Humberside Collegiate Institute - Hermes Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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N rn E ri SRM Sf character-reading. The slender black satin shoes with extremely high, nar- row heels, and the sheer black chiffon stockings made me think that here was a lady of leisure , a girl Ubercee dans la soie et la dentelle . Imagine my amazement when I saw an efficient- looking girl wearing a severely tailored suit, a close-fitting hat, and carrying a small leather case such as professional men use! I consoled myself with the thought that she was the type of Dr. Bodie, whom Barrie humourously creates in A Kiss for Cinderella . Don't you remember that practical lady doctor's weakness- shoes with French heels? A loud affected voice telling the girl friend He said that -- Oh! Yes, he's the most marvellous thing! jerked me to the next study. Glaring red pumps, their heels worn off at one side, cheap flimsy stockings and hat, coat and dress which faithfully en- deavoured to picture every shade in the rainbow, made a disagreeable com- .bination. With such contradictory facts to work on, one cannot criticize the girl, but rather must pity her. Did she really dress in such a way from lack of taste, or was she expressing the defiant rebellion of youth against drab home surroundings? Such an endless pageant of life becomes wearisome in time though, already facts, faces and feet were running through my mind in the greatest confusion, and I decided to study no more. On my homeward trip, resisting the attraction of new personalities, I thought over all I had seen. Truly, whether we judge them by feet or by fancy, there is nothing in the World more interesting or more puzzling than just people. -jllargawt Hand, V-I-1. O C, oo o oo oo ooo 000 OOO I O OO OO O O O 6 C6 O - Q' uf... , O O 4 9 O v-i 6 ?3 O 4 ,lf 0 O 1 5 0 3, o oo O0 Oo .WWI g 0 Ill oo OO O Oo Q0 Q O OOO O 0 ' -I ooo09o I Nei Y 41 a ,QW 39

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tg .UTI-I E ra gram tif NND- Feef, Footwear and Fzmoy One drizzly spring night, as -Iyll, Marion and I sat idly talking in front of the cheerful blaze in the fireplace. conversation somehow turned to feet. Ever since I used to listen wide- eyed to the once-upon-a-time romance of Cinderella and her glass slipper Cnot to mention a handsome princel. I have been fascinated by feet! .Iyll exclaimed. Did you ever try reading character and personality from them? asked Marion C.Iyll's big sisterl. Next time you're on a street car, judge a person 'feet lirst', and then see if the whole appearance doesn't bear out that characterization fully. Take my advice. lNIarj.. warned Iyll, don't study childrens feet- they're hopeless! Imagine trying to judge I3illy's home conditions from his feet! You would at once call the worn place on his shoe a bump of adversity, or of fate, whereas it's the result of constant rugby playing with other boys and the back fence. Mens feet, Marion added, are also rather difficult to classify. There are, of course, old boots, dapper oxfords, and soft evening slippers, and these may vary in size from six to infinity, but there is really little individuality in them. I Further discussion the arrival of Billy, coined most cordially on account of a certain box of marshmallows he was bringing. Marionys suggestion stayed with me, however. I decided at once to devote my time Cnot to mention fourteen CCHYSI to research along the lines of Careful Characterization of Canadian Ladies by means of Feet, Footwear and Fancy. was cut off by whom we wel- Next day I nonchalantly stepped aboard a street-car. Concealed in my purse were two unusually sharp pen- cils, neatly numbered sheets of paper. a pencil-sharpener and a rubber-my attempt, I suppose, to create atmo- sphere for my plot! Alas! Amid interesting people I forgot my tools, and l have to trust entirely to memory for my discoveries on the trip. NVith Cinderella standards prevail- ing in my mind, I chose from the row opposite an exquisitely small pair of feet, clad in dark brown shoes and stockings. The softly-polished slip- pers, their beautifully modelled heels suggested that the wearer was a girl with wealth, good taste and charm. Eagerly I looked at her face. and I believe my characterization was cor- rect. She was beautiful, too: her eyes sparkled with life and with interest in everyone about her, and her mouth had a whimsical curve. I knew at once I should like to meet her, but such is the fate of those imaginary friendships one makes on street-cars, that I shall probably never see her again. A very different type of foot next caught my attention. Faded cotton stockings. and shoes almost beyond further repair, told a tale of extreme poverty. Studying the wearer's face and whole appearance, I saw a woman fast growing old amid cares and hard- ships, yet never failing in courage. Perhaps it was only the small, care- fully-fashioned cluster of gay ribbons on her coat that made me think that. Vtfho knows? A small buckle of brilliants led my eyes to another pair of feet which, although just as interesting, proved that feet aren't infallible guides- to Z5 38 -

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rnEr1eQMEf - Sf, he Crimson Cloak Well, left this very inn, they did, 'bout eleven o'clock. My lady saidf she was cold, and my lord takes off his handsome crimson cloak an' wraps it around her. 'Ahf says she, 'thank you, Geoffrey, you be always that thoughtful' An' off they go, sirs, my lady wavin' 'er pretty hand, an' my lord laughing and joking. A 'ansome pair they were, gentlemen, my grand- father ee often tellt me. Barnaby Summerhayes, the inn- keeper, paused dramatically, and leaned back against his high arm-chair, pulling calmly at his long pipe. The circle around the roaring fire bent forward, breathing heavily, and with expressions of dreadful relish on their honest, homely faces: this, they knew, was the climax. Ah, but they never got married. they never reached the parsonf' purred Giles Middleton, the wheelwright. Barnaby straightened up with a jerky he was not going to have his tale snatched out of his mouth. The very next marnin'. said he, stabbing the air with his pipe at each Word, the very next marnin', Lady Evadne Gilbert was found lyin' dead in her crimson cloak in Marley Marsh-strangled to death! An' he was never seen again! The listeners shuddered. The hre- light made lurid shadows on their strained faces. An' that cloak, Barnaby? Where be that cloak now ? Barnaby leaned forward and opened his mouth, slowly and impressively. Right there in that chest, she be, as I'm a living man. The ol' squire, he couldn't bear the sight on't, an' right there in that chest my grandfather laid it. VVhy, then, Barnaby, let us have it out of the chest. Let us gaze upon this cherished relic of antiquity, cried a cool voice, and there, standing among the shadows, was young Lord Geoffrey, his riding crop in hand and an impudent smile on his face. Eh, 1ny lord, and is it you fl Barnaby was on his feet, pushing forward the old arm-chair, bow- ing obsequiously, shuffling anxiously about. Nay, Barnaby, l will not sit until I have beheld the famous crimson cloak. Blaming my honourable ances- tor for the deed, are you? Egad. Barnaby, you're wrong. He was a man after my own heart. The circle around the fire had drawn back. Interested as they were in Lord Geoffrey's sudden and unexpected appearance at the inn, they had no desire to encounter the bi-tter depths of his cold dark eyes nor the cynical twist of his lips. As he stood there, with his pale face and glittering eyes. they found it strangely easy to believe the rumour which was rife that Lord Geoffrey was somewhat wild and un- balanced. Barnaby, impelled by the insistent note of command in his voice, hastened towards the chest, and, unlocking it, drew forth and brought over for my lord's inspection, a long crimson cloak with a golden clasp. My lord fingered it with his long slender hands-hands that seemed suddenly to clutch it convulsively as Barnaby attempted to draw it away, and the inkeeper, strangely nervous, smiled craftily and whispered to my lord, It would be for another purpose that your lordship came here tonight ? And at this moment, Bess, the