Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The figure with the hollow voice addressed the other as Money and money addressed his companion as Bad Luck. Bad Luck looked like a leper dressed in black garments that hung down to the ground. His hands were white and bony with long skinny fingers, and in one hand he held a broken mirror. Money was fat and tall, his hair was red and his eyes glared, he breathed deeply as he held tightly a bag of money and on the whole he looked like a wild madman. They entered the room and Money spoke to Back Luck. You, you, you! he panted. It ' s you who has done the work of the devil! You want my money, eh? Well, you are not going to get it! he shouted, and madly tore at his red hair. Oh! I am not going to get it, eh? replied the hollow voice calmy enough. That shows how much you know about it. With that Bad Luck slipped his clammy hand around Money ' s throat and threatened to choke him if he did not give up his money. At last, as Money was almost strangled, he threw the bag at Bad Luck and Bad Luck gave Money the broken mirror. Then, as suddenly as they had come, they disappeared and vanished into the air. About two seconds later a blood curdling shriek rang through the house and Ikie sat up in bed looking wildly about him with the sun streaming into his room. He knew that he had at last found strength enough to scream, but he did not know how loud. What a nightmare! But Ikie took it as a warning and gave all his money (which he supposed would bring him bad luck) to the charities and the Children ' s Hospital. Now he is running a grocery store called Zargovitsky ' s Groceries. MiMi Languedoc, Form IIIb. Home Coming SILVIA was often lonely in the dim old house, but her magination helped a great deal — more than anyone would think who did not live all alone with Great Aunt Jerusha. When Sil ' via ' s mother died — now a faint memory of a comforting cuddly person who used to take Silvia into bed with her when a bad dream came — Silvia ' s father had gone away leaving the tiny in ' dividual with the mop of yellow curls to the tender mercies of his Aunt Jerusha, who was of the mid ' Victorian era of poker backs, and had firm ideas as to the bringing up of children. It was the day before Silvia ' s ninth birthday, and she was awakened at the usual and hate fully early hour of seven by Mrs. B riggs. Struggling into her clothes in the shivery half ' light, Silvia tried to see herself still peacefully slumbering in her lovely warm bed, but somehow to-day the idea merely irritated her, as it was so far from the truth. At breakfast, cold and cheerless, sitting straight and stiff opposite Aunt Jerusha, the meal of prunes, porridge and milk, was very unlike the fairy banquet she pretended it was. After breakfast came Miss Spencer, stern featured and business ' like, to take Silvia for her usual morning walk, nor was loitering to make friends with stray puppies or running ahead to see what lay around the next corner allowed. Miss Spencer ' s firm grip of Silvia ' s hand never relaxed for an instant. After the walk came lessons, also with Miss Spencer, at which Silvia did not distinguish herself. When she discovered old musty his- tories and geographies of another day she plunged feverishly into them and greedily devoured [ ;« I

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house-boats and tugs. They sway to and from their mooring-ropes, clinging to the shore, as if they, like the Greek mariners, are loath to leave it. Meanwhile, during all this water-traffic, trains slip in and out of the station, each changing dining ' cars, and thus giving us a chance to see these huge, interesting promoters of trade, the locks. I am grateful to the Soo Line for establishing their switchyards so close to the locks, and for their changing the cars; for if it had not been for these things, I probably never would have seen the Soo locks. I remember that when I was a very small girl, and I lived in Duluth, I would often go down to the wharves and see the freighters edging their way out of the harbour, bound for I knew not where. I now understand their work, and know their destinations, but I wonder now, instead, at the size of the locks, and what it would be like to go through them some day. I suppose that by the time I have found this out, I shall have something new to wonder over. Just now I prefer the locks; there is something infinitely thrilling, mysterious, about the word locks. Doors, shutting us from fairyland, would not be too imaginative, for they are indeed doors. We shall always be grateful to the engineers who have given us these doorways to trade — mysterious doors, giving a lurking sensation of magic. Mary Wesbrook, Form Upper V. Moonlight The silver moon shines down from out the sky And makes a gleaming pathway o ' er the sea ; The little fishing boats at anchor lie, And ride the dancing wavelets merrily. Through tall dark firs the gentle night ' winds sigh. And sing a lullaby to all the trees That lift their feathVy branches to the sky. And sway, as if to music, in the breeze. Vivian Stewart, Form IVa. The