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

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Suddenly she pointed. Dad,'l she faltered, haven't we passed that red rock before? Giving a closer look, the others realized that Linda was right. Really, jim! Aunt Sarah cried. First you tried to drown usg now you've got us lost! Sarah, Dad replied evenly, I've had just about enough of you. Itxs your fault weire in this mess. Anyhow, this is no time to argue. Why, why-'l Aunt Sarah's spluttering was cut off by Mother. Hush!l' she said. There is something moving in those bushes. just as Mother pointed, with a trembling hand, to a clump of bushes several yards away, a small spotted head peered out from under it. Flip! cried Linda, running to her pet. Isn't that a big, frightening animal? asked Dad, smiling at Mother. He seemed greatly ref lieved. He must have wriggled out of his collar. What say we follow him home? Late in the afternoon of the day after the picnic , Linda stepped outside the back door to feed Flip. She sat on the steps and watched, enjoying the peaceful sunshine. Aunt Sarah had left on the morning train. 'lMom, she called, letting the screen door bang behind her as she refentered the house, are my slimfjims clean? I want to wear them to the beachfpartyf' PATRICIA McMAHoN, Grade IX Growing Up It is quite strange just how time flew So long ago when I was two The thin white bars about my crib And picture stories on my bib. Noddy, a brown bear I still adore Was given to me when I was four. I was five when school began, And off I set with school bag tan. At six-it hardly seems the truth- A flower girl I was for Ruth. The next year, and this with hesitation, I had the tonsil operation. At eight, class president I became Which at first I thought a gameg The literary competition at ten I won- I found writing poetry was great fun. I waited long and then did gloat When I saw my first tweed riding coatg Beige, brown, and yellow, extremely gay, And wrapped up for my twelfth birthday. Life so far has been good to me, But beyond the present I cannot see. If all goes well, I wish, I hope To use a doctor's stethoscope. JOAN SELLERS, Grade VII Musicians Would you like to be a musician And play the organ or flute? Would you like to be a musician And give all the horns a toot? Would you like to be a musician And play the trumpet or harp? Would you like to be a musician And play tunes which sound like the lark? Would you like to be a musician And play the oboe or tuba? Would you like to be a musician And play in France or Cuba? Would you like to be a musician And play the lute or cello? Would you like to be a musician And play notes both round and mellow? I'd love to be a musician Sing songs that sound like the larkg I'd make music for all to hear From morning until it was dark. CHERYL HOWAT, GradeVII .W L .WTF -,.. , - , .lwiklgv 1 ' 1 . , , i I l A JUNIOR SINGING CLASS WITH MRS. BIRSE Lily and Her Flute Lily Mason looked out of the taxi cab window. She gave a little sigh. How she wished she were back at home! In front of her was Murphy Hall, the new school she was to attend. Hi, said a welcoming voice, I am your roomf mate, Polly. Come on down to the store. No, thanks, later, maybe. I want to go to the parcel desk. 17

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16 The Day of the Snowstorm The day started just like all school days, with everyone rushing to get dressed. No one has time to look out of the window before breakfast in our house. Dad was the first one to notice, and when he told us that nine inches of snow had fallen during the night, we all left the table to see it. Then came the question. Dad, are we going to school? No, he replied, I don't see how we could possibly get through. I-Iurray! We all started to dash upstairs, intending to leap back into bed. Oh, no, you don't! Mother called. This is the very kind of day I've been looking for. We knew what that meant-tidying cupf boards, cleaning out clothes closets, and ironing. And that was the way we spent the day you dream ofgthe day that school is closed because of snow. I. for one, hope we don't have another snow' storm for a long time. BARBARA ALEXANDER, Grade VIII -Af' ff ZX .I if ll ,f'xXf'x3 rf.K'N-N in E Ravi ' y CND rg '-'ui GQ if 'X .25 4 QL!!! .Ex-T ...C fx BETTY NICHOL The Picnic Cold drops of dew fell on Linda's back as she threaded her way through the willows near the water's edge. Wet reeds clung to her blue jeans. Flip! Flip ! she called, Come here, Flip ! Mist was rising from the river, and insects buzzed in the warm morning sunshine. Soon her mother would call her to breakfast, and she had not yet found her dog. He must have been frightened away by last night's scolding from Aunt Sarah. Suddenly, a black and white streak flashed among the trees, and her scrambling, furry pet knocked her to the ground. She had just got to her feet when she heard Aunt Sarah rasping, Linda! Where are you? Merciful heavens, child, will you come to breakfast! Will Aunt Sarah never go home? thought Linda as she trudged up the long flight of wooden steps toward the cottage. just because of her, I have to go to the opera instead of to the beach' party! Linda had just finished her third piece of toast when her father said, Nice day for a canoe trip? Let's have lunch at Bell's ferryfl Marvellous idea! said Mother. Isn't it, Sarah? If it doesn't rain, sniffed my aunt. Linda said nothing. She liked canoeing, but she did not like the idea of spending the day with Aunt Sarah. They were almost ready to shove off. Linda was climbing into the bow. Ch! You're not taking that thing? gasped Aunt Sarah, pointing to Flip. Perhaps you had better leave him at home, dear. The boat is a little crowded. Mother's inflection was clear. Linda told Flip to go home , but he only cringed and stayed where he was. Snatching his collar, she yanked him up the steps. Don't you dare turn it loose in the cottage ! Aunt Sarah's voice sounded like a key turning in a rusty lock. Linda found a length of rope and hastily tied the dog to the woodshed. Once more sitting in the bow, Linda dipped her paddle lazily into the water. Her father was doing only enough paddling to keep them in mid' stream and drifting with the current. Everyone was enjoying the trip until they approached a stretch of white water. Aunt Sarah began to fidget. Jim, those rocks look pretty dangerous, she said. Dfdo you think we ought to go through here? Now, Sarah, there's nothing to be afraid of. Dad's reassuring words did not calm Aunt Sarah. As the canoe neared the first of the rocks, she stood up, shrieking, and flailing her arms. The canoe lurched sideways, smashing the bow under Linda's feet. A sudden shock of cold water hit her as she was hurled into the water. Kicking to the surface, she clutched a slimy rock. Even though she was always complaining of stiff joints, Linda saw that Aunt Sarah was spry enough now. She was scrambling over the slippery rocks on all fours. Mother was wading cautiously through the shallow water. Soon Dad was pulling them all up onto the bank. There goes the canoe, he said, noticeably controlling his temper. Now we'll have to walk home. I suppose we will, replied Aunt Sarah icily. They had not gone far when Dad, who was in the lead, stopped. We are following a bend in the river, he said. Would it not be better to go straight through the woods? They were all cold and hungry, and they readily agreed to this plan. Leaving the river, they started off through the woods. It seemed to Linda that they had been walking for ages when they sat clown to rest.

