Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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April showers can do some good after all, she laughed. To- day ' s Sunday so I ' ll put on my pumps and new silk stockings. They ' re about the only things I have that were given to me when they were new. While she had been talking, she had hastily dressed and now viewed herself in the mirror. Not half bad, was her brief comment. Then combing her wavy bobbed hair, she slipped into her sister ' s room and, tak- ing a narrow blue ribbon from the dressing table, she twined it about her head twice. I ' m quite good looking after all. Running downstairs, she surprised her mother and sister by her smart appearance. Well! ejaculated Dorothy. You ' re not a baby any more. Are you, dear? I guess High School girls are not too young to have pretty clothes, remarked Mrs. Adams. Oh, how silly! She ' s only in High School, mother, replied Dorothy. What did you have when you were in High School? asked Mrs. Adams. — o — On Monday, Peggy Adams was absent. This was an unusual oc- currence and Helen suggested that Peggy probably had a cold from their Saturday picnic. On Tuesday, Peggy appeared all decked out in new clothes from head to toe. — VESTA NICKERSON. O Castles When the sun is setting And the sky ' s of golden hue, Then is the time to be thoughtful And build your castles new. Build your castles tall and strong, Make them of the purest. Have them fair in every way And they will build success each day. BETTY SHADE.

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All the girls entered gaily into the sport. They did not notice the darkening sky until big drops fell on the leaves overhead. Then there were exclamations of concern. Oh, gracious! cried Mary, I don ' t want to get all wet. Fairy queen, please stop the rain, begged Peggy, trying to keep the sport going, as well as to perk up the drooping spirits of her com- panions ; but it was impossible. Oh, Peggy, how can you? Don ' t you mind getting wet? re- proached Jean. Well, we can ' t help it, so we may as well stay here and make the best of it. April showers come and go, replied Peggy. The girls played around for awhile and tried to be merry and gay but none of them were good actresses. What time is it? Two- fifteen. Girls, don ' t be so depressed. We can ' t help it. Let ' s wait here till three. Then, even if it is still raining, we ' ll go. All right, let ' s hope for the best, replied Helen, Finally, three o ' clock came and it was raining the way it does when it means never to stop. Come, girls. Here we go, called the leader. Oh, Peggy, sobbed Patricia, I wore my new camping outfit for the first time. It ' ll get all spoilt. Wait a little longer. Let ' s wait, Peggy. The fairy queen has her way, replied Peggy with a deep curtsy. Time passed slowly but at three-ten the girls finally set out. That homeward journey did not seem to be made by the same girls. The farther they walked and the more it rained, the lower the girls ' spirits drooped. Finally they reached the town and parted on their various ways. Good-bye, called Peggy. ' Bye, murmured the rest. When Peggy reached home, she realized with a depressed feeling that the jersey loaded with water was longer and baggier. Peggy, dear, are you safe? exclaimed her anxious mother. Hop into bed and read. You may have supper in bed, too. After hanging the shapeless dress over the furnace draught, Peggy did as her mother suggested, ate some supper and then went to sleep, worn out with the excitement of the day. The next morning was again sunny. When Peggy finally got up and was putting on the now dry jersey, she thought it felt smaller. Look- ing in the mirror, she found it had shrunk to an exact fit. By giving it a pull here and there, she had it looking quite classy.

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The Soul of a Pine Tree AM A beautiful pine tree at the edge of the ocean shore. I am the only tree for miles around ; only rocks and sand keep me company beside the incessant murmur of the ocean. Although alone, I am not lonely. Can you guess why? Many lonely folks both young and old come to sit beneath my branches. They touch my bark and talk to me. They tell me how lonely they are or I hear their troubles. Many a man confides in me the inmost thoughts of his soul, things he ' d never tell another. Although I can not answer their pitiful questions, my soul responds in deep feeling. The beauty of a tree as of anything is its soul. Hard souls rest in rock or stone, I know, because I have one rock friend who talks very disagreeably and meanly. He has grown to be what his soul expressed. A sad thing has happened in my life which makes me love all strangers. It is this: Many years ago, a boy used to come to me every day and talk and laugh beneath my branches. Finally he grew to be a man. He was very lonely for often he told me that he had no friends. I grew to love him more and more. I eagerly awaited his coming each day. He also loved me, because more than once he as much as told me so. Then one day I waited in vain. He did not come that day nor the next. In fact he did not come for many, many days. A long time I waited, One day I heard a faint tap-tap-tap. I looked eagerly around and saw to my unspeakable joy, my dearest friend. He was changed! He wore a brown uniform. I noticed he carried a strange cane which I had never seen before. I looked at his eyes. They were so strange looking, v ide and staring straight ahead. He came directly toward me, laid down his cane and held on to me, as a drowning man would hold to a limb of a tree. My greatest desire was that I had arms so that I could hold him and touch him. He wept like a child and told me all that he had been through for two years. He had been to war. Now he was blinded. Once again I knew happiness. Every day at the same time he would come and stay till evening. Although he was in perpetual dark- ness, he seemed to know when the world ' s night came. That was many years ago when I was young. That dear man is now dead and buried at my feet where he wished to be buried. He taught me my big life lesson to love all and share troubles in my silent way. HINDA MORGAN.