Huhmnl 5fYlxfLCv2,r TI-IE FLAME Qp.mx3N5wx Boi i-- cxmcacv RAQWXNXQB exepi zpflf'-Qin Oo fn? :I-Vx QUMQQNG AHL QNVW .Huh Lea, OCNliN Xf5Qx 'YN QYX Qu-Y' moi. 150.6129-f Sana Sluhfngfvff ug-Ducib SK FYN xvx N-Arno.. Drwqucd Y k-'RQu.QJ..v,5'Zs., Sy -X-fXx'QA'a, wxcsuvx, NYYN X.Q..QJ.x.:Vr'NQA VX '-T-'XQMNAQ KMQLLQD Gf3kNQmf,m,c5.u.fuXQ QQ-5-'kb ix '- md-Q Mmm- A f M My MXN mf N. X ' ' ' ' ' BNN f in LJ-.N-X Pu L - UC3Q,-XX- U ' BL , LEPW w'J'N Q 'Q, 3 'TWA H A , Mqvb Swv' bb AGQQLSAFQAX mx- ' xi YYX9., in Q Qxqnfli- K I 45' QA' A' x X . lu ts i 'M-A Gil-CE, -v .. .. X ww' fmwww X L In hi 'ei V '- ,jpfx gwNNQ,Q...X-1'YNFxXX xc5YkfJ0'K ' ' ffwkifb , Z 5 YA-SI1.Q.9... F ' 'PH' - - - K LN - 1 A 1 , 52,1614-9 CBXJK1 A ,Nm -Gu VX -Nz' ' Q' fr' XXXXKXA June,i3 1942 1 3 X . N Q-INAVNA f4y , ' , s-ffff,.Q ,,,, AJ ., Q MP i jf N .QA I ,fp Saint Paul .0 ,. 14117 Mirza 'sf Minnesota yu-fg C-MSW - C9'f '-'57 'W'1ff'n-Q., . ag. 1.5, :U v'L 'b4-Xt ,fyx ' ' Y VM .J As an expression of their appreciation and gratitude for her twenty-five years of devoted work in the school, the Senior Class of 1942 ded- A icates this FLAME to SARAH ACONVERSE. THE FLAME 1 JJ 'LEAD Us FORWARD, THY KNOWLEDGE TO UNFOLD T H E F L A M E Twenty-Fifth Anniversary HIS year we pause to review the past and look forward to the future, for it was just twenty-five years ago that the Summit School was founded. Although America was in a World War then as she is now, the founders of the school went ahead with their plans for a non-profit-making school. Their purpose was to give their daughters a good education since they recognized that education is a Vital factor in a democracy. So today in the middle of a second World War we feel it is an especially appropriate time to think of our history as a school and of the part that such a school as ours should play in the world. In 1917 five old buildings near Dale Street first housed the new school which was the old Loomis School reorganized. Here Miss Converse was kept busy putting out fires and having leaky roofs mended until 1923 when the trustees discovered and bought a dusty lot, then in the country, overgrown with weeds, and next door to a neighborhood dump. They saw its possibilities, however, and through their efforts enough money was collected to build tlaeapresent building. Since then the Ottis Sport House, three new tennis courts, and many other improvements have been added. This April, to celebrate the birthday of the school, a dinner was given which was attended by many old friends. We include some excerpts from speeches given at the dinner which we feel express important factors in the principles and growth of the school. ' - Miss Converse: The Summit School has Abeenamore than just a financial affair . . . more than financial support and backing. It has been a grouping together of all of us working for our school . . . not your school or my school . but working for our school to make it the very best it may be. 3 Mr. Ralph Budd, the president of the Burlington Railroad: l'For the future cer- tainly, there is a great place for the private school in our system of education and higher learning .... This school has gone through one war and 'will go through an- other. Education and religion are the eternal verities .... Certainly the group of people who are interested in this school have taken pleasure and pride in promoting it to the point where it is. Coming here tonight iis all that is needed to prove that the future of the school is secure in their handsf, Mr. Pierce Butler, on behalf of the trustees: We must remember that education is for life as well as for a livelihood .... Miss Converse has always realized that the society for which her pupils and the pupils of any school are destined does not consist of groups or classes but consists of individualsf' In this Flame, we, as students of the school, want to add our congratulations. We prize the opportunity we are given to help carry on the school through our student government. Our suggestions for revising the rules and even the curriculum are always taken into consideration. Especially we appreciate the excellence of the education we receive here. So, in thanks, we have made the theme of this year's Flame the first twenty-Hve years of the school. SALLY AMES Editor 4 THE FLAME . , , ...M , , T w V-'T I I I E 5 1 , J SENIGRS SARAH BAKER AMES He who does not think too much of himself is much more eszfeemed than he imagines. W-QQ Q R, i n R X xxx' 'N g'L..L.g alwfifgffv' 1 CAROLYN MARGARET BRAINARD , 'U 8 'H 54-'ZA 'QOMJ 71ll7lZ6'fbC'fl'iC'l1fl.,, SILQ F3 so-16 .t7Q6:.65ay .So ,ff V71-2 CQ i.,.,,E-ch 2241.2 'CQ Qavwflvxgq Of every friendless 'ZVWLQ 1255 Jff THE FLAME S CYNTHIA HARBAUGH BROOKS Youth is wholly expe1fime1z1fal.' ' Dems YYXQAX .... Keoqilqvx, ,K N bQQUx kzpunefx WVL1 Q fs JOANNE BROWN The only way fo have az frielzd is to he one. CSLNYNA absmktmi 030-f-'iego-Ur: wwf F06 ww, J ggmmxwvmwx THE FLAME 'MW biccuwm J L9-wSfw Q- Niiv-cm mmm QQNQ- W, f4Q,Yr-raffalffskjx t Q 5 A53 mm-A lrhflb- Q94-.f..XJ Em9,9x,LLq OHIXQ KJXLXLQ www,-7K vm. '3 E I G' - K - ' XM W ' 1 - xixC7.'!g SARQN - , GR GM' kAx XQQBQTXXHAQX Qxbygwm Dena- K-Nuvqxv mbnnm Q. savage' Y, V092 46193, xpofxiilk Nm. QL Q. ow.. oo S, QwnQugo,g,T. W6 JANE AUDREY DEI,ANDE M XP-KMA kind bww! is zz f0IllIfIliI1 L KLP- gli, of QItZdlIFYYD . ww Q0 Yxxdmt vkfmb' Elly wo . davit Q7f1?xd'VVNQ.+ ,MX RMDQQY X - K , gx xx X lx .L XX- 'fx 5 X 'N S 'A' K O kg -LgT4..1Q..L..kN ir kL,,5,,.5 u5fsKw,. '-T N - N X X 3XSUxX'5 X 'k--- xxx--Q ,.. xxxixwxxkxb ,agp , X 1 '. Y X-N..-ifx 2- Xikwkgxis VD S-Xgkxgxlsi DEIRDRE ER J '13-IN ,:vXf Q--1-S, sk- Q,,3a- X. lM:.,u:.5qi,k N Olllfk, Sl'lISlfl1JU17l'SS IS 111sf'jJar'cH91c' x Lkup., X X from zz readj' 7lIIlIlI'l'SffllldilIg.,, 'X RIT-Qxg -Y LXJXKXQQ-SST ..,-.YQLX X H :Li jj: LSA -Nr S'..5CY'xlMiN'1-:A.5 '.:..L 5,51- fx 'EMW- uvn Qu V., gxb Wvim ,CX-JN-'NJA 1.91, ' J 'x 'vA-:AA 'I k W fsNl X .9-ff' AI- YT KM swf' 0?-Rmb. THE FLAME 7 'Dem' Hagpux., WDW qw Xootici AUCRXQ Evzsh uni. mm E and WQQVWQ N 606+ mmm WU mSUKVM:x?sNx'QeelD9f,s-msfxw rm wow d'xdn'vTbe glass of fashion and the my Digv' mould of fowl. Q ., 0-V2 O. 'Citi' Gdddnoo -No 'Wu QFQVHSTTHO Q Gm SQWLX N wodx- ws. mea ww- LWCLV to Noq qoov 'os Qui 1-0 S5129 50355-T mkSXCo Mon On , ?. A X ,. Digf Q ESLYS X07-'IIX CIDQQXQB u-F3 ma.-Qwkx Amos - ,QATHARINE CONGER FULLER S C?5 1Zz:?ZJ7z sense is not so c0gQ3b:l.'DO Wow Vfwwcmn Pwrx Scfdncxfvix qinki brow Suyvmwmlff qsi, 'Q Vnii, iD OUA-WAX oui mtuxio +511 A' I ' kockl' COJXQQLRDO scbumds S561 SPA WW' K Ck so QXCS9- ME KK SQ51. gxfbw.. wwufx I c,qMo. 8 My Q T H E F L A M E H0115 PM , LEILA DEAN JACKSON Think wrongly if you pleaseg buf in all cases think for y0Il1f'S6'lf.,, TI-IE FLAME RUTH ELAINE HODGSON If is of 110 use Tllllllillgj to set out bezfimcs is the main point. 9 JOAN KUEFFNER All his faults mfe such that one loves him still the better for tlJem. 10 MARION LOOMIS The sense 0 f hZl17Z01 has other things to clo than make itself eonspieuous in the act of laugbte1'.,' THE FLAME ANNE LOVERING Self-trust is the secret of success. Dear liosqq LQN-sed ofgbsacu. Lcffs-xltb Sched VNS'-13' 1320-V55 gon: Xoovbvvzir v-Sjesw 'Q NX ni' hue, 'TD Q-V Wlrl EOOGV5 GW - KL B XISYXEFKOYE, Qmhnciz , iieccbe, -'Sis semis ul ROSANIOND MAYO Eixbqx-Q.JA,Tbe reward of ez Using 'Qs' UQ is to have done izffb xQc2XXY:Q. ck. SQLUXB 'sswwe 5 . Vvxm-AQ. Scz.:'smu.-SKS rtfxcsrx' OASAT 'SQGK 045 bg SLLQXQ- 'Swan wax HE FLAME Wgxg Q ywejvc QQVQUXXRMNBQ .4QCSk ,'N ' 09 - L' - H War Heqpg, VH- 1 K wx CGYVKBNJ. R QJ yooqgvr :JAMA Ri- QAcv.wx k Ykqtglwa vbiidfklh .FJ VK ucv, bted, H14 xxx 'hvcmi Nj M30 253159 3-M-0 Most manger QgotbeQgI1gas1f 33922 mem had QM R kksxamYso-1.x-Xtzaf-a'S'evh11'5V2 'Tfklxb Ywekimslag 23' LXIXQ You Dx Tum. GUN wx D. ,, A 1 is xL,WQ 'Q ACQNT 'iv UVJQVX pub ox OXLJ br? png' LCfb1Mn k- 3.6309 H-. W9 , ' n ma. , - DQQA Wcsupqxx- I . Wwe f- ww MA mmvymeu 1 KMQFQWXQQJ Wf4z.Wm.nuAox QQSKSULA vvxvxselx. GMM 'LM 'Ska Qihhqttgxm Cimq SQQ, WXUJXLNS Qdufii' 0-KQRQJUQ, 5osjlfLoA'iAQ,,x MPL ,ghzasii Q,voQfx CXXQQ QMAA -qgm PATRICIA GENEVIEVE RAY S-Q. ax ,X QUUL . If fi NothiliihiiffiZQffZLfZZf,f5 QM I draw - km.uQ you fn T ph C,-ICLLL Mm. gpm -M 'ww J QM 752214 lug ff fhbdchg T?C0df gk AQ! ,- fs A S6 so 12 THE FLAME LGU? .N 1555 Q V ' 1 min' ...pm Q- Juniors Chosen by Senior Class for Places of Honor i11 the Processional ETHLYN COUNTRYMAN Senior Marshal NANCY HANLON SYBIL SHALLENBERGER Flag Bearers 14 THE FLAME Lvfl in rigbf, lop l'0lL'! MARTHA FULTON HliI.l'1N HANINIIQS SALLY XVASHBUIQN NANCY HrXNI.ON BETTY BREN1l'.R SYIsII. SI-IALLIQNBIQIQGER DORIS MUIJCP.TT ETHLYN COUNTIKYMAN CHARLOTTE Nlil.SON KITTY' JACKSON Form V Sfcoml row: CYNTHIA DAVIDSON SALLY BEALS CATIIIIQIRINE CLAIQK ALIGIQ THOMPSON ANIJIQIIA HUN'l'IEIi PEGGY SIMONS Third row: PEGGY JACKSON ALLISON BUTLER CLELIA THOMPSON BETS1' NYE ANN KINIBALL fnoz' in picfzmfj THE FLAME I' i ?f2E'2 ffaiff' vw I 6 1, fa al 6 3 mf I fI 'p5,f0 QLUQ W'7W0 42? gif am 5 f V ,O ,V fa ivy 4 Ofiif ww E RAE I-U hLMm3 airs .,.,13'u34a'?w+'- 4.3. QMS You N14 04 '0I.a1I1bIV I Cai 1- Wd NORA BAER NITLZS A qso How szmply wona'e1'ful.V' 69 MARY BRIGGS v-1 rr I gn ! What re you gonna wgarwk X Z my Tha1f's gffe-ami. SSPSROTHY CAMMACK one-' 'XI my :fo-D -.I I QS.. FK 'Z' 050 J7XU0'T'55'L'9, PEA' fl?'0f a'5 -:fy MJQ :iU7:.fg' N RKELL BROOKS ff U-Z? 'JU f7f gk VY 'K k,,. ff! V, WS? ifNo, Ifdidam 053' XM! fi'-NNN Wff-LAM ARR 'Qi' vwgb Q-v JOYCE CARLTON Fm sorry. I d011,t agree with you, but I woafi arguef' ELIZABETH DECOSTER Han-111-111? Fm! in the ,biggest daze? CHARLOTTE FITZPATRICK Tee-hee! MILDRED GOODSON Oh, sure. MARGERY HAWTHORNE Tbai's the honast trutfaf' MARGARET HERBERT Tf0a1f's simple. DOROTHY LEAVENWORTH But, kids-- K I JEAN KMERRILL Lfgyjffv-E Oh, b1'otloe1'!', VYVL ' f ' q75,Af-If , D l'l mJQLakL2 Awufg THEELAME 411:11 I VVVY I m EL iw, aa La. Md . ,I Af R 6 X2 9.4 7 ANN MORELAND How C1 DOROTHY OERTING I1 s tliSg1lSfi17g.,, SALLY ORMI5 Do you blow? GEORGIA RAY Garf.',' g10F - 1 NADIN IT -' ' L11 ncvj'r 90517 xo ml1gl UDL , '- A L , 1 U' . ATRICIA SPORLR , wr. 96 JP' :WMQ E CAROLYN STOLTZE Tcl-I-1-1 me anofbvr! MARY STRINGER Oh, honestly. SIDNEY STRONGI5 xooe' 'BENQ Oh, for cripfs saE! ffQ QLXNXN 5fNv,,q 'lf9.xJx . SHIRLEY WRIGHT Wbat? SRX Ng-wo. ukievrox waxox THE FL ME Q-S' W, v-QGVW- 3 I-11-1lfC'.,, -1 4 NIARJORIE OKES Class President. Oh, mm! wan! fo bear fbz' vrownnz, ,Lo,-iidwJ1ff - J Jilin-xgxn-o9.,-ia.-M ' Www Anza, I' 0 A Pbows-L '-VJ?-Y' bCq :.i:.Rx-USNT' Irnsl' H-Q.. -..ks.u-phi 43 ly, E-'..o.ry S154 'fix W I.. f X xv-ul1.sx.Lm',,.,b Souarxtl +- ' vol v:xz,q,QlCKfXo 'S' OQQSSI. WXOQQ. ' Plvusff tell uzcfi, .X SQJRA ob-ww-'-X: v ummm manga- gran..-f - qv-Sv 6x-:ZR KWX xxx xo Dick' TXSDNOQQ--XNXQQNNQDX NQ Rug Q NAR? XX Leg- 'c:xQ,3wuNmXe.gY'go.r2Qg, can Xw . T , Q x QQQN gage-L f-som Swafxw QQXQXQL 'ww Left to right, top row: NANCY MAIRS SYLVIA BURNS ALIDA BUTLER JEAN WEST ELIZABETH HOLMES MARY LOU ROBERTSON VIRGINIA KINKEAD HARRIET STRINGER ALEXANDRA ORDWAY DOROTHY COUNTRYMAN BETTY ANN PARSONS Form III Second row: EVELYN CROOKS MARGARET CUDWORTH CONSTANCE CATHCART MARGARET ANN BARBER EMMY LOU LEVY DEBORAH DONNELLY MARGARET RUSSELL HELEN CLARK THE FLAME Form II Left fo right: JEAN LINCOLN BARBARA FULLER PATTY APPEL HOPE MACARTNEY KATE DAVIDSON VIRGINIA GREGG THE FLAME NANCY GAVER PEGGY DRIscoLL VIRGINIA CLARK I' RFK-U xagw, YLQQQ- Thug. N. H Ovviwad . 20 'W 0-1559-AQUA , BARBARA BAER MIMI BAER JANE BURR SHIRLEY CATLIN JOAN GESNER THOIKNE GRANT JEANNE JERRARD CYNTHIA KELLEY Form I LOUISE MAIRS GLENNA MILLARD ANNE MOGA EDITH NYE MAXKH' POND ORDWAY DORIS ROSENHOLTZ PATSY SM1TH SALLIE STOLTZE THE FLAME LITERARY Emmy AY, ther,s a storm comin' up. Think I better close the upstairs porch windows?', Oh, is there, Emmy? I've been reading, and I hadn't noticed. Is it bad?,' l'Well, never can tell, y' know. Good thing, though. Hope it'll break this heat spell we been havin'. Well, I'll go close 'em then. She padded over to the stairs and began to climb, pushing hard on her upraised knee to swing herself to the next step. She always wore flat slippers with holes cut in the sides through which one unavoidably saw her baby toes. M' feet gets hot, my bein' on 'em all day like I am, and m, bunions hurt. These here are the only things I feel easy in. I had known the storm would have to be fairly bad in order to merit Emmy,s anxiety, but when I turned and looked out across the lake, I ran upstairs two steps at a time to help her with the porch windows. Oh, Emmy, hurry! It's comin' fast, and it looks pretty badf' she said with a grim, head-shaking vigor, her mouth turned down and in at the corners. I could tell her emotion by the way she slammed the windows shut with even more than her usual decisiveness, so that I heard the light, ironical tinkle of a breaking pane. She stopped for a moment to look at it, then said, I-Iumph. Wind's comin, up pretty strong. Suddenly a deep roar, which had before been so distant that I had only subcon- sciously realized it, was with us in the porch, so demanding and overpowering that only part of me watched an oak tree crash into the porch, bringing with it part of the roof. Gawd! This was the first time I had ever seen strong emotion on Emmy's face or heard her express it. I did not actually hear this but read her lips, because the wind was crushing out all other noises to delight in its own tantrum. Emmy's emotion was not fear, only surprise. She grabbed my arm above the elbow and tried to open the door into the house, but the tree had fallen upon it, and it was immovable. Emmy paused for a moment, then grimly and wordlessly plunged her free fist through the remaining panes of glass and tore away the frames to make room for us to go through. There was a heavy dic- tionary on a table beside the door, I tried to hand it to her, but she knocked it un- seeingly out of my hands. When she had made a considerable space, she swung me around in front of her by the arm which she still had hold of and pushed me through so hard that I fell on the other side. Next, ignoring the hand I held out to her for support, she laid her own on a raw edge of glass and heaved herself through. She didnlt realize that her hand was cut, but the blood gave me sudden and surprising hysterics. Grabbing me again by the arm, she dragged me up off the floor, down the stairs, through the wrecked living room, and downstairs again to the basement. Here she stood still in the gloom for a moment, just a moment, then she slapped me with a barrel-house swing. At this I wailed at the top of my lungs, but Emmy must have felt that it was no longer an hysterical noise, for she ignored it completely as she went over my body for broken bones, taking up my arms and legs in her huge, flat hands with quick, convulsive grips. 'QHumph, she said, satished. What,re y' bawlin' for? Y' aren't hurt. But then she saw the blood left by her hand all over my body, and this time the emotion on her face was fear. She had pulled half my clothes off before I could make her under- stand by pointing to that awful hand that it was she, who was hurt. She looked at it with curiosity for a moment, said, Humph! and wrapped it in her apron. Mother came in a little while, and she was surveying the damage, after having re- assured herself as to my safety, when she noticed the blood dripping from the bundle Emmy had made of her hand and apron. TI-IE FLAME 21 Oh, Emmy! Are you badly hurt? Let me seef' Emmy wrapped the bundle tighter, looked at the floor reminiscently, then said, Sure was some storm, all rightf' CYNTHIA BROOKS Form VI Yes, Doctor T THIRTEEN the elevator stopped with a jolt. Watch your step, said the elevator operator mechanically. I wished he woulcln't keep saying that. He'd said it ever since I'd been in the second grade, and it irritated me. I turned down the corridor and opened the second door to the right, the one with Orthodontist written across it in large black letters. After all, last year he had said I would have my braces off soon, and just last month he had said I was coming along fine. Good morning, sang the nurse, pausing in her typing. The doctor will be ready for you in just a moment. I sat down on the green chair in the corner to the left of the magazine table. The same magazines: Playmattf, November, Playmate, December, Playmate, January, Child Life, November, Child Life, January. The December issue was missing. I took up a puzzle. I couldnit put the little lead quintuplets into the pink baby carriage. I didn't care anyway. The doctor will see you now, called the nurse over the tapping of her type- writer. I walked ing the doctor smiled with a mechanical jerk as if the corners of his mouth were worked by strings, like puppets. Caught any snakes, lately? he asked. He asked me that every time I came. Not latelyf' I answered. 'lThat must have been four or Hve years agof, I sat down in the dentist's chair and opened my mouth. I couldn't tell anything by his face, it always looked the same. He tightened something and then washed his hands, and I got down. You're coming along just fine. Come in again for a checkup in about a monthf' Yes, Doctor, I said, starting out the door. Don't forget your appointmentf, called the nurse. I went back and got it. She always called me back. Main floor, said the elevator operator mechanically. Watch your stepf' CYNTHIA DAVIDSON Form V The Finger of Time TURNED the corner, and there it was-exactly the same. I was somehow surprised that it should be the same-three years had seemed like such a long time-three years since I had read the tragic notice telling of the school's failure and had wailed, But where will I go to school now?', I drew closer and looked in through a broken window. The room that I saw was bare and dusty, glass from the windows and bits of plaster covered the floor and streamers of curling, gray paper hung from the ceiling in ribbons. Time had, after all, left its ugly mark, for this had been the kindergarten, the sunny, noisy, cheerful kindergarten. As my eyes again swept over the depressing vacant room, they fell upon the only remaining clue of its former existence: a picture of Washington hung on one bare wall gazing sternly out across the litter of glass and plaster, and I thought absently how strange it was that it had been left carelessly be- hind and was now the sole reminder that here had once been a school. On an impulse I gripped the top of a window, swung myself through, and, ter- 22 THE FLAME rified lest someone should see me, hurried out the kindergarten door. In the little hallway beyond, the musty, underground odor that always seems to pervade deserted buildings met me as I ran up the steps and opened a familiar door. For a long time I stood looking in. This had been the miniature room. It was here that there had been the little semicircle of tiny desks cluttered with papers writ- ten in big lopsided letters. Here had been the piano with the middle CU which always stuck and the little round table covered with fascinating books about Disneyish animals and runaway streetcars. On the walk above the absurdly low blackboard had been pictures-streaked crayon and scrawled grotesque figures. There had been charts, too. The cat saw a mouse. The mouse ran away. The cat could not catch the mouse. There had been neat writing on the blackboard: Janey Lou is monitor for the week. Freddie is plant-waterer for the weekf' There had been sunlight streaming in through the windows, leaving golden streaks on the sand pile and the plants and the multipli- cation table and the goldfish bowl. None of these were left. The splatterings of sunshine sifted in through dusty windows to an empty, desolate room and left mocking patterns on the bare boards of the floor, the dingy walls, the swept, unfriendly black- boards. Depressed, I walked slowly from the room and up the stairs where I had raced so often between classes, clutching stacks of books or a dripping ice-cream cone bought at the corner store. The other rooms were all the same, bare and silent, smaller than I had remembered them, and all with the same shut-in smell. The math room alone had not changed much. The rows of stiff uncompromising desks were still there, and my eyes fell on a sheet of paper lying on a seat. The writing looked strangely fa- miliar, I snatched it up, excitedly blowing off the thick layer of dust. Progress Test IX--Comprehension and Grammar-Shirley Wright. Absurd to be sentimental over an old paper, but it was rather strange that it should be there-the only paper in sight. Strange and eerie, I thought, shivering. I looked through the other desks hoping to uncover other such souvenirs but found nothing but a dusty note: Jean's O. K., but her hair makes me sick. Why the heck doesn't she do something with it? I turned it over and read the terse statement, She had fleas. Putting them both in my pocket, I crossed to the closetiand opened it, half expecting to uncover a corpse but was re- lieved to find only several forgotten school books and some hangers. There didn't seem to be anything more to see, so I plunged downstairs to the gym. The locker room was deeply and frighteningly silent and so cold that my breath came in white clouds. I was stooping down to look at the curls of paper peeling from the walls when I first heard the cries. They were faint, as if from a long way off, and for a frozen second it seemed to me that I heard shadowy voices calling to each other in basketball, then the illusion faded, and I knew them to be only the shrieks of children somewhere outside the windows. But I hurried into the gym with a chilly feeling in my spine and the pit of my stomach. The gym, too, seemed somehow smaller, and the floor boards had warped sharply upwards in places, giving the appearance that the walls had stealthily grown closer together and pushed the boards before them. The baskets were still up, hanging limp and useless--no ball had touched them for three years. Suddenly I had to get out of there-out of the cold, hostile bareness, and I stum- bled up the stone steps as if pursued. Once outside in the glaring sunshine my fear melted, but an undefinable depression lay heavily on my mind. At the corner I turned for one last look, but some apartments had already hidden the old schoolhouse from view. SHIRLEY WRIGHT Form IV THE FLAME 23 An Exhibitor LED Rookie over to an inconspicuous corner where I could wait and watch the scene around me. A tense feeling of excitement and hurry hung in the air like smoke. The