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

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17 Friendly Enemies Dinner Time, announced Theodore Murphy, looking at his gold watch. I hope they left some Swiss cheese. Theodore was not a man, or a boy, but a chubby, beige mouse. He lived with his family in an oldffashioned house in the city. The Murphy mouse family lived peacefully behind the sugar bin, in the kitchen. Out scampered Theodore. He ran across the kitchen and onto the lowest shelf of the cupboard and stuffed some food into his waistcoat pockets. He returned to the sugar bin and the Murphy family settled down for their dinner. There was the usual quarrel over who gets what, but soon they were eating peacefully. Did anybody see you? inquired Mrs. Murphy. No. Madam never comes into the kitchen, and Kitty, the cook, is very shortfsighted. She wou1dn't harm us, anyway, because I heard her tell the mistress that she used to have a pet mouse, said Theodore, between bites. They ate heartily, and went to bed. In the middle of the night, Theodore woke with a jerk. What was that? he asked himself. Could it be? . . . No, no, of course not! It couldn't be a dog barking. He soon dozed off again. The next morning, the rosy sun shone into the bin and woke the mice with its warm beams tickling their little noses. Theodore dressed, and scampered into the kitchen to find some breakfast. He had just reached the cupboard when . . . Ruff! Ruff! Grrrr! Two huge creatures charged at him! He ran like lightning until he reached the bin. Mrs. Murphy was jumping up and down squeaking, Eek! Eek! Eek! What was it? cried the scared twins. A dog, panted Theodore. And what's more-two dogs! The Murphy family spent three miserable days with very little food. Theodore managed to escape each night, to the kitchen and hunt for scraps, but that was all. One night when Theodore had crept into the cupboard, he smelt something burning. He looked at the stove and gasped. The cook has left a pan of grease on the stove. She forgot to turn the burners off! Suddenly a blazing flame leapt up from the pan. Then more flames, and more! The cupboards were on fire, and soon the door would be too. Theodore was desperate! He ran into the pantry where the dogs slept and managed to wake them by squeaking. The chase was on! Theodore led them to the kitchen. The poodles stopped, sniffed, and then howled. The cook and butler rushed into the kitchen. Here, here! What are you barking for, you silly mu . . . Fire! Fire! screamed the cook. After some time, the Ere was put out and every' body was settled. The dogs received some bread and bones as a reward from the cook, and the house was quiet again. The next morning, Theodore peeped out of the bin, and saw the poodles, Dufy and Louis, talking to each other. Then Dufy nodded his head and they both pushed some food in front of the bin. Soon the dogs and mice became the best of friends. The mice helped to remove burs from the dogs' fur, and every morning, a neat little pile of food appeared outside the sugar bin for the Murphy family. KATHLEEN CURRY, Grade VIII The Lake QThree Moodsb A raindrop falls on a glassy surface, And then another, besmearing it with shining circles Until the hissing fills the quiet air With whispered tales of tranquillity. Rumblings in the distance-nature's warning of her Hercest mood- A sudden rake of bluefwhite fire rends the black, restless clouds, Then a crash, and sheet upon sheet of rain. Squalls mottle the surface like hacklesg The wind sends the waves foaming, grappling, straining To reach their tormentorg A sickly pine shudders-surrenders- Falls-as a sacrificial appeasement. A breathless night and silent . . . A huge and yellow sphere in a velvet sky Sends its light shimmering across the water. A loon cries out into the loneliness, Another answers from afar, Its sorrow rippling over the surface, Others join in sympathy, The echoes come back crazily, and in thousandffold Until the lake is ringing. Louisa MCKENTY, Grade XI J I ilii A in in - 1 - P. T. LANE PATRICIA McMAHON

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16 'iBut you have something to live for-life itself, Isaid. You can't kill yourself! Why don't you face up to your troubles, instead of running away from them? I guess I haven't the courage, he remarked sadly. I haven't the courage to face people now that my reputation is gone. But you could make a fresh start. It might be difficult, but you're a clever man, you could do it. There was silence for a moment as if he were considering this possibility. I suppose it's feasible, but I would rather not discuss it any longer, he said, sounding a little less depressed. A clock in a church tower tolled two olclock. Mr. Van Dorn turned tome. Good night, and thank you, he said. Good night, sir, and good luck, I called as he strode away across the bridge. I stood where I was for about half an hour, thinking of this strange encounter. Then I noticed that the fog was lifting and a clear, starry sky appearing. It was going to be a beautiful night. I felt my walk had done me good. My head had cleared and I felt I could go home and sleep well. I started walking off the bridge, and before leaving, gazed out over the water once again. The moon shone, making a path of light across the glassy water. Suddenly I saw in that path, floating on the surface of the water, a black homburg hat. JUDITH KNIGHT,-Grade X The Wooden Horse The time is night and all is calm and still- In that fair city, Troy, atop the hill, The tired, triumphant warriors are abed, The watchmen slumbering, for the Greeks have fled Leaving a token of esteem. To win the gods' forgiveness and redeem Great Troy. 7 That night, the Greeks awoke in their hideout Without a sound, preparing for the bout By sharpening swords and saying prayers to Mai's. They moved out stealthily beneath the stars, Hoping that they would gain their rights, Taken from them in other fights With Troy. The Trojans, unprepared, were easy prey, The Greeks victorious, killing all the day, Showed no mercy, and, appearing pleased, Slaughtered Paris, and great Helen seized, Who was the reason for that wooden horse Which had brought death and much remorse To Troy. CAROLINE DAMERELL,-'Grade XI The Call of Spring Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins were a quiet couple, living in a small cottage in the country, and enjoy' ing the simple things of life. Mrs. Hawkins, a sweet, kind woman, spent her days looking after their little home, while Mr. Hawkins drove a bus, just a ramshackle bus with which he picked up the school children and a few grownups. He was no longer young, but, once in a long while, he yearned to do something different. He suppressed this desire, however, and went on doing the same thing, day after day. One beautiful spring morning he started out as usual, kissed his wife, took his lunchfbox, and off he went. There was a difference this morning, it was spring, and he had that feeling again. He walked to the bus depot, stepped into his bus, and started on his old familiar route. Several people got into the bus, and then the school children with their laughter and gaietyg this was what made life worthwhile, the children. They always made him feel better. He looked up, and could see the school, but before he reached it, the thing happened. He turned the wheel and was off down a little trail, through the fields, around the lake, up hill and down. The grownups looked startled, and thought he had lost his senses, but the children laughed with glee. On and on he went as if driven by a higher power, and soon everyone was enjoying the little spree. The grownfups were thinking how long it was since they had noticed the blue of the sky, the crocuses, the sweet songs of birds. They did not even notice the bus stop, and Mr. Hawkins get out, followed by the children. He stood for a moment, with a rapt look on his face, then stopped to pick flowers. The children helped him, and soon they were back, arms full of flowers, Blling the bus with the breath of spring. All too soon they were back on the main high' way. After he had deposited his passengers safely, he turned towards home, feeling ashamed of his childish whim, and worried about his job. Next morning he was called into the manager's office. Mr. Murdock looked at him sternly and said, Well, what have you to say for yourself? Mr. Hawkins looked dejectedly at the floor, and said, Nothing, sir, I just felt the need to do some' thing different, I'm sorry. Mr. Murdock's expression changed to one of amusement. Don't feel sorry, Hawkins. . We have been besieged by phone calls, asking why we don't have a regular sightfseeing bus, and that's just what we are going to have-with you in charge. if DARLBNB PETHICK,-Grade VIII Prizefwirming Story- Intermediate Literary Competition

