"PIG-TAILS."

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 230, 28 September 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

"PIG-TAILS."

(By Sheila Quinn, Tennyson Street, Mount Eden; age 1G). "Pigtails," jeered an impudent voice behind me. I gazed across the deck of the Sydney ferry to where a girl was sitting reading a book. Long, black plaits hung down her back, and her eyes when she raised them to gaze at her young tormentor were dark and stormy. Beyond i that one angry look, however, she did nothing, but went on quietly leading. I wad left thinking. Whore had 1 seen that girl before, with her brown, almost eliin-like, fare, her long, black plaits, and her stormy, blue eyes. My mind travelled eswiftJy back o\\:r the past few years—over the years of farm life in iS'evv Zealand, of living in the South Island, and, finally, school. Alii 1 had it. With a rush all the memories of those happy days at the Auckland boarding school came back to me, and the girl who, although strange aud hard to understand, 1 had nevertheless funned an odd friendship, with "which three years of parting had deepened to something akin to love. Three years before I had been a boarder at >St. Barbara's, a school' just out of Auckland. We had great fun there, the girle and I, and for two years I enjoyed school life without anything unusual happening. And then Judith Carruthers arrived. The very first time I saw her I took a fancy to the little half-JVench girl with the long black pig-tails, and the enormous blue eyes, that always had such a m'oody expression those days. A« the weekes passed, I got to know Judith better every day, and it whs not long before I found that she was selfwilled and head-strong, possessing all the fiery emotions she inherited from her French ancestors, aud because of her violent temper and moody ways ehe was not very popular -with the girls. And then one day 1 made a discovery. Going suddenly into a deserted part of the woods adjoining St. Babs., 1 wae am axed to see Judith dancing. iSpellbound I watched. Here was rhythm and grace—the lightness of her movements, as she poised and swayed and twirled— the wonderful daintiness of her actions, liven .1 knew that 1 was watching dancing that was a living thing; the spirit of the dance was there. So the days passed uneventfully, but somehow 1 was worried. J. was sure that either Judith's headstrong ways or lier temper would get her into trouble. I was right. Came a day when Judith met me flushed with excitement. "Oh! Peg. look! Pavlova, the great Pavlova is dancing in Auckland, to-night, and dad hats sent me tickets. We must go. You and I, Peg., see!" and .she opened her hand disclosing two precious little [)ink slips. How I did it, I still don't know, but in some way I managed to urge Judy to give up the idea. 3, who had been at St. Babs. for years knew the penalty of visiting Auckland at night without permission. That night in bed, however, I was uneasy. What if .Judith changed her mind.' What if ehe went to see Pavlova. So I drifted off to sleep. It seemed but it little while later when F awakened. The dormitory was in darkness, but stray beams of moonlight flitted round the loom, alighting here and there on the heads of the sleeping girle. Never ehall I forget the moment when the moonlight showed me, Judy's bed —empty. In a second I was up. What could I do? I crept to .the window and looked out over the woodw. 1. was afraid, deadly afraid for Judith. I knew then, I was certain, she would be discovered. hi tin , hull outside I heard footsteps, and barely had time to spring across the room into bed before the door opened and Misri Allen came into the room. Her gaze swept over the room and rested on Judy's bed. There was a rather long-drawn-out "ah!" Then she turned and left the dormitory. And I, curled up in my bed sobbed unashamedly for I knew I had lost a friend. Judith left St. Babs. the following week. Perhaps I was the only one who was sorry to see her go. The carefree, matter-of-fact New Zealand girls had never understood Judy, with her fiery temper and her French blood. And since then I had never seen her, until—" "Pig-tails," jeered the impudent voice again. There was a whizz as a book, accurately aimed, came flying through the air,, and struck the freckle-faced, snub-nosed little boy on the face. I smiled to myself. The same old Judith of our school-days, the The whistle blared forth; the gangways were lowered, and there was the usual rush to be fir*t to land. In the confusion I glimpsed Judy's rather sad little face and a longing to speak to her, to tell her we were still friends, came over me. I looked round. She had vanished in the crowds, and though I searched among the busy throngs, I did not find her. Mγ wanderings brought me at last to the side of the little urchin who had first awakened those memories.

"The girl, Pig-tails, do you know her?" I aeked°eagerly. "Gosh, yes! Miss. She's Pandora, the wonderful dancer at the Palace. She's great, she ie." I moved away in a dream, and walked slowly through the crowded Sydney streets. Unconsciously my steps turned towards the Palace. The great lights glared and sparkled out the magic name, Pandora", and in the dazzling bulbs I pictured the little eliin,faced girl with the long black plaits; the friend of my school-daye- -Pig-tails. FOR ARTISTS. Prizes of 5/, 3/ and 2/ will be given for the best sketches submitted as a heading for our pap. The drawing must have included in it the words "The Young Folk's Budget." The size of the heading should be proportionate to that already in use. Entries close October 7. Open to young people over 12.

TO RAISE A SMILE. UP OR DOWN? "So you're a young man with br.tn feet on the ground, eh? What do you do for a living?" "I take orders from a man with botJi feet on the desk." COULDN'T BE HELPED. The attendance officer had called at Luurddene to see why Master Williams had not been to school for the last few ""Why," explained Mrs. Williams, "he was ] 3 years of age a week ago, sir, and I'm sure he has had enough schooling for any lad." , "Enough schooling!" exclaimed the officer, "do you know that I didn't finish my education unti] I was past twenty '! Mrs. Williams looked the inspector up and clown critically. "Well sir," she eaid, "some of us are ]11O re thick-headed than others, ain't we ?"