Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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every time they were played with, and they had so much life. Yes, she wanted a dog. She wanted one more than anything else in the world. It didn’t make any difference what kind it was, just so it would belong to her and would always be with her. The back gate opened slowly. Then it closed. Again it opened and Sunshine came through, leading something. Tilly screamed. “Oh! o-o-o-oh! Sunshine! Where did you get him? Is he goin’ to stay? ’ A moment later she was pouring all sorts of negro affections upon a big Scotch Collie. Sunshine looked on with an air of boredom and brotherl y tolerance. At last he spoke. “You all ain’t goin’ to have him. I found him and he’s mine.” But Tilly was not to be stopped with such a threat. Her kinkled head nodded in self-approval as she turned to Sunshine. “Sunshine, you all ’member that knife I found?” Plainly Sunshine did, for his big eyes grew bigger with interest and his air of tolerance changed to one of appeal. “Tilly, you all didn’t lose that knife, did you?” “No, I still has it, but jes’ wondered. I jes’ wondered.” Tilly was only ten, but already she had learned that a lady has much to gam by indifference. “What you all wonderin’ about, Tilly?” “Oh, I was jes’ thinkin’ how funny it is. You have the dog and I have the knife. Yes, I’se jes’ thinkin’.” Having given Sunshine food for thought, she went on playing with the dog. Sunshine thought. Two chocolate-colored fists thrust themselves in and out his overall pockets. How he wanted that knife with the shiny blades. Tilly had been lucky and found it, and although she didn’t need it, still she would not give it up. “A feller jes’ has to have a knife,” he said to himself. “What you say?” questioned Tilly. “Didn’t say nothin’, jes’ thinkin’.” Tilly suddenly remembered that the dog might be hungry, so she started for the house. But Sunshine stopped her by saying, “Aw, say, Tilly, you know I wants that knife. You give it to me and you can have the dog. Aw, come on, Tilhe.” Tilly concealed her joy by pretending to wonder what to do. “Sunshine, that’s a pretty good knife. Never saw a better Now that dog — ” “Aw, Tilly, please!” “Well.” tto r T ' 1 5 Lome on, 1 ll. one.

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Dolls vs. Dogs AH ILLY sat on the edge of a huge cracker box and meditated. By her side lay Lily May, an ancient rag doll whose sawdust in- terior was fast sprinkling over the edge of the box to the ground. As she kicked the box very hard, the last remnants of sawdust fell and Lily May was only an empty gingham form. She looked at Lily May’s remains and then at the ground — then back at Lily May again, with amazement all over her dusky face. How thoughtless it was of Lily to act so when she knew Tilly was all alone in that back yard. She was so surprised that she couldn’t cry. Surely she had the right to feel sorry that only the ragged cover of Lily May was left. There really hadn’t been a more faithful doll in all the negro quarters of Jacksonville than Lily May. Ever since Tilly had rescued her from an ash pile two years ago, she had been Tilly’s constant com- panion and now Tilly didn’t feel sorry that Lily May was dead. Some- thing must be the matter. Yes, something was the matter with Tilly. As she sat there on the edge of the box, her thoughts were ever so far away. First she wondered where her brother, Sunshine, was. Per- haps he had gone over to the neighbors to play. Boys always could do everything they wanted. Perhaps he had gone swimming, down in the creek. If he but knew that when he came back Mammy would use the big switch that stood behind the stove! Tilly laughed. She hoped Mammy would use — but here another thought interrupted her dreaming and Sunshine was forgotten for the time. Scrambling to her feet, she picked up Lily May’s form and started to put the sawdust back. When this was completed, she got her old spade and beside the rosebush she dug Lily May’s grave. Tilly was very lonely. Never before had she felt quite so much alone. Surely Mammy ought to come back from her visit soon, and Sunshine — where was Sunshine? Besides, she wanted something very much, and try as she would, she could not think what that something was. She knew she didn’t want another Lily May. In fact it was a sort of a relief not to have to bother with Lily May any more. Lily was always so quiet and lifeless. If only she would have talked or at least made some sound, it would have been different. Yes, Tilly was very lonely. She wondered if white children were ever lonely. They always seemed to have so much fun with their playmates and toys and — dogs. Tilly wanted a dog. She had always wanted a dog, but never till that moment had she realized it. Dogs were such fun. One didn’t need to be afraid that sawdust would come falling from their heads and feet

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“Well — well — all right, I’ll trade. Only it’s no trade back. And if you all lose that knife, you cain’t have the dog back.’’ “Oh, Tillie, ah!” — Sunshine then ran to the place where Tillie hid the knife. So the transaction was made and Tillie found herself owner of a fine Scotch Collie that was almost as high as she was. For a few moments she wondered what she could call him. She could call him Lily May, since Lily May was no more — but somehow it didn’t seem just exactly respectful to do such a thing. Just as she was about to ask Sunshine’s help, an inspiration came to her. She remembered the white children, where Mammy worked, called their dog “Duke.’’ Why, of course it must be “Duke.” “Come on, Duke. Come with Tillie.” Duke rose and followed Tillie — out through the front gate to parade up and down with his proud mistress. Beside the rosebush, Lily May lay forgotten. LUCILE HARPER. THE WOOD VIOLET Under the shade of the sturdy oak, Fragile and sweet in its yellow cloak. The wood violet lifted its dainty flower. And found itself in a sylvan bower. There in the leafy shade it grew, Bending its head with the weight of the dew; Wishing to be like the poppy so gay, Blooming beside the much traveled highway. The poppy at eve was much crushed and bent, But the violet sweet, with well learned content, Thought of the safety of her own peaceful days. And hungered no more for the showier ways. BETTY BARBER.