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

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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

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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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20 Vox Fluminis dance. When he was finally alone, he went to the desk and was looking for the secret drawer when he heard voices coming towards him. He quickly jumped into the bed and drew the curtains tight. A carpenter had been summoned to repair one of the legs of the bed and Walter Raleigh had to lie still until he had gone. He quickly went to the desk, but just as he pressed the spot he was struck on the forehead and the lights went out. Walter Raleigh was surprised. He knew that he had been struck by the drawer of the desk, but the lights! Then he remembered that the museum closed at seven o'clock. The building was closed! He must get the paper and get out at once. He found the paper and put it in an inside pocket and then he hurried away. He got out of the room safely, but the problem was to find his way out of the place in the maze of corridors. He bumped into many things in his eHorts, but he kept on trying. At five minutes after nine the next morning a bedraggled young man pain- fully descended the steps and limped away down the street. A few minutes later in their room his friend greeted him rather sarcastically, but, ignoring this, Walter Raleigh took a sheet of paper from his pocket and gave it to his friend-then he wearily sank into a chair. What's this? asked Mac. Aunt Mary's precious document. You don't mean that! Do I look as if I didn't mean it? No, you don't, Mac admitted, but you will. Just look at this. I Walter Raleigh's important document was a Recipe for Nine-day Pickle. 66 RUBY BENIDICKSON, Grade XI, York Hall. NAVAJO UAN crept out of the cot on which he slept and, shivering, advanced as far as the doorway. He looked out onto the great lonely desert over which the sun was slowly rising. The great arms of the giant cacti cast grotesque sha- dows on the sand. The air was cool and still. The little boy standing there looking at this awesome spectacle sud- denly felt very small and lonely and a little afraid, not a bit the way he had felt the night before when Pedro had told him that he, Juan, was to stay all alone and look after the shop while Pedro went to San Blos, ten miles away. Then Juan had felt pleased and very proud, and, somehow, big as if he were greater than all the little devils who lurk in each particle of sand and each puff of wind in the treacherous desert. Juan was a Navajo Indian and ever since his mother had died he and his older brother Pedro had lived in the hut on the Mexican highway ten miles out in the desert. They made Navajo rugs and pottery, which they sold to tourists travelling on the highway, and made a meagre living in this way. Back in the small, dusty hut again, Juan shared his meal with his dog and watched the highway for customers. Finally a big touring car drove up and the occupants poked about in the musty crowded old shop and wondered, no doubt, at the strange conglomeration in it. From the roof and walls hung rugs, large and small, all with red in the pattern, and over the floor and counter was strewn pottery of all kinds,-jugs, clay burros, Mexican sombreros and many other things. To these people and others Juan sold many articles and by evening he was feeling very pleased with himself. Then it was he noticed that a wind had come down from the mountains and was blowing up tiny spurts of sand. Juan became frightened. O-ne of the too fre- quent sand storms was coming, he felt. Suddenly he remembered Pedro. He would be on his way home now. Juan began to worry. The storm couldn't