Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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After all, I was practically new. She didn't even take me, a tired-sounding voice added. She wore me for years, but when she met that girl, she bought that shocking pink- coloured thing. This was from Cindy's quilted dressing-gown which was thrown carelessly over the pink chair in the corner. At first I wondered at the hint of contempt in the voice when it spoke of that girl. Then I remembered something that hurt some- where away inside. I remembered that awful night when Cindy had brought one of her new friends to dinner. Sherrie had worn a low-cut 'black dress that was quite out of place in the homey, comfort- able atmosphere of our home. The next day Cindy and Mother had gone on a shopping trip. Cindy came home with a maximum of new clothes plus a vaguely triumphant air. Mother seemed disap- pointed and frowned when Cindy began to chat enthusiastically about the new clothes she had bought. I remember hearing Mother and Dad talking together at night. I remembered how the tennis games and early morning confidences had suddenly stopped. I remembered certain little shows of wilfulness and temper that had upset our normally happy-family life. I remembered how that many of the little things which Cindy used to do had ceased. I remembered that outburst of the long forgotten loafer. All of a sudden I realized that the floor was cold and I shivered. Shirley Donaldson, Grade VIII. The Robber's Fancy It was indeed a busy store. Daily came the rich and the poor-trying, some with a tranquil and wealthy clothing fitting, arguing, mauling, smile of a chore well-done and others reluctant to reach into their pockets. All was seen and reflected by five stately mirrors. Then one night when all was dark, there came a muffled clang followed by the click of a lock and in stepped a slouched figure carrying under his arm a black bag and in his hand a wrench. Cautiously he moved among the counters and racks until seeing the dark cash register he moved more quickly and carelessly stepped on an object which broke under his foot. Cursing himself he stopped to listen for any sounds. Then he heard it. At first it was a low murmur and then came a peal of laughter followed by more murmurs. With a beating heart and frightened eyes he listened and there in the dark he heard the most unusual of Conversations. g 1 7 Snoopy, don't tell me you really laughed at that dumpy old woman, chided a motherly voice. Indeed I did!' retorted Snoopy, reflecting the motherly mirror such a glare that she was taken aback. Indeed I laughed so hard my sides almost split and that made her figure even worse. It was like looking at a mirror in one of the circus side- shows. I know because I saw Smirk laugh! You have, indeed, have you! bellowed Smirk, I'll show you! Now, now, really you mustn't argue like that. After all, the dumpy one did look like a scream, However, I have seen worse in my day. The speaker was a cracked wrinkly mirror wheez- ing with age and delivering a condensed lecture with the air of an orator. His aging woodwork showed signs of wanting viarniish and the legs were likewise stiff with mirrorism. Now, exhausted with his speech, he sank back against the wall and viewed his young friends with wise glances. Tell me, Snoopy, what kind of dress did the dumpy 0-ne have on? inquired a lean, mirror called Gossip. If it was an extremely tasteless one I should like to tell my friend What about it. Ah, you old fiend, grinned Snoopy, as though you didn't notice, It was orange with red stripes blending perfectly with her complexion. I guess that covers it. So it does, retorted Gossip bending towards her half-deaf friend, What, and reciting the de- scription like a parrot. This session has been long enough, chided the motherly voice, I think we should retire, that is to bed, With those words they obediently stiffened and became serene, leaving the would-be robber musing over his fancy. Signe Salzberg, Grade VIII. ,g ifw m . x X if x V L 1' 1 I hs -. MW Ev f' .1 Q any

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low The canoe skimmed softly over the water as Lou paddled. The moon gave a cold hard light to the surroundings but a strange force urged her on. As she approached the hut, the moon slipped under a cloud plunging the scene into darkness. Lou Anne stepped out of the canoe, walked towards the house and pushed the door open. Creak! the hinges needed oiling. In the hut, there was a single candle burning which filled the room with an eerie light. The shelves on the walls were filled with dolls exactly like Lou's lucky charm. A door across the room opened and a startling voice said, What are you doing here? N-n-nothing, shuddered Lou. She could see the woman's face clearly now. It was a kind face with loving eyes. I just came to see if you could help me. Help you? With what? Do you want a doll? the woman asked. No, I want some answers, You see, I came here this afternoon and saw you. Lou told the woman the story and as she did the woman's face lit up. She chuckled to herself and then said, Lou Anne, I am your mother. My name is Molly Peters. I abandoned you in the marsh when you were a year old hoping someone nice would find you, but I see Gran'ma jones is cruel, The doll, I made as an image of you, when I saw you paddling through the bayou. You must keep that! It is the luckiest charm you could ever own! By bringing you to me it has shown that it will lead you through life. Where is my father? asked Lou. He died many years ago, That's why I moved here, answered her mother. Mother, can't I stay here with