Seven Hills High School - Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

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MILESTiONE llf She takes him in her arms and he looks up at her with tears streaming down his little face. GC You must be brave, though, because Daddy said that you're the man of the family now and you must protect us just as he did. He said to be happy and not to grieve for him and he would wait for us-so you do understand, don't you, Nicky? GC The little boy jerks his head up and down vaguely and sighs. He can never understand grownfups when they get serious. Sad, but he'll know soon enough. GQNOW if you don't mind we must be going, you see I really can't stay long and it's getting late. Pk Pk ak Pk PIC Pk ClfWell, here we are at the gate. It has been very nice knowing you, and goodbye. What's that-my name? Really, it doesnit matter any more but it is Lieutenant Farnsworth. I was Nicky's father. Sally Fay 10th Grade page 72

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Ad' I L, IZ fi 7' CD IV 1? SOMEDAY fflf someday you are out on a sunny afternoon with nothing much to do, and if you should happen to walk down a shady lane off of Paradise Road, and stop at a large iron gate, I wouldn't blame you a bit if you were puzzled by that massive thing. What can be so very important to be guarded by such an impressive bit of iron? you ask yourself. Well, why not stop and ask someone? I'11 be glad to tell you all I can, in fact, I might even take you in when I go to see the new young master of the house. He's very young, only five, but I have great faith in him. If There, the gate's opening for us, you're surprised that it opens by itself? You see, it knows. No, don't ask me what it knows, maybe I can tell you later. Come, walk down the drive with me. Quiet, isn't it? Even the birds have stopped singing today. I think they know too. Here we are at the house. It's often been called the most beautiful home in this part of the country. Would you like to come in? I'm sure they wonit mind. I'll show you around-no, of course you won't be intruding, they wonit even notice us. Now right through here is-hello-look who's coming down the stairs. That's the new young master. He doesn't know. It's so hard to tell young people those things. Shall we follow him? He seems rather lost in his own house. Poor little fellow, all alone, he feels lonely and is puzzled by this sudden inattention. He wanders from one room to another, now sitting in a favorite chair, now gazing at a masterpiece hanging on the wall. As he thumbs through the family album it seems as if he has an idea. Let's follow, I think he's going to the music roomg yes, he is, but be quiet. He's sitting down at the piano and fingers the keysg see him smile as though the soft silvery notes tickle him. Now he runs up and down the board with his thumb and pauses as he gets to the bottom, the sound disturbs him. He brings his little list down on a low chord and a pleasing roar results. Lovely! A vision of pirates and beautiful maidens, like his mummy, appears before him and he strikes the chord again. That vanishes and in its place he becomes the great god of the storms. Now he pounds on the keys and at his command great thunder roars forth-wonderful. A little furrow appears on his forehead as he realizes his great responsibility, He must prove his strength and master' ship-he will show them. He pounds on the keys and down flashes the lightning and thunder. More and more, louder and louder. Then he stops to listen with an expression of expectant delight on his face. Wait, the little fellow stirs on the stool and a look of fear comes instead, as he hears the booming echo through and through the halls and passages. Timidly he places an outstretched hand on a low chord and presses gently, no sound, just the dying echoes of his passing storm. Then he becomes determined and strikes the keys as if to drive away all fear. He listens and the roaring echoes join each other and engulf the house in a loud crash. You have closed your eyes and gritted your teeth against the noise, and as you open them again you see the little boy sobbing in terror of the monster he has created and can no longer controlepoor lad with his head buried in his arms crying so helplessly with no one to hear. But wait, someone's coming in-stand back behind this curtain. Ah-it's his Mother. Listen. GI g'Nicky, darling, what's wrong, why are you crying? Do you know? Yes, I believe you do. page 71

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