St Rose Academy - Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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l-1--I-if GOLD AND WHITE. y3+l--,-+-l- - alfectation of indifference, he nevertheless kept glancing up over the edge of his book. , Jerry was a graceful swimmer but not a particularly strong one and with a gay cry she dove into the water. I wished I had told her to be careful. She made for a small island, about half way across the river, her blue cap bobbing up and down, her slender, boyish body cutting the clear water, She reached the island and instead of resting, turned immediately around and started back. Allan had put his book down and was intently watching her. Half Way back I noticed that her strokes were growing weaker, that she did not seem to be making any headway. Then she turned over and started to float, but finding herself carried back a few feet by the current, she once more attempted to swim. I saw her swimming with all her force but to no avail. Her strength was rapidly giving way. Suddenly Allan, with a cry, ran to the river edge, where, pulling off his shoes and throwing his sweater aside, he dove in and with strong, steady strokes started toward her. Float, he cried. Don't Worry. I'm coming. Before a minute had passed, all this had happened. I hardly had realized what had occurred until Allan had almost reached the shore again, pulling Jerry with him. I quickly ran to meet them as Allan came limping out of the water, carrying Jerry. She was white and pale, her large black eyes shining and somewhat frightened. l'I'm alright now, she said, in a funny voice, and with that she fainted. Allan started to chafe her hands and I ran to get my ever-present and oft-ridiculed smelling salts. When I hurried back, I stopped short, for Allan and Jerry were holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. You little fool, Allan was saying, but his voice had a tone of tenderness. With that I turned my back and unobtrusively Went my way, happy-for I knew that the rest of the summer was safe. iz Dreams By LORRAINE WALSH The phantomed dreams that haunt my troubled mind Are but the senseless fears and sordid prey Of ghosts and goblins, and a shrieking wind That howling, bring the relics of a day. if Life By MARIAN Toso We're born today, we yearn and sigh For happiness. We plot and aim For power and wealth. We die. The earth rolls on the same, Thirty

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? --D-if GOLD AND WHITE ya-Q-- I'll call him now, I laughingly responded. I do hope you'll like him. Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I shall, Jerry answered just as Allan entered. Jerry stared and Allan stared and they both blushed. I quickly intro- duced them and left, saying that they would find plenty to talk about while I supervised the preparation of lunch. I came back in about half an hour. Jerry was still in the same chair and Allan was sitting on the steps gazing at the water. Silence reigned between them. Lunch was painful. I felt like telling those two youngsters to cheer up and forget it all. They were sarcastically polite to each other and as lunch went on I saw my dream of a peaceful vacation vanishing. The situation continued like this all summer, only matters grew from bad to worse. One of them couldn't do or say anything that the other didn't make some cutting remark. Everyone noticed and wondered what was the matter, for Allan was popular with every one else and Jerry was-well, just Jerry. My cottage has always been camping ground for the younger set, so it was natural that Allan and Jerry should meet every day. They both tried to be polite to each other whenever I was there, I really believe they thought that I didn't know anything was wrong. As a result I didn't get a bit of fishing in, trying to get the two of them settled, for of course Allan was sensitive about his leg and would not explain to Jerry. One evening I announced at dinner that I intended going in the morning to Cochislo Cave for some Hy-fishing and that if Allan wanted, he might come along. Fly-fishing? I should say I do, he answered. What kind do you use here? And with that we were off on a long discussion on the merits of the different flies. About ten that night the phone rang and when I answered, Mrs. Barret spoke from the other end, NIrs. Carrington? Yes, I replied. Would you mind if Jerry spent tomorrow with you? I have to go in to town and I won't be back until the next day. I don't like to leave her alone with the servants and it is impossible to take her with me. Surely. Send her over, but tell her to he prepared to go fishing for we're going to Cochislo Cave, I answered, but I saw my pleasant day vanish- ing as I realized that Allan had promised to go too. Jerry came over early the next morning, looking adorably pretty in a dark green dress. It was new and not at all suitable for Hy-fishing. The day certainly started off auspiciously. The fishing was wonderful. I had never had such good luck. We stopped about one and ate our lunch. Jerry insisted on cooking the fish. Jerry can cook if she can do nothing else and even Allan admitted that the golden-brown trout were delicious. After we had cleared up, I decided to rest a while, Allan announced that he was going to read and Jerry said she was going in for a swim. I wouldn't if I were you, Allan answered sharply. 'AI noticed the current was pretty swift here as I was rowing this morning. You had better not go in. Here's a book, read it. And he tossed it to her. Jerry picked up the volume and tossed it back. I said I was going in for a swim. Whoever heard of anyone reading on a picnic-anyone, except an old fossil? And with that she ran off. Allan muttered something about 'ia little fool and returned to his book. I noticed, however, that for all his Twenty-nine

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GOLD AND WHITE W ings By ELIZABETH HENNE MILY MARSTON gave the spade a quick, vicious shove into the sandy soil and brushed back the hair from her heated face. Then, half resentfully, half unconsciously, she gazed at the airplane which was circling above her in the clear sky. With a shrug and a sigh, she turned away from the sight that epitomized all the longing within her, and looked at her hands. Hard and calloused they were-just like she was-hard and calloused from almost half a century of work. She picked up the spade, and threw it down again. How she hated all this! Hated her hands, hated that barren garden, hated the lonely, empty shack, and above all, hated the sea which roared, mocking, at her day and night! Raising impotent flStS to the laughing waves, she ran down to the beach. Something within her shrieked hatred and rebellion to this merciless tyrant. Tight-locked within that shaggy breast the only two things she had ever loved lay sleeping-her husband and her son. It was a bitter, raw day when they came to tell her of that double tragedy. Both of them-her mate and her boy-had gone out gaily on the clipper, Emily M. Neither came back. The rough sea folk who brought her the news had tears streaming down their faces. She alone had remained dry-eyed. Dry-eyed-but something in the depths of her being-her very heart--had frozen-had become hard, and calloused, like her hands. She had, after all, asked so little of life-had received so much less! The past was over-it didn't matter much, any more-but the dreary future, the lonely days and nights-these hurt! Another airplane was droning overhead. She lifted her eyes-they were hard and bitter, too-and stared enviously after it. That was what she wanted! Wings!-To soar high above the surge of life, dipping and sailing among the white clouds, the rose and golden sunset flames. The sea came up and licked hungrily at her feet. She retreated a step, then advanced. After all these years of hating, she might yet derive some beneht from her relentless enemy. How delightful it would be to slip into the cold green embrace: to slink peacefully into those secret depths: to feel the cool pressure: take the fever from her brow: to remember, as her last thought, that the sea never releases its treasures! She stepped forward again, then suddenly jerked back. After all, she hated the sea too much-and who had ever heard of wings growing down there? Gazing half stupidly at her sodden feet, she trudged back to her cabin. A new idea had taken possession of her. She went into the kitchen, locked the doors and windows, and plugged the numerous holes and cracks. An evil genius had entered her heart. What was there ahead? Life's values had all gone. She would leave no message-no farewell. The world wasn't worth it. She felt herself drifting softly, slowly, onward. What should she do? The evil genius started in her bosom. Just then a soft humming and buzzing thrilled her ears. The sound of wings whirred past in the distance. Thirty-One