Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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How queer, she said, looking about her, that I am here. Oh!', She suddenly seemed to remember Rolin's unanswered question. Her wonder- ful, brown eyes smiled at him, I am Elaine Lovelf' You are Elaine Lovel? Rolin staggered. Then you are the girl that was kidnapped from Paris on November seventeenth. Yes, she replied, and you have saved me from those awful wretchesf' She looked at him hopefully. It would take a long time to tell my story, she added with a sigh. The sigh awakened the dazed, young man, who, while she was talking, had completely lost himself in her auburn hair and pearl-white teeth. Come, he blinked. It's too cold. I cannot offer you much, but I can take you where it will be warmer and more comfortable than this. The girl smiled wanly. Anything would be better than this, she answered, too tired to speak more, and they began the dangerous descent. When they arrived at the bottom, Rolin carried the faint girl to the house. Who is that? asked the astonished butler of Rolin. It's a girl, the young man breathed back. Arnold, call Anne and ask her to come to the library immediately, he added. Anne Falstaif, R0lin's charming sister, soon had the beautiful Elaine comfortable. The soothing drink and some of Anneis clothes made a great difference, and then Rolin appeared to hear Elaine's story. You know the old castle here at Land's End?', she began. They nod- ded. I've been there. I donit know my captors. The only time I have seen anyone was at mealtime. Oh, it was horrible! Musty, dirty, dark, and rats everywhere. It seems as though the place hasn't been used for many years. No, replied Rolin. You see the people of the village have seen you enter and come from it, and they believe you to be .the ghost of the Earl's daughter, who was murdered there many years ago on a Christmas Eve. That night her ghost is supposed to appear. Of course no one ever goes up there because they are all so superstitious. I went up on the cliff tonight to kill their silly stories, but please continue. Pardon me for interruptingf' That's all right, Elaine smiled, curving her pretty lips sweetly. That makes it clearer for me. I must have been delirious most of the time. You remember when I rubbed my hand across my forehead? Yes, replied Rolin. Well, that's when I came to myself. I don't know how I got out of the castle. The windows were all barred, and there were guards everywhere. Neither do I know why I went to the top of the cliff. That's my story and I cannot thank you enough for saving me. It was just a coincidence, Rolin replied smiling modestly. Long after the household had retired Rolin, still up, strode from the library to the front garden, where Rover lay quiet as the night. The clouds were clearing away, and the silvery gray of the full moon made latticed shadows on the ground. The dawn was graying in the east, ushering in a clear, crisp day. Well, old boy, said Rolin, as he knelt down beside the dog, do you like her? The dog licked his master's hand. So do If' said Rolin, a very happy young man, as he stole back into the house just as Christmas Day dawned. Alice D. Davis. i

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The Christmas llfhuce Ghost THE SKY was overcast with thick, heavy, black clouds that not even the brightest rays of a full moon could penetrate. The wind was blowing and moaning through the trees baring them of their bright crimson and yellow foliage. Through the screen of branches and blanket of heavy, cold mist there appeared a long, low house deeply shadowed by shrubs. Every- thing seemed dark but for a single light in the front of the house. Chained to the trunk of a massive tree in front of the manor, lashing and pulling at his chain, was a huge mastiff, his snarls and howls drowning the great noise of the storm. Suddenly the front door opened, and a tall man in slicker and boots stepped out. His eyes turned to the sky, and, as he pulled on a pair of gloves, he smiled slightly and then moved on. Well, Rover, old boy, are you ready to prove to the villagers that their Christmas Eve Ghost is just a story? The dog licked his master's hand in reply, and soon as unleashed they started down the wide driveway. At the entrance, Rolin Falstaff paused and looked back. Then slowly, as though time were forever, he lit a cigarette. The light of the match showed a young, handsome face, pale, though strong, with dark, lustrous, blue eyes and black, shiny hair, which curled over his fine head. Q At a fork in the road they turned and entered a more rocky section, barren of trees and roads. The only sign of travel was a dim trail which led to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The going was hard and there- fore, very slow, for the wet, slimy rocks