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

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THE PELHAM PNYX I7 didn't know her mother had purposely dropped it. She thought it was an accident. Dazed, she read the words again. Now Janie is married a great load has gone. To think I shall have no more expenses, no more tales of woe to listen to. The house will be always quiet, that means rest for me! Poor Janie didn't realize why I gave her a good education. Now she is gone, I shall be free again . . . to do as I like, no ob- ligations, no cares. Gradually her sorrow gave place to anger. So this was her mother. Stormily she went home and toldJim she would do as he said. He did not hear the bitterness in her words, he only knew she was not like those other slum people at all. She was going to be a lady. Wearily that night Ma Perry walked to Marlborough Street. There was where Janie lived. There was Jim's name in gold and black letters over the doorway. It was just dusk, the street lights were not yet on. The trees were pale green in the soft light, the flowers in Janie's garden gave offa sweet tan- talizing perfume. Oh, to live here again, not just look. Now she would no longer see Janie. Had she done the right thing in writing the diary? She knew Janie would never forgive her. i A gentle rain began to fall. Ma Perry heeded it not. She looked around at the stylish houses with their stained glass windows, their ornamental roofs, their trim lawns, flowering bushes and bright lights within. She longed to ride in such a car as was standing by the curb. She glimpsed a table set with fine silver, dainty dishes and rare foods. Her feet trod the smooth sidewalk with a heavy step, she thought of the mud and cracks associated with the walk in front of her door. Here the houses were set well back, far apart. Here the cool night breeze would make the evening enjoyable, not stifling with heat and flies. She kept on walking unaware of the thickening traffic and busy corners. She was alone in all the seething crowd. She was tired. Not con- scious of what she was doing, she stepped from the curb into the path of a long shining car. Too late she saw its approach. The next moment she lay, a crumpled heap, in the middle of the road. She was taken to the morgue where they found no identification. Ma Perry was only one other of those people. Suicide, one said. Another grave for the pauper cemetery- flourishing well these days, Wonder where she came from, she looks dif- ferent from some that you see. What's it matter to you? You didn't know her. I guess nobody else will either. No use advertising her. Just bury her. That costs enough as it is. Sometimes Janie wished for a glimpse of her mother. She looked furtively around any store which she entered, but she never saw her mother. It was just as well perhaps, although the anger had somewhat gone. The only emo- tion she felt now towards her mother was indifference. Perhaps it was best so. She and Jim were happy now. There were no quarrels and she had a lovely home, always heated, always bright and cosy. There were no more cold walks in the early morn, no longer would she eat bread and jam and por- ridge and potatoes day after day. Now she had a cook who could make wonderful, different dishes. Life was so good to her! I do feel a little sorry for Ma, living in that hole, but she seems to like it all right. Maybe some day soon she will be out of it. I wonder . . An ex-Naval gunner's mate tlozed off in front of the kitchen stove and let his evening paper fall against the red-hot bars. Fire! exclaimed his startled wife, running into the room-as the paper blazed up. Waking up with a start, the gunner rammed the cat into the oven, slam- med the door, and roared, Ready, sir.

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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

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l8 THE PELHAM PNYX ONE GLORIOUS HOUR By June Whan, GRADE XIII THE sUN shone forth clear and bright upon the little white cottage nest- led among the maple trees at the turn to Lynechdoche. In the kitchen Miss Susan Smiley hummed gaily as she prepared to place in the oven a second batch of ginger cookies. And why should Miss Susan not be gay? Was she not chosen Queen of the Kitchen at the local county fair the day before, and had she not received word that very day that her two-day-old niece was to be her namesake? And so this worthy lady did not object even when Dob- son, her pedigreed Persian cat, snuggled down in the best armchair. But now manly footsteps were heard approaching as down the walk came none other than Samuel O. Lawrence, the town's most eminent lawyer and bachelor-probably coming to return the umbrella he had borrowed four years before. Miss Smiley hastily wiped her sticky hands on her apron and admitted to her spacious living-room the said Mr. Lawrence, who immediately settled himself on the horsehair sofa. The lady of the house was by this time thor- oughly curious about the purpose of his errand which, indeed was a twofold one, first, to reveal to Miss Susan the fact that she was to receive from her father's estate a considerable sum of money and then to suggest that she, soon to be wealthy as well as a good cook, should abandon her lonely life and become Mrs. Samuel O. Lawrence. Lest Miss Susan's decision should be in- fluenced by her newly-acquired wealth, the lawyer thought best to reverse the order and make the proposal first. After passing several irrelevant remarks concerning the weather, Samuel cleared his throat vigorously and began his proposal. Now Miss Susan had never in her whole life received a marriage offer and at her age, Cshe was fifty-one in she did not expect one. To be sure, Mr. Lawrence had on one or two occasions accompanied her home from a Box-social but for protection only. The sudden proposal of marriage, then, was almost overwhelming and all she could do was to blush furiously behind her hand and stanimer something about a week cr so to decide. Elated by at least partial success, the lawyer plunged into the second news item. Miss Smiley . . l mean, Susan, . . it is my very pleasant duty as jun- ior partner in the firm of Lawrence and Lawrence to announce that you have been left a small fortune from the estate of your father. Miss Susan was fairly overcome, she gasped, clutched wildly at the near- est chair, and finally sank breathless into a nearby rocker. It was too much! And then the wonder of it all struck her. It was a glorious hour for her, S0 glorious indeed, that she invited Samuel to stay for tea which he graciously consented to do. Of course there were several minor items to be settled-there always are -but in just a few months the spinster was to come into her own. In order that there should be no doubt whatever about the matter, the lawyer drew from his vest pocket several important looking documents and proceeded to read aloud to Susan. . . . from the estate of Elkanah R. Smiley to his eldest daughter . . But Miss Susan heard no more. It was her elder sister, then, who was to receive the money-her sister who had left home at the age of nineteen and had lived in poverty ever since-and Susan was glad, so glad. The lawyer, however, on learning of his error, decided rather suddenly that he had a pressing business engagement and departed in great haste, ex-