Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 19 Excuse me for interrupting. You aren ' t a water-nymph, are you? he said half ironically. Of course not. Water-nymphs are much prettier. But do come and paddle. To his own surprise, he did. The water was cold and clear, and together they tried to catch the darting minnows in their palms. Using leaves as boats was fun and their laughter rang clear through the wood. He showed her how to play ducks and drakes, and they watched the smooth stones leaping over the pool ' s bright surface. When they felt the pangs of hunger, they wended their way to the village and had their meal under the shade of the old copper beech at the stone house. The soldier teased the old lady who owned the house and, as they left, she presented them with a bunch of violets. Through the air came the deep sound of a church bell, and they made their way to the - little grey-lichened church. It had an old- fashioned, creaking gate and the stained-glass windows made patches of colour on the floor. This was perfect happiness and they felt as though they had been there all their lives. Spring flowers spread a perfume over the church. In the village general store they bought some packets of food. The little old man who owned the store thought, What a happy pair! Have they ever known sadness? Supper was eaten in a farmer ' s clover field, honeyed and downy. They watched the gangly colt, with his soft, woolly coat, frisk- ing about at the end of the field on his un- steady legs. The spring lambs next door played together without knowledge or thought of the future. Towards sunset time a farmer came along with a rumbling cart, his horse looking for- ward to home and bed. He stopped and offered them a lift, which they took although they didn ' t know where they were going. They got off at a deserted farm house, that was still in good repair and made themselves comfortable for the night. It was a warm night, and outside, as the earth went to sleep. the pine trees sighed. As they fell asleep, they both thought it had been the happiest day of their lives. Late at night, a lost German bomber strayed from its course and dropped a bomb on the cottage, blowing it to bits. Nobody knew who had been there. They had been given a space of happiness in their drab lives and now had gone to a better, happier world. A wilted, brown snowdrop chain lay by the brook next day. Anne ProtheroEj V C Keller FOOLED Whei2 an April day in February shoivs a stmling face, Entirely out of character and sweetly out of place, Whe?i all the birds start singing and the sun begins to shine, And all the breezes hum a tune when I had thought they ' d whine. Then 1 wonder, ' ■ ' ■A?J7 I dreaming? Can this lovely day be true? Shall I find sovie pavement, or the terrace breaking through? Will sticky buds be fooled as well, and break through bark of trees, Or daffodils awake too soon ajid rouse the sleeping bees? ' ' When I wake expecting winter and think spring has come instead, Vm April ' s fool who looks and finds that winter is ahead! Anne Chisnell, V B Keller

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18 SAMARA Bap of iiappmesg THERE was dead silence after the bombers roared away into the night, leaving lurid flames lighting up the frail framework of a building. Then, as the building toppled, a crash of brick and mortar broke the silence. A little girl stood like a small statue in the midst of chaos. ' Ere, wot yer doin ' ' ere? called a busy air raid warden. Mopping his head and care- fully picking his way over the debris, he made his way towards her. As if by a sudden impulse the small statue shivered all over and fled into the deep shadow of an alley. ' Ere, repeated the air raid warden. Wot yer doin ' ? Well, blow me daown, she ' s a queer ' un and no mistake. Guess she didn ' t have nothin ' t ' do with this show. He stumbled away to continue his work. The grey morning light filtered through the over-hanging roof of an alley way. A small shape kneeling on a piece of sacking rose and walked away, down the alley, looking at all the disaster that surrjDunded her. As she walked down that dingy little street, her eyes were sad. Her parents had been all the world to her, but they had been des- perately poor and she had had no moment of real happiness in the whole of her nine years. Now her parents were happily out of this world but she wasn ' t, and she was going to make this day the happiest she had ever had— just this one day, free and happy. The dirty buildings swam as she thought, Be happy, be happy. Now she was getting into broader streets and a cleaner part of the city. Her tears dried slowly on her face as she walked along, for the day showed signs of being superb. Even now, the grey cobwebs of dawn were fleeing the sky. Later, she stood on the curb of a road. The day was a golden day with clear sunshine and a wind-swept blue sky. All the passers-by were gilded by the sunshine of good will. A steady stream of passengers poured into a bus that was headed for the country. On this perfect day there was surely no need