aristocratic-looking men and women in tweed coats, gabardine breeches, and shiny boots milled around the yard and stable in a mass of blues, greys, and blacks. I looked with pride at the red tag which fluttered against my shoulder. Exhibitor No. SZ, it read. Everywhere I looked, I saw similar red and yellow tags. The yellow tags belonged to spectators. The palms of my hands were wet, and I felt dizzy. I breathed in deeply, then held my breath. The smell of horses, leather, wet wood, hay, spring air, damp earth, expensive perfume, English tweeds, and tobacco smoke blended together into a rich, heady odor. I shut my eyes to steady my nerves. The buzz of conversation rose and fell like the hum of a gigantic motor. Certain phrases rose above the others, high excited voices piercing through the drone. Sam, lengthen these stirrups! Clarence, where is Major's blanket?', Alice, I haven't seen you in ages! Which class is this, the ninth? The horse in the stall against which I was leaning kicked the wooden partition and whinnied. Rookie put his nose on my shoulder and blew in my ear. I saw Mr. Lang hurry past the door. He waved at me, and I gave him a sickly smile. The ninth class was over, I had better mount. With shaking hands I led Rookie out into the yard and swung onto his back. His firm sides under my knees gave me more confidence. I walked him around the yard among the crowd to get the feel of it. I passed people whom I knew, and they waved and wished me luck. I began to feel better. I pitied the people who wore yellow tags, the spectators. They couldnyt have that feeling of suspense, of excitement. The contestants in class ten walked out of the ring. As I trotted over to the judges to get my number, I was very sure of myself. I was number 13, and this was my first horse show. JEAN MERRILL Form IV What We Were Waiting For HERE were three of us up in the tree. Our brown bodies were streaked with dirt and perspiration. We lay against the sharp bark of the tree wordlessly. Nowhere was there movement. It was as though life itself had stopped and was waiting for something. We thought of nothing. We, too, were waiting. From far away came the monotonous clank of dishes being washed. We felt no inclination to talk. In our child minds we wondered what we were waiting for. Suddenly, as though it had been prearranged, we got up and dropped from the tree into the long dry grass below. We started walking to the grove in the pine trees where we often played. The grass cracked as we walked. We started talking of the things nine-year-old girls often talk of. I have a new paper doll named Joanfy I said. i'My mother got it for me. I have one called Joan, said Sally, but it's old. Janey led the way into the grove, which was usually cool. We had arranged three houses, one for each of us. The rooms of each house had been carefully and laboriously mapped out. Our dishes were shells, and our walls pine boughs. The baking sun had penetrated even into the glade, and the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. We lay down in our houses and fell silent. Again we were 24 THE FLAME waiting. Again we became restless. In vain We tried to play house with our usual interest. We left the grove. We went into the barnyard. All the animals except the chickens were waiting, too. The chickens never wait. They are always noisy, running about, pecking in the dirt. Even the little calves and their mothers were silent. In the milk house it was cool and damp. There we each had a piece of the water- melon which was kept in the tank of cold water regularly used for cooling the milk. We felt better when we left the milk house, but soon the oppressive heat again overcame us. We went back up the hill and lay in the grass. The dishes were no longer clanking in the kitchen. On the road a rapidly moving cloud of dust heralded the approach of the mailman, but we didn't move to meet him. A bird started sing- ing but soon stopped. The creak of a loaded hay wagon came temptingly from the fields, and still we lay, waiting. Mother saw us from her window and paused long enough to call down, Girls, why don't you turn on the sprinkler and run through it? You may, in just your shorts, if you want to. We needed no further invitation. Slipping off our sandals, we turned on the WLIICF. just as the sprinkler began to revolve, the loud report of thunder cracked through the air like a whip, the skies opened, and rain poured forth. Near-by a bird sang. In the barn a cow mooed. On the lawn Janey and Sally and I laughed. Now we knew what we had been waiting for. That horrible stillness would be no more. We laughed as We ran on the lawn through the rain. PEGGY JACKSON Form V Un Cours de la Croix Rouge Maintenant ma mere suit un cours de la Croix Rouge. Je devrais dire que ma mere et moi, nous suivons ce cours. Les premieres semaines j'etais la maitresse, et Maman etait l'eleve. C'etait tres drole. Me voila, le livre a la main, posant des questions a Maman. -Vaimais poser des questions a mon eleveg cietait facile. -Vai appris plusieurs faits interessants. Mais-je niaimais pas etre son modele. La premiere fois, quand jietais un modele, jletais une noyee et Maman a du me faire la respiration artificielle. Je me suis couchee sur le plancher, et Maman s'est assise sur moi. Alors, elle a sauve ma vie huit ou dix fois pendant que je regardais ma montre pour voir si elle le faisait bien. C'etait bien difficile de faire un bandeau sur ma main et sur mon pied, mais Maman se chargeait de tout cela. Le bandeau sur ma main etait tres drole. Il avait l'air d'un ballon blanc, et mon bras dans une echarpe qui etait vraiment faite avec un torchon de notre cuisine. Mais quand Maman a bande la plaie sur mon pied, j'avais l'air d'un veteran de guerre. Ce bandeau sur le pied glissait constamment, et Maman avait bien de la peine a faire le bandeau comme il faut. Le projet suivant etait une eclisse sur ma jambe. Ce projet etait un travail bien lent. C'etait plus facile de le faire que de le defaireg pendant deux heures j'etais assise au milieu d'une montagne de bois ct de gaze! Clest Papa qui m'a sauve de cette melee. Apres cette derniere aventure, je ne pense pas que je resterai a la maison le soir que Maman prepare son devoir pour la Croix Rouge. Si je reste chez moi, je suis certaine que je ne pourrais pas venir a llecole le lendemain. faurais vraiment besoin de respiration artificielle. BETTY BREMER Form V THE FLAME 25 Y E It Changed Somehow HE snow lay in new, fresh layers on the unfrozen ground, and- the late fall leaves peeped bewilderedly from beneath this early prelude to winter. The smoke from the farm-house chimney curled like baby fingers around the snapping air. The cattle blew puffs of steam through their moist, frosty noses, and leaning their heads over the pasture fence, looked in soft-eyed annoyance at the premature scene around them. I steered the car up the narrow road and stopping at the unpainted door of the house, got out and commenced to drag a large box from the car. As I stood looking up at the window with this staggering weight, I saw a small, round face appear. Des- perately I signalled for someone to come and open the door, but the face remained there serenely, if stupidly, staring. I stood helpless and realized that a tall man was regarding me from the barn door. Languidly he straightened up and moved slowly, laughingly, toward me. 'QNeed any help, Miss? the man chuckled innocently, taking the box from me. Thank you, Elmer. Is Hazel bettcr?', Yeah, I guess so. Says her legs don't ache so bad today. That's wonderful. I have some things in here for her. Not very much, some woolens and shoes for the children and a few other thingsf' We had reached the door, and I held it open for Elmer before following him in. The living-room-kitchen held a pleasant, bare atmosphere, and the heady, yeasty smell of homemade bread flooded it warmly and blended harmoniously with the plain, mended curtains and cracked ceiling. Hazel sat in a stiff chair by the table, peeling potatoes into a deformed tin pan. Her face was pale, and she smiled with her mouth alone as she spoke to me in a quiet voice. Her swollen feet and ankles were encased in old woolen socks, and she moved them with obvious pain. Elmer put the box down, and a pleasant thrill stole over my heart as I saw her eyes light up. I recognized the feeling beneath her diHicult words of thanks and knew that she was grateful. The small face again appeared from behind a bedroom door and coaxed by a friendly smile, came out and ducked behind a large chair. From this mighty fortress it warmed to conversation and was soon grinning and chattering like a wary squirrel. The wood stove gave forth a sweet fragrant odor and lent cheer to the small room in a generous manner. The three-minute egg timer stood importantly desolate on-a rough board shelf, tilting its figure coquettishly at a one-armed alarm clock across the room. Nothing about this room was enviable, but everything smelled, stood, or was worn in a homey, comfortable way. A cold draft crept along the floor, eating up some of the pleasantness. Hazel's face became stern as she said, Elmer, the board below the back window must,ve come loose again. Why don't ya fix it?,' 'lOh, one of the kids can fix it when they git home, can't they? 'I gotta go out to the barn. S'long, Miss. Maybe we can use some of that stuff ya brought. The door banged insolently after him, and Hazel's large red hand picked up an- other potato and cut into it sharply with the wicked little knife. A shadow of meanness was in the room and cloaked everything in uneasiness. The small face was smaller and silent as it looked with averted baby eyes at the mother doing her work with a masked face, her emotions locked from habit deep within her heart. The bread and wood smell was becoming more distinct and had lost its warmth to mere odor. I had suddenly become an intruder, and I rose to leave. Haze1,s eyes looked at the box, then at meg and they thanked me again, wordlessly. ANDY HUNTER Form V 26 THE FLAME SSW! f. 3 5 a ,A ,, .1 A ,,,.W, X 11 Mn- K' ,I awai- 9'1f,a.v v MQW Peace on Earih, Good Will to Men ARELY perceptible in the dusk of the approaching night and the blur of falling snow was the bent Hgure of a man shoveling. His immaculately erected white walls on either side clearly showed the curving outline of the driveway. His mechan- ical precision and rhythm were interrupted suddenly as he stopped, leaned heavily on his shovel, and scrutinized his work. Facing the wind, he was squint eyed while re- garding with swelling pride the two long, billowy mounds of snow. He drew a long breath of satisfaction and exhaled, watching the vaporous cloud mix with the white flakes and then disappear. There was no question about it. He had done a perfect job, and the job was finished. It had to be perfect for tonight. He turned and started climbing the hill, looking at the large house above him. Each flake that fell close to a window was transformed for one glorious second into a star-like diamond. From the big Christmas tree, which he had struggled to get through the door uninjured, the lights blinked their colored eyes at him through che ever-descending curtain of snowflakes. At the time he had softly cursed the tree for being so big, inaudibly sworn at the door for being so narrow, but now its good-na- tured winks coyly smiled and beckoned and teased him into mock cheerfulness. A slow smile crossed his face as he thought back to the happy Christmas mornings left far behind when his little ones toddled and ran about the cottage, searching for small trifles that Kris Kringlen had hidden in obscure places the night before. He heard again squeals of joy and childish giggles as they found the exciting gifts. Where were his children now? What had become of them in the face of foreign invasion? He must not think about it, but how could he help it? A thousand questions rushed into his mind, but with one great effort he blocked them out and hurried on up the hill. Arriving at the back of the house, he could see through a steamed window the blurred form of a young thing dressed in white, hustling about the kitchen preparing dinner. After the shovel had been desposited in its usual place, he closed the door of the tool shed securely. He felt a pang of hunger pierce his stomach, and he remembered he hadn't eaten since noon. Of course, that was what he needed. No man could feel normal if he dicln't get his food. Surely that was why he felt so queer. He must have a good Christmas Eve dinner for himself like the other folks. After a short, brisk walk at the edge of the icy highway, he arrived at the door of the tavern, pushed it open, and was greeted by a cloud of smoke, which eagerly poured out into the night. The noisy din of glasses clinking together, the jazz music of the puny orchestra, and the general buzz of conversation interrupted by a loud shout or laugh every few seconds stung his ears after the peace of the silent night. For a moment he was tempted to leave this place infested with the mirth and excitement of holiday celebrators, but his hunger prompted him to sit down to eat in the farthest corner from the crowd. As he slowly removed his heavy sheepskin coat, he noticed the hole under the right arm and the worn places in the fur. Soon he would save up and get a new one. So far the winter had been mild enough, but he knew by expe- rience that the worst was yet to come. He took out a pair of old-fashioned glasses from his back pocket and hung the loops over his large ears in one proud movement. Sitting very straight, he looked like a pompous major-domo reading an important proclamation as he thoughtfully studied each item on the menu. He was a different man from the heavily clothed, hard-working shoveler of an hour ago. The removal of his clumpy fur hat revealed a shock of light- colored, straight hair parted on the left side and neatly combed down with water. His face was that of an outdoor person, deeply creased about the mouth and forehead from weather-squinting and a ruddy, reddish brown in color. His blue eyes were small 28 THE FLAME I. Kg? me G I mf' 7 ' '11 H gf' 1X nl ', 119 O and set near each other, whereas his long nose and broad. mouth were prominent upon his face. His expression was not only authoritative but also patient and kind. His whole appearance displayed above all else self-importance. A big dinner was what he wanted most. He wanted to fill himself top full of good hot food! The roast beef for ninety-five cents looked pretty good, but that steak for a dollar ninety-five included more. He,d best fill up while he could. Never know what might come tomorrow. His train of thought returned to his children in spite of his desire to keep them from his mind. He shouldn't call them children, why, they were a grown-up woman and two men now. He wondered what they would manage to get to eat for them- selves and their youngsters this Christmas. If only they were here. Why, he could buy them a big meal! Yes, anything they wanted at all. If only they were here. He tried hard to black out this thought but merely succeeded in making it stick harder in his mind. He glanced at the menu once more, then caught the waiteris eye, and beckoned to him. Will yeh bring me a ham on rye and a glass of beer? The waiter breezed away. His dinner would amount to the total of twenty cents. Walking with his head down and his back 'slightly bent, he avoided the sneering gaze of the light by concentrating upon setting each foot exactly in the middle of the stamped design of the tires. The queer weighty feeling had not left him when he rounded the curve and walked behind the house. He puffed up slightly, thinking that perhaps it was because he had not ordered his dollar ninety-five steak. Makes yeh feel pretty good when yeh deprive yerself of something yeh want, knowing some others can't have it. It' helped fill up the gap between him and them. He looked at the shiny, dark, streamlined automobiles of the family evenly parked in front of the garage. Some men did well for themselves in the world, but he supposed the family had their troubles too. What would his children have thought to see three such ma- chines parked behind their house? He chuckled. Huh, perhaps they had never even seen one! They might be afraid of such a powerful engine. Too bad they couldn't X ,rg ' R9- V'NPP1r 'fhius Yokamsa bsAovo lf, mi-Q? usfss. YXQNBKXJLS. qqk 0915- X129-2? wma :qc Ox3 Q0 gown have had such things. Y MQLLQQ He paused just long enough to dig out a red bandana from beneath the layers of cr? QBYIDC1 clothes and blow his nose, then he went on in the direction of the barn to his little 2Oi,1r-,SQQQLQ house. Formerly he had looked forward to coming home, but this night as he glancedb ubqvx,-E Q 1 up, the outline of the little house was bleak and dark and lonely against the sky, like a dead tree on a wind-swept hill. It had always been such a comfort to know he hadkici-e3'kkS-f a place of his own with a bed and a stove to sleep and be warm in. In his mind it had li been the finest of houses that could be-maybe because it was all his own-but now L,-yy he saw that it was just one room, square, with four small windows and a door. He dreaded Sm K to step forgotten and alone into its blackness. . l x Once inside he hastened to put on the light and to set fire to the wood in his stove. Now he could hear the soft moan of the wind as it whistled about the corners of the cottage. Mighty sad sounding. Funny, he didn't notice it outdoors. Next he looked down and beheld the bulbous clothes which hung upon him. He removed each article slowly and put it in its place until he was standing in his black and white wool shirt and khaki pants held up only by his faded blue suspenders. Sitting down on the squeaky bed, he examined the small radio on the table near him. Considering that he had won it on a drugstore punch board, it had worked pretty well. Its trim modernistic lines were strangely out of place in the littered room. He reached out and carefully, as though he feared breaking it, turned the knob, then sat back, waiting for it to warm up. Suddenly singing voices leaped from behind each junky article: Peace on the earth, good will to men, From heaven's all-gracious king, The world in sol-- THE FLAME CD05 A9-'OV' 6Xl5:9-Q QQBQ2 355332. K Qva Qing,- 5K9'snCg QQ-L if raw a A kdvwnrq uLJ'fXg9l ob! gy, lk O I X xO -J L v In one quick action he had stepped from the bed and turned the knob with a jerk. He sat down again calmly and gripped the edge of the lumpy mattress with strong fingers, while staring blankly at the opposite wall. His heart felt heavier now than before. He was sitting there when he thought he heard a knock. Hearing things again. Why, who would come to him tonight? Everyone else was chattering about something far more important. No, there it was again. There must be someone. He strode across the floor in three steps and threw open the door. Delicious odors filled his nostrils. He saw a tray of food, including roast turkey, dressing, gravy, hot coffee, and all the necessities of a real Christmas dinner in front of him. For a moment he said nothing. He was hardly aware of the smiling young thing holding the tray and saying, Merry Christmas! Would you like some dinner? Finally with a broad smile he stammered, Thank-yeh, thank-yeh kin'ly, Ma'am!', He took the tray, set it on his table, and turned to close the door. There was someone else carrying a huge white package tied with a red ribbon. He gasped as he read the card, Merry Christmas from the family? With many grateful thanks he closed the door behind them. Turning around, he rubbed his hands in anticipation and sat down delighted to his Christmas meal. Oc- casionally, between mouthfuls, he glanced at the cheering package beside him as though trying to guess its contents. Mighty thoughtful folks, the family. Sometime later the lights of the little house went out, the bed uttered one long squeaky moan. Only a dim yellowish glow from the bedside table broke the darkness, and a chorus of voices penetrated every nook of the room. The owner of the bed stretched out contentedly as the heavenly harmony of All is calm, All is bright, re- sounded in his ears. His stomach was full to the point of discomfort, but it felt good. Warmth and friendliness flooded his heart until it seemed like a blown-up balloon. What were those words now? He thought hard for a moment, then whispered, Q'Oh, yes: 'Peace on the earth, good will to menf PEGGY S1MoNs Form V Firelighi BLEW out the candle and jumped into bed. When there is a storm at the island, the electricity is cut off. The violent part of the storm was over, but it was still raining steadily, and there was an occasional flash of lightning through the murky sky. I turned over and stared into the darkness. Through the open door of the room I could see the fire, still bright in the fireplace. It was flickering and dancing gaily, and the room looked warm and inviting with its high ceiling and pine paneled walls. On these walls weird shapes danced as the fire burned low, and in the corners of the room dark shadows lurked. There was one occupant of the room, Gerry, the big, awkward, spaniel puppy. She was stretched out in front of the fire, looking very warm and comfortable. She must have been having a bad dream, because every once in a while she twitched and yelped. Suddenly she woke up, stretched, and shook herself in the most disgusted manner as if she wanted to shake off the intruder that had disturbed her sleep. Then she flopped down after turning around three or four times and promptly went to sleep again. I couldn,t go to sleep quite so easily as that, however, so I began to count the pine knots on the wall. I got to a hundred and seventy-six, but by that time I was all mixed up, so I turned over and started on another wall. Outside the rain dripped drearily from the roof, and across the bay the foghorn was bellowing mournfully. I looked back at the fire, which was now nothing but a mass of glowing coals. I suddenly felt very tired, and soon I too was asleep. NANCY GAVER Form II 30 THE FLAME False Spring T WAS so like spring that I wanted to shout and caper as I started down the drive- way. 