Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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The Branksome Slogan 23 How Is Your S.S.? 1. When your Clan Chieftain looks for you with that basket- ball glint in her eye— do you — (a) Acquire a limp? (b) Hide and pray she didn ' t see you? (c) Agree to play and try your best to win? 2. When a Prefect nabs you with your week-end nail polish still flashing on Tuesday — do ' you— (a) Hate her like poison from then on? (b) Remind her of her own shortcomings ? (c) Take it off? 3. Day Girls Only— When a poor neglected boarder wants a blind date for the dance — do you— (a) Agree to help and promptly forget all about it? (b) Look up your list of male goons and give her the gooniest one? (c) ' Phone your Saturday special, give her a build-up, and pray that she doesn ' t live up to it? 4. When your First Team basket- ball ability is ignored by the gym mistress. — do you — (a) Lose your sporting in- stincts ? (b) Bear a grudge against the gym mistress? (c) Play on the Third Team and like it? 5. When the Hallowe ' en Dance (Form VA). (School Spirit) is upon us — do you — (Seniors Only)— (a) Smugly say that parties are for the babies? (b) Say that you have another date and go to a movie with a girl friend ? (c) Make a costume, come, and enjoy yourself? 6. When you pass the clan lists on the bulletin board — do you — (a) Pretend that you don ' t see them ? (b) Look to see if anj one is watching and then put down two sports per week? (c) Print as you play? 7. When its up to you to clear the classroom — do you — (a) Wait until Friday to find that it ' s your week? (b) Pass the buck? (c) Establish a clean-up cam- paign ? Scoring — 100 points — Next year ' s Head Girl. 75 — At least a sub- chieftain. 50 — Don ' t you feel a twinge of con- science? 25 — Should have gone to a mixed school with boys to in- spire S.S. 0 ■ . SHIRLE MILNER

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22 The Branksome Slogan congratulate Miss Read and all who have so ably assisted heir, for bring- ing about this happy state of affairs. Nci doubt many of you girls from England feel that you are missing something very wonderful through being away from the great battle of Britain, and it is true in a sense, you are, and so am I, but I am persuaded that our destiny has brought us out here for a definite purpose. We ALL — English, Scottish, and Canadian — have to prepare O ' urselves, to fit ourselves each in our own particular way to help oiur country get straight again at the end of the War. All those girls, liv- ing in peace and quiet and health and reasonable comfort, will have a great duty to fulfil towards all the sorely tried war-weary people of Britain, of Europe, yes, of Canada, too. We shall need young, cheerful people of sound common sense, with trained alert minds and courteous manners, able to put themselves in the other fellow ' s place and so help him or her to solve their problems wisely and sym.pathetically. All you learn here in every branch will be of little avail unless it is leading yo ' u up to this great after-War service — THAT is where the people whose lives have been sheltered from the horrors of war. must come in; so take heart, you who long to be back in England in the midst of the fray — you girls of this grand wide country — make up your minds that you will be leaders in the great army of Peace-Makers and in the beautiful words of Spring Rice say : ' T vow to thee my country all earthly things above Entire and whole and perfect, the Service of my love, The love that asks no questions — the love that stands the test. The love that never falters, the love that pays the price. The Farm, showing the new addition.

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24 The Branksome Slogan Nis itfall In The Country All the men in the village take turns in watching on the hills each night now, foir parachute troops. The Home Guard is a serious matter, and will get the brunt of any invasion which will be attempted before the end of the war. Even old ' Steve goes out, with his grave-yard cough ; and fat Mr. Lambton, the butler from the Manor, who could not run if his life depended on it. Tonight is Doble ' s round. He is a slow fellow, a pure farmer — there is nothing emotional about him. The evening is wasted on him except from the point of view of ruminating over whether the winter-wheat has survived, and when to start his ploughing. Look at the evening, just look at it! The farmer is the only man whoi has time to admire the view, nowadays, and he probably admires it less than anyone. Doble is sitting on the bank now, to light his pipe. The evening is mild, for one in spring, and the field is his own. The upper fields are mostly poor, but he surveys- his with pride. The bank is dry, warmed throiugh the day. Here are primroses growing in the loose 3andy earth at the mouth of a rabbit ' s burrow. They have long stems, as the spot is secluded, undiscovered by village children and hikers, and they have opened during the day; now they look pale and fragile in the setting sun. In the winter months the sun was pale and lukewarm; now it is just glorious and golden. The birds are singing, shoiuting, to make the most of the few more minutes before the sun disappears behind Thistlegate Hill. Down in the village, already out of sight of the sun, the milk-pails are being put away. The farmers are whistling, satisfied with the day ' s work. There is a blackbird sitting, as he always does, on the top twig of the ash tree among the fat black buds. His watery yellow beak opens and clicks, his throat quivers, and the sun-warmed fields are fiooded with his song. The sun has gone. Shadows rise. Doble sits unm.oved ; he puffs a t his pipe, looking down into the valley. His gun is laid out on the bank, the leather strap dangling into the rabbit-hole. The misty village straggles way down the valley to Charmouth and the sea. Smoke rises, blue and scented. The fields spread out below, bare and brown from winter, but already struggling for life. Sitting out at sea, a damp spring fog hides Portland Bill and Golden Gap ; it is wait- ing for the evening before it comes in to blanket the earth. Doble takes his pipe out of his mouth, and thinks slowly — the ground will be soft to- morrow, just right for ploughing. The birds are quiet, except for a company of rooks who flap back to the rookeries around the Manor ponds. Their wings make a wheezing noise, and one bird croaks as he goes. Doble regards them silently ; they