to pay. The conductor, busy with other passengers, didn ' t see her slip on the bus. The seat by the win- dow was soft and cushiony; the bus was like a stage with each passenger a play in himself. There was one typical, little man wearing a quiet, brown suit, with a plain, inconspicuous face— yet he might be a millionaire, a criminal or a spy. The bus stopped with a jerk. She opened her eyes and saw a sight so beautiful that it made her gasp. Her slum eyes had never seen anything so lovely,— those cottages, gay with window-boxes, the rich chocolate-brown earth and the stone house with a magnificent copper beech, each leaf burning like a separate sun. She descended in a sort of trance. Off the road was a worn path leading into a dim and whispering wood. The rays of the sun pierced through the leaves and tiny motes danced in their beams. A little pool, sur- rounded by delicate green ferns and blue-bells in clumps like blue shadows, formed a haven of refuge. A peaty brown brook ran into the pool chattering by a long, grey rock. Here the little girl sat, listening to a bird singing to its mate on the twig above and twining a wreath of snowdrops. A sound of whistling broke the stillness as a soldier pushed his way through the under- brush. He didn ' t look happy for his eyes were bitter and full of irony against the world. Nobody understood him. His parents had died when he was very young and, since he had no relations, he had grown up in an orphan asylum. When the war began, he joined the armed forces and this was his first leave. But where could he spend it? He had no friends. The whistling stopped dead as he came to the

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20 SAMARA THIS YEAR, after some hesitation, we again decided to hold a bazaar although with some doubts of being able to repeat our former successes. However, we need not have feared, as the afternoon was a great success; and we were all very proud when Elmwood was able to send a cheque for $560.00 to the Navy League for the allied merchant seamen. Miss Snell again managed the tickets, assisted by Janet Ed ' ards and a staff of form repre- sentatives; and a great many were sold. Miss Chappell was in charge of the raffles, together with Ruth Osier, Patsy Drake, and Elisabeth Rowlatt. This year we were pre- sented with a great number of gifts to be raffled, for which we were very grateful. A beautiful tea set was donated by Senator Wil- son, one of Tom Thomson ' s pictures was given by Mrs. Southam, a linen dinner set was presented by Mrs. Fauquier, and we were also given a doll, a tea cosy, two pounds of chocolates, and a plant. Tea was in charge of Miss May and Aliss Zysset, helped by Margaret Hardy and Anna Cameron, and in spite of the shortage of tea and sugar, enough was saved from the mis- tresses ' and girls ' rations to give the guests a very enjoyable tea. Candy was again under the efficient manage- ment of Miss Adams, assisted by Lois David- son at the head of an able committee. Most of the candy was donated, and the sale was very brisk. Jam and cookies were also sold at the candy table. The handicraft table was under the super- vision of Mademoiselle Juge assisted by Paula Peters. Many gay things were made for the table by the boarders, and some knitted baby clothes were taken out of the house collec- tions and proved a great attraction. The white elephant table, as arranged by Miss MacDonald, with Janet Caldwell and Philipoa AlcLaren as her helpers, looked very attractive, and a brisk trade was kept up there. The book stall was managed by Miss Wood and Suzanne A ' less, and a varied collection of books was offered for sale. Miss Dickie, Mrs. Knight, and the junior forms arranged a fish pond and a monkey house in the hall, which were a great amuse- ment to the younger guests. A new feature this year was a guessing weight competition, in which each competitor guessed the weight of a delectable-looking iced Christmas cake, presented by iMiss Dixon. The boarders ' cloak-room was changed into a check-room, very efficiently operated by Miss Wood and the members of VC. Two plays were presented during the course of the afternoon:— the Nightingale play Guest House, Very Exclusive ; and a charm- ing play of the Nativity, which had been written by themselves, was presented by IVB and IVC under the direction of Miss Graham. The school was charmingly decorated in gay colours by Joan Paterson, Betty Caldwell, Paula Peters, and Anna Cameron. p THE ROOFS OF PEKING The roofs of Peking are beautiful, W onderfidly carved and made. Underneath, the coolies will pull Rickshaivs with gold inlaid. The roofs with dragons standing by. Silver, marble, bronze and gold. All kinds of roofs against the sky On palaces, teiiiples of old. Brick walls siirroimding the temples- Above, the roofs of blue tiles. The svn shining over the courtyard. Over the city for luiles and miles. The gold-coloured tiles live on palaces, While dragons hold lanterns at night. And the coolies are all going home to bed Until morning comes with light. Elizabeth Oi.iver-Bellasis, IV A Fry