Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

Page 31 text:

We have some hamburger. Excellent, Madam, for your dogf' Hamburger, indeed! Have you any good liver? Yes, Madamf' And some vanilla ice cream and a saucer of milk. Seriously Thomas first wrote down this order, then waded through a maze of direc- tions-clear broth fnot chicken, mind you, but beefj, avacado pear salad, thin white toast, tea, and perhaps an eclair for dessert. With relief Thomas rejoined his compatriots. Those neat rows of glasses seemed to wink at him in amusement as they sparkled in the noonday sun. For a moment he had an impulse to sweep them off onto the Hoor, these soldiers he was reviewing. This surprised him as he was usually of a very placid temper. Quickly regaining his com- posure, Thomas gave the orders to the somewhat startled cook. Upon returning, he found his friend, Professor Dunster sitting at the corner table, absently working out Euclid's eighty-second problem on spheres on the tablecloth with an oyster fork. While taking the order, an order so usual Thomas could recite it, they discussed the relative merits of Hunter and Boyston on Hamlet, Act III, Scene III. A nod from the chef indicated that Thomas's first order was ready. He set the dishes down with neat precision, being careful to give Archibald's plate an extra polish with the napkin that hung over his arm. Leaving Mrs. Van Pierce daintily sipping her soup, and Archibald noisily swallowing his liver, Thomas retired to the kitchen, almost an admittance of defeat. It was when he was serving the dessert, when Archibald was voicing his objections to the ice cream in short, sharp barks, that Mrs. Van Pierce expressed a desire for crackers and cheese. What kind of cheese do you have?n Rat-trap, in a low tone. i'Pardon me?,' Rat-trap, Madamf, Excuse me, do you mean American cheese? Rat-trap, Madam, with the great stone face. Bring me some. By this time Mrs. Van Pierce was truly exasperated. A few seconds later Thomas silently placed before her a silver plate on which reposed three' small, apologetic pieces of dry yellow cheese. Mrs. Van Pierce's reaction was imme- diate, loud, and long. Thomas bore it all, when it had run its course and dwindled, he bowed and turned away. He was back at the exact moment she wanted the check, it in hand. Courteously he helped her into her coat and fastened Archibald's leash. Then, catching sight of some small change carelessly left in plain sight on the table, he picked it up, bowed, and handing it to her, said: You've left something, Madam. EDITH NYE F arm V THE FLAME 29

Page 30 text:

RETRIBUTION RS. Archibald Van Pierce swept into Madison's with her furs trailing meekly behind her. Ignoring the head waiter, she sailed through the room, causing a slight commotion in her wake as napkins, menus, and even a few dishes fell to the Hoor. Unmindful of the despairing look on his face, she climbed the one step that separated Thomasis haven from the rest of the room. Dropping into a chair at a table in the middle of the floor. she rapped sharply on the water pitcher with an emerald ring. Thomas, as was his habit, suddenly appeared from out of nowhere. He was resplend- ent that afternoon. Never before had his suit been so neatly pressed, nor had his shirt front gleamed so, for Mrs. Thomas had carefully washed the day before, all the while regretting that Thomas wore so many shirts. I-le bowed deferentially to Mrs. Van Pierce. Good afternoon, Madamf, Good afternoon. Please give me a menu. And do bring a high-chair for dear Archibald the Secondf' Unquestioningly Thomas retired to his table. No one else ever touched it. On its gleaming mahogany surface were neat pileswmenus, napkins, tablecloths, and ash trays. On the shelf above, straight rows of goblets. To the left of these, finger bowls. To the right, wine glasses. fThomas prided himself on serving excellent wines, but if anyone had bad enough taste to want a cocktail with his meal-well, there was a bar second door to the rightj Carefully Thomas selected the two whitest napkins and the two shiniest goblets. Then he picked out the proper knives and forks and spoons from the drawer under the table. In the other half of the room any waiter could set any table, but these five were Thomas,s children. And he tended them with loving care. Thomas set the high-chair, which he had pulled out of a hidden closet, in place and waited for Archibald to appear. 'KCome, Archibald, dear. lump up. That's Mothers good boy, And now maybe the nice man will bring you something to eat. Take our orders, waiterf' No one who knew Thomas called him waiter. Unflinchingly he looked down into the beady, black eyes of the lengthy black and tan dachshund, which sat in the high- chair, looking around him with an insolent eye. 28 THE FLAME

