Williamstown High School - Yearbook (Williamstown, MA)

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The Fulfillment HE soft light of the green shaded reading lamp hovered over the polished mahogany table top, and left the corners of the long room in shadows, colored deeply by the richly colored covers of the books on the shelves about the room. Daren Ross sat half reclining in an arm chair beside of the table. He fingered some squares of white paper, shifting them from time to time over the polished surface of the table. Once he picked one of the papers up, and glanced over it, then sighing reminiscently, he dropped it down with the others and fell into a deep reverie. An evening breeze came through the open Window scented with earth and lilacs, and wafted a maple blossom to the floor. The notes on the white paper lying on the table were part of an introduc- tory speech to be used that evening at the meeting of the men's Bible class, when he was to introduce the Reverend Asa Atwill, a missionary and former pastor of the Little Church in Edin. He had been the pastor then when Daren Ross was a boy. Before the meeting of the Bible Class Mary Alice, Daren Ross's daughter, was going to deliver a little sermon in the church. She had been preaching there on Sunday nights all summer. The Little Church had run down terribly, and the town had been unable to hire a regular minister. They had asked Mr. Ross to preach during the summer months, but he was a banker in the nearest city, and had never been able to stay over Sunday nights in Eden before tonight. After much difficulty, Mary Alice had been persuaded to attempt to fill the place in the pulpit. Mary Alice was a good speaker and Mr. Ross was not. He often thought of things he would like to say - words of advice, comforting words, or words of encouragement-but he was always painfully shy in the face of such circumstances, and always felt that any words he might oiier were just as Well unspoken. He was well-liked for all his quiet ways, and was thought of as a quiet, kindly, and successful man. The reports that had come to him of Mary Alice's talks thus far had been good. Everyone was pleased apparently for she had attracted a minimum of people each time, and there had been no criticism at all. Mr. Ross wondered what the Reverend Asa Atwill would think of his daughter. He wondered whether he would be disappointed to find his little church without a real minister of the Gospel, or Whether he would be proud to come back and find it carrying on. Most of all he wondered if the old minis- ter would be surprised that he, Daren Ross, was not in the pulpit instead of his daughter. Daren had wanted to be a minister when he was a boy yet he had been terribly shy then, and the conflicting emotions had hurt him. He had told the Reverend Atwill of the strange battle within him, and the minister had under-

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pageforty-four W.H.S.1933 YEAR BOOK I've come to see if you've thought over what we were discussing late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Whiteman, Scrappy said, placing his right hand on the butt of his gun. Stan, trying to be nonchalant, dusted off his trophiesand answered in a carefree manner, I do not wish to sell, and have not, and will not, consider any of your propositions. Scrappy thought a while and suddenly said, You have some nice trophies. Did ya win them in golf? No, answered Stan proudly, I won them at sharpshootingf' Scrappy's mouth fell open in awe and his hands fell limp to his sides. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, When did you win them? At that moment the telephone rang and as Stan went over to answer it, he told Scrappy that the dates were on the trophies. Scrappy looked at them and immediately left the room thinking only of a way to escape. In the meantime, the Chief had been wandering around the garage. He noticed the target and shells around the floor. He asked Billy casually who had been doing all the shooting, and Billy answered in not too steady a voice, Uh, the boss and I have just been having a little fun, that's all . Just then Scrappy ran into the Chief who motioned to him to leave. They hurried out together and left Billy staring after them. A week passed and everything at the garage ran smoothly. The threaten- ing letters had ceased but Margaret's letters continued. On Saturday morning Stan called Billy in his office and in an agitated voice exclaimed, I've been threatened again! What! demanded Billy. Then a smile played around Stan's mouth and he calmly added, Mar- garet has threatened to marry me upon her arrival here Tuesday . Earl Green '33 fN di? xg fivlsx

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pageforty-six W.H.S.1933 YEAR BOOK stood. The small Daren had poured his heart out to Asa Atwill, and had been comforted and encouraged, and then the Reverend Asa had gone away to be a missionary. Without his guiding infiuence, and encouragement, Daren had grown up and attended college instead of a theological seminary. His parents never knew of his desire to become a minister, he had never been able to bring himself to the point of telling them. Yet he admitted that he had been afraid. Without much difficulty in the years that followed he became a banker. He was successful as a banker, and he felt that it had been fate, for admittedly his attainment of success had not followed a struggle. Daren Ross often reviewed his life when he was alone, so alone that he could hear the clock tick, not because he was proud of his achievements, for he was a retiring, quiet man, but because he was forever trying to fit into his life the something which had been left out. It was the neglect of his spiritual development. A hundred times in his quiet hours he planned his past life over again, and always he thought of himself as a minister in a quiet little town like Eden. Invariably at the end of his day dreams he apologized to himself for not being satisfied. Tonight as he dozed, there came softly and clearly back over the years the mellow music of an organ and a violin playing Jesus, My Lord , and softly he heard the swell of untrained voices singing, Jesus, what didst thou find in me that thou has dealt so lovingly? It was the old hymn that had been sung on the night when he was confirmed by the Bishop who was visiting the church. Dim lights from the candles on the altar had shown on the Bishop's face. The rose window at the back of the church had never been so beautiful before with the light of the sunset pouring through it on to the congregation. The Bishop had placed his hands on his head, and in tones that seemed to linger in the rafters, he had blessed him and each of the others in turn. Then the Reverend Atwill had pronounced the benediction. It was then that Mr. Ross had decided to become a minister or a missionary. The light tapping of heels on the flagged walk outside aroused him from his dreaming. It was Mary Alice coming home. He was anxious to ask her what her sermon was to be for that evening, as it was the first time he had been able to stay over Sunday night to hear her. He wondered if he was letting his hopes rise too high. He felt somehow that she was only a child and that he was expecting the utmost. Mary Alice was twenty-five and was trying her success at art. Mary Alice stepped into the room fresh from out of doors with a little mist of rain on her pale fluffy hair. Her dark violet eyes were shining in the lamp light and there were drops of mist on her lashes. With a graceful shrug she emerged from her raincoat which she laid on a chair. Hello father, she said in an unbelievably soft, deep voice, shall we go over to church together in a few moments? Yes, Mr. Ross answered, but first sit down and talk to me- about