'QW'ill you be warm enough? Mother called after me. It's chilly out. l'Oh, no. It,s just like spring, I cried, unable to restrain a skip' as I turned onto the narrow muddy road that curled over the round hills toward the farm. Nearly all the snow was gone, but the afternoon sun flecked the corn Helds with glittering patches of light where it was reflected in the ice lying in the hollows between the furrows. It edged the bare trees and bushes with an almost metallic yellow light that sharpened every outline. The air was as clear and piercing as a birdls call and so quiet that I could hear the echoing of woodchopping in a farm far off. I held my breath to listen to the stillness. I started to run, jumping from one hard ridge in the road to another, back and forth. Sometimes I slipped over into the soft mud, which made a sucking noise as I pulled my foot out. Panting, I stopped to jump up and down on the thin ice of a water puddle and watch the bubbles run around underneath like beetles in a lily pond. Suddenly it crackled and overflowed over my shoes. I had known it would, because it always did in the spring. I picked my way through the mud in the farmyard. The bushes beside the house were budding. Mr. Darso, I called to the farmer, who had just appeared around the corner of the barn. Can I see the twins?', His heavy-boned face creased itself deeply into a smile, showing crooked, black- ened teeth. Sure can. He stumped before me into che warm dark cow barn and unlatched the gate of one of the calf pens. As my eyes grew used to the dimness, I made out the two tiny calves lying with their legs doubled up and the cow standing over them, her head low, her tail swinging. How darling! Twins're unusual, arenlt they? What are they? Boy and a girl. Yah, very unusual. Mr. Darso nodded slowly, watching one calf which was trying to get up, its legs propped out stiffly and its neck straining. He nudged it gently, and with a sudden movement it stood, wobbling on thin, knobby legs. This here's the little bull, he's plenty frisky, he added with pride as the calf nuzzled the top of his boots, its fluffy tail jerking nervously. And Ruby here, she sure is proud. He stroked the flank of the cow, which stood motionless, only rolling her nearsighted, bulging eyes at him. Satisfied, she licked the calf's neck with a broad, rough tongue that left dark patches where the hair clung together in little locks. Watching the three, while Mr. Darso clucked encouragingly to the calves, I lis- tened to the living rustle of the barn, full of soft munchings and snortingsg but, through the rustle, I made out a painful rasping. I peered between the Cslats of the next pen and saw a calf sprawled flat in the straw, his round eyes glazed. Each time he gasped, his ribs seemed ready to prick through his matted hair. His breath made a dry rattle in his throat. Why, whatls the matter with him?', He's always been kinda sickly, and the other day he ran out and was out too long in the cold. Poor little critter. He must,ve thought it was spring. Mr. Darso picked off the straw sticking to the calf's head, but the dying animal didn't move. Only his legs twitched. Feeling a little sick, I thanked Mr. Darso and said good-bye, then walked slowly out into the farmyard. The bushes beside the house were withered and dead in the grey of late afternoon. The sun now hung so low that even the stones on the frozen road cast long, knobby shadows. The oaks hunched their twisted limbs, cautious and withdrawn. Now the silence was no longer the stillness of expectancy but rather the soundlessness of desolation, undisturbed by any living things, broken only by the tan- THE FLAME 31 9 gled braeken which rattled in the wind. Shivering, I curled my fingers up inside my mittens against the cold and hurried toward home. When I came up the driveway, Mother was peering under the straw covering of a flower bed. There were two thin brown shoots. Some of the tulips are coming up, she said despairingly. Now they'll freeze. Why, it's still the middle of winterf, SALLY AMES Form VI Christmas Party NE of the many annual Christmas customs is the party that we give for twenty- five children from the Gillette Crippled Children's Hospital. I'm sure that we have just as much fun as they do. We love it, and it seems new each time, even if this year will be the fifth year we have done it. Just for fun I'd like to take you to one of our parties. Before the bus arrives, we dress in our costumes for the Nativity Pageant, rush around, and look out of the window to see if it is coming. My uncle, who is make- up director along with Mother, finishes putting black paint on my face. I'm the black king. Mother then pushes us into the living room and closes the door. The front door is opened, and our guests come in. Some canlt walk, and the bus driver carries them. Some of their arms are in casts, but they all are cheerful and in good spirits. Our audience watches wholeheartedly as Gabriel comes to Mary while Mother reads about it from the Bible. Next they see the shepherds asleep on the ground, and Gabriel again appears, looking as if he came from the sky as he sits on top of the piano. The last scene is in the stable when the shepherds come, and the youngest one offers his little lamb. Then we, the three kings, come in from the living room, singing, and as I sing, Myrrh is mine, I can see what a good time we and they are having. Then we all sing Silenf Nigbi, and Mother tells them our names, and we rush away and frantically rip off costumes and make-up. After using pots of cold cream and boxes of Kleenex, I finally get the black stuff off and go downstairs, for the best is yet to come. Then we play games. It makes us want to cry to see, as we saw last year, a big boy of about seventeen playing Musical Chairsn for the first time in his life, as he had never been able to play it before being helped by hospital care. After they have played games, and we have played with them, we sometimes sing carols, and then we have supper. Some of them canit eat the things we have as they are on special diets, and their food is brought, but they don't seem to mind watching the others eat our sand- wiches, cocoa, ice cream, and Christmas cookies. With fires burning in the fireplaces, the tree lighted, and the singing and the gay laughter, it really is a Christmas party. The next thing we do is to pass out presents. Last year we gave books, and we think that is the best plan, because the books can circulate around the hospital after- wards. All our presents are wrapped up, and the children really exclaim in joy. Then with candy, popcorn balls, and their presents, they get on their wraps and leave. Daddy is home by this time and helps the bus driver carry out the last children who canyt walk. We stand on the steps and yell, Good-bye, and come againf' Good-bye, and will we!', they answer, and they will. After they leave, we gather together and clean up and exchange stories of the children we played with and talk about the little girl of five whose muscles don't co- ordinate, who tried to walk to the table and fell halfway there but calmly said, I do that a lot, but I'1l get well. A lot of things like that happen, and all nine of us who are in the pageant do hope they will come again. EDITH NYE Form I 32 THE FLAME Miss Randall OW, it's such a wonderful day that we must have the benefit of this sun. We're going to go out and sit on the chaise longue in that little sheltered corner. The woman lying on the couch stared at the sheltered corner. May I read out there?', Her voice was spiritless and plaintive. We might. Now lean forward while we put on our coat and hatf' The nurse led the woman out of doors and settled her in the long chair. She swaddled her charge in blankets, placed a book in her lap, and gingerly put on her dark glasses. 'lThank youf' Read for only a little while. I'1l tell you when time's up. You,re very kind. The nurse stood erect in her stiff uniform. She knew she was kind in taking such emcient care of her patient, who murmured only, Thank you and USO kindf' Not like the last case, but she sighed and went in. The invalid relaxed and gazed at the trees. The last leaves rattled on the rigid branches. She closed her eyes and let the sun soak through her thinness. Her eyelids blazed orange. The image of her sick-room appeared, a properly dimmed, properly aired room. Two bowls of flowers-flowers which were cut and given fresh water every day. Perhaps they too would have liked old water sometimes, but Miss Randall bustled to and fro-taking away dead flowers, taking her pulse, taking her temperature. She hated the way Miss Randall took her temperature. The nurse pushed the ther- mometer between her lips, pulled it out, read it quickly, and shook it down with one efficient snap of her wrist. Miss Randall was capable. She thought of everything. At five o'clock every afternoon she let her charge sit up. She then filled the humidi- fier. The woman grudged the nurse the few minutes after the humidifier was filled, because it could never send up idle loops of steam until the new, cold water was warmed. That was Miss Randall, cold water. And the invalid hated Miss Randall's method of never telling her the time. She opened her eyes, and the nurse seemed to be standing beside her again, saying, Read for only a little while. The patient hated and hated Miss Randall, because in de- testing her nurse, she had lost the time to read. She started at the place to which Miss Randall had opened the book. Miss Randall always remembered the page, thought the woman as she looked down at the grass and wished that she had the energy to jerk a blade out of the earth. The sun was slipping behind the trees. Long shadows pointed coldly at her. Yet she loved this unbound afternoon. We,ll let you read extra long as a treatf' said the starched Miss Randall, who had just opened the door. We'll take our temperature out here for a changef, The thermometer was cold, but as it was warmed, the nurse pulled it out, read it, shook it. She was more capable than ever. We have a little more fever. What have we been up to? The invalid smiled but thought, Why, nothing, Miss Randall, you idiot. But we hate you, Miss Randall. 'Tm afraid we can't sit out here any more-not till spring. We must go back to bed now. Mechanically she said, You're very kind. Not till spring. Not till spring. Not until after starched winter. She couldn,t keep on hating Miss Randall until spring. The leaves rattled, mocking her, Not till spring. DEIRDRE BUTLER Form VI THE FLAME 33 -,.f l 0ewwQ-ocxqecuaflbssacwj e e ' A npfnito. T WQf0TV'IYN53 U3-L md HCKPP'-I A Night on the Island uincaccomposnied Kkaitlttafiuoo. QQLQ, go ERHAPS it was the floating island pudding that made her think of it Dinah,s mngotgolyq' K' l M9 pb5 ,P face lighted up. Why don't we spend the night in the boys, cabin on the island? R 3. Q Then we can get up early, go over to Bar Harbor for the regatta, and the Pest won't 0 even know that we've gone. ' YNQNO Cxllvmtb What a marvelous idea! exclaimed Cynthia. I've always dreamed of a regatta ben VMQ- Nvxqpgf without that bossy creature. .QNQJQQXNNSYXQ Oh, darn, I forgot. I have to go to the movies with him,', Linda groaned. There wasn't any way I could get out of it this time. PQg 'u lm 3 You certainly take a lot of punishment. Well, Dinah and I will get everything Ln TJV9- ready, and you can come out right after the movie. SYAA-OO Ds.. By the time Cynthia and Dinah had all the necessary equipment for the night, '9u'r1'1- LSU-Lk it was nine-thirty. The twoi girls couldn't help laughing when they saw how many f-lA,.,Q9J5 bib 1 Of3Q1..JI' ppt. 5- aocf. in -f-uorwcit Ywwgbfperfxedt crvXQ163 d0JiKQDlCIaI? 3fuQo CQZDCSio,.oWN-UIX9-5 'l-Inn Dam? 'NQASX Nb sxS2pci.Q five v-HQML iLQlD MSG-19:5 loQ,u.Lm.vQx wane 'ws- GVSQWQ-'GSI Qi UAVISQ. W things were piled on the float ready for embarkation: several boxes overflowing with 'IV13 Q X O E- Vkxs cookies, a bundle of wood wrapped in newspaper, three flashlights, and a duffel bag XQQQ ip Lkbbvvsl.. conveniently holding the bedding. U . kb 'OL I feel like a criminal loading dead bodies in a boat, remarked Cynthia as she mxxu ous JN heaved the duffel bag into the stern. Lqqpk LQ L ' What a night, thought Cynthia. The ocean was as calm as a cup of water. From Q- XOGYXKINIL YxcuOlCaptain Kidd's Island came the screeching cries of the cormorants to disturb the other- pQ'QW'o.9, . , , 9 wise quiet atmosphere. The sky was an astronomer's dream. Far across the bay Green CID-1-KOR-1:35-N Vx Nncsuk Mountain stood, a dark landmark. The island, not more than half a mile from the sbqQ ,T?AAN:: S L' shore, was a long, mysterious mass of trees. 6-Yuba ,QA-A-ghnlx 'UJU-JCC,-'KaX.5 Hey, don't go drowsy on me, ordered Dinah. Watch out for rocks and sub- lkbam LSSNQA , 0.5 TOY marines on the starboard side. Taq- bmhxl Nb 0 ,, I can't recognize the landing place at all.', Sze , 0251! -Q4., KYIIIQ- b X I guess the best thing to do is to hunt for another landing place and then walk -germ c'STs along the shore until we find the cabin although I,m not very enthusiastic about ex- K yo ploring this lonely jungle. I They beached the dinghy, tied it securely to a rock, and started along the shore. Ouch! These blueberry bushes are very attractive in the daytime, but boy, do -OQJQO. neg Ek3 Y'o-JN L9SJ'L.gthey scratch at night! yelped Dinah. T5 1-vsifvcb, 'YYXUYynf6LQuick! Shine the flashlight over there. That's either the cabin or an elephant. , S Y0u're right. There she is. 'ewes U via 9 W0uldn't you know that the boys would mislay the key, said Cynthia. No 'AA' -35925 W doubt the Pest swallowed it and didn't even know the difference. Oh, well, this won't Www bei Lsssm. see.....? Eine.--:I buns! carsefitt YT 21be2Ef3iM.3:Q 9'L 7-?,-,N,,9,, ivy Wqxgine the first time I've entered a house through a window. . Qxum bo Two double-decker bunks served well for sleeping purposes and a little stove for ukq-13-fr Qvglknk can loo Q7 the furnace. The walls were decorated with fascinating pictures of Hollywood's latest X-.gag-S-S Hnds. The last occupants of the cabin certainly hadn't done a very complete house O95 B5 Q hmm, cleaning job, there was dust on all the upturned furniture. The only lantern in the kbfn Dei 1, place was broken and its glass scattered. lqo'VE Have you ever seen such a hideous mess? These mattresses must be stuffed with dust. They are just filthy! X. WPUWN1 2 I quite agree, but this is not the time to be choosy. You go down and row the boat over to the cove. I'11 take a flashlight and meet you at the harborf' suggested I 19f Dinah. They put the dinghy in its resting place for the night and brought their be- x N longings up to the cabin. o 0 Q Heavens, do you realize that it's midnight already? gasped Cynthia. , That's the penalty for spur-of-the-moment planning. Do you suppose the Pest , will follow Linda as usual and discover this hide0ut? ww ,D - . M W Mah F,Wi'WQ 6tiI cululitpit2-tl-answfredw4CygAhia. '1I-Iegk-always prying into our affairs. QQJXTIO-Ml cIi:L,,gi'..l-'TPLUTQ R ac, I N- irq. ,I AED.-a 'A ou. . 2 f. 'f',,2?QW ig.: 'Q 4 ' -- t ffe-w'Ii?T,utE 'ifi A Effea-aemii Y hair Page gg 1-IMT wo, MMC-STK-fe Q. Om we -as-tat... ' t-as -.hsafamgiwe tt' S -vs N932 we 655' CM: w Q1-fel: muck ucuA9.sc?.:lfxol.:.Ne Xtbqfvo mm gina. deem mgsqx, x+p,h,N NIM N0 156 fensfswmtwwsibresgqmm s?w....:maeeBs2aWT Xe9iQQ7:.-k'942'QL'QSLnDs- ,Xwc'V.4Tiu.a.q5-kQ,,L4 bbkaqn-I Q-P,A9'?f'QA Tr MU' W-T.Wovu.s-uSRi'-VN-Sf: 00--X BA---1-E549 BBQ- Q Gcvna--use-3' 4 - E , 0 , lpszll PHI 'l-XQ..P-Pkf. I of +hiS pcscfs.. bacnnsa I smrgg... x XCTNL Q.nBEuT.yxi. 61, spd... Sxupprq The.. bcxxkik buD.S1 Q Thai' L2 QPUVP I3 M figij, Suddenly a loud clear Voice floated across the water- Dinah, is there anyone Legg- JULQ3 qoxx S- fmt fi1na1lZtgr.aIgajp1llZIw:d by ten minutes of jovial singing. The girls look? Bt each otheFY ?yyrwg:,.?:k15 S 5 ' YYY K 5 T49 Y-lxx Why, that's I.inda's v0ice!,' exclaimed Dinah. The Pest must have gotten hersvqm Qfji Q92 t g,QgXX QXWST drunk. Everyone all over the bay can hear her. YTWST 3 Y? W Xioug Q at-an .fCynthia! Dinah! For heaven's sake, come and help me. .I rpwed out here alll GNxQ,gv,S .N ST- by my lonesome, my flashlight fell overboard, and Im scared stiff. N A I Q..a.,r.33, . . . . X1-ygxl QSQN Cynthia jumped out the window, tearing her slacks as she went, and dashed bl-if i mi own to the cove. There was Linda, standin in the bow of the boat, paddling as though WXQYQ . g SE-NL GL Ynlgg she had been brought up in a gondola. so 'YN-K2-QLN -T SP-lctijx. Shag 115123 impossibie .to TC wljjf th? rlpckg are.I II had lyisionljg of spending,thef night LQ-,qt Snug l Q s groun e on a ree in t e mi e o t e ay. ope t e ca ins warm. m rozen. . r I .GQ qxqmi cj' My, you have enough food here for a royal banquet! she exclaimed as she climbedxfghg v. I' Q- o VS Qi- in the window. vi I M SQL, I suppose you had a delightful and inspiring evening with the Pest. Which ,WGS if 5 1 one of his great sailing feats did he choose to expand on tonight? asked Cynthia. 5 A 'vs Ni , xt?c5 I don't really know. I put on an intelligent expression and then turned a deaf , T N I V3 SI,-x A ear.', Xyyq KANIX 2,5 qu. QI cum Maybe if we let him keep on talking, he'll lose his voice. x' lc Qm ogy bl 'J It wasn't until three by the rusty alarm-clock that the cabin was really silent. ' ' T av 'lF2X1riiS 5IlC2.'f. ls .. .. 'IF I Silk, hy? R. Lnhun it Cynthia woke up with a start as the alarm bellowed in her ear. Why, it can'tYxIt-Q 2INxq',, I - ' be seven already. I just went to sleep. I wonder if the others are awake. A kicE!qYY1'i.. YNvL.t P -tbxkqk' in the mattress above her brought quick response. QAXS CQXJQALR OJ JL mlqg Ouch! My black and blue place, you brute, yelped Dinah. Why did yougk-.xx . , wake me? I was in the midst of a divine dream in which I threw the Pest off a boat ' ' .T singlehanded. Now I'l1 never know whether an octopus ate him or not.', V596 SLP .WGS Pam. I 'E Look at the weather. How disappointing, groaned Linda. It always has ten-0 be drizzly and foggy on race daysf' D qt- QUAD f' T.. use COW! TYXL ral- Oh, well, donit cry over salt waterf' answered Cynthia. Besides, our main con-3 kr , . WXZQALNQQXL ghwlern 35: is L0 git overli to Bar Harboii-I lgefolie we're dtscoveredf' f-WTS 1 en t e t ree a Venturers reac e t e cove, t ere was a surprise in store 0151, TE, IYNIS 53 cwslx wxhthem. Fifteen feet of irregular rocks separated the dinghies from the deep. Unless!-WCS, , px, hi. Xian. 593- you're in the business, carrying rowboats is no fun. R4 WCM 'E I certainly hope we didn,t put a hole in the bottom when we let the boat dowrfx' bo' 7 on that sharp rock, said Dinah. KAY: S-xixhcl IQK1-0 Yov- Weill know soon enough? X5 xii' LRG Qhf, SQ My back's broken, Linda moaned as the second dinghy slid into the water.h - Yo I'Iaven,t we time to rest for just one minute? Suddenly she straightened up. The Uocgrx Ak Lg' mr D' chug-chug of a too familiar motor boat was distinctly heard. Around the corner of xglgg- 0, the island came the Pest. ,SJ 0 Good morning, damsels. Just thought I'd come out to look for whales. Any-XAVNIAA chi-C003 Q.xsIU'sU.. . s thing I can do for you?,' X Qxyyg-fx - KITTY JACKSON Form V Iik- WD - - Oxgxxxggi Eg-4,q,s.k,, Y ' N vom.-me-ts. bats. sims I ' A Flash on-'nq ohisdbk 336.21-His , 3 , T bg-92, Qhxxhxi, AVE you ever had a feeling that you were on the outside watching other people,sxKoL,' S' lives o on? A kind of flash which lasts only a minute and then oes awa - K GS-kvbd T S 3 Y ,So like the coolness of a first gulp of water turning warm in your mouth just as you KPKDXE this QQ' discover its coolness, or like the pop of a tight-skinned grape when you bite it. You on gn ci E bite again, eager for another pop, but all the pop has gone out of it. That's the kind xpxk ilxsvxm . it spit., A ES' an Scsmvrhxl clssq0cuu.QoSc. C-Q1-I WGN-YI?-QQ Ms HMS .1 rpg L-at-flft? L where:-T - iasmhust ww-ses?- 'ee'3s 'aTff?Ez'ii':L'X1v'i'1?Xf'f-091'-2 'S gg,-Q a,,,..S 'ilu-. 2.69 Qocx xsnmkwwuk Ryman- C563 IXSSY Qs. Oj?i?N2?fC Sxkket kpoka, qdu lfXQv-.vol on oucvx Rcggg, 'CL MI. Vcbvbv Qmiwwq QOM Qui cxoun Quai. cami Qs QXQL1, Timm! 'RYXXQ4v.2.S.QfS5hT -F. 5.75 iTj'Tl' ISR? 'o2.c,o-4-ni . Qs-QXXX-gfil Yo mv, xhoaoz SMBUHNYNNYKX ff' l '-0 C:inae.T -xA,.1- rb'uwx'so Iii- X-.np n.1-snivsxgxt' lr-eel-Ani, C3166 hcua If-cs QQX Nh A U1 jg 0 ,lfjum 0 arf fmt OPI-'Ldnufls if an YVw'f'K X ,l9otuJlfVWJ of flash this is. For a moment you are separate from the rest of the world. ll around . I you life is buzzing, but you can sit back and watch it. It's like Watch the Fords Go By,', except that you can watch them any time. This is something special. It just has to happen, and then you must hold your breath and enjoy it all you can, for it will only last a minute. Then it goes away, and try as you may, you can't get the feeling back. That happened to me once, and at the queerest time too-not when you'd expect it to happenjat all. I was at school, upstairs in the highest room, practicing on the piano. I always practice in that room if I can get to it before anyone else. It is big and has windows that look out over housetops and tree tops. I save my most beautiful piece for that room, and if I have to practice in the other hot little room, I play only scales-minor ones. But this day I was in the good room, and I was playing my most beautiful piece when suddenly it happened! I think the reason it happened was that my piece ends very loudly and suddenly. There is a lovely waltzy part and then the trill part where I always make a mistake, and then it ends with a bing-bang! This day I made the usual mistake and ended triumphantly with bing-bang! Just as I was about to do bing-bang over again, because I like the sound so much, I began to get the feeling. There was a great silence in my room after my crashing ending, and still from the other practice room came tinkle-tinkle, from downstairs came the hum of voices in classrooms, and from outside the shouts of boys playing. Yet none of these broke into my silence. I was alone, standing still while the rest of the world Went right on. Not daring to touch the piano for fear of breaking the spell, I stood up and walked to the window. Then I held my breath and watched. The outdoors looked like the little glass ball in my room when it has been shaken up and is having a snow storm. Each flake floated deliberately to the ground as though it were trying to decide where to land, I thought. From very far off I heard the tinkle-tinkle of the piano and someone shouting, Hey, Jim! , and I knew that if I 3 2 A I 0 J -J'r'g,Q,: .aft Olrh- Marial T. Hua! NWS 505k OL-V'-d jfll Dealclkfl Yau, dfv . Q 1 I shook my head or blinked my eyes, the sounds would burst into my head, and the QA, TQJJ2 spell would be broken. So I didn'tg I just stood still and watched. Way down the Street I saw a woman coming through the snow towards the row of little wooden houses in front of school. She was carrying something heavy. At first I was annoyed with her, because she was making a track through the wide stretch of snow that lay all smooth and white and shining, up to now unstepped on. But when she came closer, I saw that she was carrying a baby wrapped in layers of blankets and capped by a bouncing tasseled cap, and then I felt a little sorry for her-it was so cold. The baby's arm lay across its mother,s shoulder, and sometimes the tiny mitten would scoop snow from the mother,s coat and toss it playfully into her face. Then I felt very sorry for her and hoped that her house was the first one. But she just bent her head away from the snow and hurried on with her heavy baby. She passed the first house, and I hoped hers was the next. She passed the second, and I hoped fervently that it was the next. It wasn't. At last she turned up snow-hidden steps of the fourth house, and as she climbed, the door opened. For one second I saw a bright, warm light and heard very faintly, Hi, Mom! Ain't it cold? Then she disappeared inside, and all that was left was a row of houses, warm little boxes buried in snow, and soft, slow flakes deciding to fill up the lonely trail of footprints. Tinkle, tinklef' went the far-away piano. Com'on, Jimf' went the voice from out- doors. D-d-d-d-d-d! the bell! School was out! I jumped, ran to the piano to get my music, and bolted down the stairs to study hall. The spell was broken. I was part of the world again. PATTY RAY Form VI THE FLAME 37 ,,'CLJ'V1lVl C I ...ze nf-5.1 jzlafy, Q gel f N ,,,,,f. ' K 1 f I ix 4 P IO -S - R S ,091-K' fk0..9P9-'ga I Qfwx Whos-Q 1-A S541-49.45 VXOJ.