Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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lies 19 Ella wanted to cry, but for Tom ' s sake she didn ' t. She just folded up her handkerchief and went into the kitchen. On the table lay her lunch dishes. She picked them up and stacked them in the sink. Then she walked over to her plants and picked up another dead geranium flower that had fallen to the floor. The next morning Tomm left. Ella watched him go silently, not daring to hope. And when Tommy laughed and kidded her as he always had done, she told herself that he didn ' t know what he was doing, how he was hurting her. But why did he turn away so quickly after kissing her goodbye? He seemed almost embarrassed. She stood on the porch, looking toward the road long after his car had disappeared. She should have been crying, but she couldn ' t cry. The numbness in her heart was unexplainable. The house only echoed her feeling. She heard for the first time her footsteps, and how they rang through the house. She felt her heart jump each time she entered a room and saw no one in it. She ran up the stairs to her bedroom as if to escape although the doctor had warned her and she knew she should not run. But the cool- ness of her room welcomed her. She lay down on her bed and began to sob. REVELATION Polly Soule, ' 40 A CLOUD of dust hung about the area of the camp-fire as thirty sleepy girls left to jump into their beds and drift off into peaceful oblivion. Two of the counselors lingered under the pre- tence of putting out the fire. Let ' s wait a bit, said Sally, holding the water-bucket but not displaying any intention of using it. I was just about to say the same thing, re- marked her friend Ann. It is too nice a night to go down to the camp- house; so why not stay here for awhile and just talk? Excellent idea, returned Sally and, putting the bucket down, she joined her friend on the log near by. For awhile the two girls sat side by side star- ing into the fire, carried away by their own thoughts. Soon the familiar notes of Taps floated down to them, and the girls came back to earth. It is a strange world we live in, Sally. Those same notes that bring the end of our day into actuality have sounded countless times for thou- sands of soldiers who died thinking that they were fighting the last great fight, and that peace and democracy would be preserved for their sons and daughters. It is hard to realize that a few thousand miles away from us another bit of gruesome history is in the making. I wonder what those poor men are fighting for this time. Let ' s hope the leaders of this war aren ' t cruel enough to tell them they are fighting the last great fight to save mankind. Something ought to be done to bring about peace through different means than this uncivilized way of taking human lives. You are perfectly right, Ann, but don ' t you think affairs in the world today are in such a condition that it would be impossible for an agreement to be made without some bloodshed? This Twentieth Century of ours, the great age of mechanism, is fine, but when it comes to making machines out of human beings, I begin to wonder about it all. Living in a democracy as we do, we don ' t come in close contact with this ruthless machine they have developed across the waters. Communism, fascism, and all the other ' isms ' have been making human beings into mecha- nisins. People can no longer think for them- selves over there. It is miraculous as well as horrible to know that thought can be so con- trolled that one person can have complete power over the masses. If thought is so governed, it is easy enough to see how war can be started. Those people don ' t know what is really happening. They think only what their leaders want them to think. We can ' t put our finger on the reasons why this war is going on. Of course there are the di- rect ones that are perfectly obvious, but that isn ' t what really counts. In order to prevent another war in the next quarter century, we must find out all the factors which brought about this one. But even then, probably new ones will crop up as in this case. The only thing that will save another war is an understanding among all na- tions. Not only that, but people have got to have enough foresight to talk over things reasonably with one another and bend over backwards once in a while to help the other fellow out. That is something that is really worth think- ing about. Not only is that true in the case of wars, but we can put it to a more practical use right here and now. If we can only realize how much better things work out if we consider the other ])eople involved as well as ourselves, we will find our own lives going more smoothly. Things like that will spread. If people see our lives so happy and peaceful, they will investi- gate; and in that way there is hope of bettering ourselves and others. {Continued on page 27)

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18 ®lhSiMe§ Ella Kerr Cornelia Leith, ' 41 LLA KERR was eating her lunch alone on the kitchen tahle, as she had eaten it each day for almost a year. She quietly peeled a hoiled potato and stirred her coffee in its chipped china cup, as if she enjoyed the silence of the empty house. There is no denying that she found the quiet restful after the roar of the vacuum cleaner that had filled her ears all the morning. Ella was often tired nowadays and her regular Saturday morning ' s cleaning had left her exhausted. The mid-day sun shone through the window where her house-plants stood. With weariness she saw that a few dead geranium flowers had fallen upon the worn linoleum. It can wait, she thought, but her inner soul cried out against such sloven- liness. She placed her arm along the cool sur- face of the enamel table and bent over her coffee cup. But she saw again those flowers on the floor, and with a sigh she pushed back her chair and went for the broom. Ella Kerr was, when she stood up, not very tall, barely five feet. She had bobbed grey hair which was continually falling into her eyes. She was wearing a flimsy, sleeveless dress, and it showed her flabby arms with the flesh hanging upon her bones. Her face was still smooth, but her features had changed in the last twenty years and she looked almost grotesque, in a kindly sort of way. Since her youngest son. Tommy, had left, Mrs. Kerr had lived alone, rarely going out. Her lonely existence would have made many another woman melancholy, but Ella seemed to have some unfailing faith that relieved her boredom. Her husband, Willie, had died five years ago, leaving her a steady income from the insurance, and Mary, her eldest