janie and she would be living in different worlds and with a sudden pang she resolved to keep as much out of Janie's life as possible. It would be better so. The wedding was at two in the afternoon in a fairly fashionable church, but to Ma Perry it was the finest place of worship into which she had ever passed. The sun fell softly on the wooden pews and faded carpets, it gleamed on the white lillies around the altar and organ. Gently, tenderly, the organist began to play the wedding march. Janie came up the aisle, looking neither right nor left, but straight ahead. She looked enchantingly lovely standing there beside Dr. Jim. Her hair curled demurely around the edges of her bridal veil, her skirt flowed to the ground in graceful lines, the white rose on her bosom rose and fell with the gentleness of her breathing.

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I6 THE PELHAM PNYX That night when Jim came home she asked him if, when they got back home, they couldn't go and see her mother right away. What's the matter? Tired of me? he asked. Jim had never spoken to her like this before. This was a new side of him. Timidly she pointed out that they hadn't even written to her mother- she'd like us to, you know. Well, write then. Good heavens! I bring you out of that mess and be- fore I know it you want to go back. I should have known it. They told me. Who told you what, Jim? All of them, the people I've known for years, they said it would be this. I couldn't see it, but they knew you'd love to go back. It's in your blood. You're a little slum orphan and you always will be. Jim, that's not true. My mother and father were both from good fam- ilies. It . . it was, well, hard times, and . . She went no further, Jim had slammed out of the house, leaving her tremb- ling, afraid and bewildered. Late that night she heard him come in and go to his roorn. He did not come in as usual to say good-night. She was hurt and a little angry. Next morning things were no better. Jim didn't speak all through breakfast and she was too afraid to say anything herself. That afternoon a new Jim came to her. We're going home, Janie, he said softly, A'we're going back to the city. Janie's spirits soared and suddenly the sun was shining. Immediately she forgave, though she could not forget, all of Jim's nasty reproaches. i They drove all afternoon, Jim silent, Janie excited and breathless. To- wards evening they stopped at an inn to have supper, at midnight they reach- ed the city. Things ran smoothly then for a week. On Monday Jane walked to her mother's, they embraced, both silent, overcome. Janie was only beginning to realize what het mother really meant to her. She told Jim about her visit at bedtime. She was in bed and Jim was just cleaning his shoes for the following day. I-Ie dropped the brush and shoes in a heap and coming over to the bed, he looked down at his wife, Listen, I told you I didn't want you going there. You know it. Now look here, you're not to go again. Understand? ButJim . . You're not going back and that's that. You're my wife and you're doing as I say. If I catch you again, I . . I . . I've told you. Was this then to be the end of her beautiful new friendship with her mother? She thought of the intimacy between herself and her mother that day. She wrote a note next morning and gave it to a little boy standing on the side- walk. That afternoon she took' a street car and met her mother in the park -here Jim had asked her to marry him. Without any preliminaries whatso- ever, she told her mother about the quarrels- I told you most of it in the note. What shall I do? ' In the next few moments, Ma Perry made the greatest sacrifice of her life. You just do as Dr. Jim wants. It won't be so bad after a while. You'll be having arties and new friends. I've got my work and at night I'm most always ready for bed right after supper. Anyway we'll see each other some- times in the stores. I'll be going now. As she stood up something fell to the ground, a book. Janie did not notice it till her mother was lost to view, She did not notice that her mother slipped quietly back behind a newsstand. All she saw was an open page on which a sentence was written which burned itself on her heart and made her promise to Jim easy to keep, and hard to break. I It was a page of a diary. She didn't know her mother kept one. She