-L. Yvxoqg.gnQ5 typ penis. . . , . L Qmw- s,wt.5...ks.t xngyryo Les D1ff1cultes dun Enfani Unlque in QQ 9 I I TRE enfant unique-quelle catastrophe! Autrefois je ne connaissais pas ce malheurg S53 ggkqb-2 : j,avais une soeur qui semblait, a ce temps-la, etre un malheur plus grand encore. r ' Mais maintenant qu'elle est partie au college, je sais la verite. Helas! S Mango,-9.n.J.Q . . Comme tout le monde eut le certifier, une mere ne eut as aller faire une com- ix, Cn, no lm.-Sl mission elle-meme: c'est, comme vous savez, le travail de ses enfants. Quel travail wi Ms Lskbrk pour un enfant unique. En Voici un exemple: C, J- Autrefois nous nous asseyions dans le salon, ma mere, ma soeur, et moi. Mary et bo!'Q'VVXL 734:90 rnoi, nous nous appliquions a nos etudes, mais je pouvais voir que ma mere desirait quel- T boo L 1 que chose, elle marchait de long en large et toussait tres haut. Elle jetait un regard SK-QNKSJQV-JB MOC'--,9, a l'une, puis a l'autre. Elle hesitait, et moi, je retenais mon haleine. Enfin, elle disait: ii Stu-cwegqx lm-4-Q-SK mn- Ffwmtncgmiqq GUM- vm.,-9, mms is i-cfm JPG bak sw.. N-B Mary . . .U Ah! J'etais sauvee. C'etait le tour de ma soeur. Maintenant quelle difference! Ma mere n'hesite pas, pas un seul moment. Elle dit, Sally, cours en haut, et apporte-moi mon tricot, mes lunettes, et ce livre sur ma table et . . . Et je cours. Toutes les meres se tourmentent, et ma mere n,est pas une exception. Mais autre- fois elle avait deux sujets de tourment, ses deux filles, et elle- etait contente. Par ex- emple, quand je me preparais a sortir: Au revoir, Maman, disais-je. uoi? Oh, au revoir, ma chere. Amuse-toi bien,', re ondait-elle, lisant tou'ours Q10 vs-uw-tg P J LUG. son journal. l I VM Mais maintenant c'est une autre histoireg bien qu'il n'y ait qu'une fille a la maison, To PM-A, FQQYQAQ elle continue a s'inquieter pour deux. Quand je dis, Au revoir, Mamanf, elle me re- arde sursaute nerveuse tendue. 4500. S 0.9. v-M-5 5 ' ' r - - 1. - - 2 , Mais ou vas-tu? Rappelle-toi, ne sois pas en retard. Avec qui sors-tu? A quelle E I 'vm' heure rentres-tu? Reviens a la maison tout de suite apres le cinema et ne fais pas . . . SWNQSLJU Et ainsi de suite pendant des heures et des heures. ' I SVNBUHSQX hs. Shdixxwa ii-'nntp bod? 'L gang. Peut-etre ma soeur portrait-elle mes robes sans me demander la permission, volait- elle mes livres, me disait-elle ce que je devais faire, prenait-elle l'auto quand j,en avais grand besoin moi-meme, mais tout de meme maintenant je me fais une fete des Vacances, et enfin je comprends cette chose si malcomprise-l,amour fraternel. bdcvvxk was vo. SALLY AMES . Q' ovvz' . Form VI Konus w-or .54 S h t CSLOYII1- sill' l h h d l d ony HE ig ts a a rea y gone down, and the orchestra was on the stage as I followed Q 5 5 l L its V THe usher to my seat after the intermission. I was just asking the man on the -9-4-041. TW-Y'2S+ N-Lv-Q. i-WHfQ..ud9-0-l.9.,. N-N.wc.,b,Tw.. 0 M3-1Ga-o-Q-C4- ff- dabwdi Su..S'v wowlbxnb Xfsk-SN-f-e-6-C754 4-smmlo x-.s.w19.s. aisle to excuse me as, after the last preliminary cough sounded from the balcony, I heard the light flapping of applause, almost like wings fluttering, beginning far back and running through to the front rows, gathering sound as it went. I looked up cu- riously at the stage, as a new pianist was the guest that night. I watched him carefully as he made his first appearance. He was a tall, slump-shouldered young man with long, loose arms and great hands which swung at his sides. As he turned to bow to us, I saw his pale face surrounded by black hair. His dark eyes glanced out quickly over the audienceg then with a little smile he sat down in a low, straight-backed chair at the piano. The conductor was already on his platform, his hands raised. The drum rolled a long, rising roll and ended in a clash from the orchestra. The 642 pianist followed with a few short chords and then let the orchestra rake up the theme. R V-HAT' Q5 He then echoed the orchestra on the iano and soon was joined by it. I watched his P Lgou. Cpnh SQL , x15 'T Q . f EOM' , as THE FLAME P9-Ldisilgs uox.'1'1h Sl'U..4.1,ivxQ api'-4 S U ,QQ,-9Q,sn- LES al: v-ws-5 lf-4311 -45 'O e-,wr-4, tHeM -S hands in a little run down the keys. His fingers, curved over, looked like two spiders sidling along together. Then, as he reached the end, he leaned back. His lhands clung a moment to the keys, almost caressing them, and then fell to his sides as he watched the conductor. I turned too and saw the conductor's hands were stiff and straight, stabbing at the violins to bring out their notes. Then, falling to his sides, they swung back and forth, and his whole body swung with them, and as quickly they changed again. This time they were open, palms up, and he was again turned to the violins, pulling out their music with all the strength he had, so hard his arms, up to his shoulders, shook with the effort. I noticed his face. It seemed at Hrst expressionlessg but as he turned more toward me, I could see he was biting his lips, and I saw there the same force as in his hands, pulling music from the men. They responded to it, and the bows shot up and drew down in perfect unison. Suddenly he relaxed, and as a cello in the front row took up a simple, singing melody, he smiled. The boy playing the cello smiled a little in return and then looked back to his instrument. As the dark purple notes played on the air, I began to listen and watch the orchestra again. I saw the violinists, flanking the piano, swaying with their bows while forming a shifting background for the central theme. Suddenly a violin with its light notes, almost green in quality, came out. The two were then echoed by one whole side of violins, which took up the melody, stopped, and in turn were echoed by the other side. The giant double basses caught at the last notes and repeated them again and again, and the men swung their bows back and forth like great scythes. They were interrupted by the black staccato pricks of a whining oboe, but after a few disagreeable remarks the sweet, now unfamiliar, drops of music from the piano gently subdued the oboe. I turned to watch the pianist again. His hands were a blur above the keys as he manipulated two or three small trills. He shook his head and laughed at them. They sounded like saucy children echoing amusingly some remarks of their elders. His head was bent to catch the gay little bits that followed, and I realized that my head was cocked, too. Then came a sadder, more tragic part. His shoulders hunched, and he almost winced as he played it. However, in a moment he was working up to the bigger part of the concerto. As the rest of the orchestra built up the theme, his hands leaped to the very bottom of the keys where they worked in a long deep, bass trill, which reverberated in the depths of the piano and slowly began climbing up. Then one hand took the theme in loud crashing phrases while his left hand rolled up giant waves to meet the other notes. His hands were spread up, stiH, straight, and tree-like, and then relaxed in quick changes. His head tossed up and down with the chords which came in long measures. At each last chord he followed the sound over the keys with his whole body and ended with a high swing of his hands and then would lean back for a moment, panting before attacking the hands spread out over the whole orchestra, miration thelflushed boy at the piano. The held tense and strong as he thrust out the grasped greedily for the bright, red shouts next group. The conductor now had his now and then turning to watch in ad- conductor's hands were never relaxed but muted blatancy of the French horns and of the other brasses. He nodded to the drummer to begin a deep roll. A saucy flute stood out for a moment, only to be rolled under a swelling tide of strings, woodwinds, and brasses, which, after a tense wait, clashed out together, oversounded by only the piano, now at its height of beating and heaving the music into a creamy surf before rolling up another great wave to the tri- umphant end. CLELIA THOMPSON Form V THE FLAME 39 Fifteen Minutes DOORMAN stepped from the shade of the canopy to the baked curb and whis- tled. A taxi pulled up, and the driver ran around the front to open the door. He mopped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. We emerged reluctantly from the air-conditioned hotel into a city of stagnant heat. l'We'll need another cab, called Daddy, tipping the bellboys as the last load of baggage came through the swinging door. Then, addressing the two drivers, Pennsyl- vania Station, and step on it. Our train leaves in Hfteen minutesf' Yes, sir, we'll make it, answered one of them as Mother and I wedged our way in between the bags piled high in the cab. Daddy and my brother took the other cab, and we started. Along Park Avenue, whisking by the apartments and their polished doormen, then over to Fifth Avenue we swept, always keeping in sight of the other cab. I craned my neck to watch the famous shops and salons dart by. I tried to remember everything I had seen in the last three days. Finally I had to look up, or I would have had heart failure watching dodgers barely escape our menacing taxi. Through the topless cab, I followed the Empire State Building with my eyes to its very peak, and the higher I looked, the farther it seemed to be leaning toward me. We were a part: of the steady stream making its way at the bottom of a canyon surrounded by per- pendicular cliffs. A Suddenly a bus came careening by as it swerved to miss us. Apparently everyone in New York drives, thinking only of himself. A policeman's shrill whistle greeted me, and a hat box fell on my head as we jerked to a stop. I pushed it back up on the pile of luggage when we plunged forward again and tried to mend my bent feather. I fumed, the cab driver swore, and the air was electric. We tore by Times Square, and I got a glimpse of Broadway. I wanted to remember the impressive tumult I had seen there the night before, but in the daytime, there wasn't any romance and excitement, no lights, no perfume. It was like a stage fallen into disuse after the play had closed. From here on I could not follow our route. We turned and twisted so many times that it was all I could do to keep myself seated. The pavement was so hot it burned us through the floor of the car. Mother and I took turns leaning on each other as we screeched around corners. The time was getting short. I saw Mother glance at her watch several times, and the driver hurried on, faster and faster. Per- spiration began to trickle down the back of his neck. He didn't mind this strenuous driving, for he threw a few words of comfort over his shoulder. Don't be nervous, lady. We're used to this traffic, it doesn't bother us a bit. Then, he chuckled, You folks must be from out of town. There was a delivery truck parked double up ahead. We almost clipped its door off as we went by. The streets were so narrow there was hardly room for two cars to pass. We switched from one aisle of traffic to the other. We left a very astounded policeman behind as we ran a red light. When the traffic was jammed, our two drivers would stand on their running boards and hurl directions at each other over the sea of cars. Finally we pulled into the station. The driver helped Mother and me to climb from beneath the luggage and grinned. You have plenty of time to catch your train. I'l1 take care of your bags. We thanked him, and hanging on to what was left of our hats, we ran across the station. SYBIL SHALLENBERGER Form V 40 THE FLAME x s.- Num, 11+ N5 - Ea.f,,,, The Champ ACK in my youth there was only one thought in my mind, and that was to become a lady wrestler. This desire was aroused in me by my two brothers, who found me a favorable guinea pig to try their new grips and holds on. These grips interested me so much that I begged them to teach me how to wrestle. So they, glad to be able to show their skill to someone less talented, taught me all. I soon became wrestling consciousf, I wrestled with all my stuffed animals, Mother, Dad, and the maid, much to the latter's distress. Soon I became regarded as The Champ. I didn't even ques- tion the truth of this sarcastic title. Because I was dying to try my prowess on some- one outside the family, I pleaded with Mother to let me start school. After a great deal of thought she and Dad consented. So off I trotted to school at the tender age of three, feeling very full of muscles and powerful. Within three days I had made four enemies with whom I had daily fights, much to my brothers, delight. They saw no harm in their delicate little sister fighting with her schoolmates. After a while the four boys became tired of being beaten up, so I chose some more, and after that still more and more. Then one day one of the boys said, Aw, yer no good! Youse can't even box. I was deeply hurt by this statementg so I went home to the boys and asked them to teach me how to box. As they were willing, I acquired a new life ambition, to be Lady Heavyweight Champion Boxer. Poor Mother! She had to be prepared for boxing at any minute of the day. The maid also had to be on her guard. Santa Claus brought us all boxing gloves, and I was still more encouraged. Boxing matches were arranged once a week. Dad fought his side all alone, and we three would stand him one at a time. Often to put a little excitement in, he pretended to be knocked out, but one night he didn,t even have to pretend. It was my turn to box him, and just by chance I hit his solar plexus. It sent him right down. I ran and jumped on him as did the boys. We all were jumping up and down and proclaim- ing me the winner when Mother came in. After we climbed off Dad,s chest, we found that we had broken three of the poor man's ribs. It is needless to say that that was the end of the career of f'The Champ. DEBORAH DONNELLY Form III After the Storm The thunderclouds of gloom had moved along. The rain clouds, too, had leaped across the sky. The whirl and ferment that had blown so strong Had stopped, last whirling traces spinning by. A drooping lilac shrub with one small bud I found, with tiny spheres of rain hung thereg And then I saw, sucked in the grasp of mud, A broken tree, its great, proud limbs laid bare. Why should the fates, in paradox, this form Take on? A sweet, small thing is more empowered Than one more strong to stand against a storm. The mighty tree when tried had crashed and cowered. Does faith give strength to tiny buds to cling Till, lilac-like, their fragrant grace they fling? CLELIA THOMPSON Form V 42 THE FLAME In Africa for a Day E QUIET! They are coming this way. The wind swayed through the tall palm trees, making a soft slap-plop, slap-plop among the wide shiny leaves. The soft tread of footsteps came nearer. Two feet appeared, and at last a whole black warrior glided through the thick wall of leaves. The sun glistened on his bare back and shoulders as he stooped to listen. As suddenly as he had appeared, he melted away. We can go on now, 'cause they've passed without seeing us. Take the river way. It,s fastest and quietest and will make our escape much easierf' Their crackling steps turned to sucking noises as they tramped through a treach- erous bog near the river. Water seeped into the dark wells left by each step they took toward the muddy river bank. There a boat lay hidden by huge, green tropical ferns. Having pushed the raft from shore, they found that poling down the river was not an easy job. The bottom was slimy and slippery. At every curve, gnarled trees stretched out delaying arms. Soon the river began to widen, and the current moved less swiftly, giving them an opportunity to watch the shore more closely. From overhanging branches flowers and feathery moss waved silently to point of light dancing in the wake of the raft. Queer striped fish flashed to the surface, blew bubbles, snapped up a winged insect, and disappeared. Often a parrot screeched from an unseen tree deep in the jungle. As the raft rounded a curve in the river, a band of monkeys jumped about in the trees, chattering crossly at the intruders and following along from branch to branch, from tree to tree, until there were no more trees. A wide yellow plain lay soaking up the late sun. A breath of wind, and the plain seemed to shudder as if cold, until reassured by the sun, it lay still again. Along the banks animals came to drink. Lions and deer came. Even an elephant crashed through the bushes, trumpeting and snorting. They glided by, however, with- out shooting, for they were being pursued and could not be discovered. They floated on past dim wooded banks which dropped long ferns and spindly grass into the water as it flowed along. Suddenly a floating log came to life. It was a crocodile which thrashed and heaved until the raft turned over. He bellowed horribly as he fought for his life, and they fought for theirs. Water splashed the utmost branches of over- hanging trees when his tail slapped the water. One mighty twist of his tail and the raft was smashed to bits. Suddenly all was still, and the crocodile rolled on his back in the mud. The sound of their feet in rubber-soled shoes sloshing up the bank and away from shore was the only disturber of a silent twilight. I do wonder where Peter and Johnnie are, Laura. They took their lunch up the road to Jackson,s old farm, and they haven't returned yet. John will be simply furious if they don,t come home before dark. It,s twilight already. Fm worriedf, Don,t worry, Lee. They know this country as well as we do. Besides, isn,t that they coming up the hill over there? See? Two glimmers emerged from the woods and climbed the long hill up to the house, gradually turning into two boys in sweat shirts. Panting, they stopped before the women and chirped simultaneously, Hi, Mom. H'lo, Auntie Laura. Johnnie! Peter! Where have you been? Did you go on the river and fall in? Yah, Mom. We went up to Jackson's like we said we would, but Lonny Stubbs and some other boy were up there, and we don,t like Lonnyg so we sneaked away. They almost caught us, but we escaped and floated down the river on an old raft we found last week. Yah, and we went through the woods right by the field where the horses and THE FLAME 43 c .,. I 15' fx ,Q I A+- Y .7351 L Sgt? cows stay. We saw some squirrels that followed us and made the most noise. I saw the new bull, and he made a lot of noise, too. Pete saw a turtle, too. I-Ie tried to catch it, but he reached too- far, and the raft tipped over. That's how we got wet. Oh, I see. You boys had better go in and have Nanny dry you out, because it will be time for your supper soon. I shall talk to you about this laterf, JOANNE BROWN Form VI Mrs. Pend1eton's Ice Cream RODE slowly along the main street of Afton on a hot summer afternoon and watched her for a long time as she sat there on the back porch. She had been stoop- ing over somethingg and as I came closer, I could see that it was a rusty ice cream freezer into which she was now peering intently. I jogged slowly into her yard and dis- mounting, tied my horse to a post supporting a sign which read: Mrs. Pendleton? Homemade Ice Cream. Mrs. Pendleton's round, perspiring face greeted me cheer- fully as I rounded the corner of the porch and scaled the wide sagging steps. She drew a soiled pink handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped a plump sticky hand which she offered me. . 