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18 Trouble Joan and her little brother, Bobby, had just arrived at the seafside and were down on the beach for the first time. Of all children they should have been most happy and content, but do you think they were? Oh dear, no. They had never been in such a bad mood. They quarrelled and grumbled about every' thing. Mother had bought them two new spades -one with red paint on it, the other with green, and they fought for the red one, though the green one was just as good. One new pail had a little dent in it. So they struggled for possession of the other one. When they had finished arguing, the other pail also had a dent in it. When they finally began to dig, they both wanted to build in the same place, as if there was no room for both to play on the great wide beach. Well, you look happy, said Mother, walking up to them. If this is how you are going to spend your holiday, you had better go home. It was her fault, bellowed Bobby. No, it wasn'tg it was his, cried joan. He jumped on my castle. She was digging where I wanted to, wailed Bobby as he pointed to his overturned pail. Oh dear! Oh dear! cried Mother putting her hands to her ears. You sound like two little goblins! I'm not a goblinf' cried Bobby between his sobs. Well, you ought to see yourself in a mirrorf said Mother in disgust. But he shouldnlt have jumped on . . . began joan again. Oh, joan, do be quiet. Can't you see any' thing to be cheerful about on all this lovely beach? No, I can't, wailed joan. Then come with me, both of you, said Mother, taking their hands and leading them to a small circusflike building. I'll show you some' thing. Grumbling all the way, they failed to notice that Mother was leading them to a distorting mirror. Now, just look at yourselves, and see what other people think of you. They looked into the mirror, and what a sight they saw! Two queer little creatures with long tearfstained faces and short fat legs. Of course they could not be miserable any more. The two children laughed out loud. It was the sweetest music Mother had heard all morning. We did look like goblins, didn't we? cried Bobby. You certainly did, laughed Mother. Every time you quarrel or cry from now on, I'll send you to look in this mirror. LYNN TAYLoR,4Grade VII Mount Olympus Far up on Mount Olympus, high, Is the realm immortals occupy. Zeus is King and Hera Queen, Poseidon rules the sea, serene, And Cupid with his arrow and bow Sets many a lassie's love aglow. While Pallas Athene is very wise, Aphrodite lights men's eyes For she is fair-Goddess of Love. When we speak of the world above, We must include Diana who Reigns o'er maidens and hunting, too. Of Gods the Greeks had many more, Who now are known the whole world o'er. SUSAN RILEY-Grade VIII Prizefwinning Poem- Intermediate Literary Competition A Day to Remember Yes, smiled my grandmother, when I was a child, Christmas was a day to remember in the dreary, long wintry months. For weeks in advance we would think of presents to make-gifts were made in those days, not bought. Mama would make padded coat hangers out of feather ticking, and cover them in a cheery red or blue, ornamented with tiny white bows. Papa would bring home all sorts of candies, ribbon, Christmas balls, and other pretty decoraf tions, for he owned the only General Store in our village of St. Anne's. Robert, my brother, who is your uncle, and I, would work diligently and have our sums com' pleted before bedtime. Then we would begin making gifts or cards. After this, just before we went to bed, Papa would read us a small excerpt from the Christmas story in the Bible. My mother and I would bake Christmas cookies, and adorn them with coloured sugar and 'dots'. This was our surprise for the rest of the family. My father and brother would cut the tree as their surprise. The night before Christmas, we would gather in the parlour to decide who would decorate the tree. There was always the question, 'Would you rather help to decorate the tree, or be surprised? I usually answered, I should like very much to be surprised, please? The whole day long, the hustle and bustle made me want to 'peek', but somehow I always restrained myself. After supper we would sing carols around the tree. How superb the tree was! Strings of cranberry and popcorn hung in gay festoons from all sides. Coloured balls, crimson and blue, and my cookies, hung from each branch.