Page 87 - 1931 Hartridge

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Evening
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C-iiE only sound I can hear is the rustle of paj^cr and the occasional dropi)ing
of a pencil. Study hall is very silent this evening, although once in a while some one walks out to the dictionary. Heads are buried in hooks, hut here and there
I get an answering smile as 1 look around at the various desks. Outside the win­
dow behind me, the moon is rising. It is a great and gorgeous yellow moon, and Dc
several \])eople near the windows who have noticed it are going into \])antomimic X ecstasies, beckoning the others to look at it. W'hile I am looking, two or three
of the younger children leave study hall, and we hear subdued voices u\])stairs, which occasitmallv rise excitedly, until a cry “Vour hath is running over!" breaks violently into our silence here below, causing all study hall to laugh. W'e are, how­
ever, (luickl)' quieted by the arrival of a teacher on the scene.
I sit marveling at the remarkable concentration of my classmates. Would that I could delve so deeply into the Fourth X'errine or the Rise and Sju'ead of Mohammedanism ! I wonder what they are doing for English and which exercises
we had for F'rench. At last I turn in des\])air to the F^ourth V'errine and \])ainfully translate: "Now, indeed, what shall f call to mind concerning the doors of that tem\])le?" d'his, I \])erceive from long exi)erience, heralds the approach of many comments as to what Verres stole from that \])articular temple, including a com- l)lete catalogue containing the names, ages, and values, and what Marcellus had or had not done with them. J lay aside my Cicero with a sigh, and turn to Mo­ hammedanism for comfort. But as 1 look up while searching for my Outline of Historv, T am aware of a tension in the atmosijhere of the usually \])eaceful study
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hall, and I realize that it must he almost time for the hell. People around me start \]>ulling their desk lights on and off in a vain attem\])t to attract the attention of the
head of study hall, who is in blissful oblivion, far from the cares of the world, immersed in her P'nglish History. At last she comes to, doubtless because of the X .systematic turning on and off of the light at the next desk to hers, and rings the
hell. Immediately terrific confusion arises! I gather up my hooks, take my hook Dc hag into the hall, and go ui)stairs to bed, where the quiet room is a relief, though X my conscience still bothers me about the Mohammedans and \"erres.
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5Dc Page Eighty-three
R. u. s., ’32.
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