'lIce cream ainyt quite ready yetg but if you'll move thet milk pail so's you can set on thet green stool, it'll be froze afore a minute, she breathed in a voice as hot and life- less as the day. She returned immediately to turning laboriously the handle of the ice cream freezer which made a soft crunching sound as it moved. Mrs. Pendleton was seated in a sprawling rocking chair which took up most of the porch space. She was surrounded by cans and tins of varied sizes of whose contents she was continually taking small pinches and adding them to the mixture in the freezer. A brown and white cat lay curled in her lap. She apparently took no more notice of him than to give him an occasional pat with her busy hand on its way from the handle of the freezer to one of the cans. Mrs. Pendleton's hair was a pale white on top, but the short overper- manented' ends were a faded yellow with unwelcome patches of grey in between. One skimpy lock clung to her damp forehead as if it were glued their permanently. A faint blob of rouge lay upon one wet cheek, giving her a lopsided look. I-Ier inappro- priate black dress fell in limp folds about her unstockinged legs, and her feet bulged uncomfortably in black pumps. I looked up as she lifted the cover from the freezer, and as she scooped a generous scoop into a brown cone, she dropped a small blob of ice cream to the floor. The cat lifted its lazy head with obvious longing but settled back to sleep after a moment. I rose to receive my cone and felt the frostiness of the fresh ice cream blow over my hand for an instant. Into Mrs. Pendleton's hot, eager one I placed ia nickel and went out to my horse. I could feel her eyes upon me as I mountedg but when I turned, she was again bent over her freezer as I had first seen her. GEORGIA RAY Form IV One Morning in Summer WAS asleep, but even in my sleep I knew I was hot. The sun was staring through the screen at me and shining in my eyes. It woke me up. I looked across the porch. Anne must be hot, toog her sheets were heaped in a big white pile under the end of the bed. She was still asleep. I knew that, because her mouth was open. She always sleeps with her mouth open. I watched a hornet fly from one screen to another, bump- ing at regular intervals, the wire resounding with each thud. Finally he disappeared under the eaves, and the only noise now was Anne's jerky snore. The wind was just 44 THE FLAME strong enough to push the long arm of an old pine tree back and forth like the feath- ered fans Rajahs have their slaves move constantly. I was uncomfortable. My bed resembled a river bed with a high bank on either side. I had a choice of sleeping in the river or on top of one of the banks. Anne seemed to be comfortable on top with one arm dangling limply onto the floor. I tried her position. It wasn't a success. I remembered the letter I still hadn't written. If I got up to get my pen, the floor under the desk would creak. Maybe it would be possible to step very lightly on the loose board and not make it squeak. That would be worth trying, but it was too hot now even to move. All our clothes were huddled together in the corners. A few stray pieces scattered over the floor looked like little piles of leaves raked together and left on the lawn. We would pick everything up tomorrow for sure. I heard the spring water gurgling and bubbling over the rocks and through our outside ice box. I remembered the butter and oranges bobbing up and down in it like ducks in a pond. It reminded me of break- fast. Breakfast today would be just the same. The stove Wouldnit heat even with its new supply of kerosene. That was why we ate sandwiches every morning. I remem- bered yesterdayls eggs. They weren't cooked. We ate them though. The bathing suits, hanging limply on the clothesline outside the porch, looked exhausted from their long soaking the day before. I rolled over onto the other bank of my bed. This side was better. From there I could see an ant trying to discover a way around my shoe. He made his zigzag course, bumping into the rubber sole and then turning back until at last he succeeded in passing. I supposed he felt the way Magellan did when he rounded the straits. The milkman was coming down the hill, and his bottles clanged against each other, keeping time with his whistle. He was late. I could tell that, because the loud clangs the bottles made each time he took a step came more often. I got up to tell him we wanted six quarts again. Anne was awake now, too. Another day had started. It would be spent just as its ancestors had been, and the clothes would still be heaped in the corners. JOAN KUEFFNER Form VI Au bal Je suis au bal. Je suis tres excitee, parce que c'est mon premier grand bal. Je porte une jolie robe blanche avec de petites rosettes sur mon epaule. Je pense que je suis belle et je fais une petite pirouette Qquand personne ne me regardej. Alors le bal commence. Debout essoufflee, j'attends mon premier cavalier tinscrit sur mon carnet de danses. Il s'approche. Je gemis. V-voulez-vous m-me faire l'honneur de d-danser avec m-moi? dir-il. Que faire? Avec un soupir je commence' a danser la valse avec lui. Apres quelques minutes, tres ennuyee je jette un coup d'oeil autour de nous, et je vois les grosses vieilles patronnesses qui sont un peu engourdies et rigides et quelques jeunes filles rougissantes qui dansent avec leur gai cavalier. Je vois aussi quelques jeunes filles qui font tapisseries, tout a fait miserables. Ouch! Mon Dieu! quels grands pieds a ce garcon! Oh, pardon, moi. p-pardon! dit mon cavalier un peu confus. Enfin la musique finit, et mon cavalier affole me dit, Cette d-danse a ete c-charmantf' Au revoir,', dis-je vite. Apres cette premiere danse je m'amuse bien et a minuit je pars. Oh que j'ai sommeil! Oh, que mes pieds me blessent! - CHARLOTTE FITZPATRICK Form IV THE FLAME 45 Beyond This ORMA DARLING shaded her eyes against the screaming sun and called in a throaty voice, Dickie, Dickie . . . come in an' git yer lunch. The heat seemed to muffle the sounds, and a tired echo threw back only broken fragments. She sighed, stepped from the background of the doorway, and started across the yard. Her large feet kicked up miniature dust storms and disturbed loose pebbles which grated peevishly together. She stooped to pull a greedy weed from the flower bed and squashed a daddy longlegs which was resting on the grimy face of a nasturtium. Prob'ly rain now. Shouldn'ta dunnit. Well, silly idea anyway. Maybe Dickie's in heref' She opened the barn door. Manure, hay, and sour dampness crept at her from the half-lighted depth. She blinked and entered. Dickie, Dick-ie. I-Ier voice trailed away self-consciously as large animal eyes turned toward her. An apology rose to her mouth before she realized it, and she turned confusedly away, leaving the dark, perspiring walls to catch the mute reproaches as she closed the door behind her. Her body winced at the yellow heat outside, and the sand burned through her shoes. Where is that boy? We,ll never git goin' at this rate. Dell,s goin' to have the car here soon. Mosta the packin's done .... Dickieln Even the heat couldn't conceal the strength of this last call, and before long a small figure appeared from behind the house, struggling with a three-wheeled wagon piled high with treasures Whadda ya goin, to do with that? I told ya we was only goin' to take a few thin,s. Yer pa,s never goin, to let ya bring all that. A quiver of the dusty, little face and a gathering cloudburst in the eyes brought the promise, Look, honey, we'll git back some day. In New Brighton ya,ll git lotsa other things. Ya won't even want these. Come on. I got a nice cold glass of milk and some cake settin' in there. Come on, Dickief, But even a new home and cake didn't seem too real to a boy of five. 'qDickie, listen. Ya kin have that book a mine, the one with all the swell pitchers in it. There's room fer that. This suggestion seemed reasonable, and Norma Darling and her son went in for lunch. Soft clouds had dulled the glory of the sunset, and the air was near and suffocating. The old car looked fragile as it slumped wearily on the thin tires. But, Dell, we gotta take them dishes an' things. We won't have nuthin'!', I tell ya we can't. Take a look at the car. It's full clear up! We're goin' to be rich, Normag lord, Norma, this is goin' to be our second chance. Jist leave every- thin' to me. Jist let me handle the thinkin'. Ya ainit done so bad so farf, Q'But are ya sure there's goin' to be all them jobs down in New Brighton? Maybe we shouldn't jist tear up our old lives like this and set out. Maybe wet-U Maybe nuthin'. Quit worryin'. I know what I'm doin'! Ya heard Mr. Rogers yerself, saying 'bout all them defense jobs with good pay. Ya can't jist pass up some- thin' like that. Lord, I'm sicka workin' a farm. Ya jist don't have no spunk, Norma. The Hays are movin' in here tomorrow anyway. Jist let me handle everythin'. Hey, Dick, come on, we're goin'! Come on, Norma, Lord, ya'd think ya was doin' me a favor by goin'! The engine snorted, and the car shook like a wet dog. The clouds were getting thicker, and the air more intense and heavy. Norma turned back for a last look around her. She was silent, heedless of everything but her own poignant thoughts. Dickie pulled Hercely at her skirts, sobbing, My book, my pitcher book, it ain't here. l'Hurry up, Norma. Lord, we gotta git goin'! Come on! Ma, my book, my book. Ya promised, Ma, ya promised! Norma climbed into the car, her head lifted, her eyes straight ahead. Dell eagerly shifted the gears into Hrst and started down the rutted drive. The clouds burst with a fury, and a river of rain washed down, driving the heat out over the fields and 46 THE FLAME BU fl, ixxxi. ff A W i l I ilk SX, l,, if l l X ff X l My !I.V Wk H,1.Ni,i mix . woods. Second and high, and they were on the paved highway, heading toward New Brighton. ANDY HUNTER liorm V Four in the Family T WAS an annual occasion for the Dapper family, and everything was set for it. The dusty lights lay in a heap on the floor, the tinsel glittered from the corner of the sofa, and the Christmas tree itself stood green and dark in the most conspicuous corner of the living room. Mrs. Dapper had thought the tree would look lovely on the landing of the stair, and Mr. Dapper wanted it anywhere but squarely in front of the bookcase. But Jane knew that it would be where her young, excited sister, Anne, wanted it and had quietly gone about moving the furniture so as to make room for the tree in front of the books. Now that the tree was finally in place, the whole family stood and admired it. They had had a hard job, what with the battle over picking it out and the nervous strain of driving it home tied precariously to one fender and making visibility almost zero. Mr. Dapper, remembering the ordeal, silently resolved to be away on business next December twenty-third. His wife had driven the poor tree vender to his wit's end with her persistent demand for needles 'ljust this long. Between Anne,s frozen ear and her pleading for a Giant White Pine, he had experienced a terrific blow to his already waning Christmas spirit. He had always thought it would be nice to have a little tree on the piano anyway. Well, it was just lucky that Jane had happened to find a tree that suited everyone before he went completely out of his mind. C'mon, Mom and Pop! cried Anne, dancing around the tree with house-rocking thumps. The tinsel! The balls! No, the lights first. Mother, may we have a star on the top? Come on, Daddy! She grasped her unwilling father by the sleeve and pulled with impatience. Mr. Dapper raised his eyebrows imploringly at his wife, who sighed and took up her cue. Anne, dear, your father is tired. Now let him read his paper. Go help Jane untangle the lights. Why, Jane! Youlve got them almost ready! Mr. Dapper perspired with relief and relaxed into his large armchair, holding his paper high so as to hide the bustling scene from view. He disliked confusion. Mrs. Dapper stepped back from the tree slowly, pursing her lips and tapping her chin with a meditative finger. Jane, I saw a beautiful tree the other day with just blue and silver balls. She sighed. It reminded me of fairyland with its quality of- Oh, ish, Mother! said Anne. Well, it sounds all rightf' said jane thoughtfully, but it's more Christmassy to have all colors, I think. Anne, don't put all the green lights in one bunch. Finally all the lights and balls were in place with an all-time record of Anne's having sat on only two of the sparkling ornaments. Now for the big job-the tinsel, which Mrs. Dapper insisted must be draped one strand at a time to make a silver blanket over each twig. Jane went up the ladder and started at the top, and Mrs. Dapper started on the side. Anne started in the middle and hung che first strand mos! care- fully. The second strand looked very nice too. The third strand slipped and fell to the floor. Anne thought she would try another branch and dropped a handful of tinsel onto one tiny twig. The overburdened twig bent under its load and shed its silvery cloak in a heap on the branch below. Anne sighed and said, Q'I'm going out in the kitchen to get a cookie. Bring me one, called Jane as she surveyed her branch, which dripped smoothly with tinsel. Anne skipped kitchenward, playfully dropping a silver strand on her father's bald spot as she passed him. Mr. Dapper reached in alarm toward the tickle THE FLAME A 47 on his head, tore the financial section with his elbow, grunted, and turned to sports. Little by little, the tree became silver. Now all three decorators stood back to survey the effect. Beautiful! There's just that one little branch down there. Do you see it, Jane?', said Mrs. Dapper. Jane took a bunch of tinsel and bent down to trim the empty spot. All was tense, for this was the final touch. Suddenly there was a creak, a great brushing and rustling sound, and then a tremendous crash! Anne screamed. Mrs. Dapper gasped. Mr. Dapper dropped his paper. The work of art had fallen. All of a sudden Mrs. Dapper remembered her eldest daughter. Jane! Jane! Where are you? Are you all right? A hand reached through the greeneryg a head appeared, and finally Jane stood up from within the wreckage of shattered balls, tangled tinsel, and burnt-out lights. l'I'm O.K.,,, was her only comment as she stared at the ruins before her. Then the effect of the tragedy took hold. Anne burst into tears, wailing, The Christmas tree didn,t fall down when J-Jane was ten!,' Mrs. Dapper stood shaking her head and saying, Look at that knotted tinsel. All my ornaments smashed. Whatever will we do?,' Mr. Dapper said in a tone that smacked ever so faintly of triumph, Why don't we just have a nice little tree on the piano? It won'U be so hard to fix if we can ever untangle all this, said Jane, kneeling down beside the tree and attacking the matted tinsel. Two hours later Mrs. Dapper sat down on the staircase with a sigh. Well, Jane, I guess we're finished. Jane dropped on a final strand and stood back, scratching her elbow. Not badf' Anne lay asleep on the sofa with tear-stained cheeks and tinsel in her hair. Jane said, Q'Well, Daddy, how does it look? Mr. Dapper looked up vaguely. I-Im? Ah-oh, fine. PATTY RAY Form VI . . . As Little Children OW sweet your Barbara looks this morning, Mrs. Drummondf' Mrs. Drummond nodded with an ill-faked modesty. From her seat in the back row of the chapel she could keep a maternal eye on her offspring, who was sitting in the front with the rest of the kindergarten. Her hands folded, Barbara was swing- ing her feet and keeping her brown eyes fixed limpidly on the minister. Mrs. Drum- mond nodded again and whispered back complacently, She loves Sunday school. I'11 be bringing Kitty soonf' Two's pretty young for Sunday schoolf, Yes, but she takes to the Faith sog both my children do. And they can't learn too soon to follow the Way, as dear Doctor Gardner says. The teacher was herding the kindergarten out now, and Mrs. Drummond gathered together her ample person and waddled off to collect her daughter. The vestibule was packed with children of every shape and size, their hair damply clean and their faces scrubbed and polished until every freckle shone. Above the scuffle rose the heads of fluttering mothers who were clucking to their children and searching for lost over- shoes in the general chaos. Mrs. Drummond finally elbowed her way to the overloaded coat rack where she found Barbara gleefully pinching a classmate and threatening to stuff a soggy mitten down his neck. At the sight of Mrs. Drummond she desisted from these Christian works and pulling her beret over her curls, docilely followed her mother. They squeezed out of the vestibule with its stuffy odor of wet rubber and scorched woolens into the 48 THE FLAME winter air. Their feet sank in jerks as they crunched through the crisp snow towards home. Well, Barby, what did you learn today? asked Mr. Drummond at dinner as he laid down the carving knife and attacked his second joint. Barby looked up from her peas and scratched her head with a buttery forefinger. About John the Baptist. They cut off his head and put it on a platterf' A happy smile lighted up her face as she added succulently, And it was all bloody. How nasty of them, wasn't it, dear?', I Barby made no reply, but squishing her mashed potatoes with relish, was heard to repeat, 'lBloody, bloody' several times, a reflective expression on her cherubic face. The dear child-she really believes, said Mrs. Drummond over her knitting as she and her husband sat in the living room that afternoon. Those little children put us grown-ups to shamef' she added, gazing at him with a missionary glint in her eye. They're the truest Christians of us allf' She received no reply from the depths of the easy chair where Mr. Drummond was entrenched, a glazed look on his face and his hands clamped on his stomach. Slowly his jaw dropped, and he snored gently. Mrs. Drummond settled her head among her chins and dozed through the long Sunday afternoon. A piercing shriek jolted her awake. Still grasping the knitting, she jumped to her feet and gazed wildly about. Kitty! Barby! she cried and pounded up the stairs toward the playroom from which mournful yowls were issuing. Gasping, Mrs. Drummond yanked open the door. A Biblical scene met her eyes: Kitty, a rolypoly child of two, in fuzzy pajamas, stood howling miserably. Her mouth made a square cavity in her screwed-up face, and her hands waved like half-closed starfish. On a chair stood Barbara swathed in Turkish towels, holding a tin tray covered with a thick red substance, suspiciously like catsup, which was spattered over her clothes and the rug. In her other hand she flourished a dinner knife. Come forth, John, she was declaiming, brandishing the knife over her hapless sister's head. Barbara!', cried Mrs. Drummond. Barbara dropped the knife and turned around. What on earth are you doing?', Barbara gazed at her with an injured expression. Her mouth drooped lower and lower and trembled at the corners. Tears gathered in her unblinking eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. 'Tm only playing Herod,', she murmured. She pointed disgustedly at her weeping sister and added, She's John the Baptist, and this, her face again lighted up as she dabbled her finger in the red mush, this is the blood. She dropped her eyes and again began to weep. Mrs. Drummond gapedg but as the words sank in, she slowly started to nod, a gratified expression creeping over her face. Q'Don,t cry, dear. Mother understands. You were just teaching Kitty about your Sunday school lesson. There, there, Kitty, honey, itis all right. Run along now, Barby, and start getting ready for bed. An angelic smile spread over Barbara's face. She looked up at her mother and coaxed, Mummy, you'll come up and hear my prayers, won't you?,' Yes, dear. Now hurry on, replied Mrs. Drummond, carefully avoiding the subject of the martyr's blood on the rug, for as she explained later to Mr. Drummond, it was no time for discipline, you have to respect the faith of a little child. SALLY AMES Form VI THE FLAME 49 Johnny's Father SAW him only twice. The first time was late in the summer. I was walking down a dusty farm road with my brother. We stopped to watch an old man load hay into a huge wagon. I remarked that he looked too old to be pitching such heavy loads. I f' ,.,,..fk Eur .-WTFQEH, ' ' 1 e - s 1 s s I was immediately answered, Oh, no, he isn t old. He s only about seventy. ..-,.-sg-1.:f::: ix'1,, r Z' A Ili Duma 1, I wondered what my brother's definition of old was. Seventy not old? That STE' may be a compliment to him, but I wouldn't exactly call seventy young. Well, he doesn't think so. Stan and I were up here yesterday, and he said that he was just a young man compared to what his father lived to be. The hay pitcher turned around, spat, and walked over toward us. He stretched his mouth into an almost toothless smile. 'Lo. That your sister? Buddy nodded. Then speaking to me, he said, You'd better tell your brother not to pick up none Qmxq 0, them rattler snakes. They might give 'im a bite. The other boy e'en put 'em 'round Qvnaql 'is neck. 0 x ml I looked at Buddy. I expected to see a purple arm or leg. He explained later Q QA Qzexib that the horrible monster was nothing but a harmless garter snake. I looked back to irruiixx . the sun-tanned man. He had just spat his uchewin' tobacceru on the ground. h Wall, I have to be gettin, back to the hay agin, an' be sure an' tell your ma about t em ratt ers. 'LW We walked back up the road past his two-story farm house. It looked very deso- 'cgi-'ARK 359: late and bare. I would have thought it deserted, for the windows were broken and M 'Kg the wooden steps had fallen apart. Although he looked as though he liked to work, Q15-K this certainly wasn't an example of whatever skill he might have. K: The only name I knew him by this far was Johnny's father. Johnny came to ' , our house three times a week. He was the Woodland Beach ofhcial iceman. We dreaded SYVNYIFM sound of his scales clanking in the back of his truck, for he always left huge pud- pr I ' VY! si-NB. dles on the kitchen floor. The puddles went from one end of the room to the other, ll' ik kgxbecause he had to carry a chunk of ice back and forth many times before he chipped XIX, Lg - xklsga piece small enough to fit the ice box. I saw Johnny's father a week later when I was buyin a frozen bar from the store can QI 'ww 8 of a small resort. Today he was dressed up. He had only one hole in the knee of his Pawcisn -xml battered blue jeans and Wore his newest worn straw hat. He was drinking beer at a D A Y.V5iable with other farmers. After a few minutes he got up, walked slowly to the door, opened it, and then spat so loudly everyone looked at him. He seemed to like all this attention. On the way back he stopped at the store's only slot machine. He put ' nickels in and pulled the lever over twenty times. Nothing happened. Still he put a few more nickels in. Without winning, he walked over toward me, muttering, LQNT - TNQ, bSY.Lsr'1 735 320 'hdfzx X' vfY 'O.. 3 kk.,-lr vmxmx I knew he wouldn't, but it was his money, and so it was his business if he threw F, ! ' . ' I he idea of ridin, throu h m 3 it away As he came nearer to me, he said, Whats t g y L alfalfa patch the other day? Them horses 'most ruined it. S. b Ski - I could feel my face turn bright red. I hated to be reprimanded, besides I thought XXQIB Xxbifn it was weeds. I didn't know the difference. Dammit! Them there things never work. I got a mind to stop playin' 'emf' 51 7-sbbkxtgq 'qqd:Ya can't tell me it warn't you, ,cause I seen you. ummm, kglxqugwell, IZ ' . ked hard for that crop. Your pa'll have to pay me plentyf, gg X1 3 Don t ya argue I wor Q T To kk I walked out the door. He followed, worse luck. I would most likely get the 5 same scolding from Pa, I didn't want to hear it twice. My ears were red enough 55 -xxx as it was. 