were dangerous footing. If one slipped here, he was doomed to be dashed to pieces by the terrific force of the angry waves, but soon, without mishap, they reached a hollow not quite so moist and somewhat sheltered from the cold, December wind. Here the young man stopped with a sigh of relief. Well, old chap, he said to the dog, we're here and in for a big storm, too. I'm afraid our ghost won't come tonight. An eerie howl echoed up through the rocks, encouraged by the raging wind. The young man pulled his coat up tighter around his neck with a shudder, when suddenly a low growl from the dog caused Rolin to jerk his head back. For a minute he could see nothing for the wind was blowing the rain into his eyes. Then everything cleared, and he saw standing before him on a rock dangerously close to the edge a girl in a long, white robe. Was this the fleeting figure which had so frightened the people for two previ- ous nights? The moon breaking through the clouds gave light to her exquisite beauty, and Rolin's flash showed the terror on her face. Her arms grew tense at her side, and her eyes, before lifted towards the sky, were now fixed with a frightened stare upon Rolin. Who are you? she asked in a terrorized voice. I am Rolin Falstaff, and who are you? he asked softly, not wishing to increase her fright. But fear seemed to have left her for she cautiously descended from the rock. When she reached Rolin, she looked up at him with a questioning glance. Yes, he was really there! She lifted her small, white hand and brushed it across her forehead as though trying to lift a cobweb away. I .

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Little Pear CHINA, as you know, is a very large country, and the people in the North are very different from those found in the South. My story will deal with North China where the people are tall and stalwart. Tientsin, where I lived three years, lies nearly due west of San Francisco. The rainy season there is in the summer, and the winters are dry and cold. It seems strange to us Californians to find things so brown and dry and desolate in the winter and early spring months. This is partly due to the terribly cold, dry winds that blow for hundreds of miles across the Gobi Desert and the snow-cov- ered, desolate plains. We shall travel for a day with my friend Little Pear, and you will see how different her life is from her western friend. She is ten years old, and being the eldest of five children, has many responsibilities. As winter is coming on, and the weather is growing colder and colder, we notice that Little Pear is putting on more coats, until finally by the Chinese New Year she will be wearing as many as eight. She is not fortunate enough to have any of her coats lined with fur for Little Pear is poor but not of the poorest class. Her father earns about 58.00 a month pulling rickshaws while her mother sits in the street during the day and sews as a public seam- stress, thus adding whatever she can to increase the family income. In the morning Little Pear rises at daybreak and helps her mother with the morning meal and housework. Then Little Pear's mother leaves her to take care of the children. With a few coppers, about noon, she runs to the market place and gets the children each a steaming sweet potato and a jowzer,,' the latter being something like an Italian ravioli only larger. She picks up whatever bits of paper, straw, or wood she can find on the way home to heat water for a bowl of tea. About two o'clock Little Pear's mother lets her go off to play while the younger children are sleeping. As the rivers and canals are all frozen solid, skating is her attraction. The Chinese ice skates are not made of steel like ours but consist of blocks of wood to which wires are fastened for run- ners. My friend's father has made her a clever pair, and we meet on the river and enjoy skating. My foreign steel skates are a source of wonder to Lit- tle Pear, but no more so than her clever wooden skates are to me. As we skate up and down the river, we pass a group of mounds of different sizes and Little Pear tells me that these are Chinese graves. Let us now stop and watch some people riding on a peiza. The peiza resembles our sled, with two runners and a place covered with dry reeds on which the passenger may sit. A man stands in back with one foot on each runner and jabs a sharp pole into the ice between his feet and shoves the peiza along. These peizas go swiftly, traveling ten to twenty miles an hour. Sometimes theycarry goods instead of people. ' We must nowsay good-bye to Little Pear as she must go out with all the other children and gather fuel. All but the wealthiest children gather sticks and leaves and grass from the fields and open country in place of fire- wood. china, being a very old country, has cut down most ofher trees in