Page 32 text:

. SUMMER NIGHT ' REACHED up feeling for the lamp switch, pushed it till it snapped over, and felt the darkness of the night reach in, covering me like a protecting black hand. In the sudden darkness I could see the glare of the light bulb dancing wherever I looked. I uncurled my legs and got up, leaving my open book upside down on the chair. The straw porch rugs were rough on my bare feet. I walked slowly, cautiously off the porch, through the dark house, and pushed open the screen door. The dog brushed past me, her hair soft and smooth as it touched my bare legs. I looked up the quiet little street. The cars left out for the night slept silently in front of houses like faithful dogs, and you could almost hear the houses, like many-eyed monsters, breathing heavily with sleep. The street lights glowed soft and yellow with light like melting butter. I looked down at the city, pulsing, beating like a living thing. Over the other noises was the screaming of streetcars, and above it all the low sky glowed soft and red as a burning coal. The air was hot and heavy. The city itself seemed to radiate the heat, and under it I felt the suppressed excitement, the striving and desire that is always seen in the faces of a crowd. In the street below young people in cars rushed by, the win- dows rolled down so you could hear the blaring music of the 1'adio. Older people sat on their front porches waiting for a cool breeze and listening to the cars and the softer incessant noise of the moths flying futilely against the screens, trying to reach the light on the other side. On the porches old men slowly read the evening paper, the strong smelling cigar smoke drifting lazily up. Their wives sat near them, rocking in creaking chairs, thinking, dreaming, wondering what the noisy, reckless young people were look- ing for, forgetting they had once wanted the same thing. ' Downtown the lights twinkled, gleaming as brightly as brass buttons on a blue coat, There was so much to see, to hear, to think, and to feel. I didn't want to miss even the smallest part, but I knew it was more than I could ever comprehend. I bent down and rubbed my hands across the short dewy grass and then held my wet hands against my hot face, feeling the lovely cool dampness on my eyelids. The warm, heavy air seemed to have permeated my thoughts, leaving them rather odd and slow ever since I had left the house. The heat and excitement of the city had seemed to draw me from the house like a magnet and to hypnotize my eyes and mind with its strange fascination. I turned around and began to walk back towards the house, but before I had gone far, I began to run as quickly as I could over the short wet grass. NANCY GAVER F arm VI LA FIEVHE DU PPLINTEMPS H, LA joie de vivre. Clest le printemps dans toute la gloire. Le soleil chaud, l'herbe V6ftC, les fleurs et les arbres qui s'ouvrent. C'est merveilleux. Les petits oiseaux batissent les nids, les amoureuxls slaiment, et les enfants jouent. Oh, c'est merveil- leux. C'est glorieux. C'est beau. Clest le printemps. Mais-Parfois il pleut. La pluie froide. Beaucoup de pluie. L'cntendez-vous? Goutte a goutte. Goutte a goutte. Apportez une autre bassinoire. Vous sortez. Cette pluie court le long de votre cou. La pluie impitoyable court le long de votre visage, le long de vos manches, et le long de vos jambes dans vos souliers. La pluie qui fait des Heuves dans les rues et des lacs dans les trottoirs. La pluie qui fait des mares qui sont impossible a traverser. Goutte a goutte. Goutte a-Pouffl Vous venez de tomber dans une mare, mais c'est le printemps. Ne l'oubliez pas. DEBORAH BUTLER Form IV 30 THE FLAME