'R-lAQsfqVX QW 'XV:XS'I'm terribly sorr , but I thought that it was just weedsf' I said, hoping that gfwgdwt fi be all. 5 W XQQ1 Q.q-531-1 . MATTJTTJ mt IQ THE FLAMEL,,...,.,mmx, 51 QB. Sun'-s X11 Nii3-l' sJfQ3 QYQQB Rmb uvxcxqq-4 'wsis uuuwrnur - Qui. - mtg: . eNtxxN:s-is-qu , sl' ,- f. ,ff-. .:::::-e affix' ,fieqsgaag - .: K-gg.g,:.a....wr-:Q-Q' I S- o.DAu.VL!Q-IB -or-nugll X - Well-tell ya the truth, you was right. All it was were weedsf, As I started home much relieved, he laughed loudly, Good joke, warn't it? Cer- tainly had you worriedf' And he spat furiously. , JEAN WEST Form IH George and Georgie ACK tore into the dining room Hfteen minutes late. Dad, I've just gotta go to Florida. Q'White or black? asked Mr. Heath, his carving knife poised over the chicken. Jack sat down. Drumstick. But it wouldn,t be any trouble. I got it all planned. I take the plane that leaves Minneapolis at three o'clock this aft,, and fly as far as Chicago. Then I catch the train and go the rest of the way. It's simplef' You're not going to Florida. Unfortunately your allowance won't stretch any farther than White Bear. Please pass the peasf, Aw, Dad, I've gotta go, 'cause- UNO, you don't. With the sabotage in the Florida plant I have enough trouble there without shipping you out. What's the matter now, Dad?', What's the matter! There're more Nazis in that munition plant than there are in all Germany. I've had George investigating that place for a month. He says there isn't a guy in the plant that Wouldn't blow' me up for a barrel of rotten applesf' Jack knew it wouldn't do any good to press the point now. All his father thought of in connection with Florida was sabotage. He hadn't read Georgiels glorious descrip- tions of Hshing, yachts, and alligators. Anyway he'd think his plant was more im- portant than going to a dance with Georgie. Jack and Mr. Heath finished eating in silence and left the dining room. Mr. Heath went over to the hall table and picked up the evening paper. A telegram dropped to the floor, and Mr. Heath picked it up. 'Mr. John Heathf Why can't they ever remember to put a 'senior' after my name, Mr. Heath muttered indignantly. This is the first time in years Jack has left me anything but bills to open-My gosh! It's from Floridaf' He tore open the envelope and read: 'Prepare bathtub for gift you will receive tomorrow signed Georgief H Mr. Heath whistled. Good old George. We'll show those dirty Nazis how easy I blow up. Their little giftlll be met with enough water to put out all hell. Mr. Heath called the police, and the next morning three squad cars were parked in front of the Heaths' house. Inside six policemen followed Mr. Heath as he stalked from one end of the hall to the other, energetically cursing the Nazis. After almost three hours of this exercise the door bell rang. Mr. Heath, followed by six perspiring policemen, opened the door. The delivery boy set a large box on the doorstep and lost no time in getting out of che way. The box was covered with stickers such as FRAGILE, THIS SIDE UP, RUSH, and HANDLE WITH CARE. Mr. Heath grabbed a pail of water and threw it onto the box. Listen, ordered one of the policemen. They heard a scraping noise accompanied by splashes. I've never heard a bomb like this before, muttered the policeman. Mr. Heath hated waiting. Fm going to open this thing even if it means we're all blown off this earth, he announced. He tore open the box. Two small eyes blinked at the unaccustomed light. As the police and Mr. Heath stood open-mouthed, Jack rushed into the room and lifted the beast from the box. l'My alligatorln he exclaimed tenderly. CYNTHIA DAVIDSON Form V 52 THE FLAME The New Forest PREADING in front of our Hampshire cottage lies the New Forest. It is one of the only pieces of wild'land left in England. Its gnarled oaks and spreading beeches, contrasting with its slender, beautiful birches with their silver hue, and its mighty, mysterious pines, their dark green branches swaying at the top, make a thrilling picture. Then there is the purple heather, stretching to the distant moors, rugged and bleak. There is golden bracken in huge clumps, knee-high on a tall man. When it is green, when it first grows, it is a good vegetable. The grass is beautiful, too, sometimes more lush than in cultivated gardens. The New Forest is the home of the stately red deer and the little fallow deer. They live in the heart of the woods around a green glade that my brother and I know about. Little graceful Forest ponies live here, too, revelling in the wild. It is a glorious sight to see one of them galloping across a moor, its magnificent mane streaming out behind it. Maybe I am praising the New Forest too much, but this is how I see it. SHIRLEY CATLIN Form I Il Faui Que Tu Nettoies Ta Chambre! Doris, il faut que tu nettoies ta chambre sans tarder d'une minute! dit Maman pour la centieme fois dans ma vie, meme si je n'avais que huit ans. Mais, Maman, repondis-je, Il y a un mois que j'avais fait un grand nettoyagef' Tu sais bien que tu as tout mis dans un tas dans le placard et ferme la porte du placard, Allons! Va! Cherche ta soeur et commenceln fobeis comme toujours. Je commencai sans ma soeur, qui dit qu'elle ne pouvait pas Venir avant la fin de l'apres-midi. J'ai ouvert la porte du placard, et tout est tombe sur le plancher: poupees, livres, papier, et jeux. ,Vai ouvert mes tiroirs et depose tous mes vetements sur le lit et le plancher. Alors je me suis assise au milieu de tout cela. Je me suis mise a faire un tri de mes livres. J'ai feuillete quelques livres et joue avec quelques jeux et poupees. Trois heures passerent comme ca. Ma soeur apparut et dit, Eh bien! Qu'as-tu fait? Cette chambre est, a l'heure actuelle, plus sale qu'elle etait quand tu as commence. Elle commenca par ramasser les choses sur le plancher. Bien des fois elle me montrait un tresor garde depuis longtemps en disant. Veux-tu encore garder cette poupee de papier? Non! Avant que je puisse repondre, ma chere poupee etait dans la corbeille a papier. Je n'aimais pas voir tous mes tresors detruits comme ca, mais si j'y faisais allusion, elle disait. Alors, tu ne veux pas que je t'aide a faire le menage de ta chambre? Je ne veux pas le faire non plus! Tu peux le faire seule, maintenantf' et elle se mettait a quitter la chambre. Non, non, dis-je toujours, j'ai besoin de toi, vraiment! et elle revenait. Nous avons fini dans une demi-heure, et j'ai resolu de garder ma chambre toujours en ordre, mais comme toujours il m'etait impossible de garder cette resolution. Maintenant j'ai grandi et ma soeur ne m'aide plus. Bien qu'elle soit un tyran, je voudrais bien son aide quelquefois. Mais pardon, il faut que j'arrete ce theme. J'entends Maman qui dit, as Doris, tu dois nettoyer ta chambre tout de suite! Doius MUDGETT Form V THE FLAME 53 Stones are gqsin5la'n5 'wlfflqjl Som? Y-We LI' Q50 IYIQ IWW HAVENIT forgotten how I sauntered aimlessly along our gravel driveway that A nba day, stepping hardest on the bigger stones just to make them feel inferior and nowi ' Boyne 0 and then giving one a swift kick for good measure. I tried in vain to make strands keqvg, 507718 5 of hair stop clinging to my neck by turning my head sidewise and rubbing my chin La. fwhvduf against my shoulder. I bent over twice to pull a limp, damp sock up from the inside 1-CA of my shoe but only succeeded in making it more misshapen. Had I been older, Ii. would have looked more closely at the clouds, which, although piles of pillows over- qhou 1 A head, darkened shade by shade until, at the place where the ground cuts off the sky, 95 can fu' l they became a heavy lead bar holding down the trees. It was very like today, exceptihern QVZP. the trees had all their finest greenery and blew heat at me with each Stlf. ' one .0815 is For a moment I stopped and watched the yard man cutting grass. His lawn Q-A L mower hummed in a whirring tone as he pushed it from one side of a small greena can en 6 patch to the other. His weight shifted with each step, giving his walk a swaggeringi VVIIXAOVL appearance. I didn't take my eyes off him as I walked from the driveway and seatedgjsfx myself ungracefully in a favorite place, a stone beside the thick trunk of a huge oak uxglfqp fs js, gi 1 tree at the edge of che green patch. I sat with my chin rested on my hands, concen-T A j I . . . . V' 14 H trating so hard upon the lawn mower that I could hear its whirr even when it slowed A K I 1: X to turn. Finally, when the man stopped, straightened up, and rubbed the small of his Q - 4 W back through a faded, drenched shirt, I roused myself and said weakly, Hi, Nels., ,L 'J 1 Sl. 'I Aren,t you hot?', I x T -4 v 'X He smiled toothlessly, took off his fIimsy straw hat, and wiped his forehead withfi A- a blue bandana while walking towards me. Pretty warm, but rain's comin', hed - - l replied. Otherwise everythin' would dry to a crisp. S 3 -, , A HI wish it would hurry up, I said, swinging my knees from side to side. ..-i , A . , . 1 1 - I Nels pointed towards the northwest. QSee those grey streaks over there? Ra1n's' ' already fallinf Yeh ken always see it thet way. -. Is that rain? I gasped. Gee, I thought it was a new kind of cloud or some- , A thingf' ' 1 . No, sir, thet therc,s rain, Nels drawled. v 1 There was a pause. Nels leaned against a tree and watched the rain in the distance. He was moving his hat around slowly in his gnarled, leathery hands. Otherwise he was motionless and absorbed in thought. His light hair was very thin on top, and a few pieces wriggled a little when a gust of hot air breezed by us. His long bumpy nose didn't go'with his small blue eyes. The tanned skin of his face was made up of little holes and crevices which deepened and lengthened when he smiled. The streaks on the horizon could no longer hold my attention. I picked a stone from the lawn and threw it back on the gravel where it belonged. Nels, I crooned softly so that it wouldn't disturb him too suddenly. He turned to me with a ques- tioning glance. Why are some stones little and some big?', I asked. Nels looked away and scratched the side of his head. Well, some of 'em jest growed bigger, thet's all, he answered with satisfaction, considering the matter closed. But the idea was a new one to me, and I pursued it vigorously. Stones grow! I exclaimed, lifting my eyebrows. I never saw one growf' Neither did I, but thet's nothin',', he defended, kicking the tree with the outside of his worn shoe. Sure, they grow jest like trees. Yes, but they donit have any leaves, I said incredulously. I don,t mean thet,', he answered, trying to push a piece of broken straw back into the weave of his hat. If I took and pulled up this tree by the roots, he began, patting the bark fondly, so thet there's a big hole left here, see? I nodded. Then if I took and put the branches down into the hole and shoveled in the dirt and left S4 THE FLAME the roots standing up straight, what do you think would happen?,' It'd die, I sighed with feeling. Do yeh know why?,' he questioned slyly, his little eyes opening wider. Because you can't stick what belongs in the ground up in the airf' I reasoned proudly. i Thet's it. Well, it's the same thing with the stonesf' he gloated. 'lBut how? t'Why, they jest keep on growin' until they get up to the edge of the dirt. Then as soon as they come to air,', he demonstrated with one fist as a stone and his hat as the earth's surface, they get hard and can't live any more. jest like the tree! he ex- plained, putting his hat back on. How did you know? I questioned, still not convinced. Nels took a few steps toward his lawn mower, then turned back. Well, a lot of people don,t know about it, but I've dug 'em upu-he lowered his voice- while they're still softlu I opened my mouth. t'What did they feel like? I called hoarsely. t'Well, he took a few more steps away, like-like a big rubber ball when yeh squeeze it hard. He pulled one suspender higher on his sloping shoulders, exposing a strip of the color that his whole shirt was onceg then he hurried on and busied himself with mowing the green patch. I got up slowly and poked the hard stone that I had been sitting on. I wondered who had dug it up and decided he must have been surprised to find it soft. Walking back to the house, I stepped as lightly as possible over the stones, think- ing perhaps some might still be a little soft. My hair, sock, and heat had all been forgotten by the time I arrived at the back door on tip-toe. PEGGY SIMONS Form V August in Sorrento HE sun beat heavily on the asphalt tennis court, drawing an almost burnt smell from its tarry surface. The two girls playing threw down their rackets and limply followed the trail through the woods to the shore. The old pines gave a slight refuge from the blazing August sky. On the float the boatman was spraying the inside of a dirty fishing dinghy. The refreshing splatter of cold water made the blistered boards steam ever so slightly. The ex-tennis players rowed leisurely out to their sailboat, which bobbed up and down with the wrinkled waves, a yellow smudge in a great blue bay dotted with rock-bound islands. Purple cloud shadows rolled across the curves of the distant mountains. As the girls sailed away from the shore, the sea breeze wrapped them comfortably and blew out the stiff canvas into wings. The yellow and white bird tacked back and forth across the bay with waves slapping its sides. The tender followed, splitting a clean wedge in the dark blue sea. It was like a giant, grey shark fin, cutting the water a few feet behind its prey but never reaching it. The wind shifted. Now it brought the deep sea tang with it and rolled twisted brown masses of weed on the swell. The voices of other sailors drifted across the waves to meet the returning Yellow Peril. The sails quivered, then swung over as she jibbed alongside the mooring, which was quickly picked up and fastened in the bow. The firmly anchored rope stretched suddenly out of the water in a tug of war with the drifting boat. Fifteen minutes later the afternoon sun was valiantly drying all traces of the day,s voyage from the deck. LEILA JACKSON Form VI THE FLAME SS Cycle Grove Lake, in the eighteen-nineties, Lay in the chain of lakes of the famous celery country, Flyway for diving ducks: Canvas-backs, redheads, Bluebills, and also the funny, small ones that Father calls Inky-ducks. These, now so rare, then blotted the set- ting sun and northern November moon In swarms, Grove Lake, flyway also for uhonkersf' Canadian geese are the wildest living things, Wild in their unearthly canniness, CSO that they travel seldom by night in the spring, But mostly by night in the fall,j But wildest in their sound. They never gabble among themselves in flight As ducks do, But they have a high-pitched, nasal cry- Short, ceaselessly repeated- The essence of their utter scorn for the earth. Their wildness maddened men, The men of the eighteen-nineties, Thickened and blinded in every way By the mad and hectic lust of the times, Clutching For what they were told were the highest goalsg Hating the goals while they clutched, Discarding them when they were theirs. So it was these men, with guns Quthe best my money could buyuj , And with dogs, which to them were damn good dogs, Nothing more, These men who slaughtered the geese- All of them, save a few pair. The descendants of these few, Wilder than any before, Were given a chance to breed a new race By their now disinterested former pur- suers. This new race was hunted By men like my grandfather, father, and uncle, XVho loved them, 56 And made a religion of shooting them, Which is as it should be. Ans Melby was of the latter type Before he grew too old to shoot, Or to do anything but sit, And, like his lake, to relive the past, A past which for these two Is now clogged and muddily blurred with the weeds of age. All evening long Melby stares Into the little oil lamp on the table, And only moves from his chair When he has to, Out into the night, The storm door slamming cruelly after him, Cruelly, since his age has stiffened his limbs, And therefore his pants are uncreased cases, tight on his legs, His shoes great wooden blocks, weighting his feet, Seldom indeed does he speak, Breaking into the light laughing talk: Geese early dis year. Feed good by de point. Mus' be tvent', tvent'-fife bird on de lake-de main nortyern flight. Dey come up las' night. Uncle Tom roared out, Striking my father's shoulder and grip- ping it hard while he spoke, Well, why not do it here, I mean, get us a bird at Grove? Save us that trip to North Dakota. Ilm getting too old to chase those devil- brained bastards All over hell-and-gone. How about it?', Father said quietly, looking at me, I'd like to have Ink get one this fallf, Then Melby again, this time to me, Ain't bin goose shot here Since your gran,fader got one, Let's see-, dat be in 'ninety-nine. When we came back into camp that night, The pain I felt from the sight of the goose brought to earth- THE FLAME I-Iow, its throat curving regally up In an honorable victory, I knew this when I saw what it meant to Melby To have his tradition and that of his kind through the rushes, It remained motionless, Watching me come up to kill it, Carried on, When I saw the light in his eyes Not even deigning to futilely flutter its broken wing- As he hefted the goose, And then heard his Not s, badf' The pain, the shame outweighed the thrill Of the sight of its falling after my shot. But then I knew there should be no shame CYNTHIA BROOKS Form VI X X I. If 'Our Sireeii R, I-H' Charge it, please. I da DQR. ' QQ, fQGQ3A Address?,' YJA19 Q U,fLj3.9. I 0655 I- CTN H506 Grand Avenueffax I W Grande Apmmema EQQkus.q mm:-X9-QM no wsmmsuoxouzr Okwse .Oth This familiar conversation takes place every time I dictate my address. I used np Gem my , to be indignant that the average citizen of Saint Paul didn't know our street, but now I am inclined to smile pityingly, almost glad that he or she does not. 'IZ Oh, you live on Grand? It must be very convenient to be right on the streetcar a 1 line and near so many stores- Our street doesn't really seem to be a part of Grand Avenue at all-certainly not gasenkax ami! Q the Grand Avenue of large brick apartment buildings, noisy streetcars, and rows of I tiny groceries, drugstores, and filling stations. No, our street rises haughtily above all CGIUUQQ. QQ , this for two blocks and looks down over the noisy intersection on one side and the whole dirty city at its feet on the other. V55 KRD V32 . . orxstl-it Q3'urx.11 As the streetcar you have been following for blocks turns one way, and you with U P Q . an a sigh of relief keep on ahead, you find yourself bouncing over a huge hump and up A . a hill that gives you some conception of what it must be like to test an army tank. M artl-Like!-A I have tried every conceivable way of avoiding these foothills at the bottom, either x QQ-L Ong by creeping up on them slowly and stealthily from the side, or by taking them fast and by surprise, but strangely enough they are always there. The dusty cinders scat- tered over the hill in the winter make it, if possible, even rougher, and many times I have watched cars get half-way up, skid, and angrily turn back down again. At the other end of the two blocks lined with tall old trees, at the bottom of a smaller hill, are huge cavities which are not friendly to the occasional motorist. Once annually, the city remembers to fill them in, but in the spring they always reappear. As children, it was our greatest joy to dam this whole section with mud and catch the rushing torrents from the melting snow in the gutters into a huge, gurgling whirl- pool. All the children in the neighborhood donned rubber boots and overalls and offered eager hands to this great project which, not being well organized, was the cause of many loud fights. Often one of us would dramatically crush the feeble walls and free the foaming muddy flood over the whole Street. Not being drivers ourselves, we were blissfully oblivious of the attempts of the innocent motorist to splash through this raging sea, often above our grimy knees in depth. The houses lining the street in a stately irregular row look like any other houses to the unobserving passer-by, but to us each has a special significance. The lively imagination of us children, fed on that literature loved by us but not by our parents, didn't have to work long on the square house two doors down from ours. It was built far back from the street, overlooking the bluff and reached by a weed-grown gravel driveway. The style of architecture is questionable, for it is constructed of flgpzki. vfls was- qupfinw QU2QL 'hir-.Quad 'Tdrw-. QW Q10-If Qian ,Q Qbd WQmkk0.9L es-.Q 6 1 iweau'WTY i Nikhil on haul-I C . bi:'t.Ii'r i.'