Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

Page 13 text:

F I N G-E-IS-ll-II-A-Il-K S BETTY ANN PARROTT ' NNE MARSHALLED her four children grimly I into four white beds, disfigured by exceedingly I 3 V t numerous and exceedingly black and sticky fin- . r, , ' t, . germarks. They protested loudly at this indignity, H1 ' A ' as they did every night and which, Anne thought l x APG, F I wearily, they1 would do as long as they were 0 V U , young enough to be put to bed. She glanced t -1--V. J around the disordered nursery which had been Qsle I white and clean that morning, in fact was white o ifw. v and clean every morning, and shuddered in dis- pg-,.., ..-1- gust at the stickiness and smears. She sighed as she picked up the scattered toys and put them in the cracked white box, sighed for a home where there would be no dirty little fingermarks on woodwork and furniture, and where everything would be forever fresh and clean, sighed for four children whose dresses and rompers would keep prim and starched, and whose curls would stay in place, instead of tumbling in cloud-like balls all over their heads, and most of all Anne sighed for a house in which quiet reigned. John and Anne had been invited out that night, to the home of an old friend and, as she dressed, Anne Kenyon tingled with anticipation, for it had been many a week since she and John had been invited out and were able to go. On the way out, her head rested on John's shoulder, as she mused on the type of a house her chum would have. The woodwork in the living room would be old ivory, and softly shaded lamps and velvety look- ing furniture would soothe jangled nerves. Upon their arrival, the home proved to be all Anne had anticipated. She saw in it the competent and tasteful judgment of her hostess. The very Walls expressed Mrs. Sher- wood, with her perfect coiffure of beautiful waves, her smart dress, and her deft manner of handling the conversation. The Woodwork was of mellowed ivory and the walls of pale green tint. This color scheme was carried out in the lamps, upholstery, books, and other appointments. No scuffs from stubby shoes marred the satiny finish of the wallsg no im- prints of fat little hands were on window pane or furniture. This home was as it should be, thought Anne. In answer to a query from John, little Eleanor Sherwood was brought in. She was just the age of Anne's six year old Ruth. Tall for her age and pale, Eleanor's long, black curls hung in prim precision and her trig French frock boasted not a wrinkle. Anne had been on the verge of inviting her down to play Indian with Ruth some afternoon and then checked herself in time. Imagine Eleanor in the head-dress of a fiery, bold, and turbulent chief of the Hopis! It just wouldn't be done! Aloud she said: Does Eleanor go to school, Ethel? Indeed, no. Eleanor has a tutor from 9:00 to 1:00. After that is her lunch and siesta, and then Jane usually takes her for a walk. I see. But when does she play?

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Page 14 text:

FINGERMARKS Exercise, ylou mean? Oh! I consider the Walk every afternoon suiii- cient recreation. Anne's eyes and John's met. Before them in review passed the noisy, rowdy games played in the nursery on rainy days Q the picnics in the back- yfard-Sherwood forest for the time being-on sunshiny afternoonsg the countless tea-parties that they enjoyed with the children on Sunday after- noons on the little side porch, christened The Birdies' Nest by the chil- dren. They looked at the pale, lifeless child before them and shuddered. Anne thought of her babies looking like this with all the life and joy pressed out of them, like little cold statues modelled in ice, and drew back in dismay. She looked again at the ivory woodwork and felt a tug of sympathy for the immaculate whiteness, for never had vigorous baby feet touched it to mar its shining surface. The tinted, green walls became hard and cold and the softly shaded lamps which had never been pulled askew by fat, tiny, grasping hands seemed distant and unreal. Anne sud- denly wondered if Eleanor had ever rumpled or even touched her mother's shining head. Probably not. No one ever touched people's heads that looked like that. And the still, still house in which everyone talked in lowered voices and which was at first so restful, frightened Anne-froze her very heart. It was like being in a mausoleum with a dead persong and it was a mausoleum, for the soul of a child lay buried there. That night Anne stepped into the nursery and closed the door. Kneel- ing down beside the four besmeared beds she said: I thank thee, dear Lord, for my four, dirty children, and please may my house be always full of 'iingermarks'. nv' 74' vw If ff! D gas f Q I bile I ? 5 ' W' My I l '41l Wru Qiig fiqx :X :02fff'::::'. 1 K3 l W nf Vf 1 HW N QQ? 'R . .,. .j at W T' iz. A l .J Q ' ky .jf k V K. 9. if 1 'N f' ., ' 5 Q. .W 1, hi. vc: M, gl- Q' :Q W. -I' X ' - ' 1? Af' 2 Q1 , ' if I ' 21:1 - '6 'Mei it G q A ' A -1 , K , Q Y Y N ' ' 1 4 V 1 .X A fly AV HIV q 4 X I nr D Q 51 ' . D ., A IX igi' phi fy .f A 'f ns- I E! ' A - ' iiiiiiil 455 qv gun S 5 YJ :::.:g' -P' 1 X CEL it