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

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12 Two Blessings It was an unproductive time in Mexico. Dry, golden sand was often driven by a hot, tireless wind into parks and pastures, choking tender green sprouts beneath. It was as if God had forgotten about Mexico and had left it to sizzle in the sun. The contents of the irrigation ditches had disappeared long ago. Each precious drop that ever did fall on the field was quickly absorbed by the thirsty sands. All the inhabitants of the sun-burnt villages had two characteristics-a tired, drawn face and a gaunt figure. One of the meagre figures appeared in the doorway of the adobe house belonging to the De Lotta family. A tired but harsh voice shattered the deathlike stillness of the July morning. It was an ordinary morning and the sun had begun its long burning journey across the sky, looking down upon the wilted remains of crops. The morning was dis- turbed, when the angry and impatient voice, belonging to Pedro de Lotta, called, Carlosl Vot you teenk yow do, brusha de dog ven der's verka to do? Get in here dees meenit and fetcha de water! Hurree! Caramba! Queekll' Carlos tenderly pushed his sunkissed golden dog aside and reluctantly laid down his grooming brush and rose slowly from the parched soil. Don't go away, my leetle bonita. I weell be back soon-l hope. Giving Pachino, his tiny Chihuahua, a re- assuring pat on the head, he hurried away toward the house, dusting the sand off the seat of his trousers as he went. Here he met his father's usual torrent of complaints, but he had become accustomed to them. After all, he had been listening to them for fourteen years. Silently he slipped into the kitchen to fetch the rusty pail, not often filled with good water. As he rounded the corner, two heads popped out of the doorway, both their faces filled with curiosity. His sisters never failed to torment him after he had been scolded by his parents. Vot yow do dees time, Carlos? Always getting eento trouble ven yow do not verk. How expect poor Papa to run dees farm ven der ees a drought and yow do not verk? It may be a curse, dees drought, for your idleness. Yow always play with de dog but do not verk for Papaf' Carlos, ignoring his sisters' insults, walked steadily to the door, but tripped over the door sill, much to the amusement of his sisters. Their laughing faces, however, turned to serious ones, when Pedro, their father, stepped in. Camillita! Rosital Vot yow teenk yow do, watcha Carlos maka da fool of heemself? Yow should be going to da market. Carlos continued out the door and down the path and shaded his eyes from the burning sun as he strolled along the scorched ground with the rusty pail in his hand. Soon he approached the well and looked around as he lowered his pail into the precious container of water. He scanned the countryside only to see a thin covering of sand over every green thing, with the exception of a few small tufts of grass showing their dry weary heads above their heavy burden. He pulled the well-worn rope and grasped the bucket carefully to avoid spilling the contents. Having completed his mission, he trudged homeward. When he arrived, he was greeted by an opportunity either to clean the barn or pitch some wilted hay. He chose the hay and trudged away again to the shed to find the fork. As he pitched, his nose was filled with a withering dryness and his mind became filled with thoughts of the events of the day. He remembered the insulting remarks of his sisters. He started wondering if the drought really was a punishment for his idleness. The more he thought of this, the more he was convinced. Resolving to break the curse, he dug his fork in with added enthusiasm and pitched it with more force and energy. A few hours later, with aching arms, legs, head and fingers, Carlos wearily dragged himself into the house to receive his piece of cornbread. The smell of his reward filled his nostrils and he eagerly snatched the nearest piece of cornbread lying on the rock to cool. With a mouthful of warm pleasure, he sud- denly remembered Pachina. Gulping down the remainder, he rushed outside to find her. First he traced his steps to where he had been brushing her and looked in all possible places. He looked thoroughly under tables and chairs in the house and under boxes outside. When he had finished ransacking his room, it seemed as if a tornado had passed over it. As he raced out into the barnyard he thought of the curse and im- mediately connected the lost dog with this. After searching in every nook and cranny he decided to look in the barn as a last resort. As he opened the creaky barn door, a small but sharp beam of light fell upon a mound of hay, and nestled cozily in it was Pachina. She opened her deep brown eyes and stared at him angelically. A slight movement in the hay caused by the frantic action of her little tail, thrilled Carlos to the heart. He picked her up and caressed her lovingly.

