Altona Collegiate - Green and Gold Yearbook (Altona, Manitoba Canada)

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Three Lives (A short story by Dorothy Howe grade IX) The early morning rush was well underway that fine April morning. Slushy streets and dirty cars made an unprepossessing picture, but the people who passed by on the streets didn’t notice, for everyone had caught the fever. Spring was on its way and every living thing sensed it. The heavy revolving doors of the Canadian National Railway Station fairly vibrated from constant use. Inside, the female voice over the public address system relayed information to the scurrying, bustling people in the station. “Train number four-sixteen heading east leaving on track five.” Up on the platform, porters, redcaps, and passengers hurried about their business. The porter for train four-sixteen called “All Aboard.” A young lady ran across the platform and boarded train four-sixteen. She was closely followed by a man with a young- looking face, but who walked with strident dignity, emphasized by the impressive-looking briefcase he carried. Finally the old man, who had been carrying on an animated conversation with the porter, clambered aboard. He wasn’t a bit dignified, but his kindly face would have made anyone his friend. Inside the train everyone struggled to find a seat. The conductor gave the signal and the train slowly pulled out. As it gained momentum and the platform was left behind, people settled back into their seats to prepare for the trip ahead. Louise Collingswood breathed a sigh of relief 1 She was going homel For two years she had worked in an office as a stenographer. Oh, she was well paid and quite satisfied but she was homesick. Her stays away from home had always been brief and not at all joyful. No long distance travelling for her anyway I She would be quite happy to remain in her own home. Now that the chance to have an equally well-paying job at home had finally come, she had had no qualms about leaving her old job. To her disgust, she realized that she hadn’t brought any reading material. It was no use trying to sleep, so she leaned back and relaxed. By chance, her eyes fell upon the man with the briefcase and the young-looking face. Immediately a feeling of sympathy flowed over her. “Poor fellow,” she thought, “I know exactly how he feels. Probably a college student trying to be sophisticated. If only you knew how foolish and futile it is to try those tricksl How could he afford those finely-tailored suits!” Her experienced stenographer’s eyes took it all in. Louise had seen so many college students trying to get a job at her ex-boss’s office. Everyone had overdone the so-called “classiness” to impress the prospective boss. All had failed miserably. But seeing that it wasn’t her problem, she turned her thoughts to the passing scenery and the thoughts about the young man left her. Bruce Lincoln set down his briefcase and took a comfortable seat. The feeling that someone was watching him didn’t bother him in the least. He had concluded some time ago that someone as striking as he must get used to these annoying little things. He brushed some imaginary dust from his exquisitely tailored suit and settled back to his problem. Immediately he began to seethe. Old Bob Graf had his nerve alright! Imagine sending him on a business trip at this season! “Oh well,” Bruce compromised, “the vice¬ presidency awaits me on my return.” B. G. had told him all about it. Now this business trip was to be the final test. It was mildly humorous. Why, he’d pulled off much bigger deals than this one many times. “The boss sure could be queer.” Just then the porter passed and Bruce handed him his ticket. After the porter had passed on, Bruce heard a hearty chuckle. He was curious enough to glance up to see who seemed so jovial. He saw a short old man whose face showed signs of age, but whose sparkling eyes still held the essence of youth. “Wonder where he lost out,” thought Bruce, making one of his snap decisions. “He obviously missed the boat of success. Seems he enjoys life though, but then, most simple people do. What would the world do without these little men to do the little menial unimportant tasks.” Just then the “little man” glanced up and met Bruce’s cold reckoning eyes with his own merry ones. Bruce glanced away immediately, slightly embarrassed, but he soon forgot this embarrassment as he got to work on the papers in his briefcase. Horatio Mendel turned and met two calculating eyes, but Horatio didn’t even realize that the young man had been studying him. Horatio thought only he endulged in that intriguing sport—the study of people. Horatio liked a good joke and lived for the joy of living. He considered himself equal to any other person, no higher, no lower, but other men looked on Horatio as a great man. For Horatio was a great phytopathologist whose discoveries in plant diseases had saved millions of fanners many millions of dollars. He had done research, studying many enemies of crop-growers everywhere. Now he was retired, but he persisted in lecturing the world over (against the doctors’ orders). Now he looked over the people in the train and finally came to Louise, who was still intent on the scenery. “My but isn’t she lovely,” he declared. “I’ll wager she’s travelled a few thousand miles. She looks at the scenery in such an educated way!” He chuckled at his own humour. This went unnoticed by the party under study. “I wonder where she’s off to now. Probably seen all of Europe. I wonder what her family tree looks like. Probably all “lord” this or “lady” that. Just then the general bustle of the other people on the train made Mr. Mendel aware that his destination had been reached. The train pulled into a Toronto Stopover Station and people poured from the train. Louise Collingswood spotted her family and ran to them without hesitation. Bruce Lincoln looked at his watch, realized that his conference started in a short time, and hurried off to find a fast taxi. Horatio Mendel was besieged by noisy, inquiring newspaper reporters with whom he exchanged questions and answers for quite some time. So three very different people went their different ways. Each had found his or her niche in life and was following his or her whims or duties. Each, though he or she had done it quite unknowingly, had passed a judgment on another, but each judgment con¬ trasted sharply with the truth. 62

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Ronald Enns John Dick 61

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