Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 31 and you only had to laugh with him and he was content. It was a relief, anyway, that he hadn ' t heard when she and his wife quarrelled. She frowned when she thought of it. What a silly quarrel it was. She had dropped some champagne on her dress and Charles ' wife started to scold her for it. What an indecent way to treat her hostess. Just think of it, to start scolding her hostess! Was that manners? No, certainly not. But she and Charles ' wife had never been very good friends. In fact, it was said about them, or rather whispered, that there was something between them that was really serious. But nobody knew what it was. She got up from the sofa and took down a serpentine from the chandelier. She started tearing it into little pieces that slowly fell to the floor. She could remember Charles ' wife looking at her ironically with her big eyes. She lay down on the sofa again and looked up at the ceiling. She played with the little paper knife that was on the table beside her. She remembered how relieved she had been when she saw that Charles sat with his back to them, not hearing a thing. She felt sorry for him, but he was lucky not to know what sort his wife was. Well, she thought, what ' s the use of thinking of a little, unimportant episode. She looked at the door for a moment, because she thought it moved. But it must have been imagination. She was tired now. It really was tiring to have parties. But— she opened her eyes widely— the door really moved, but slowly, very slowly. She didn ' t hear any steps, so she wondered if it were the draught from the window she had opened. But it couldn ' t be that, because she had closed the door well, so that the lock clicked. It must be one of the servants, she thought. Come in , she said. The door continued to open, very slowly. I ' ll come in , said a voice, just as you want me to . And the owner of the voice came in, did his errand, turned the light off, and went out. And the exit was as quiet as the entrance had been. It was now dark in the room, and one could only surmise the woman on the sofa. The moon shone in through the window, but it was on its guard, not to shine on the sofa, so as not to wake the woman on it. It shone instead on the chandelier that sent prisms in the colour of the rainbow all over the room. But soon the moon was hidden behind clouds, and darkness was as a thick cover that lay on the room. She still lay there on the sofa when the first sunbeams came through the windows. Her dress was around her, wrapping her in grey. The beautiful necklace of silver and turquoises decorated her white throat. Maybe it was a bit tighter than the night before, but it really suited her better. Her shoe had again fallen to the floor, and it lay there like a gaping hole, black and empty. The paper- knife wasn ' t on the table. Where could it be? Of course, it could have fallen to the floor and slid somewhere under the sofa. One of the maids went over the corridor to Madam ' s bedroom. She carried a tray with her breakfast. She was going to congratulate Madam on the successful party yesterday. She admired her, because she could give such lovely parties. But Madam wasn ' t in her bed- room. She hadn ' t even slept in her bed last night. The maid thought for a while. Then she assumed that Madam had fallen asleep on the sofa that she lay down on after the party last night. Poor Madam, she was probably tired. But she had to wake her up. Madam had an important appointment quite early in the day. Quietly she walked down the corridor, with the thick carpet on the floor. The house was so quiet, uncanny somehow. Slowly she opened the door to the sitting-room, in fact, somewhat in the same way as the visitor last night. If Madam had seen it, she might not have liked it. It was extremely unpleasant when doors opened slowly. The maid saw that she had been right. Madam had remained on the sofa. She looked so calm, it really was a pity to wake her. But it had to be done. Quietly she walked over the floor to the sofa. Madam felt unusually cold but no wonder, when she had slept all night with the thin dress on her. But, what was wrong with Madam? She was not at all as usual. But Madam , she cried, What is wrong with Madam? . . .

