Sir Adam Beck Secondary School - Lacedaemon Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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L ITERARY 63

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Mrs. Monteith, Mrs. Chaffe, Mrs. Munch n ur3e i af eteria J5faff Mrs. Efhel Monks, Mrs. Lorena Wilson, Mrs. Doris Lc

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NORWEGIAN WOOD Snow fell softly in a little Norwegian village, filling the narrow streets with a fluffy mattress of cold down . Through the fuzzy, blue darkness, glittering shop windows, blind with frost and snow, shone and twinkled in the night. I tramped through the deepening snow with the collar of my pea coat turned up around my tingling ears and a rather long, woollen scarf wrapped about that. In spite of it all, I was still cold, and I quickened my pace along the street, anxious to be near the warmth of a roaring fire, crackling in the hearth, The high buildings with their overhanging stories loomed overhead. At the very top, blue smoke curled from the silhouetted chimneys and mingled with the fresh winter air. Although it was cold indeed, I must confess how delighted I was to be out on such a wonder- ful night . Just as I was about to cross the street, a large, red sleigh pulled by two steaming work horses came whipping around the corner sending a spray of snow over me . You silly, old fool ! I cried . Why don ' t you look where you 1 re going ! The sleigh came to a quick stop and a sly, old gent with mutton chop whiskers and top hat askew peeked over the back of the seat. I instantly recognised him as T omal Smith, the town doctor, a respectable citizen but very stubborn and obsequious. Erherm! Ah, Merry Christmas, Tomal, I said quickly. Insolence! he replied. Insolence in one respect or another! I ' m sorry, Tomal, I didn ' t know it was you. Then 1 must assume you ' d have said something worse, had you known it was! No, not at all , Tomal ! If you hadn ' t — Respect your elders, they say! That little phrase seems to be outdated in this village! Now listen, Mr. Smith! Your sleigh-- Goodnight, Mr. Greenwedge! he snapped, and after c limbing back down into the seat, he glided on down the street in his oversized sleigh. I had always despised Mr. Smith. Every village has its Scrooge and Tomal was ours. He enjoyed the company of no one and although his position of doctor hardly suited him, he was the only one within miles, and so we tolerated him . One could always spot Tomal in his top hat and long, black coat, walking stiff-legged home from work. I hurried on down the snow-laden street and soon arrived at Wendel Fromme ' s house, which stood on top of a hill overlooking the village . It was here that I had been asked to come for an interesting evening , as Wendel had put it. Every window was aglow and Christmas decorations of all colours hung behind the panes. I fumbled up the brick steps and rapped on the door. As I stood waiting in the snow, 1 noticed the fresh runner tracks which curved off the street and up by the side of the house. I thought perhaps they might be from Tomal ' s sleigh, but hoped they weren ' t. Ah, good evening, George! said Wendel, opening the heavy, wooden door, I ' m glad you were able to come . What a night we ' re having ! Oh, it ' s not really so bad, Wendel . In fact, I enjoyed walking over . Let me take your coat , George . You must be frozen ! smiled Wendel . Go right in and warm yourself by the fire. I handed over my hat and coat and strolled into the lounge where several other gentlemen were already seated in large, leather arm chairs which formed a semicircle around the hearth. I spotted Mr. Smith, ensconced in the most comfortable, softest chair of the bunch. I heartily shook hands with everyone, except Tomal, to whom I gave a modest, Good evening . Well, gentlemen, 1 suopose you ' re wondering why I called this meeting, said Mr. Frommes, folding his arms and ambling in to the centre of the room. Everyone looked around, and nodded to each other, mumbling and pointing out the truth in this statement . I continued to thaw out my hands and glare at Mr . Smith . The reason, continued Frommes, is because I want to reveal to you, something very pecul iar . An anachronism! It is an anachronism! piped Mr. Gleener. You ' re jumping to conclusions again, Mr. Gleener! said Mr. Smith. You ' re always jumping to conclusions.