Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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10 THE QUIVER crib; the other, that of a little dog, frightened by his surroundings, trembling on the floor of the baggage car. So he went home with a troubled conscience and a heavy heart. A troubled conscience does not help one’s sleep. Bobbie’s father did not sleep well that night. Laddie rode in the baggage car until the clerk put him off at a small town about twelve miles from home. He was rather dazed at first, but the night air soon restored his jarred senses, and he started at a slow trot, his instinct guiding him in the direction from which he had come. He reached the town before sunrise, but he wandered about for a long time before finding any familiar landmarks. Finally he bounded up the street on which his little master lived. Bobbie came down that morning, as gay as ever, knowing nothing of the events of the night before. When he sat down to breakfast, there was an awkward silence. His father was staring at his plate. His mother cast furtive glances in his direction. Soon Bobbie exclaimed, “Why, where’s Laddie this morning?” There was a pause, which was broken by a low whine on the porch. All three ran to the door, but Bobbie reached it first. He opened it and rushed out to meet his little friend. Father heaved a sigh of relief, and even Mother seemed glad when she saw the happy expression on the two little faces. And Laddie stayed. PAUL W. CARD. DREAMING Oh! would I had a fairy bark To roam the sapphire seas, Where gentle winds the billows mock With playful melodies. Oh! I would sail and sail and sail, Nor home my course I’d bend. Till I had conquered tide and gale And reached the rainbow’s end. MADELEINE ROSWELL.

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THE QUIVER LADDIE 9 He was such a nice dog. He and Bobbie had loved each other from the moment they had first set eyes on each other. The man who had sold him could see that, and he had been sure that Bobbie’s father and mother would like the little dog. Bobbie had bought him with the two-dollar bill which his Aunt Nell had given him the day before. She had told him to buy what he wanted with it, and he had. But Bobbie’s mother did not share his views. She would have no muddy dog around her house, tracking dirt on the floors and carpets. She would have liked to get her hands on the man who had sold that disreputable-looking cur to her little son for two whole dollars. That evening when Bobbie’s father came home, he found the little son crying, his wife coaxing and threatening, and a sorrowful-looking little dog of uncertain pedigree—the cause of it all—lying on the floor, trying to understand what it was all about. Mother presented her case to him. After deliberating a few moments, he drew her into the next room and told her his plan. 'They would let the dog stay several days, perhaps a week. Bobbie would soon grow tired of him and cast him away, as he had done with all his toys. Then Lad die. as the dog was named, could be done away with, and Bobbie would soon forget all about him. Mother agreed to this plan. But Bobbie did not grow tired of his new playmate. A week-passed. Two weeks passed, and the dog and the boy were still playing and romping around the house and in the yard. One day, when nearly three weeks had gone by, the real head of the house approached the nominal one and reminded him that it was high time that animal was disposed of. Father did not like the idea. He had taken a liking to the affectionate little animal. However, his wife demanded it, so of course it had to be done. That night, while Bobbie was sleeping, his father led Laddie down to the railroad station. A passenger train drew in and came to a stop. Laddie was led to the baggage car. Bobbie’s father spoke a few words to the clerk and slipped him a bank note. Then Laddie was lifted into the car and tied in a corner. As the train started, he sensed that he was being taken away from his home. He yelped a few times, but the rush and roar of the train frightened him. and he cowered in his corner. Meanwhile. Bobbie’s father sneaked away, obsessed by a feeling of guilt. He went to his club and tried to forget what he had done by assuming a jovial air; but it was useless. Two pictures stuck in his mind: one was that of his little son, peacefully sleeping in his

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THE QUIVER “IMPRESSIONS FROM ‘AFTERNOON OF A FAUN’ ” 11 Impression from the Prelude, “Afternoon of a Faun,’’ by Claude Debutty, as played by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Can I forget that fanciful prelude? Can I believe those persons ignorant, Who say that worthless are your compositions? ’Tis that they do not know your magic power, And so they judge without just cause or reason. As I sat in the hall, so silent and still, In my soul, 1 saw the visions which you saw. Highly colored, like a beauteous fairyland, With blue and gold and red and purple bright. I felt a beauty which was true—yes, true! 1 shivered with delight and happiness, And wished that I could hear your tones forever. But alas, too soon, your inspiration ceased; And in a minute, all was gone—was gone— The magic rhythm of the dance so gay, The chords with all their color and mystery. The shy faun with its nimble, joyful dance, Were gone to the land of charm and strange delight. The trees of gold, of blue, and brilliant green— The lake with waters blue and amethystine, All faded to a color pale and dull. I see thee still in fleeting visions. Often in day dreams when I pensive seem, And again I feel the joy and colors bright Which I perceived from your prelude inspiring, “The Afternoon of a Faun,” O Claude Debussy. EUGENE MAILLOUX