?r,,, I '44-oxax YMQ. QEQAQ4 'nQi2x'0 w YUM Quan Us rua.:-r4.9-ll I 339 ftqfliodlarl' 'C Diqvs 1H0..Mao Ieww lO!XGLOYX.1Nvx 'XML 'hx Vi-9-Co..l..g,5.Q,'f :MQ 'Q-5 THE FLfRMEmo5u.yQ,Q revoke W rxeuSl1ox.nc1t,X5I ku wsapmeiqc I eknq cw.'ximkq x 'x ' .ea loo , 'wha xaaaw. M VERSE tfim Osman 03' P gliixkm qgmumm, .r.si.e.W.,..eYl5Wa esa.:e:se:em..M... ...ef .. ,mg pei-Z' txfh EQ. K s 0 toes Wxxwa QMAJI1-is IPMQSQ. n sickly yellow stone with dusty red wooden trimming and a tall narrow tower in the center containing only one small dormer window. Our parents didn't dispute the fact that the owners, as rumored, were an old doctor, an elderly housekeeper, and a chauffeur, but to us their identity seemed doubtful, strengthened by the fact that we had heard only the clink of horseshoes as they played. None of us ever saw them. We pictured this mysterious chateau the scene of a gory murder in which the strangled corpse was swung by a sheet-rope over the bluff and down to the tracks fstreetcar tracks are almost as effectivej by an enraged maniac. On our Hallowe,en jaunts we always skipped this house until the year when a few of the bravest of us dared to ring the doorbell. We heard it echo and re-echo in the empty halls before the door was finally opened a crack by the old portly servant, who handed us each a nickel in response to our cry of Tricks or Treats. This was something new and definitely unexpected. After much deliberation we proudly, though reluctantly, returned the money to the mailbox accom- panied by a short note explaining with thanks that we really couldn't accept. They certainly were queer people! When our family moved into the neighborhood, we were considered imposters and were whispered about by the old timers. This all changed when the house across the street was sold and redecorated. We would no longer be the newcomers. Then we were admitted into the gang, and we would all sneak stealthily in an open window and critically explore the house, arguing over where the sofa would go and what color curtains would hang at each window. The narrow sidewalks, which have a smoother surface than the street, were covered in the spring with the glaring chalk numbers indicative of hopscotch. We were not satisfied with the traditional game as other children played it but were con- tent only with complicated jumps and intricate turns. At the ends of the sidewalks, one summer the boys built four cement bicycle runways down the high curb into the street. One of these cracked and crumbled, and the others were so narrow that we usually got off our bikes anyway if there were no scornful male faces watching us. In the winter we children, in hope of earning a quarter, would all shovel industriously for about ten minutes after a fresh snowstorm. Then there would be heated debates as to where your piece of sidewalk ended and your neighbor,s began. These disputes ended in leaving a ridge of snow on the disputed border lines which would soon either be trampled down by long-suffering pedestrians or shoveled off by a bored parent. In front and behind the houses, stretch lawns of doubtful and varied shades of green. The one ambition of our Irish gardener was to make our yard greener than the neighbors', and this was a task because of the hordes of dogs that continually haunted the neighborhood. The numerous dogs owned by every family are continually visited by others, friendly and unfriendly. Often the mournful communications of one of these strange hounds camping on your doorstep for an indefinite period awakens echoeing responses all down the street the whole night long. If Mother didn't like dogs, she would go frantic every summer, watching her precious flower garden slowly sink under the weight of these dogs, children, croquet balls, and baseballs. In the middle of the huge lawn across the street stands the old stump, the central meeting place and goal for all our childhood games, and until lately could be seen the faint outline of the wobbly baseball diamond where the grass had been trampled bare. One whole winter was spent in constructing a huge snow house in this yard, an elegant aifair containing three rooms and a Hreplace where we used to burn marshmallows. If you should whiz by on our street as many do, you would not notice anything unusual about it, for there isn,t anything unusual about itg it,s just our street. BETSY NYE Form V S8 THE FLAME If You Want To Diet LMOST everybody who has ever been overweight knows what it is like to diet. I am one of those unlucky persons termed fatties in reducing books, which isn't a very complimentary name even if it is true. It is usually doctors who write these helpful books. They tell you to exercise will power. Don't give in to devil fat, they say. You read in the paper, You can become slender and beautiful in five days by taking Doctor McGullicudy,s Reducing Pills, and you can eat as much food as you ordinarily would. Usually these pills are Hlled with tapeworms or some kind of poison, which naturally would make you lose weight. But these books don't tell you what to do about helpful friends. At lunch, for instance, a deep-dish apple pie, which is one of my favorite desserts, is being passed around the table. I shut my eyes, clench my teeth, and sit on my hands, while re- peating to myself over and over again, I won't. I wonit. I won't.', Then my friends say, Boy, is this good pie! It's the best we've ever had!,' My mouth starts watering, and the delicious, spicy aroma of the pie enters my nostrils. I am weakening. I open my eyes and unclench my teeth. My friends notice my condition and take advantage of it. Go on, Mary, eat some. Just a little won't hurt you. You,re not fat, Mary. Donit be silly. Take some pie. As if they cared whether I diet or not! These episodes practically always end with my taking some, and my friends walk off with satisfied grins while I curse them and myself. Last summer Mother found a diet in a magazine. It said, Stay on this diet for nine days, and you will lose from ten to fifteen pounds. Remember now, don't cheatln I stayed on it all right, but it took me two weeks in bed to recover from it. And so I have one piece of advice for fatties,', and I do mean fatties, not those people who pretend that they are fat and want to diet because it's the fad. If you want to diet, lose your sense of smell, your sense of taste, become deaf, dumb, and blind, and then you may be able to reduce. MARY STRINGER Form IV Morning Ride HE morning air felt cold and fresh as I shut the door on the warm cabin and my sister sleeping under six Hudson Bay blankets and a heavy comforter. Before I could succumb to the temptation to leap back into delicious warmth, I jumped quickly Off the porch and ran down the path to the corral. The air stinging in my nostrils was damp with the morning mist which hung like a lost cloud over the fields and clung to the hills in wispy wraiths. As I hurried past the darkened cabins and heard an oc- casional snore from within, I felt smug and bravely pioneering. The barns, too, seemed quiet and empty, except for the fitful stampings of the horses, but Ed sauntered around a corner as I panted up. Mornin'. Ridin, early, ainit you? 1,11 saddle up Creamy. Morning, I returned, turning on my glamorous smile. No, never mind, thanks. I think I can do it. He gave an insultingly skeptical grin as I opened the barn door. The horses were all lined up in their stalls, contentedly sleeping, and the overpowering, steamy, leathery odor of a stable hit me as I entered. As I picked my way past the glossy rumps to Creamy's stall, I self-consciously called out, Ho, ho, ho there, ho! at regular intervals as Mary had taught me, feeling exceedingly foolish. Having saddled Creamy with just a little outside help, I rode out at a slow canter, THE FLAME S9 trying awkwardly to adjust myself to the disconcertingly sudden rise and fall of the saddle and hoping fervently that Ed wasa not watching. Once in the fields I tore around, not caring where I went. I plunged down through the cool damp meadow, excited by the rushing swiftness, the easy powerful movement of the horse, the wonderful aloneness. With a sudden jerk I pulled Creamy to a halt in the cover of some bushes and embarking on my favorite game, cautiously scanned the pasture for possible rustlers. Aha! I knew it! There were some, right down by the creek. I dug my heels into Creamy and felt the gratifying leap of his muscles as we swooped down upon them. I must save the horses and the ranch! After a short decisive skirmish the thieves were brought to earth, they were all cowards at heart. Having chased them shrieking for mercy from the pasture, I was starting back when a faint quivering in the leaves of some near-by bushes brought me to a halt. I started an investigation but got no farther than a few feet when a brown colt streaked out of cover and headed for the far pasture. Creamy gave chase without my urging. He was used to this and soon had brought the colt around in the opposite direction so that it was galloping with awkward leggy grace toward the ranch. Well, this is more like it, I thought. It would be spectacular if I rode in with a stray horse. He's probably a tough one that no one else could get. The cowboys wouldn't think I was just a dumb dude then, even if I do bounce. Thanks to Creamy and my expert handling, the colt was soon cantering wearily to the corral. Well, Ed,', I smirked, exhibiting my prize, what do you think of that? Singlehandedf' I added modestly. Singlehandedg but it was nothing, really. Gee, now, that was right nice of you, but I reckon I better run him out again. Hels slposed to be in pasture. We're gonna take him down to the lower ranch this afternoon. Seeing my stricken face, he added tactfully, Better gwan up to break- fast. There,s huckleberry hotcakesf' Crestfallen, I slipped past the steaming horses lined up outside waiting for their passengers and started slowly for the dining hall. After a few yards my step quickened, and I raised my head. Had he said hotcakes? I broke into a run. SHIRLEY WRIGHT Form IV November, 1941 ARIS lay sleeping in the cold, gray November morning. The book stalls along the Seine were closed and deserted. A blanket of utter desolation covered the city, and there was a sort of mistiness in the air. At a distance things were not clearly visible. Even the black flags hanging from the lamp posts drooped in the damp air. The only sounds which penetrated the mist were the faint footsteps of an old man and the tap-tap-tapping of a cane. He was walking near the book stalls for protection. He wore a short black cape with an insignia on the left shoulder. On his head was an old hat, and his shoes were scarred with many years' use. His trousers and cape were thin and offered no warmth against the cold. His expression was set and deter- mined, and his eyes squinted into the thick mist. Now and then, he glanced quickly about, and not seeing his destination, he clutched his cape more tightly around him. He shivered as the mist soaked through his thin clothes. Painfully he went on, not because he had the bodily strength, but because he had will power which forced him to continue. Slowly a massive structure loomed out of the mist across the Seine. The old man,s lips, held tightly together, relaxed when he beheld that majestic sight. It became more majestic as each moment brought him closer to it. He came to the bridge, and his 60 THE FLAME step quickened as he crossed the river. There, standing before him, was the immense cathedral of Notre Dame. Its call spire disappeared into the mist, reappeared, then vanished, but the mist kept moving. The old man hurried up the sacred steps. He pulled open one of the heavy wooden doors and slipped into the cathedral. Once inside with his hat off, the old man changed. Despite his white hair and beard, he no longer seemed old. Nor was he young, but ageless, like a saint. He moved gracefully when he knelt and bowed his head. He seemed surrounded by a peace that nothing in the world could pierce. There were few people in the cathedral that day, but even in the midst of a crowd the old man would have stood alone. The light from the hundreds of flickering candles in twining stands glowed with a warmth that reached into the remote crevices of the cathedral and made highlights on the old man's face. His cheeks shone in the deep rich colors reflected from the three rose windows of the chapel. As he knelt there, music rose about him, softly at first, then it grew louder and greater, taller and wider. He felt it come as if from everywhere. It grew in every detail, in every dimen- sion. The look on the old man's face expressed thoughts, sounds, and feelings all put together in one great emotion. He raised his eyes and saw Christ looking at him from the rose window. There was a long pause of quiet. Finally, as the music died away, he arose, went to the door, and opened it. Slowly he stepped out into the mist. He walked with a surer step. Looking at one of the black flags, he smiled as though he saw in it not a swastika, but the Cross. MARKELL BROOKS Form IV Morning Interlude REMEMBER the sky above was so blue that every object was definitely outlined against it, and the clear, sharp perspective of the air made every living thing poised and tingling on its tiptoes with new life and vigor. The morning sun as usual beamed reassuringly on the earth below which bathed in its warmth. From where I stood, I could see the red roofs of the little town below in the valley, and I imagined I could see the village wives flocking around the well with their bright pottery water jars balanced on their heads. The mountains looming up on my left seemed more than ever attributes to God Himself , Dedo de Deus, the mighty finger of God, presented itself more boldly against the sky. I vaguely remember a cool breeze wafting down from those mountains, slightly ruffling the mimosa trees, sending little tufts of silk- like cotton seed wandering down the valley. That day we left Therezopolis, probably never to come back, and I had climbed up the steep Alto to look back on the place I had spent the major part of my early years. I strained to see everything at once: the little stream running through our front yard where we used to keep the pet turtle, the kaiki trees in the back bearing their rich golden fruits, the beautiful camellia bushes and the sedate fuchsias, I even caught a glimpse of the brilliant plumage of a tiny hummingbird darting in among the honey- suckle vines on our house. I remember turning and slowly walking on up the Alto. I remember dimly hear- ing the shrill call of a goat herder echoing in the valley, and listening to the lonesome cry of a parakeet calling its mate beyond in the jungle. That is all. I can't remember the train ride down nor the long trip home. Only that peaceful morning stays in my memory like a picture that may be taken out and looked at at my own free will. y CHARLOTTE FITZPATRICK Form IV THE FLAME 61 L'Erreur Tragique I1 a deux ans ai demande a maman de liar ent de ochc our acheter mes robes. g P P e l'ai re rette a res deux mois, et 'e le re rette maintenant. En tout cas, ai rie l S I P maman, et jiai enfin obtenu mon desir. Com renez-vous ce ue veut dire de l'ar ent de oche our acheter mes robes ? 41 v g P P Cela veut dire, l'erreur tra i ue ue font toutes les 'eunes filles du meme a e our sq fl I g P avoir davantagef' Le premier mois que j'ai recu cet argent, je l'ai depense pour toutes les choses ue 'e vo ais. A la fin du deuxieme mois, ai vu une robe si belle, si I Y l charmante que je ne pouvais pas y resister. Malheureusement, je n'avais que quatre- vingt trois centimes. Ce soir-la je me suis approchee de maman et dis, Maman, est-ce que-est-ce que--j'ai vu une belle robe au jourd'huig elle ne coute que quinze dollars. Ce endant, 'e niai ue uatre-vin t trois centimes . . . Silence. Est-ce ue tu me P I fl 41 8 preterais-I' Ann, dit Maman severement tu m'as demande cet ar ent our acheter tes 1 g P vetements. C'est entierement ton affairef' Oh ue faire! ue faire! me disais-'e. Tout a cou , une idee m,est venue. y Cl cl 1 P L,ar ent du mois rochain! Eh bien, 'e m'en servirai a l'avance. P 1 Multi liez cet incident cin uante fois. En ce moment 'e me sers de l'ar ent de P q 1 janvier prochain. Ce niest pas une exaggeration! fespere que cette petite histoire sera un avertissement our toutes les auvres 'eunes filles ui veulent de l'ar ent de oche P P I q pour acheter leurs robes. ANN KIMBALL Form V Piiching Hay OU mean ta tell me you ainyt never seen us load hay? It don't seem right che way you city folks miss so much real pleasure. Why donyt you come along with us tomorrow and help load her up? We'll be milkin' at Hve and leave at six. You kin drive old Bill and Dan while we pitch hay. The next morning I woke to the shrill cackles of an angry hen, the impatient lowing of the cows waiting to be milked, the intermittent squeak of the pump handle being pushed up and down. The pigs were squealing delightedly at the thought of their daily wallow in the mud. Hey, up there! You plan on sleepin' all day? Hurry up and eat breakfast. We're goin' to leave soon's we milk. I untangled myself from the enormous eider down, rushed downstairs and out to the pump. I plunged my hands and face into the bucket of cool water. This promptly put an end to all sleepiness. While Slim and Joe hitched up the horses, I hurried into the house for breakfast: warm bread, eggs, thick succulent ham, cookies, and rich milk, even apple pie. Come on, slow poke. We ain't intendin' to wait all week! I sat on the rack with Joe and dangled my legs in the soft, powdery dust. Slim drove the horses, Gee! Haw! Slow up, Dan. Steady there, old fella.', The jogging motion of the rack was much the same as when you're learningj to ride but haven't mastered the art of posting. Everything seemed happy, even the sun was glad to see us. Its warmth literally percolated through all my veins and bones. Nearby a catbird was wooing a pussy willow. Its plaintive, Mary, Mary, Mary, made me laugh. I leaped down and ran beside the horses. They looked rather amused, but I think they understood. The hay was heaped in piles all over the field. I took Slimis place and drove the horses. He stood on the rack and caught the gold bundles which Joe pitched up. They 62 THE FLAME VY! XXXQ r I ,IU ' JW! X 41 W ,Q fffv M I IN W t lvillrl' I J' IIIIJJMIIOI 'XXIII l4j,1,!,,., Il, N 9 I had this performance down to a system, singing lustily while they worked, I pitch her up, and you ketch her, son! One more pile and ninety to goin They kept this up till scorched throats forced them to stop and uncork the water jug. We were allowed only three swallows at the end of four rows. How good it felt trickling down our parched insides. Slim and Joe didnyt seem to know what complaining meant. It just never entered their minds. They would have worked like this all day and night, toog but the sun got tired and started for bed, so we, too, started home. ALICE THOMPSON Form V Bhyihm Rhythm is the sound of people living And walking in crowded streets. Rhythm is the slow step of horses Pulling a plow through damp earth. Rhythm is a line of mountains Against a summer sky, A child running, the strokes of a relentless axe. Rhythm is a woman crying and Negroes singing. Rhythm is a huge room filled with groaning machines. Rhythm is an aeroplane overhead, the moon rising, Snow falling, money clinking, trees growing. Rhythm is subtle, monotonous, never ending, Restless, like the sea. Rhythm is life. SYLVIA BURNS Form III Flame Board SALLY AMES, Editor-in-Cbicf Art Editor JOANNE BROWN Litarary Editors PATTY RAY LEILA JACKSON CLEUA TH0Mp50N Business Managers ANDY HUNTER PEGGY JACKSON SHIRLEY WRIGHT NANCY MAIRS GEORGIA RAY I dl CYNTHIA DAVIDSON, First Semester EM Jang? E my NANCY MAIRS, First Semester LEILA JACKSON PEGGY SIMONS, Second Swrzester , Faculty Adviser KITTY JACKSON, Second Semrstrr MARGARET SPICER SYLVIA BURNS, Srrond Semester Snapshot Editor Art Adviser SYBIL SHALLENBERGER The silk screen prints in tba books and printed by Joanne' Brown, Jane Ioan Kmfjfner. THE FLAME CHARLOTTE MILLIS were designed Delandcr, and Alumnae Activities By CLELIA THOMPSON COLLEGE NEWS: Smith, 1940: 1941: Vassar: 1941 : Millsg 1940: Mary Aberle is the president of the Camera Club. Sally Baker was elected house representative for Dickinson House in the House of Representatives. She is also on the Dean's list and the freshman badminton team. Jane Washburn is on the art board of the College paper. Perrin Brown was a runner at the Junior Prom. Phil Brown is on the freshman badminton team. Betty Herrmann is in the Camera Club. Marney Brown is a member of the Glee Club and was an usher at the Junior Prom. Betsy Griggs had a leading part in a play, Tillie the Vassar Girl. In spite of frequent blackouts to cramp their style, Betsy Fuller won the fencing tournament and is demonstrating fencing to other schools. 1941: Barbara Fuller won a prize for her self-portrait. Wheaton: 1939: Molly Priedeman is a plane spotter. 1941: Laura Dean is a fire fighter. GENERAL NEWS: 1935: Mary Adelaide Washburn is a case worker for the Aid to Dependent Children of Ramsey County Welfare Board. Elizabeth Whitman is in charge of religious education at Saint Mark's Cathedral, Minneapolis. Judy Corning has been doing a radio program every morning for the Red Cross here in Saint Paul. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Thistlethwaite fJane Hosfordj, who were married last summer at Lyme, Connecticut, are now in England. 1936: Vincenta Donnelly is assistant to the assistant in the Infants' De- partment at the Golden Rule. Josie Bowlin sold Defense Stamps at school this winter. 1937: Maeve Butler has been teaching in Rochester, New York, at the Harley School. The husbands of the following alumnae are in the Navy: 1932: Mrs. Cole Oehler fBetty Scandrettj. Mrs. William E. Ward CMary Clappj. Mrs. Robert M. Ward CDorothy Simpsonj. 1940: Mrs. Forest Daniels CNancy Clarksonj. In the Medical Corps: 1932: Mrs William H. Hollinshead, Jr. CMary Waddellj. 1933: Mrs. Edward Burch fConradine Sanbornj. In the Army Intelligence: Mrs. Fredrick Brewster CEunice Sanbornj. WEDDINGS: 1929: Elizabeth Bend to Ralph Bagley Clark: living in Saint Paul. 1933: Jacqueline Bowen to Fredrick Jackson, living in Seattle. 1935: Bonnie Fobes to Dr. Peter Ahrensg living in New York. Elizabeth Foley to Donald Fraser Stewart, living in New York. 1936: Betty Larson to Gilbert Brown, living in Cloquet. 64 Constance Shepard to Henry G. Dillinghang living in Honolulu. Barbara Bangs to Donald Levine, living wherever the Navy decides. THE FLAME JOANNE BROWN - PA'r'I'Y RAY - - ANNE LOVERING - SALLY AMES - - BETTY BREMER - PEGGY SIMONS - - ELIZABETH DECOSTER DOROTH Y COUNTRYMAN ROSSIE MAYO - JANE DELANIJER - JOAN ISUEI-'1-'NER - SALLY AMES - - ALLISON BUTLER - - SYBIL SHALLENBERGER GEORGIA RAY - - DEBORAH DONNELLY - THE FLAME Student Government Officers FIRST SEMESTER SECOND SEMESTER Prc'.viIf1'11f Firxf xiii?-Pl'l'5il1l'lIf Sf'l'0l7l1 Vice-Prr'sirfI'l1f Edifflf-ill-Chili of Tfav Flamr' Tl'Fd.Ylll't'f E,x'z'z'11fiI'c' Secrclary Rvrorzling SFCVl'flIV-j' Tbirrl Form Rfj71'l'.9l'l1fUfjl'l' P rvxizl ful Firsf Vin'-P1'0sirfr'11I Sammi Vice-Prf'xidw1t Erfiffn'-ill-Chief of The FIKIIIH' Treasurer ' EXf'l'IlfiL'!' Sc'C1'L'fary Rz'I'0rIfiI1g Sc'c'rz'fary Third Form Rr'pI'r'sw1fafi'z'c 65 K' j l 'QCUK 1 CALENDAR 'f X .1 w-Jw. dk.: - we c September ,viii -. ji l . 