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

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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

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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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Vox Fluminis 27 his feet in first, and slowly began to wriggle his way in. But alas, for Mr. Murray! Once he could have done it, but now, because of his steadily grow- ing middle section, he was hopelessly stuck. Dismay swept over him, but dismay soon turned to glad embarrassment at the appearance of the neighbor's son. After answering numerous questions as to his predicament, he finally impressed upon the lad the need for immediate action. While Mr. Murray inhaled with all his might, the boy pushed. Un- fortunately the entrance to the bank- er's coal-bin was in plain view of the street, and an amused crowd was be- ginning to gather. Just as Mr. Murray inhaled par- ticularly deeply, and the boy pushed particularly hard, who should join the crowd but Miss Annabelle Potter! She was just in time to see the dishevelled form of Mr. Murray disappear through the coal chute, and a few minutes later a sooty head appear to thank the boy. Quickly she hurried on. She must try and intercept John Blake on his way home from work. She could certainly never be seen with that Mr. Murray again. He would be the laughing stock of the town for months after this. Later in the evening Mr. Murray learned of Miss Potter's sudden change of victims, and he relaxed in front of a cheery tire, well satisfied with the events of the day. What if he had ruined a perfectly good suit? What if his shirt could never be worn again? What if he could hardly move from bruises? What, indeed, were all these compared with the fact that he would never be bothered by Miss Annabelle Potter again? Painfully he shifted his position, and relaxed in the happy throes of contented bachelorhood. SHIRLEY RICHARDSON, Grade XI, Garry Hall. A VISIT TO THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE RED CROSS BETTER Health for Better Service Was, we were told, the motto of the Junior Red Cross. That was the first department we visited on our in- spection tour of the Red Cross head- quarters in the Winnipeg Auditorium. Filled with gay posters depicting health rules, it was indeed a cheery office in- to which we stepped. We were greeted by charming Miss Pritchard who wil- lingly accompanied us on our tour. After inspecting the supply room filled with posters and supplies to help the work of the 44,000 Junior Red Cross members of Manitoba, we journeyed on to the assembly room. In this large room were groups of voluntary work- ers, some of whom were weighing, che-cking and assembling scarves, sweaters, socks, etcetera, to be packed and sent overseas. Others were meas- uring bolts of cloth. Then we went on into the repair room where work which has been improp- erly done is rip-ped out and redone. We gazed with horror at a seaman's sock, fifteen inches long in the foot alone! However, we were told cheer- fully that this sad case could soon be remedied. Here, also, labels according to size, small, medium, or large. were being sewn on sweaters. As we crossed the hall, we heard the busy whir of sewing machines from the sewing room. Glancing in, we saw a group of women, busily sewing the cloth into garments. There are fifteen of these groups who assemble each week, afternoon and evening. This day it was the Jewish Hadassah group. They were making pyjamas at the time out of a fascinating blue material. On the way to the next room, Miss Pritchard told us that, although this new headquarters Cthe scene of many a badminton game in years beforel had been used only since January, every- thing was running smoothly, and we could well believe her. The next room, in our opinion, was the most interesting. It was the great store room. Shelves, piled high with materials or finished garments, lined the walls. The air was filled with the