Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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Telepathy or Coiincidence? SANDY STUART walked briskly along the well-worn moor trail. It was a brilliant fall morning. On either side of him grew purple heather, sway- ing in the gentle breeze and bathing in the warm, September sun. The rolling hills of the moor rose and fell gently like purple waves in a sea of wild heather. Ahead of him rose a rocky crag above which towered the gray roof of a large, rambling building, the castle of the Laird of Dunberry. It was sorrowfully dilapidated. The flowers which once made beautiful gardens were left to wander aimlessly over the crag, covering the rocks, every bit of soil, and the great wings of the castle itself. At the foot of the crag was an old, tumbled-down wall which separated the castle grounds from the village of the neat, little, thatched-roofed homes of the peasants. As Sandy entered this village, he was greeted by a loud sound as a large flock of geese passed, scolding furiously at the picturesque little laddie, dressed in his father's vivid tartan, and chasing the geese with a long, sharp switch. This boy, who knew Sandy, said to him, You'd better be hurryin', Mr. Sandy, 'cause the Laird's pretty sick. Sandy, taking this advice, ran as fast as possible through the village, managing to step on some worthy fellow's toe and to receive his compli- ments, to trip over a dog who chased him, and last, but not least, to have to stop to pick up a rosy-cheeked peasant girl's plaid handkerchief. At last Sandy arrived at the castle gate, and it was not long before he found him- self knocking loudly on the enormous door. The door was opened after a few moments by a young girl, Babby, the Lairdis only daughter. She was beautiful and delicate as the petal of a rose, with dark, curly hair pushed back so as to emphasize large, dark eyes and clear, white skin. Sandy entered. He soon found himself in a large bedroom. In a high, feather bed, lying back against his pillows, was che Laird of Dun- berry. He was a handsome man and powerful physically and mentally. He was in his sixties and had snow-white hair, and eyes like his daughter's. He seemed very much out of place in bed. He explained that he felt out of place, too, and that his daughter, the housekeeper, and all the other servants in general had actually forced him to go to bed. When Sandy asked him what seemed to be the matter, he had to be sat- isfied with the statement that all trouble could be traced to the previous night. Except for paleness, Sandy thought him perfectly well. However, he did notice that the Laird was very nervous. Once when Babby knocked on the door, Sandy noticed that the Laird shook all over and cried out, Stop that knocking! Stop it! Stop it,I say! after which he had lain back gasping. When Babby called Sandy down to lunch, he took time to consult her about the Laird. It was then that she asked him if he would be kind enough to sleep with the Laird that night and see that he was all right. To this Sandy agreed. She said also that something might happen at night to make the Laird more nervous and sick. He saw no more of Babby that afternoon, much to his regret, for a deep admiration for the dark-eyed beauty had sprung up in him. However, he was rewarded that evening. He and Babby ate dinner alone. At first they said little, but after a time an interesting but completely impersonal conversation passed between them. Dinner finished, the two went to the Lairdis room. In the conversation

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previous times. Since these trees have never been replaced, firewood is quite expensive. It gets very cold, sometimes below zero, and, as most of the people are poor, they can not afford to buy fuel but must gather whatever they can to burn. In many sections fuel of any kind is so scarce that the women and children go out to gather what they can find to make sufficient fire to boil water for tea or rice, or tp cook their food. Fuel for heating is not available to most of the people, 'so unless they can afford to put on enough extra clothing they suffer greatly in the cold winters. As I sit in front of a warm, cosy fire in my home, I often wonder what Little Pear is doing. I often wonder how many of my American friends would do as much in their homes as she does about her Chinese mud hut and do it without complaint. Oh, but our life here in America is an easy, lazy life compared to hers! Margaret Oatvmm. Wasted Matches IN THE DAYS when the United States did not reach from coast to coast, and the strong men and brave were always pushing west to conquer new country, my great-great-grandfather lived in Vermont. Though this is East to us, it was far West to him. Now during the long, long winter months it was necessary to have fire or freeze, and it was a great pride among the settlers if they could keep their fire going all winter, for, if their fire went out, as nobody had any matches, they would have to borrow fire from a neighbor. One