1 Jw beet x- f 11. School begins. ll I First former, strutting past a sixth grader: Dear me, to think I was among N ,f those infantsf' I AFL xtnk 19. Senior-Faculty picnic. Q-'ws-f' N 'xi T 2 4 The wise seniors: They can't fool us: 1, . . , jxfdqpd - xl 1 we know the bathing suits are for mod- ern dance class. lr 79 24. Inauguration of student officers. Third form representative, wearing her I flower proudly: I feel just like Roose- veltf' - October 13. Hampton quartet. Faculty member, listening with tapping foot: Ah sho do-I certainly enjoy this. Trial of Macbeth. Baffled jury member: I just can't de- cide! Your daughter's evidence was al- most as good as mine'sf' Tea for outside girls. Summit girl vaguely to another Summit girl: I'm so glad to meet you-oh, hi, palf, 30-31. rreshman Week. Freshman in her sleep: '1Oh, most high and mighty senior .... U 31. I-Iallowe'en party. Seniors: All we have to do today is think up a Stunt, plan the party, deco- rate the gym, buy the prizes, and hum- ble the freshmenf, November 19. Thanksgiving assembly. Miss Coby, muttering frantically: One roast, four apples, one bag of sugar, three pies, fifty-two baskets .... 24-December 12. Junior and senior high book weeks. Miss Spicer: Don't hide your favorite book under the sofa. 21. 24. December 19. French Noel. Second former: Some day I'm going to be the angelf' 19. Senior play, The Aclmhfable Crichton. Proud parent! Ah, yes. We've sus- pected her talent ever since she was Santa Claus in the kinelergartenf' 26. Tea dance. Miss Converse, greeting a kindergarten alumnus: 'QHOW you've grown! 19-january 5. Christmas vacation. January 9. Northrop comes to visit. Junior: That was the niftiest basket- ball game! But who won? 26-30. Exams. 31. Winter Carnival. Prep form boy to his skating partner: t'Is this a Waltz or a fox trot? H Bs 61 in 'JJ bib , K- 13-c-. v. a . .,. 1. . by jg Sesxii' CALENDAR February 12. Lincoln's Birthday. Third grader: Gee! He sounds like Ll nice man. 13. Inauguration. Blarch 7. March dance. Frantic sophomore: Hasn't anyone got the seventh dance?', 16. Miss Converse's birthday. Miss Converse: MSO this afternoon school will be dismissed right after lunch, be- cause I .... 'i CBecause of circumstances beyond our control--namely, the stam- pede-the rest is not recorded.j 21. Junior plays. Male spectator, watching the dope fiend: 'lls ibut the girl I'm taking out tomor- row night? 27-April 6. Spring vacation. .AprH 14. 25th Anniversary dinner. Husband to his wife: Elizabeth, did you wear those-those bloomers? 24. Playday at U. High. Exhausted basketball player as she hits a home run: Can I arch in my bathing suit? Bday 16. Spring dance. Juniors, decorating: Quick, hide the ceiling! Here comes a senior. 20. Piano Recital. Next performer with trepidation: Help! What's the first note?,' 22. Arts Assembly. First former in a whisper: 'QWho's Clara Turner? 27-June 2. Exams. fCensored.j 31. Baccalaureate Service. June 4. Final Convocation. Seniors and juniors, exchanging seats: Boo-hoo! 4. Commencement. Freshman: Doesn,t she look daaaaar- ling?H S. Class dinner. Senior father: Something morbid has gotten into Mary. She's talking about Writing her Will. Summit Characier Quiz By PATTY RAY For answers see page 74 Find a secluded spot, get out a pencil, and remember, Honesty is the best policyf' Read each question below and check either a, 19, or c as your answer. Be sure you have answered them all before you turn to page 74 for the awful truth. 1. You have forgotten to spit out the piece of gum that Daddy gave you on the way to school. Miss Ware is walking swiftly down the hall towards you. Do you: - a. Look at her apologetically and take it out? b. Put it behind your ear? e. Swallow it? 2. We all doze occasionally. During Current History when Miss Converse asked you a question, your mind was er-ah-elsewhere. Would you: a. Tell her that you hadn't been listening? ,be Fumble and make up an answer? c. Gaze frantically around the class for help? 3. When reports come out, do you: ' 1, a. Get yours whenever it happens to be convenient? b. Have to be called on weeks later on a list of those who have not yet re- ceived their reports? c. Rush to get your report first? 4. When you get an A, do you: a. Keep it to yourself? b. Ask someone else's mark, hoping she'll ask you yours? c. Bluntly tell her yours? S. When you get a poor mark or fail, do you: a. Resolve to do better? b. Cry? ec. Hate the teacher? 6. In singing class, do you: a. Sing? b. Mumble the tune occasionally but usually gape? 4 c. Talk and sing about equally? 7. iiAs you stand outside the Tally door, waiting for your turn to go in, do you: , a. Chew your fingernails and resolve not to do it again? b. Wait in resigned silence? UCI. Tell every passerby the story and your innocent part in it? S. When you have played a smashing-well, anyway, a set of tennis and are unbearably thirsty as you stand at lunch before grace, do you: a. Wait? b. Slip into the hall for a drink? ir c. Take a quick gulp before grace? - 9. When the last bell has rung, and it is before checking out, do you: a. Get your coat and books and prepare ato dash? b. Flop into your desk and leave the pile of books and papers till later? , c. Finish telling Suzie about the other night and just make your seat before the bell? 10. When Miss Ware has Ujust a few' announcements, do you: a. Listen? b. Finish your homework? c. Speak sign language with Polly? 68 THE FLAME EXTRA SENSATIONAL MURDER TRI L State Versus Macbeth on Tuesday, October 21 Story by Clelia Thompson P.A.B.P.I. QThe Peek-A-Boo Press of Invernessj Sensational trial! The state ver- sus Thane Macbeth of Cawdor for the tragic murder of our beloved King Duncan. After a lengthy in- terview with the worthy Justice Allison Butler, he was quoted as saying, Quote-This is a deed with- out a name. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse when there's murder and treason abroad -Unquote. However, justice 'GAI- lie,,' as he is known more affection- ately, would give none of his opin- ions. He merely shrugged his massive shoulders and remarked, smiling, Quote--The firstlings of my heart shall be the firstlings of my hand-Unquote. SPECIAL INTERVIEW BY OUR SOB-SISTER, SALLY JACKSON As I entered Thane Macbeth's cell, I felt a thrill run through me. Here was little me meeting a possi- ble heinous murderer face to face. However, he rose and smiled polite- ly and said, Quote-Sit down. At first and last a hearty welcome.- Unquote. I sat down gingerly on his barren cot, and this is what he told me: Quote-So foul and fair a day I haven't seen in a long time. Here I am, who neither beg their favours nor fear their hate, sitting in a cell in State Prison. This prison has a pleasant seat, all right, but the air, heavy and stifling, repels itself unto my gentle senses. I may be con- victed or not, but come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day. If chance may have me scorched, why chance may get me out of here, too. Now, give me your favourg my dull brain is wrought with things forgotten.- Unquote. Without any sign of fear or malice, he opened the door him- self and bowed me out. Lawyers for the state are: Cath- erine Clark and Andy Hunter, Pros- ecuting Attorneys. Defending Mac- beth will be the well-known crim- inal lawyers, Betsy Nye and Clelia Thompson. Tuesday, Octoher 21, 1941, was a great day in the history of the Summit School. At 8:30 A. M. the trial of Macheth took place in the English room. The court was filled with friends, seniors, and mothers, some of whom served on the jury. Memhers of the fifth form were the witnesses, judge, lawyers, and defendants. The highlights of the trial were the fainting of Lady Macbeth and the unexpected appearance of a newspaper photographer from the Saint Paul Pioneer Press. The final decision of the jury was the release of Macbeth for lack of evidence. THE FLAME 69 v- f f'f'?ffT? 0 Tumbling Club S If you should happen to venture into the playroom of the Summit School any Thursday afternoon after four oiclock, you would be amazed to see girls swinging to and fro on the rings like monkeys or standing on their heads. With luck you might see a few doing somersaults over four others or piling up in pyramids. Such antics may seem difficult to you, but they are easily mastered by the Tumbling Club. Nancy Mairs is the president of the club, and Miss Otterson the director. There are fourteen members: Nancy Mairs, Alex Ordway, jean West, Virginia Kinkead, Debbie Don- nelly, Alida Butler, Margaret Ann Barber, Barbara Fuller, Mimi Baer, Jane Burr, Shirley Catlin, Glenna Millard, Marnie Cudworth, and Mary Pond Ordway. Glee Club To be seen but not heard can hardly apply to the Glee Club. It is composed of a group of girls picked from the regular singing class, headed by Mr. Chandler. This year the Glee Club has sung at the spring dance, at Unity Church, and on the Northrop playday. The girls elected Patty Ray as president to take care of the music and ar- range matters with Mr. Chandler. They practice twice a week regularly. Their repertoire consists of sixteenth and seventeenth century church music, two or three part songs, early madrigals, folk songs, later church music, and songs by such com- posers as Maetorious, Schubert, Tschaikowsky, Byrd, and Bortainski. The Glee Club members are: Firsf Sopranos, Andy Hunter, Nancy Hanlon, Ethlyn Countryman, Sybil Shallenberger, Mary Briggs, Sidney Stronge, Ann Kimball, Anne Lovering, Nancy Mairs, Cynthia Brooks, Dorothy Leavenworth, Second Sopranos, Kitty Fuller, Georgie Ray, Sally Washburn, Sally Orme, Dorothy Oerting, Joan Kueffner, Joanne Brown, Mildred Goodson, Alfos, Peggy Simons, Patty Ray, Allison Butler, Markell Brooks, Alida Butler, Rena Phillips, Pat Sporer, Mary Stringer, Carolyn Stoltze, Charlotte Fitz- patrick, Dorothy Countryman. The Modern Dance Club Two years ago the Modern Dance Club was organized by a group of students who were interested in dancing. This year has been a particularly successful one for the club. Since modern dancing takes in almost every kind of dance, we have been experimenting with many types and have tried to combine them in an American suite which pictures various phases of American life. Besides the suite we have worked out two Spanish dances, a melodrama, and some studies in technique. We performed this year for the Northrop School on playday and for the Thursday Club. Our third appearance was a great honor as we were asked to dance in the Min- neapolis Modern Dance Conference at the Minneapolis Y.W.C.A. The club is directed by Miss Otterson and has thirteen members: Rena Phillips fpresidentj, Patty Ray, Leila jackson, Sally Ames, Rossie Mayo, Kitty Fuller, Joanne Brown, Charlotte Nelson, Kitty Jackson, Sally Washburn, Mary Briggs, Georgie Ray, and Shirley Wright. The Summit Service Committee This year the growing suffering in the world and the oiiicial entrance of the United States into the war have greatly increased the importance and extent of the work of the Service Committee. The committee has been trying to help on three fronts: THE FLAME 71 Z i l 1 i i l l i J. in England, in China, and in the United States. From money the students saved by giving up ice cream desserts on Thursdays, a contribution of forty dollars was sent to the British War Relief Society. We knitted twenty-five sweaters for British children. Also from dessert money we sent one hundred dollars to the United china Relief Fund, and for the third year we gave a contribution to support two Chinese orphans. To help our own country, nearly everyone in the school has bought United States defense bonds and stamps. The high school students as junior members of the Red Cross had a campaign to collect books for the Victory Book Drive, and the elementary school children gathered playing cards and made cross-word puzzle books for the soldiers. A large group took a Red Cross First Aid course. In spite of the intensified war demands the Service Committee did not forget to look out for the welfare of our city and of organizations whose worki is necessary in times of peace and war. It packed and delivered fifty-five Thanksgiving baskets. The student body also made contributions to the Community Chest, the Santa Claus Club, the Christmas Seal Fund, and the Piney Woods School. This year, as usual, many girls and teachers were enthusiastic workers on the Serv- ice Committee. Rena Phillips was the chairman and Miss Coburn, the faculty adviser. Sally Ames directed the war relief knitting, Leila Jackson headed the Victory Book Drive, and Marian Delander was in charge of the sale of defense stamps. UJQJ-a.Q1n6'hco,u-A Lut9.,Qu.n.u.l.:.o.g.T Wim' 7LebfJl2M-ff' THE FLAME SPCDRTS Fall While the warm weather lasted, the whole high school played tennis. Later the juniors and seniors took to field hockey with many thwacks and much enthusiasm. In the inter-class games the seniors defeated the juniors. The fresh- men and sophomores went in for speed- ball, and the sophomores won the inter- mural games. The Hrst and second forms played soccer. FIELD HOCKEY VARSITY Rossie Mayo Rena Phillips Joan Kueifner Kitty Fuller Peggy Brainard Joanne Brown Jane Delander Sally Ames Cynthia Davidson Sally Washburn Kitty Jackson SPEEDBALL VARSITY Helen Clark Mary Stringer Sis DeCoster Pat Sporer Sylvia Burns Mary Briggs Marjorie Okes Georgia Ray Jean West Dorothy Oerting Betty Holmes Dorothy Leavenworth Winter The whole school skated or slid on the ice. Indoors the four upper forms played basketball. The seniors beat the juniors, and the sophomores beat the freshmen. The junior high school grew proficient in volleyball. Once a week each class did modern dancing. BASKETBALL VARSITY Rena Phillips joan Kueffner Rossie Mayo Kitty Jackson Marjorie Okes Spring Charlotte Nelson Anne Lovering Joanne Brown Pat Sporer The buds came out, and the high school went back to practicing lobs and slams on the tennis courts. Exciting tournaments both in singles and in dou- bles were organized. For those who did not play tennis there were archery and badminton. H B yu ,4 jg -5 Q M . 5 ... I. C Results of the Clnamcfer Quiz: C077fi111lCll from page 68 Taking it for granted that you have not allowed your ideal self to run away with your real self in answering these questions, we will now proceed to a careful analysis of your character. Add the number of cfs that you have checked, the number of lfs, and then the c's. If you have more a's than either lfs and c's, for instance, 5 cfs, 2 la's, and 3 c's, then read the paragraph titled A. If you have more b's than a's or c s, readl the one titled B. Do accordingly with c's. But if, woe unto you, you have no one number larger than the other two, for example, 4 cfs, 4 b's, and 2 c's, then -you are the X type and you must read paragraph X. Don't be frightened. We have tried to break it to you gently. A-You tend toward being a yes-man. When asked whether school should last later than four oiclock, you say, Q'Yes. When asked whether it should be shortened to two o,clock, you say, Yes.', What are you, a man or a mouse? Yes! KNOW you have us doing it.j You also are inclined toward martyrdom. You will say, You step- ped on my toe and made me spill ink all over my paper. But, sigh, I don't mind doing it all over again. You ought to buy the Sugar Foot Stompf, Put a little pepper on your potatoes. B-You are a bit too lackadaisical about life. Miss Converse would rather send someone else for her pointer, because you are apt to be waylaid by a picture in the hall or the enticing odor of apples from the dining room. You tend toward procrasti- nation. Yes, you think you can wipe off what you wrote above the bathroom sink tomorrow. Well, don't forget that Mademoiselle may go in to wash her hands today. You are the one who, after class, leaves the doors pointing out into the hall. Prac- tically the entire contents of the lost-and-found box belong to you. You should try starting your homework before ten and taking a cold shower in the morning. C-You are a back-slapper. Many a poor soul have you startled out of a year,s growth with your enthusiastic explosions. Tone down a bit. You don't have to take two sweet rolls, they'll come around again. You are the type who bangs unconcernedly at the piano in the dungeon during grace. Don,t throw a book on the floor when Miss Ware announces that the schedule is changed. Of course, you have your good points. You are the one who can swat the bee in the study hallg but you don,t have to cause an uproar while you're doing it. You are the one who thinks up the idea for the Hallowe'en stunt, but two murders are plenty. We all love you, but spare us! X-Ooglebotchy-wotch! Does that strike you as odd? A-ha! You admit it. You have given yourself away. You are definitely the prosaic-peach type, most common among those having between twenty-three and twenty-seven eyelashes. QDon't count them now.j You are usually seen walking down an up-going escalator or sitting under the shower with an umbrella. However, don't be distressed about your condition. There are several at least temporary remedies. Most highly of all, however, we rec- ommend the Screamofoogia treatment, which consists of standing on the head, knitting with the toes Cfor B.W.R.S., of coursej and singing Wb'en the M0011 Comes over the Mountain. This will allow you to overcome the lisp and other ill effects of Scream- afoogia for about two hours and eleven-eighteenths. Then when you lapse back into brushing your teeth with shoe polish, just grin and bear it. You have our sympathy. 74 THE FLAME PLAYS Shall We Join the Ladies hy Sir james Nl, llarric CAST llnst SALLY VVTASHBURN Lady VVi-athie Horus XIUDGETT Lady jane Y C'n.xRi,nrTE N1-:r.soN Sir joseph fll.lCl,l,X 'l'nrmMPsoN Mr. l'reen Cvivrnm ITAVIDSON Mrs. l'rcen .'hI.li'l-I 'FIIOMPSON Miss Yailc .-Xxx KIMBALL Nr. Yaile NIARTHA FULTON Mrs. llland llliI.liN llAMMES Mr. Gourlay .Xiiisux BUTLER Captain Jennings l'l-lumix' SIMONS Mrs. Vastro Nixwcv IIANLON Miss lsit l'Ersapv JVACKSON Butler li'rn1.vN COUNTRYMAN Maid lil-ETSY NYE Detective lil-ZTTY TTREMER The Happy Journey io Camden and Trenton hy Tlmrnton Wilder CAST Arthur .ANDY HVNTER Mrs. Kirby S.fu.i.v DEALS Caroline .ANN KIMRALL Mr. Kirby JXLLISUN BUTLER Ileula Chxruiie CLARK Stage Manager M AR1-lm FULTON The Reunion or Bearding ihe ,Lion in His Den by Jerome Davis Ross CAST Daniel Gullitt Svmr. SIIALLENRERGER fokey Joe limsv NYE Ah VVU l'i.Ei.1A TnoMPsoN Professor Josiah lfheneczer Finch l':TIIl.YN CoL'NTRs'M,xN Thelma Anne Finch CATHIE CLARK Ulal Tum Ilmrrv RREMER Nvlly Kr'r'rY JACKSON Uireetur hVILl,l.-XM C. NELSON Stage Manager l'IililiY l!R,x1NARn Make-up KICNIPRICK VVILSON l.I'ISl.lE XVILSON Perkins Rfillestmi Sinmums Jeanne Fisher . Llriellton The Admirable Crichton hy Sir james Bl. llarrie VAST X , 1 . - . - 'V' A PR inks lrmiw Kl'EFFNl'1R lzrnest W nolley .... lQ0bAMI7NIl Nlxvo lim ml I-rmkleliurstl YQNTFILI lilguiuqw 'Nl.xRioN Loomis Agatha ............ RENA l,,lllI.l.IPS ltlellfir -- --'A I .WTY 1,ml'H-QR XNNF I.0v1-:Rims Catherine . ........ l'EczGx' l-RAINARLH 'li0lUl'f'i'TT - -4-- ' ' xg Y X 'Q. Al XVF4 llFLxNnFR hl'l1'V . .,.... l'A'r'1'v RAY lWC?H0Y A 4-'-- - ' ' ' ily ' '?:'lGOfmilf:': . ..,. W -,Y ,T Nl.xRifxN TJELANDICR 'I reherne ... ,..l'EIRDRI , lil TLER Ofhur '. . .T .-... K NIE NY Fm I FR A l.ElL.X lxcxsux Lord l.oam. .. ...IOANNE lhwwx Lady l1l'oL'lsl1'l1L1fbf- - -A ITI --' n that Jul hir sonne so hoot In the sonne hir reed lokkes shoon bryte, l C A pologzes to Chaucer j But protruding eres were hir plyte. M? , The Wisconlond Tale W 2926 ,. om Mmnebury to Wisconlond villages QT yongen folk to goon on bicyclages The blushing, blissfule waeters for to seke That them wolde freshen whan that they were weeke. I . H per e skinne to hits verray I 1 oot There were one and five in oure com- panye, Sonneburned folk were we, singinge in harmonye. Enoughe of this prarrle, we guess, For of cache one we han things to con- fesse. A scoler ther was from Chattertowne With chekes that bulged whan she dide frowneg Nowher so smerte a one was founde, And yet hir smerteness was not sounde. There was eek a gamblere in oure lotte Who spante many houres feeding the slotte. Full longe and lene were hir lims, And wel coude hir eyebrowes withstande many trimmes. A Certainly she hadde a waggling tonge, Unyielding until hir purpos was wonne. But nowe we wol telle you noght more For fere oure tale wol be a bore. But takeiit not, I pray you, in disdayng This is the poynt, to speken short and playnf' -JOAN KUEFFNER and ANNE LOVERING Jokes . Georgie to Miss Spicer after Miss Con- verse has announced a non-uniform day: Can we wear clothes tomorrow? Miss Spicer: Yes, Georgie, but not shoes. Miss Ritter: ln this translation what did Horatius receive after he had swum the river? Evie: First prize. Miss Spicer: UHOW many pages has this book?,' Senior Class: SSS, Miss Spicer: Joanne, what page are you on? Joanne: 632.', Miss Converse: The British and the Italians are fighting in the Mediterranean. What are they fighting With? Andy: Each other. Miss Busyn: It took men thousands of years to get to page S. Mrs. Moyer, busily writing on the board and talking at the same time: uWhen measuring liquids, set table on cup. 76 Oerting: Has anyone seen a little red Merchant of Venice? Cathie, pondering over a Latin sight passage and finally getting a brilliant in- spiration: The unhappy Dido filled her sister's bosom with tears. Miss Spicer: What does the Winged Horse QPegasusj symbolize? Betty Bremer: Mobilgas. Miss Busyn: The men in the factories began to form combinations: that's a union, not underwear. Latin poem: Ecce! Pater togam in- duitf' Emmy Lou's translation: Eek! Father, put on your togaln Miss Converse: Please save two seats for Debbie Donnelly. Miss Converse: What made the Rus- sians join the side of the Allies? Washburn: Well, the Nazis kept making advances. Miss Stephens in biology class: What is the economic value of stems? Betty Bremer: 'QRhubarb!', THE FLAME wg DS E Q: 0 - ef mfg 5 ga c-571 1 4 'J-w,5f,3' 'leigh ,S Efzf' '85, S -, v 35595. wi.: f-I flpq fo Ku 4'f'fff 0,53 5415 'fab 952 T I-XUTCDGRAPHS my 1 alia Pmdhclj l-QZQMQA 5-1 Ofcd-a4.l'11f..?-TVVTL1-'52 74 -k A-AAL yvvvk ofponvfx,eA I4-vfnuv. 411.44 WM. Hvvf- um-14 AQQMQ. Lau-if real I ?Ff'Q:D'ffln1..J W Mr' ar: :rue 1 lwagM bk t - F C A-u xxait Ove' cdwn-L www As aww '2'.3r- W' ma. '-r I y32x'aIsJi'8gd'?QigZi 4609, vw-M15 eeqvk DEWQNG- ggi' Tp? wx ' I Q Cf X . i U V Q vi cfs Jwbwxqi- 14.12-' -a 'MQ 7 MTQj.m iw' ,A-,A U wav iw 5 xy! QXVSASI 151603176 Frxg '79 Oxxgssnx de-sax Sim 2149- 'oJ'Q'..N-,,'-m5 Wow vf A 6' .. fc-Y 'Y3 '93, enwi:ei 'M CQ wc-'WA G 1-ff- N, ITN 'fo ,ffr mYq? 55-OWN ICO? seo-vo-0 fin K' Q- W himmfgamqnw maj K ' N I J' 'ww In 5 WW0410 9? A c7z,Lr'ALb,f21'l ETS? LW WM 5044 62 T kfuw Vbfli lcrlre-E 'endnluy mm? QM: J JN, R X Deaf' M..-s-.sQz.c.6 s Nw Lge- R s Q.xQWLa- xc- a-.zz XDOMN' .x-ba' I' X 'ff 1...-I3 QL ,cg-'S mv-yn. L4 vM-.-A'4-9w N-- . L-as-13. , WA.
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