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30 SAMARA clock is a problem, too, for it has the habit of striking midnight on time even though we may be late. Dad, we may be sure, will greet us with a few words to the effect of restricted use of the car in future and a few grumbles about the irresponsibility of the younger generation. We naturally have plenty of homework to do, plenty of exams for which to study, but all in all being a teenager is wonderful and we should make the best of it. Esther Prudham, 5 A Spring in the South It was late afternoon, and spring had come early to the South. The sun slanted down in the garden, throwing a gleaming light on the dogwood trees that were solid masses of white against the background of the new green. The sunset was a really red one which seemed to be telling the world that tomorrow would be a beautiful, wonderful day like the day now so nearly finished. Now that it was setting into a blush of crimson behind the hills across the river, the warmth of the April day was ebbing into a balmy chill. Spring had come early this year with warm quick rains and a sudden blossoming of pink peach blossoms. The dogwood trees studded the dark river swamp and the far-off hills. Already the plowing was nearly finished. The moist hungry earth waiting for the cotton seeds showed pink on the sandy tops of the furrows. The white-washed brick plantation house stood on a rise overlooking the fields, negro cabins and gardens. Suddenly came the sound of hooves, the jingling of harness chains and the laughter of negro voices as they came in from the fields. Inside the house was the click of china and the rattle of silver as the table was laid for supper. The outside of the house was bathed in the last rays of the departing sunlight. The wind rushed through the trees and the white curtains fluttered in the breeze. The approach to the house was beautiful. The dark cedars set in an archway above the drive. In the half light the dark trees were black against the pastel sky. It was a wonderfully pleasant land of white houses, plowed fields waiting for the white of the cotton, and slow peaceful rivers. Spring had come again. And soon, so would another day. Sue Belcourt, 5B Tlie Door Opened Slowly The smoke from her cigarette floated in the air and mixed with the tulle in her dress, so that she was wrapped in a cloud of grey. One of her shoes had fallen on the floor when she lay down on the sofa, and it lay there so that the bottom was turned toward the ceiling. Her red toe-nails showed through her thin stockings, one of which had a short run. She had had a red ribbon in her hair, but she had taken it off, and it lay on the pillow beside her. She wondered if they still were going to tidy up a bit tonight. In that case, she was going to send them away, because she wanted to be alone. She thought of the party. She had pre- pared it carefully, and it had been a success, her guests had enjoyed themselves, and she had enjoyed herself. She had a beautifully set table and flower decorations everywhere. She had had her dress made especially for this event and was proud of it, because it really suited her. She had put on her silver necklace, the silver necklace with the turquoises, that was so tight around her neck. The last glance she had caught of herself in the mirror gave her a certain feeling of security. She was going to enjoy herself, she thought. She was pleased with herself and her house. She was a brilliant hostess where she sat at one of the short ends of the table. She could chat about everything. She was clever and could give quick answers. After dinner, spirits were high, and her guests began to dance. Everybody danced, except Charles, of course, because he was so deaf. She felt sorry for Charles, who was so deaf. But in spite of that, he was very entertaining, because he talked to you about nice things.

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32 SAMARA No, she didn ' t know anything about it. She had gone into Madam ' s bedroom to give her her breakfast, only to find that Madam hadn ' t slept in her bed at all. Then she went to the living-room and saw Madam lying there. First she didn ' t notice anything, but when she came closer, she saw that Madam looked so queer. Then she screamed, and the butler came and phoned Madam ' s doctor, who came right away. Oh, it was so terrible, every- thing, she didn ' t want to think of it. She was going to go away and live with her sister. She wanted to forget everything. Oh, poor Madam, who was so happy in life, so beautiful and clever. She couldn ' t understand that Madam had any enemies. It was quite unim- aginable—Madam, who was so sweet, and so kind. Right after the funeral she was going away, it was so terrible, poor Madam. The devoted maid had tears rolling down her cheeks. Yes, she was going away, it was so terrible. It told about it in the newspaper, and there was a picture of Madam. Nobody really missed her, but everybody was curious. There were no details in the newspaper. It only said that Madam had died in the night between Friday and Saturday in her apartment. Oh, how awful , everybody said, what a tragedy . But what had happened? Madam ' s doctor had found her lying on the sofa, cold and dead. A little paper-knife was stuck in be- tween her throat and the necklace. It was twisted once around so that the necklace strangled her. It had been easily, quietly and quickly done. Without any greater effort had the charming Madam been wiped out, by somebody who didn ' t like her too much, by somebody who very much wanted her out of the way. When Charles ' wife read about it in the paper, she said, Oh, how terribly surprising. The servants can give me an alibi, and Charles is deaf. He did come home a little later, though nobody knows, but he is deaf, he couldn ' t have done it, not possibly. Charles , she said and raised her voice, you are deaf, aren ' t you? She sent flowers to the funeral. But the flowers from Charles ' wife died first. When all the other flowers still were fresh, the flowers from Charles ' wife were dead. Why? Who knows? But I don ' t think Madam would have liked those flowers there, not the flowers from Charles ' wife. The last time they saw each other they weren ' t very good friends. Nobody said what everybody thought, that Charles ' wife was pleased with Madam out of the way. But she had an alibi, and Charles was deaf. The house was going to be torn down. It was so old already. Madam wouldn ' t have liked it; she was quite fond of the old house. But she was gone now, and nobody thought of what she would have liked. But they say that the new house is haunted. There is a certain door that opens every now and then. Without any known power, it opens, slowly, very, very slowly. Helena von Numers, 5B The Chain Store and the Corner Store A chain store and a corner store, although alike in many respects are really very different. Let us enter each of these stores and see what is going on at four o ' clock on a Wednesday afternoon. As we open the huge swinging doors of Woolworth ' s, one of the largest chain stores in the country, we are greeted by a blast of cold air from the overhead air conditioning system; and the babble of many voices and intense activity startle us for a moment. Only in this store is it possible for the mink coats and sloppy overboots to mingle as freely as they do, for here one can purchase anything from clothes to candy and toys to hair pins. Little boys and girls with dirty faces and ruffled hair are lined up before the candy counter with their nickel allowance clutched tightly in their grimy hands, waiting patiently to purchase the delicious goodies on the high counter above. A harassed mother with a screaming baby in tow is trying to choose between green darning wool and yellow thread, but the loud protests of the fat, heavily made-up woman beside her seem to have her