cold night my grandfather stirred up the fire, put some more wood on, and went to bed. About two o'clock he heard a cry from the baby's bed. He got up and went to see why the baby was crying. He could not find out why, but with a little tending the baby soon fell asleep. My grandfather was a little cool after getting out of bed, and he went to the fire to warm up. Horrors! The fire was out. He knew that he should have to borrow fire from a neighbor, and he despised it as it would be the second time that week. He would be in disgrace. Grandfather thought that he would go to bed then and not worry about the fire for awhile yet. In the morning he got up before anybody else, and, leaving his wife to borrow fire when she got up, he started to the nearest town many miles away. When my great-great-grandmother got up, she went to the neighbors and in due time, for the nearest neighbor was three miles away, borrowed the fire. Late that evening grandfather came back very tired but happy. It had taken all day to walk to the nearest town and back. He showed what he had gotten and very proudly displayed a small bunch of matches. We need not borrow fire any more, said he. Let's put them between the stones of the fireplace so that they will not get lost. Ae he put them in the crack, they scratched and lit. Three dollars, for that is what they cost, lost! My great- great-grandfather was rather an irascible old gentleman, and this was the last straw. He strutted off to bed in a fit of rage and did not calm down for a week. I might add that in a week the fire went out again. Morton Swartlz.

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of che three, the Laird mentioned Scotty, his son, a captain in the Black Watch, who three weeks before had left for France. He was to take com- mand of his battalion at the front. His father was very proud of Scotty and thought that without doubt he would come home with at least three or four medals of honor. The conversation continued when soon the Dutch clock on the wall struck eight. The Laird hearing the bells sat bolt upright. Will they come, Babby? Do you think they'll come again tonight? Help me if they do! What could they be, Babby, dear child? Sandy, stay here and al- ways take care of Babby. Promise me that. Oh, my God, they've come, Babby! Listen! Sandy thought the man must be delirious, but suddenly he heard a strange noise. It sounded like many knocks on the walls coming from all parts of the room at once. They continued for about a minute and then stopped completely. Sandy all this time had been in a daze, not knowing what was happening about him except that he sensed something very pecu- liar. When he came to his senses, he found Babby tending to her father who had suddenly become very weak and faint. He said nothing for a moment, waiting for Babby to finish her tasks. Isn't that horrible? she said, looking up at him as she pulled the blan- kets closer around her patient's head. I mean that knocking noise. What do you suppose it is? Daddy has no enemies and Heaven knows no money any- one could want to get. That noise will come again in a few minutes. I think I shall put some cotton into dad's ears. He,ll go insane if he hears it again. The cotton is in the medicine chest over there. He followed her instruc- tions, and on returning he watched her with a strange, new light of admira- tion in his hazel eyes as she gently put the soft, white cotton in her father's large, bony ears. Both of them sat still, scarcely talking, watching the Laird as he slept fitfully. The knocking continued all evening, coming at five-minute inter- vals. At the stroke of twelve by the little Dutch clock the noise stopped completely, not returning again that night. At last both went to bed. Sandy was soon lulled to sleep by the Laird's deep breathing. The next day Sandy had a man come to the castle to clean out the parti- tions, thinking that there might be something between them to make the troublesome noise. However, nothing was found. On Friday night the noise came again. It continued regularly until about ten-Hfteen o'clock. It was then that Sandy, almost driven mad by che continued, puzzling noise, sat up in bed and cried loudly, Stop it, whoever or whatever you are, and let peaceful people sleep. If you have something to say, then say it! and the noise stopped. I Nothing had been found out about this strange happening until three days after the noise had stopped. It came in the form of a telegram sent to the Laird of Dunberry. It stated that Scotty, the Laird's son, had been criti- cally ill over the period of three days, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night exactly at ten-fifteen o'clock. It also stated that four medals of honor gained by Scotty would be sent to his father. He was buried in Flanders Field. Whether the knocking was just a coincidence or a form of telepathy connected with Scotty's death no one ever knew. The Laird was very sad, but not too sad to be happy at Sandy and Babby's wedding on Christmas Day. -Charlotte Lowe.