you? pleaded Lou. No, it's better the way it is but you must always remember the secret of the charm, she answered and then added briskly, but now you must go. It will soon be dawn. Elizabeth Kilgour, Grade IX. And the Clock Struck Twelve Last night I woke up just as the hrst stroke of twelve echoed through the house. I sat up, dazed, but when all that remained of yesterday were memories I became aware of a low murmur. It seemed to come from my sister's room so I tiptoed down the hall, I paused at her door and looked in. It was as if she had never left on that fateful holiday. It seemed as if she would come dashing up the stairs in a minute or two, her hair flying and her eyes shining, begging me to run down and play a set of tennis with her. No, I reminded myself, Cindy was dead. Cindy would never again come gaily in, twenty minutes late for dinner, hurriedly apologize, and then tell us breathlessly of a hamburger fry or of a new record. She would never again come into my room early in the morn- ing to tell wide-eyed me all about the dance or the party at Pat's. The sight that greeted my eyes was a pleasant one. Qlt was a room which evidently belonged to a girl.j As I gazed, my eyes roaming over all the familiar objects, I became conscious of voices. They seemed to be arguing about something. I listened. If you think you were important to Cindy, then what do you think she thought of me? just because she read you a little more often . . I glanced over to the bookcase to see two well-worn books fairly vibrating. The one on the left spoke: Maybe so, but if it comes to that neither one of us was really that important to her. She didn't take us with her on the trip. Here the voice grew sad and wistful. Instead she took those new novelsf, She left us here in her shoe bag, but we don't mind, chorused two voices, very much alike. Remember the time we sneaked out and slept on the terrace and it started to rain? Oh, we've had some wonderful times together, we have! and the voices broke into gales of laughter. It was Cindy's old slippers, the ones Aunt Helene gave her the Christmas she was twelve. The last night she was home she 'broke my back, sobbed a loafer all doubled up in one cor- ner. We've had fun together too, but she threw me at her vanity, yelling something about how childish her room looked. I couldn't help i-t. Why did she take it out on me? That's all I'd like to know. And now I've started this Imight as well finish it. I think maybe it is best that she died. I gasped but he continued. She was running around with entirely the wrong kind of people and her parents would have been horrified if they had known. No one movecl for maybe a minute or so then a muffled voice came from under the bed. 'I don't think you're being very fair and anyway, let's let bygones be bygones. Besides, you should talk about being unlucky. I've been under this bed for nearly a year now. I haven't seen daylight since the day she left. I got down on my knees, curious as to who had stood up for Cindy. It was the pink floppy dog she always kept on her bed. And me, cried a shrill unmusical voice, I wish somebody would hurry up and use me. High priced perfume should be used, not just left here to evaporate. I still think it was mean of her not to take me, sniffed a haughty voice from the wardrobe.

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. r- - L -- . L. .rrr.r... THE OPENING The Formal Opening Words do not really convey the significance of a moment such as an opening ceremony any more than does a picture but for the sake of history this great moment should be recorded. December 20th, 1955 and the School, the whole school is alive with excitement. Examinations are just over, classrooms have been specially tidied, and fitting decorations suggest the Christmas season, The new building is very new today - it is spotless - it shines. Clusters of holly brighten the notice boards, add colour to the green plants at the entrance, and can be found in the oddest place. Scissors, gold scissors with holly attached are ready for the moment when the ribbon will be cut. 2:30 o'clock and into the darkened hall with only the lights from the Christmas trees to give atmosphere, process the students singing The First Nowell. Very real is the Christmas story as it is read, and acted, accompanied by the choir and school. Very real is the spirit of Christmas as the curtain closed on the final tableau. 3:30 o'clock and very real is the spirit of Thanksgiving as the students join in the School Prayer. As a conclusion to the Christmas Service and as a part of the opening ceremony Archbishop Barfoot offered a prayer of dedication and the Benediction. Then following the choir, His Grace and Dr. Lockhart lead the many distinguished guests to the new building where Dr. Lockhart cut the ribbon and declared the ,building officially opened. Words are not adequate but this was indeed a very great and memorable moment. Do You Remember? As a result of our new building not being com- pleted when we returned to School in September, we took classes in temporary rooms for two months. Grade Seven, Eight, and Twelve re- mained in the junior school, while Grades Nine, Ten and Eleven went to the Red House. It was the latter who shivered between houses, and who found much distraction in their temporary quar- ters. Grade Nine and Miss McLean were poured into the abandoned Grade Two and Three Room where the cubic feet of air per pupil was at a low level and the area of the room simply meant that all were at each others' elbows. Mrs. Vaughan took over Grade Ten in the former Home Economics Room. It was larger but such enticing objects as