St Marys Hall - Ivy Yearbook (Burlington, NJ)

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IFIRQM DENVER TQ KANSAS CNW A black cloud of smoke rotted hack over the piain as the iittie train sped on- ward toward its destination. ln a private compartment sat a small woman, trim in her black dress with its white rufiied collar drawn tight at the neck, her snow white hair pressing softly around her sweet face. As her eyes fell on the sleeping child on the green cushioned seat opposite her, a suggestion of a smite passed over her tips, and automatically her hand felt at her side for the huiging hiacic hag which contained the entire fortune of the child now entrusted to her. As the hands of her little watch, suspended on a gold chain, pointed to the fourth hour, the child awoke and together they set ahout making tea. The tiny oil stove was tit, two china cups were placed on the small tahie, and white the water huhhied in the teaicettie the child arranged on a plate the four frosted cupcakes which had heen given her when she left home. Tea was poured, and over it they felt into a pleasant conversation. Suddenly the train wheels ground the tracks. The iittie cakes tumbled into the old iady's tap as the train churned to an abrupt stop. What was the matter? Why did the train stop out in that deserted prairie? The chiid's questioning eyes gazed intently on the calm face of her grandmother. But there was no answer. The old lady placed the cupcakes again on the plate and continued her tea smiling. However, the same questions were Hashing across her brain. What was the matter? For ten minutes all was quiet. Then there was a commotion in the car ahead and a piercing scream that answered all. The train was being held up. The first thought was to hide the child's money, hut hefore the old lady could reach the hag there was a hang on the door, and two armed men entered. One was large and muscular, a red handanna masking his faceg the other a hoy of eighteen, his yeiiow hair tossed and hiown with his ride, and his clothes, like those of his companion, covered with dust. The oid lady rose quietly and skipped toward the tirst, holding out her hand to him. VVon't you come in, she invited cordially. 'Tve been expecting you. You must he very tired. you take tea with us before you go? Awicwardiy the two were seated at the tahle, two more cups were tilted, and once more the tea began. Questioningiy the hoy glanced at his partner, who, an- swering him with a gesture, jerked the handanna from his face and returned a rough douhttui smile to his hostess. They were put at ease hy the poise of their two en- tertainers, and for the minutes that followed they were gentlemen at tea. Presently they rose to go and, after a simple Thank you, iVia,am, continued io the next car. Soon the train gave a jolt and pushed slowly on its Way. u0h, Grandma! sohhed the child, hugging her. ucvrandmaiu The old lady soothed the child in her arms and with a satisfied smite gazed at the hiactc bag on the tahie and the red handanna crumpled beside it. Eloise Woodward, '42. 30

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PRISON OF CONVENTION This is the Iast defeat: I, who have sought the stars, Must face what I cannot meet, A sunIess ceII ancI bars. They say that the souI is free, Though the fiesh he fettered in chains: Yet in civiIization and custom Convention, the dictator, reigns. They are the Iaars of custom: They rise and I must cIecIine. AncI now that the Iast is weIcIecI, My Iife is no Ionger mine. Barbara Swift, '4l. GRADUATION SLEET Shadows dancing, Iight and gay Quickly, happiIy they pIayg For they Icnow a joyous day Is comingI Shadows dragging, down and out, SIow and ghastly move about. A sacI event, without a doubt, Is coming. Shadows moving fast or sIow-1 To us they find a way to show The thing that we aIready Icnow Is coming. Shadows going on their way ReIentIessIy, they cannot stay, So Iaugh-another day, they say, Is comingI The cIou1Iy cIay roIIs on, Bringing each minute New armies of sIeet That hurl ancI heat themseIves Against my windowpane. In their hatred of manIcincI-1 Their voices raised Against the God that made them They seem IiIce tiny beings Fighting the life that They were made to Iive. Nature, in her stern compIacence, Ignores them, And so, in their despair, They hurI and heat themseIves Against my winciowpane. How useIess their frantic IightI Marguerite Pearson, '40. Nancy Mercur 41