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ll stood clad in her blue gingham dress, framed in the doorway by the blue morning-glories on the white walls of the cottage, while, in the back- ground, the sun peeped through the purple heather-covered hills. The picture was broken. as she skipped up the pathway, Sunny-Jim by her side, and passed through the white wooden gate. For a while she was lost from sight, but eventually I saw her making her way up the steep stony path to my cottage. Slightly breathless, she soon appeared on my doorstep, and I cheerfully wel- comed her. I remarked on the beauty of the day, and she replied: Yes, Sunny-Jim and I are going to follow the singing stream, across the wooden bridge and into the Fairies dell. She left soon after, and I watched her as she skipped jauntily down the hill and disappeared round a bend into the mossy forest. I spent most of the morning busy in my garden, and it was not until late in the morning that I noticed the fast moving clouds approaching the valley. The appearance of the huge rolling puffy purply-black clouds made me feel appre- hensive. As noon approached the air became heavier and the sky darker. The cool morning air was now hot and damp, and the clouds expanded like a huge black balloon ready to burst. A low rumble, a flash across the sky, and finally the roar of huge drops of rain drumming on the roof. That will clear the air, I thought, trying to be cheerful, and continued to read my book. I wa.s soon interrupted by a frantic knock at the door. On opening it, I found myself looking into the agitated face of Mrs. McKay. Brushing past me and into the room, she began to stammer, Marcella has not come home! I told her I would come. Quickly I grabbed my coat and hat and, with the anxious Mrs. McKay at my elbow. ran down to her house. Men had gathered from the neighbourhood to search for the child. I watched farmer McKay, his brow slightly creased and his deep blue eyes troubled, arranging the parties, while his wife stood unhappily in the middle of the kitchen wringing her hands. I.eaving the friendly fire in the kitchen, we soon stepped out into the blustery wet darkness. The rubbing of mackintoshes and the squelching of boots began to irritate me as we walked. Farmer McKay walked at the front, silent, yet determined. I wondered if he shared my appre- hensive and depressed feelings and, for his sake, I hoped he did not. We looked like a troop of soldiers returning from ai lost battle, but our battle was still ahead. Reaching the woods, we quickly separated into our groups. As we crossed the wooden bridge, I suddenly stopped- across the wooden bridge and into the fairies dell, I thought. How could I have forgotten? Jim,l' I said turning to my neighbour, where would you go to find a fairies dell? Good I.ord, what do you want to know that for? he exclaimed irritably. No, I mean this seriously, I said. That is where Marcella told me she was going. A look of understanding crossed his face and he began to think. Follow me, he said and we plunged through the tangle of wet branches. Splash, squelch, drip, drip-would it ever stop? Suddenly we emerged from the foliage into a clearing. In the middle of a circle of old oak trees stood one great oak, and in the hollow of its trunk huddled Marcella close beside Sunny-Jim. She did not see us but sat, entranced, watching the sky. Marcellal I cried running to her. I tore off my coat, wrapping it around her. Finally I looked down at her puzzled face. What are you doing? I asked. I was watching the funny faces the clouds were making, she said merrily, and Sunny-Jim was keeping me warm. I shook my head and smiled. We got her home safely, and next morning, happy as ever, she appeared at the doorway. The golden rays of the sun fell softly on her face, and on the face of the dog beside her. There was a clatter of pails as Cary, the maid, entered the barn, while outside, farmer McKay forked the hay, and nervous little Mrs. McKay fed the geese. The sun surveyed the little scene and happily beamed his approval, as he rose above the purple heather-covered hills into the clear turquoise sky. Dorm DEMPSTER'-Gl'8d6 XI To Helen Helen, thy beauty is to me I.ike those symbolic ships or tides, That gently, o'er the troubled sea, The weary, wayward student guides To where her harbour hides. On desperate seas, for countless hours, Thy placid face dispels our fears, Thy quiet challenge gives us powers Bythe wisdom that is yours, And the comfort that is ours. I.ol in yon opening pantry door With cheerful smile we see thee stand, Our captain's tray within thy hand! I thank you, as I leave the ship You partly manned. N. J. B. after E. A. P.