daughter, sent her money from Chicago. Ella never had to go without any- thing money could buy. But there were things money could not buy, and some of these things were companionship and the happiness of the past. For Ella had been happy in the past. She had watched and cared for her five children as they romped in and out of the years. Then they had left her, one by one, and each departure had made her life less happy. First it was Mary, the career girl, and then George, answering the call of aviation. It had almost killed her when Jane had married. Willie and Ella had forbidden Jane to marry, but Jane had taken matters in her own hands and had run off with the fellow. Six months after her marriage, Matthew had been killed in an automobile accident. It was the shock of his death that had killed Willie, for Matthew had been Willie ' s favorite son, destined to be his successor in the grocery business. The two deaths had saddened Ella. There was only Tommy left to her and she was determined that he should never leave her. Then one autumn he did leave, for the university. I got to get an education. Ma, he said, pinch- ing her tear-stained cheeks, if Fm to run Pa ' s grocery business. She had smiled then and sat down to wait for two years. Perhaps she was thinking about Tommy or perhaps it was the crick she had got in her back bending over to pick up the dead flowers that made her face so pitiful when she came back to her lunch. Whichever it was, it must have been quite a few minutes before she realized that someone was blowing the horn an automobile outside. She went out onto the porch, slamming the screen-door behind her. It was as if she had walked into a flood of sunlight. Sunshine streamed about her; the hot sun blinded her. She shaded her eyes and looked out across the dusty lawn to the stunted ma|)les at the head of the driveway. Tommy! she cried. Tom! Sobbing, she ran across to her son. Gee, Ma! Gee, you haven ' t changed a bit! Tommy was tall and blond, and the sunlight made him a young god. Ma, do you know what? I quit the university. Do )ou know why? Ma, do you know why? No, Tommy. Why? But she did know why. He was coming home now, for good. I ' ve got a job. He stopped and looked at her. Out at the West Coast. It ' s a swell job with an insurance company. Of course, I ' m only a sales- man, but I can work my way up. Lots of people have — Ma. Ma, you don ' t mind; do you? What about the grocery business, Tom? But, Ma, what could I do in this small town? Anyway Jack Crandell ' s running the business better than 1 could. Isn ' t he. Ma? Ella said nothing. Gee, Ma, I got to go get washed up. I got to leave in the morning.

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20 ®[li]SiMe§ THE TERROR OF RUSSIA Elmer Burrows, 41 TELLA BOKODOFF was a poor Rus- sian peasant woman. She and her hus- band. Edouard Borodoff. who had l)een a Russian spy during the World War, lived in a little wooden hut that had been standing since the Russian Revo- lution. They had only two rooms: a kitchen, and a bedroom which also served as a storeroom for the meager provisions the poor couple could gather together for the long bitter winter. By December, a supply of wood and a few boxes of food took up half of the bedroom space. The old, rusty, double bed filled the rest of the small room. In the kitchen Stella was talking with Edouard. Edouard, why do you expose yourself so much? You know the O.G.P.U. will arrest you the min- ute you are seen by their agents! I need you. my husband. The winter is going to be hard. I know how the winters are near Petrograd. Ah, Stella! Be not so frightened! I will take care. Do you not realize how great is our need for food? But yes, Edouard; yet I would rather have you than all the food in great Russia. Love for her husband showed on her peasant face every time Stella addressed him. It is right that I go, dear, but I will take precautions. Do not fear. We must go to bed now; it is very late. Edouard was asleep soon, but Stella could not close her eyes for a second. She thought only of the O.G.P.U., the terror of Russia. Suppose some one should come to take Edouard away? Would she survive the terrible hardships of the winter? And what of him? Stella meditated for over an hour; then she sank into slumber. When she awoke the next morning, Edouard was out of bed. Pulling a faded blue robe around her, the little peasant woman walked into the kitchen, which was warm from the wood fire in the stove. Edouard wasn ' t there either. On the table she found a note, written in his poor, clumsy hand: My Stella, Please do not worry about me. I have gone to Petrograd for more food. Your Edouard. Stella was in a frenzy of fear all morning. Noon came, and still Edouard had not returned. She was preparing a small portion of mutton broth when suddenly a knock sounded at the door. Stella ' s heart jumped. Here is Edouard now, she thought and went to the door with a smile on her face. She was greeted, however, by a strange group of men who wore uniforms. Stella gasped — uniforms of the O.G.P.U.!! A tall man who seemed to be the leader stepped forward. Does Edouard Borodoff live here? Yes. Where is he? His sharp eyes scanned the room for a sign of Edouard and then fell on the table, set for two. He — he is away. He is not here. Then why have you two plates on the table? Tell me the truth, or we will find out some other way! Stella tried in vain to think of an excuse with which to trick the soldiers. Getting no reply to his question, the officer ordered two of his men to search the bedroom. Since they could find nothing, he gruffl) told Stella that they would wait; and together, the police seated themselves in front of the warm stove to begin a wait which was to last a long time. Stella was trembling all over, worrying, wait- ing, and praying for her husband! She knew that the O. G. P. U. — the secret police — would remain until Edouard returned. They were de- termined to get him for some reason that Stella did not know. What could she do? It was agony waiting for that door to open and to see Edouard walk into the clutches of the waiting men. Suddenly Stella remembered the pistol that her husband had used in the war. He always kept it under the straw mattress that lay on the bed. She would drive them out of the house with it; and, if they did not go, she would kill them — every one! While the police were laughing and talking near the stove, Stella crouched in a corner and formed a plan in her mind. She gathered the details together and then sat down to wait. The hours dragged by. The sun went down and the moon came up. It began to get colder as the winds howled around the house.