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

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Vox Fluminis 25 TVVO TICKETS FOR THE YANKEE CLIPPERJ' YTOUNG Bill Henderson walked blithely down the street to the tiny house in the last block. He was completely happy-and why shouldn't he be with a new position, a home, and dearest of all to him, the best wife a man ever had. William Henderson, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Bill kept saying it over and over again-he couldn't be- lieve it was true. Lorna would be waiting for him, looking prettier than ever. They had been married only a short time and were still Cas Bill's mother saidb like a couple of high school kids. Bill opened the door and crept into the kitchen where he could see Lorna busily preparing dinner. He kissed her golden head lightly, and she swung around, startled. Then, seeing who it was she said happily, Darling! when did you get in from Washington? Did you solve the big case? Why didn't you let me know you were coming? Wait a minute, honey, one at a time. I'll tell you all about Washington and the big case at supper. What do you say we eat now, eh? Lorna dimpled. Just like Bill to think of his stomach, oh well! Over the coffee cups Bill told Lorna about the Mason Case, one of the most puzzling on record. We haven't a chance of catching Williams, I'm afraid, said Bill, the only clue we got after Mason was mur- dered was from a ticket agent. Wil- liams, the man we're after, disappeared. Then a girl bought two tickets for the Yankee Clipper, which leaves for Ber- muda tonight. She's been seen with Williams before, so, naturally, our sus- picions were aroused. Once he reaches Bermuda, U.S. can't touch him, even if we could find him. Lorna's lovely face clouded, Bill, she said, I wish you wouldn't worry so about the Mason case. They'll get Williams, and anyway, I haven't seen you for a month. C'mon, lets leave the dishes and sit by the fire. You must tell me all about Washington. I haven't done anything but work on this case, dear. What did you do while I was away? Did you miss me? You know I did, Bill, Lorna whis- pered, Newport's so quiet, there wasn't much for me to do. For a moment they sat silent. Now that Bill was home again, he realized how much he had missed Lorna. With- out her, everything was unimportant. Lorna jumped up suddenly. Oh dear, Bill, I have to go to a bridge party at Wilson's. I'll have to hurry. You always hated bridge, honey, I'm glad to see you've finally learned to play, but couldn't you cancel it just for tonight? Bill asked. No dear, I won't be late, and Jean would be so disappointed if I didn't come. It's 7:30 now, I must hurry. Bill, will you get my purse, please? It's on the bed. Bill entered the bedroom. He went to the bed and picked up Lorna's purse. It fell from his hands to the floor. Hope I haven't broken anything, muttered Bill, as he gathered up the articles which were spilled all over the floor. He smiled to himself. What a queer collection of things you find in a woman's purse-a lipstick, a cigarette lighter, a compact, loose change, a key ring, zone tickets-and two tickets for the eight o'clock Yankee Clipper- destination-Bermuda ! ! MARIE BOND, Grade IX, Garry Hall. .l. .. 1-1 SPRING The daffodils are waking from their long winter's sleep. The little baby birds are going peep, peep peep. Flowers are coming, Bees are humming, Spring is coming back again, her promise to keep. JUDY ADAMSON, Grade III, Garry Hall.

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24 Vox Fluminis gang. Reward of five hundred dollars offered for the capture of any one of the gangsters. Goldstein looked up and leaned to- wards Fritz. If I let you stay here, and kept you out of the way of this crowd, and then the police found you, I'd be in for Old Harry for not turning you in-and I don't want any suspicion on me! Better find some place else, Sonny! Fritz recoiled-he had not expected refusal. But you know I've never had anything to do with Pete's doings. I just joined his crowd because it was a job, after all, I had to eat-and I never thought they'd-murder anyone! It says, 'any member of Pete's gang' . . . sorry. But I've got to go somewhere! The frightened expression in the blue eyes was replaced by one of hopeless plead- ing. I thought maybe you'd remember that my father was your best friend- before he died . . . There was a sud- den catch in the boy's voice. The Jew gave an oily laugh. So you finally fell back on 'Auld Acquaint- ance,' eh! Well, O.K., I'll keep you nice and safe-and here . . . he tossed the boy a quarter. Go get yourself a drink? Fritz took the money, and crossed to the other side of the room. The noise of the half-drunk hooligans at the bar effectively prevented him from hear- ing any sound from the registration desk. Well-five-hundred bucks is nothing to be sneezed at! muttered Goldstein, his eyes again on the headline. Then, humming Auld Acquaintancej' he picked up the receiver of the phone and dialed the police station. :If Pk wk ik The shops and houses were becom- ing more scattered now, the bus moved more quickly, a few minutes more, and the city disappeared behind them. Thank goodness, sighed Rita, smil- ing, as the picture of home presented itself before her mind. Unnoticed, North Main melted away into the land of forgotten thoughts. R. STERLING, Grade XI. SPOOKS I glanced inside the aged house And saw no beauty there. A yellow stain upon the wall, A crack upon the stair. I stepped inside the doorway, and Surveyed the ghostly room, And then I saw a tiny form That peeped from out the gloom. It closer came, then disappeared Into a tiny hole, For it was nothing but a mouse - A lonely little soul. Imagination runs away Inside a haunted house, And one iseasily frightened by An also frightened mouse. NANCY COMPLIN, Grade VIII, Douglas Hall. EVENTIDE The last rays of the setting sun Have touched the waves with gold, The fishing boats to harbor come, Like wand'ring sheep to fold. Above their sails the sea-gulls fly, Hurrying home to nest, White sails, white wings, at eventide On quiet waters rest. At dawn the fishing ships set forth, All day, the sea to roam, But at the setting of the sun Like birds, they turn back home. BETTY BASTERFIELD, Grade IX, Douglas Hall.