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13 An hour later, Carlos was still in the barn with Pachina and the sun was sinking unwillingly to his rest in the mountains, when a gentle voice broke the solitude. It was Carlos' mother. It had been growing chilly and she already had her woolen shawl thrown over her shoulders. Carlos, eet ees getting late and you must not catcha cold. I weel come now, Mama, but listen! A deep rumble caught his attention. Quickly they peered out to find, to their amazement, large raindrops dropping from the heavens. His mother fell to her knees and crossed herself, saying many prayers of gratitude. She scrambled up, only to be caught in the strong arms of her husband, who had rushed into the barn with his dark brown face lightened with joy. His face reminded Carlos of a brimful cup of water filled to the point of overflowing. Their only cow, a creature of skin and bone, lowed softly with a feeling of excitement. They fetched everyone from the house to go for a walk in the rain, now coming down in torrents. All the family strolled along the previously scorched road and watched the wondrous rain pump new life into the remaining patches of grain, and wash away the sand to let the tufts of grass breathe. Carlos thought that it was wonderful to watch the power of God creating the difference between poverty and prosperity, just because he had done a hard day's work. PAMELLA KAYSER-Grade IX The Early Frost One snowflake drifted slowly down Causing all the folk to frown, And heralded its many friends Who soon the way to earth would wend. The farmers glanced with anxious faces, And watched the angry sky's grimaces Telling of an early frost. The autumn harvest cowered low Against the roaring north wind's blow And all began to harvest grain, Although they knew 'twas all in vain To fight the early frost. MARGARET BERRY-Grade IX The Interview Brr-ing, brr-ing. The doorbell echoed through the long hall visible through the window by the door. I stood outside on the vast porch surveying the huge estate of the Van Clorks. My car was parked in the drive leading up to the house and near the back. I was dwarfed by the huge steps and porch leading up to the front door. As I was gazing at the gardens along the drive, I heard a polite, inquiring, Good afternoon. I turned to face the butler standing in the doorway. Oh, good afte1'noon. May I present my- self? George Stevens Junior, reporter for the Detroit Times. I handed him my card. I would like to interview Mr. Van Clork, Sir Rumpelstiltskin Eshwald Van Clork IV, for my magazine, and perhaps obtain some pictures of him. May I come in? Certainly, please wait here. I will see if Mr. Van Clork is receiving anyone today. He gave me a quizzical look and disappeared up the long flight of stairs at the far end of the room. I stood alone in the middle of the room rapidly taking note of the luxurious furnishings. Peeping through a crack in the door, I could see a large dining hall with a huge chandelier. As I was taking down the last details, I saw the butler approaching. Sir Eshwald will see you, Mr. Stevens, but I must warn you-he has just come from his bath and is sleepy and quite irritable. He may growl at you and even snap a bit. He is also having his daily manicure which he dislikes, so, do not refer to it. Also he is rather reserved, and so, please do not prod him. As for taking pictures, Sir Eshwald's eyes are very sensitive to bright lights. Therefore, please refrain from taking more than necessary. By now we had gone up three flights and were entering Mr. Van Clork's apartments. I had heard that Sir Eshwald IV had recently arrived at the Van Clork estate for a short stay, and armed with camera and notebook, I was determined to get a great Hscoopf' on him and maybe thereby get a bonus. Actually, I had to admit I had never heard of him until recently when I had overheard a conversation at a party. Apparently, he was quite famous, but the speaker d1'ifted away before I could discover just why. Hadn't they mentioned some kind of shows? Perhaps he was a great rider. No, that didn't seem quite right. They had talked of medals and ribbons+a great military leader, perhaps? Noth- ing seemed to fit. Oh, well, I shall just have to feel my way, and try to draw him out even if he is shy as the butler says. This way, sir. The butler's voice broke into my thoughts. I stepped into the huge room and eagerly peered around to find Sir Eshwald. Here he was, in all his glory, reclining on three red plush cushions, Sir Rumpelstiltskin Eshwald Van Clork the fourth-a bright gold, snub-nosed Pekingese dog! SUZANNE f'L.A.nKr:AGrarle IX