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18 Then I shall see you later, said Polly and she skipped out of the room with two other girls, joan and Sue, close behind her. Lily hurried over to the package desk. Having found that her flute had come, she went to the music hall to practise. It took about a week for everybody to settle down. A month later, everybody felt that she had been at school for years. As time went by, Polly and her friends grew very curious about Lily. She never went anyf where with the others. There's something awfully odd about her, said Polly one day. Then Joan said, She thinks that she's special, she goes around in a world of her own. Yes, but why doesn't she go to games, and why does she go to the city so often? The girls were determined to find out where Lily disappeared to, and why. Once Sue asked her, Lily, will you go to the games with me on Friday? l'm sorry, I can't,i' was the reply. Oh, said Sue, disappointed that she hadn't found out anything. Are you doing anything on Saturday? she asked. Yes, I have a lesson, answered Lily, and she was gone before Sue could ask her what she had lessons in. Months passed. Lily liked Murphy Hall and was the top of her class, yet something important was missing. She still had no real friend. The girls were friendly enough, but they were losing interest because she never did anything they did. just before the Christmas holidays every dormitory was buzzing with excitement over the examinations and plans for the holidays. On the last day of the term a big party was held, at which some of the girls provided the entertainment. Everybody was there, wearing lovely gowns and fancy jewellery. Near the end of the programme, the Professor of Music rose and addressed the students. It is my pleasure, he began, to introduce a young student who plays in the Symphony Orchestra of Watson City-Miss Lily Mason I Murmurs of surprise rose from the students. Then a hush followed as the curtain drew aside and Lily started to play on her flute. The beautiful notes floated through the room. Lily held her audience in enchantment. Then she stopped and gracefully laid her hands in her lap. The audience broke into thunderous applause. I have never heard anything so beautiful I exclaimed Polly. Why did you not tell us? asked Joan. 'Tm glad you didn't, said Sue. It's much more exciting to find out this way! KATHLEEN CURRY, Grade VII Spring Spring is the loveliest season of all, When the cold winter snow has ceased to fall It is pleasant to feel the fresh spring air, Cheering your spirits, and ruffling your hair. The sun shining down soon melts the snow, And little sprouts peep from the earth below. Scarves and mittens disappear, For it is spring and summer is near. As the snow melts, there are puddles galore, And muddy footprints cover the floor. The sparrows are chirpingg soon birds will sing, For winter is over, and now it is spring. JULIA BERRY, Grade IX 3 These I Love In thoughtful mood, I muse on my loves- The wind through my hair on a hot summer's day, The foam of fresh milk, the sweet smell of hay, A wisp of smoke disappearing above. Ah yes, these I love. The feel of soft fur behind a dog's ear, The threatening thunder as it roars in warning Among happy birds which twitter all morning, As I walk through the woods, the graceful dove. Ah yes, these I love. The damp wet nose of an inquisitive kitten, The family gathering around the hearth, The crackling fire, and rich black earth, A fresh April shower sent from above. Ah yes, these I love. KAREN joNns, Grade XI Handle With Care Laconto Girls' Camp was on the American and Canadian border. The campers had just been there one week, but june and Deborah had been there the summer before, and knew the place well. Let's sneak down to the old creek and go swimming, Deborah suggested. Good idea. I'll take a few oranges in case we get hungry, added June. It was one o'clock. The moon glowed, sending mysterious shadows over hill and wood. The girls crept out of their cabin and set off down the path. After walking about half a mile, Deborah suddenly snatched ,Iune's arm. Listen, she whispered. I A branch snapped a few feet away. Maybe it's our camp leader, whispered june. Her guess was wrong. A heavilyfbuilt man, wearing a dark suit, with a hat pulled over one eye, rushed past, not noticing the girls behind the thick bushes. I wonder what he is doing at this hour in the morning. It looks fishy. Let's follow him, Deborah whispered.