Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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26 T mba Blue ante white Scrub? Nurse? Sew? Anything that she could do would bring her bread. Sew? That was a word that brought a ray of hope in her dark hour. Yes, she could sew. Happily her American mother had retained enough of the spirit of her practical American home to teach Jeanne how to use the needle. How she blessed her mother for taking such pains with her sewing. It may come handy some dayj' her mother had laughingly said. Now it was Jeanne's friend in need. .She was taken into the hospital and given food and shelter. Now day by day she busily plies her needle, making things that are needed in the hospital and at the front. Sometimes, as she lifts her eyes to the blue sky beyond the hills, does she yearn for the chateau by the sea? A momentary longing may pos- sess her thoughts, but her heart is so thoroughly in her work that she feels no unrest nor counts her task a bur- den. Out of her trouble has been born a new woman, fully consecrated to her country's service. ' LAWRENCE H. PLAISTED, '18. ALL FOR A TINY STONE. Down deep in the bowels of Mother Earth long centuries ago, lay a great lake of seething carbon. Thousands of years passed. Then great evolu- tions shook and rent this old planet until Mother Earth was forced to yield up her marvelous treasure. The greatmass of boiling liquid thus thrown to the surface, flowed into every cran- ney of the rocks and in the course of ages become crystallized, and lay in its mountain bed, a shapeless mass of sparkling glory. When man came upon the earth he slowly but surely set about to dis- cover naturels mysterious and beauti- ful secrets, this all in the interest of civilization. And so it came about that a little tribe of Indians chose one of these mountain lands for a camping ground. These children of nature were happy and content, feeling that the Great Spirit had willed that this country should be theirs for always. Their chief, although an old, old man, was still loved and respected by his braves. His only living relative was a little granddaughter, the pride and joy of her grandsire's heart, and the darling of the tribe. One day as little Laoh walked by the side of the river, a bright, gleam- ing stone attracted her attention. She bent and picked it up to examine it more closely. How brilliant it Was! It almost seemed to be on fire. Where could it have come from? With the jewel in her hand she ran swiftly back to her grandsire's Wigwam. Oh, Enni Enni see what I've found I Laoh shouted joyously to her grandfather as she sprung madly into the Wigwam. Her grandfather turned slowly and with a great show of dignity but with- out the least sign of curiosity regard- ing the find. However, at the sight of his adorable granddaughter, his grim countenance softened into one of his rare smiles, for the expectant, childish face was a truly beautiful spectacle. Well? he grunted. But see Enni, it is a pretty stone which seems to be on fire. Isn't it wonderful? Ugh, ejaculated the impassive chieftain. Enni, I want some more of them, was the next imperious decisions. There must be some more in the

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mba i8Iue ant white 25 mans were approaching the capital. The French government had fled to Bordeaux, and the people were follow- ing the example of their officials. Servants had deserted their masters and fled, and now the masters them- selves were in flight. Out of the South Gate on the Bor- deaux Road, sped a royal motor car, a monster of the highway. Upon its panelled doors was the inscription 'Bergeracf The people on foot scut- tled like frightened geese to the sides of the road to let the car pass, for the French, though in theory they are democratic, have a fine sense of rev- erence for the old aristocratic names with which the history of France is so intimately bound., And what name resounds more loudly than Bergerac? It was an 'Open, Sesame' to the road. In the car was Jeanne de Bergerac, daughter of the noble Frenchman and his wealthy American wife. She was fleeing from the dread disaster which theatened the capital of the nation. To the south of France, almost on the edge of the Mediteranian, was the family chateau. Thither where the flowers bloomed and the war was not, Jeanne was going. Mile after mile, along the smooth road, the chauffeur guided the car, along a route lined with the fleeing multitude of the city. Suddenly a drop of rain struck the windshield, then another another, soon the glass was bleared and the road was growing slippery, but the driver dared not lower the speed. Once the car swerved on a little incline at the side and then righted itself and shot on through the fast increasing downpour. They had long passed all refugees on foot, and for almost an hour