Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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18 Vox Fluminis should come to the front door and drag mud all over the front steps which she had carefully scrubbed about two hours before. She returned to the li- brary and resumed her dusting. How nice it would be to see Mr. Brantford! She supposed he would be tall and dark and most certainly hand- some, because it was inconceivable to her that lovely blonde Marian Carter would have married anyone who was not good looking. Mrs. Brantford had seemed very attractive the only time Jane had seen her. She was tall and very fair and her dignified bearing and pleasing personality had won Jane at once. The air in the library seemed to be growing rather heavy, so Jane turned and started towards the window to open it. She had scarcely gone a step when she drew back in alarm. A heavy mas- culine hand and arm had begun slowly to raise the window. She stood para- lyzed for a moment, the fear that gripped her heart rendering her mo- tionless. She watched as the window rose slowly, inch by inch, and the hand took a firmer grip on the ledge as if someone were trying to hoist himself up on to the broad window sill. The wedding presents! The thought of these made Jane turn quickly, grab the first thing she saw and begin beat- ing the hand with it. A hoarse scream, like some animal in pain, reached her ears from below and, looking out the window she saw a man's form disap- pearing around the hedge into the street. She turned from the window and ran into the hall, her heart pounding furi- ously. Then she noticed she was hold- ing something in her hand and, look- ing down, she saw the poker which she had so carelessly left in the fire a few minutes before. The poker still glowed from the heat of the flames. A sort of half-smile played around the corners of her mouth as she reflected on the fact that the sneak thief would be suffering a very severe burn at the moment. The smile faded as she real- ized that all the valuable gifts were her responsibility. Who knew but that the thief might return? She stood for a moment trying to see a way out of her difficulty. Just at that moment the thought came to her. The woman next door had seemed very friendly when Jane had spoken to her that morning. Perhaps she would come over and stay for an hour or so. She picked up the telephone book and began searching for the name. Perrin! There it was! She dialed the number quickly and was answered in a few seconds by a woman's voice: Hello. Mrs. Perrin? CCYBS 77 This is Jane Martin, the maid at Brantford's, your new neighbors. Could you possibly come and stay with me for an hour or so? Something awful has happened. A tramp tried to break in and steal Mrs. Brantford's lovely wed- ding presents. I'm afraid he'll come back. Pm awfully sorry, came the answer, I really do appreciate your difficulty, but you see there's trouble here too. My husband has just come into the house with a very badly burned hand. BARBARA ALLAN, Grade XI, Nelson Hall. THE LADY OF SHALOTT Back in the days when knights were knights And went on journeys bold, There lived a lady fair to see, As we have oft been told. The Lady of Shalott was she, A knockout pure and simple, Her face, through using powders and creams, Had neither mole nor pimple. As Tennyson has aptly said, She plied her loom one day When my,-O, what a sorry chance- Sir Lancelot passed her way.

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Vox Fluminis 17 ILIITIERARY FOND MEMORIES HERE'S a river winding there 'Neath the willows bending low, As through the languid air Soft breezes come and go. There are green and spacious lawns 'Neath a sky of azure blue, Where joyous springtime dons ' Her robes of every hue. There are wintry snow-clad hills That are bathed in silver light, There are all the magic thrills Of a northern winter's night. There are buildings rising high, Casting shadows on the ground, Where the open gateways lie By the drives which circle 'round. There are joys and sorrows, too, And a love that ne'er will end For the happiness we knew In our life at Riverbend. There are voices young and gay Echoing through the stately halls, As to happy girls at play A youthful spirit calls. And it calls them through those gates To the mighty world beyond. Where another life awaits Those who to that call respond. When we near our life-time's end And our tired eyes dim with tears. We'll remember Riverbend And the joys of all those years. MARIE BOND, Grade VIII, Garry Hall. BURNT FINGERS ANE Martin bummed a tune as she whisked her duster over the num- erous chairs in the Brantford living- room. It certainly was a change to be working peacefully in a lovely home, she thought, after dragging herself from one oflice to another looking for a job as she had been doing until two weeks before, when she had seen the Brantford's advertisement and had answered it. The job was not without its romantic side, she observed, for the young Mr. and Mrs. Brantford had been married only recently and would be returning from their honeymoon that afternoon. She crossed the hall and entered the library. When she reached the doorway she paused and gazed longing- ly at the many and varied wedding presents kept there waiting for the bride's return. Oh well, perhaps some day- , Jane walked over to the fireplace and stood before it, thinking, and as she gazed into the fire began visualiz- ing the day when perhaps she might own things such as those. She picked up the poker in the stand beside the fire-place and began absently to poke at the dying fire. The sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts at this point and, leaving the poker in the fire, she hurried to answer the door. Any shoe laces, pencils, bobby pins- No, thank you. Not today. She closed the door abruptly, partly because the face of the man at the door had bothered her with its unshaven chin and shifty eyes, and partly because it annoyed her that a mere beggar

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Vox Fluminis 19 1 He drove right past her boarding house, The poor dame nearly bust. Says she, This is the sheik for me, I'll vamp him, yes, I must! She dressed her in her Sunday best, With ribbons, lace and bonnet, But-sad to tell-Sir Lancelot Ne'er passed again--dawgonnit! So, after years of patient and Exceptant expectation, The poor gal saw it was in vain And thought about cremation. She climbed into the family barge, Bedecked with orchids white. The family dumbell plied the oars As best his aged arms might. By six that afternoon the barge Hove to, off Camelot, And lords and ladies came to weep, Among them Lancelot. He read the missive in her hand, And he was much aHected. I gave the gal no just cause And here I am rejected. He dropped a tear into her bier And wept as well he might, And after, at the funeral march, He was the foremost knight. Within this tale a moral is For females sweet and meekg Before you give your heart away, Be sure the guy's no sheik! ANON. KNIGHTHOOD IN A PICKLE ALTER Raleigh Adams had been given a valuable antique writing table of the Elizabethan period as a birthday present by his aunt. As it was much too large for their room, he and his room-mate, Mac Riddell, were trying to decide what to do with it. Mac finally had the brilliant idea of selling it to a museum. Walter Raleigh was a bit dubious at first, because he didn't think that he should sell his aunt's birthday present. Mac persisted, however, and when he suggested that Walter Raleigh should use the money to take Mary Lou Radcliffe to the fraternity masquerade, he gave in. After sending an enthusiastic letter of thanks to his aunt, Walter Raleigh invited Mary Lou to the masquerade. She accepted, and as she had lovely red hair, she insisted on dressing as Queen Elizabeth, escorted, of course, by Sir Walter Raleigh. Two weeks later Walter Raleigh re- ceived a letter from his aunt. He thrust it towards his room-mate some- what ominously. Read this, he said. Mac took the letter and began to read. Good gracious! You are in a pickle, he said. A paper which she must have in five days, and in a secret drawer. It must be her will or some- thing. I don't know what it is, but I haven't got it and I can't possibly get it from the museum through the authorities in that time. I knew that I shouldn't have sold that present. What would you do? I, said Mac, I would go and get the paper. But, said Walter Raleigh, the pa- per happens to be locked in a secret drawer of a writing table which is in 'a room in which Queen Elizabeth might have slept. I can't very well just go and take it, can I? I would. But I can't. Why not? The next afternoon Walter Raleigh was nervously standing at the room in the museum. It looked as if a queen might have slept in it and the public was kept from it by a four-foot rail- ing. Walter Raleigh had planned to scale this, but every time he moved towards it someone would appear and seem to fasten an eagle eye on him. At last he looked at his watch. He had only a short time to get into the room and get the document, and to get back to his room and dress for the