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26 Vox Fluminis A LITTLE REFUGEE GIRL IWANT to write about a little girl called Erica Elster. About two years ago, Erica was playing with her toys and schoolmates, and skipping off to school in Czechoslovakia. One night, her father got a message that Mr. Hitler was taking over the country. They only had a night to get out. They could take only what they could carry. First she went to Prague, and at last reached Great Britain. The British Government gave her and her parents money, and they decided that they would send them to the western part of Canada, to a farm. They travelled on a boat and train, and at last reached Winnipeg. When they reached Winnipeg, someone in the station gave her a fox terrior. She called him Dickey. Erica was very much delighted over him. Then they went on the train to St. Walburg, and then to a settlement up by the Beaver River. Erica had never learned how to milk a cow. Erica Elster had always got milk out of a bottle. So she had to learn to milk a cow. There was just about one well for a group of people. But later, they dug a well on their own farm. It was all very strange and Erica had to learn the language too, and our ways. She went to school all the time and about Christmas time she knew some English words, and had made friends with the neighbors. Erica hopes to be able to speak quite well by fall. Erica Elster hopes to be a real Cana- dian and loyal to Canada. JOAN Kraxwoon, Grade V, Douglas Hall. . 1- .. LOCKED OUT LET me introduce to you Mr. Charles Isadore Murray, bachelor number one, in the thriving little city of Rose- town. Mr. Murray, affectionately known to the boys as Chuck, was of medium height, and had, until recent years, been of quite athletic build. Now, how- ever, his thirties were fast creeping away, and the well known bay win- dow was beginning to appear, accom- panied by a gradual thinning of his straw colored hair. His face could not be called handsome, for his mouth had a most unbecoming manner of drop- ping open, and helping along the stupid expression in his cow-brown eyes. There must have been active gray matter behind this unbecoming ex- terior, however, for Mr. Murray was manager of the town bank. To this latter fact can be attributed his popu- larity with the female portion of this thriving cityg particularly with one, Miss Annabelle Potter. Mr. Murray, as bank manager, was drawing a sal- ary which, Miss Potter thought, ought not to be sneezed at. Besides, as Miss Potter was herself getting no younger, she was inclined to be tolerant of Mr. Murray's unfortunate appearance. On the day when our story took place we found Mr. Murray bidding his secre- tary a cheery good evening. Her reply was rather cool, for, unlike Miss Potter, she felt herselfyoung enough to look for a better prospect than Mr. Murray. After standing up all the way home in a crowded bus, with the elbow of the lady standing next prodding him, he gladly alighted in front of his little bungalow. Mr. Murray strode man- fully up to the door of the cottage which he shared with his dog. He looked for his key, first in one pocket, then in another. He took off his coat, and shook it. No luck! He had lost his key. He was locked out! After thinking the situation over carefully, Mr. Murray came to the con- clusion that his key must be at the office. What to do? Was he going through another bus ride like that one, all for a key? No, sir, he was not. This called for initiative. He tried the back door, but all in vain. Climbing on the garbage can, he tried to raise the kitch- en window. It was locked on the inside. Sitting on the garbage can, he ruefully surveyed the situation. Suddenly an in- spiration hit him-the coal chute. It was merely a matter of minutes to open the chute door. Cautiously he thrust