Superstitious Jew AN OLD JEW called Ikie Zargovitsky had just made a lot of money by gambling. All he ever . thought of was his money, all he ever talked of was his money, all he ever took any interest in was his money, until people got so tired of hearing nothing but money, money, money, when they saw him, that they began to hate the old Jew. He was very superstitious, and one day he lost his temper with his servant and, picking up a boot that lay near, threw it at him. The servant dodged, the boot hit a mirror and broke it to atoms. For the rest of the day Ikie thought of the broken mirror and the seven years bad luck that he thought he would have to endure. That night when he went to bed he still had the broken mirror on his mind and he lay awake for hours thinking of it. Suddenly — creek — creek — somebody was coming up the stairs. I wonder vhat Sam vants, thought Ikie. But it was not Sam ' s voice that he heard nor was it Sam ' s footsteps. There were two voices. One sounded as if the owner had his mouth full of something and was trying to speak, the other sounded hollow and dead. As the steps neared his door the voices ceased and the handle was slowly turned. Poor Ikie lay on his bed turning hot and cold by turns, and, as the door opened, two figures stood there with the moonhght streaming in from a window, lighting up their faces and clothing. Ikie remembered the mirror and thought that his last hour had come, but he did not have enough strength left to scream. [29]

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every word, but Miss Spencer ' s cut and dried method did not appeal to her imagination, and so failed. At lunch time Miss Spencer surrendered the reins of government to Aunt Jerusha. Spinach, cold mutton and boiled potatoes — ugh ! Silvia shuddered at the mere thought — followed by tapioca pudding, Silvia ' s pet aversion. Well, it was a good time to pretend she was a prisoner, in a damp dungeon, with prison fare! Immediately after dinner Silvia was conducted to her nap, where with blinds pulled down she lay wide-eyed , staring at the blank wall for an hour. Even her doll Verbena was not permitted to share this imprisonment, which Silvia pretended was on a torture wrack. Then began the first free time in the day, when she went to play in the garden, with strict orders not to go out into the street. To ' day the garden was bare and dull, a nd old Loos the gardener, who let her plant things once in a while, was not there, and Silvia had only Verbena, who was nearly as old as her- self, to talk to. Of course Verbena was a much ' cherished heirloom, but her cracked face had such a vacant stare at times as to be almost annoying. Besides, she could not talk. After a dreary time Aunt Jerusha said, Come in, child, from the window, so Silvia came. She had tea in the kitchen with Mrs. Briggs presiding, but here was no companionship, for Mrs. Briggs read missionary pamphlets in grim silence. At last, when bed ' time came, Silvia trudged wearily upstairs, having bidden Aunt Jerusha a subdued Good Night, and still no mention of her birthday. Surely Aunt Jerusha hadn ' t forgotten? She undressed slowly, with a rising lump in her throat, and jumped into bed, pulling the covers around her ears till her shadow looked like a distorted hunch ' backed gnome, leaving her clothes in a disorderly heap on the floor. Mrs. Briggs came in to switch off the light, and eyed Silvia disapprovingly. She picked up each article of clothing in grim silence, hung it over the back of a chair, and stalked out, shutting the door on a great black room, with a sobbing, heaving bit of humanity in the centre of a huge high bed. Silvia longed very much for someone to under ' stand her and love her, and thought wistfully of the happy days in the dim past, before she came to Aunt Jerusha. Aunt Jerusha did her plain duty by the child, as she expressed it, but that was not love — not by any means. In the middle of the night, a sudden sound awoke Silvia, and in a daze she jumped up, put on dressing-gown and slippers and pattered down the long dimly-lit hall. The sub-conscious part of Silvia had a set purpose. What was it? When she reached the front door, someone was just coming in, with a suit-case in one hand. With a cry of joy, half a sob, Silvia flew into the strong protecting arms of Daddy! She knew it was Daddy by the strange acrid smell of his rough coat as she rub bed her cheek against it — tobacco, strangely nice, and daddyish . ' ' The strong arms carried her into the library where a warm fire was burning. Just before she dropped asleep, she heard the words, Happy Birthday, Cherub, and knew that here at last was someone who understood. Suzanne Kohl, Form IVa. Easter Green are the buds on the lilac tree, fx hibernis suis ' bu22;es the bee. The robin courts his happy bride, It ' s Eastertide! Crocus buds are beginning to sprout, DafFydowndillies are coming out. Spring is coming along the line At Easter time. And everyone is happy and gay. And the birds sing all the livelong day. For they hear the promise of summer long In the Easter song. Mary Wesbrook, Form Upper V. [31]