they had passed no car. Then suddenly there was a frightful swing to one side, fol- lowed by a crash, above which rang a womanls piercing scream. When Jeanne de Bergerac came out of the merciful unconsciousness into which the shock had thrown her, she found herself lying at the side of the road, clear of a black heap that had once been her luxurious car. She called her chauffeur. Silence every- Where. Not a soul was in sight. The man must have thought her dead, and gone on alone on foot. Jeanne, the pampered and petted daughter of an aristocrat was as forsaken as the poor- est beggar. She wept out of sheer despair. But common sense soon came to her aid. She rose stiflly to her feet. It was fortunate that she had not been badly hurt, for she, too, must make her way on foot. Her steps were eager at first, but they soon become slow and painful, as she was not used to walking. Wearily she trudged along seeking a cafe where she might rest and eat. At last she found one, but she was ap- palled to discover that she was with- out money. Her purse was in the car. To the Madame, who had taken her order, Jeanne told her story. But she refusedto believe it. So many people Without money appealed to her that if she listened to their tales of woe she would become bankrupt. Mon Dieu! what did people think? She could not work for charity-the government must take care of the poor. There was a hospital a short distance away. Jeanne could go there if she really had no money. Jeanne again ready to weep from hunger, fatigue, and terror, made her weary Way to the hospital and asked for food. But there was no food for idlers or wayfarers without means. If she could cook-yes. Could she cook?

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Utne Blue anb white Z7 rocks. Oan't some of the braves dig them up for me? No, they are very busy, was the laconic answer. Oh, no they're not, was the calm retort. Ugh, replied the stubborn Enni. However, the wise Laoh saw the expression of his face and guessed that she would have her way if she teased no more. And, indeed, who could have withstood the bewitching little pleader? When the braves received their orders, they readily consented to the labor of love and dug many, many feet into the mountain-side with their awkward, self-fashioned picks. Con- stantly, however, they came to large pieces of the shining rockg the little girl was exultantly happy to have so many of the beautiful stones to deco- rate her little Wigwam. One day a white man from North America came paddling up the river by the side of the little Indian settle- ment. The old chief greeted the paleface kindly and gave him food to eat and water to drink and a place to sleep. The stranger was grateful and accept- ed the hospitality for the night.. Next morning, as he was about to leave, the chief's little granddaughter skipped merrily into the Wigwam, but paused at the sight of the stranger, whose gaze appeared to be rivited upon the child's moccasined feet. After the first astonishment, the little girl let her eyes follow the direction of the man's glance till they rested on her moccasin. fThen, indeed, her bewilderment grewl. What could there be about her moccasin which seemed to in- terest this man so? She wondered, and she looked at the pale stranger with questioning eyes. He made her understand that it was the little shin- ing pebble set in the toe-clasp that interested him. When she under- stood him, she laughingly seized his hand and drew him toward her own little tepee, where on every hand lay pieces of rock encrusted with the sparkling gems. ' As little Laoh saw the stranger's look of bewilderment and admiration, she fetched a little box from which she took five glistening pebbles. These she presented, without cere- mony, to the stranger. At first he refused to take them, but seeing the hurt lookin the chi1d's face, he ac- cepted, realizing of what little value they were to her and of what inesti- mable value they would be to him. u Six months after the visit of this white stranger, he returned, this time accompanied by a score of men, all carrying strange looking implements. The following year found a great, busy mining camp located on the land where the Sabigans had hunted and fished in peace amid the quiet of the forests. Before the echo of the first pick-axe had scarcely ceased, the old chief died, heartbroken. His Indian braves, however, soon learned the new lang- uage, entered the service of the white men, and now looked back upon their happy past only as a beautiful dream that had been ruthlessly broken. And the poor, little Laoh. in spite of the desire of her paleface friend to make her happy in his own home, surrounded by comforts and love of her adopted father, grew daily quieter. Her dark eyes betrayed her yearning. One night, unable to sleep, the girl rose and went quietly out of the