Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

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pnior (Hi 3BB Jropfypnj Alice Carscallen Thirty years from now! Thin and spent, I drag myself back to Canada. My five volume work Chinese Birds and Stars, How They Chirp and Twinkle, has been too much for me. During my long siege, many things have happened. I pick up a copy of a new Canadian newspaper, and at first glance am struck by its name, Ladies ' Never-at-Home Journal. Hurrah! At last woman has found her place. I eagerly devour the contents of the paper. Excellent! I must see this Editor! He ought to be congratulated! Forthwith I dash for the newspaper offices. Down the corridor I see a woman with queenly bearing coming toward me. Why, Joy, what are you doing here? I asked. Oh, I was just seeing the Editor about a misprint in my marriage announcement. After teaching so long, I have decided to marry and the man has accepted. The Ladies 1 Never-at-Home Journal didn ' t even mention that he is a farmer. Well, I spoke severely. A door confronts me with this inscription: M. Macbeth, Editor-in-Chief, Mana- ger, Secretary, Treasurer, and Stock-Holder. Well, this Editor has enough to do! I press a button and the door flies open. Before me is a large room, and seated at a desk is a woman. Fine! So the Editor is a woman. I might have guessed from the title that a man wduld not be responsible. The Editor, her hair flying and her glasses perched on the end of her nose, is frantically delving into a pile of papers. She looks up. It is Mary Macbeth! Our greetings are suddenly interrupted by a deep voice which says, Mary, what do you mean by omitting my advertisement from to-day ' s paper? Why, I supply the Ontario Ladies ' College with mattresses, and I know they need new ones this year. Standing before me I see a very smartly dressed woman. If it isn ' t Evelyn Bridges! I say. Mrs. T., if you please, of the Everlasting Mat- tress Company. Well, Alice, you are a great deal thinner, and, turning to the editor she adds, As for the advertisement, I see where my business goes. I ' ve got to support my husband and precious little girl. A sudden ringing of bells vibrates through the building. Is that a fire? I ask. Oh, no, that is for Push. I have never lost the habit I got at O.L.C. Who do you suppose takes the bread line for my employees? Helen Bowden! She supervises gym classes and dancing. By the way, I wonder what ' s detaining my egg-nog? In sails Helen Bowden. After profuse greetings, Helen drags me off to see the Pal Mai Tea Room, explaining, A couple of your old friends are running it. We cross the street to a tea room with a tennis racquet sign. What is that for? Oh, that indicates that you can play tennis between courses. Going in, we bump into Jane Rittenhouse. Meet the Hostess, says Helen. Jane leads us out into a tennis court surrounded by a beautiful garden. There, Grace Mallinson is teaching a tall young sheik how to serve. She is so engrossed that she does not see us, but Jane hurries us on to a hot-house. A girl in a dirty smock and rubber boots is digging away, with six dogs tearing about her. This is another partner of mine, Alice. She prefers the flowers to the tea-room, though once in a while she keeps our accounts straight. Why, Helen Pickings! I cry, I did not know you loved flowers so. I ' ve changed since my O.L.C. days, replies Helen. On re-entering the newspaper building, who should step out of the elevator but Marjorie Hyslop, dressed in the most daring clothes. Wasn ' t your hair blonde before, or am I just imagining it ' s gold? I ask. Don ' t you know that gold-dust blondes are the rage now? Gentlemen prefer them to platinum blondes. This is just a wig, she adds. But I must hurry. I have a heavy date. You see, I am designer for Patou in Paris. Twenty-Six

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At the end of a deli Carscallen, Toastmaster was followed by various To Our Country Alma Mater The Faculty The Graduating Class The Other Classes cious chicken dinner, specially planned by Miss Wallace, Dr. for the evening, rose and proposed a toast to the King. This other toasts, as follows: Proposed by Helen Pickings Jane Rittenhouse Evelyn Bridges Mary Harshaw Velva Brooks Student Organisations Ruth Allgeier The College Press Mary Beckman Responded to by Margaret Day Joy Spencer Miss Maxwell Marian Crow Eleanor Hardy, Junior Class Helen Carscallen, Medium Class Doris Mullett, Sophomore Class Mary Stocks, Freshman Class Verna Kinman, Elementary Class Alice Carscallen, S.C.M. Norma Thompson, Athletic Association Muriel Wilford, Honour Club Mary Macbeth, Editor-in-Chief of the Vox and Year Book IBarralaurpate uniay On June the fifth, the annual Baccalaureate service of the College was held in the evening, at the United Church. The pews to be occupied by the graduating class were decorated with flowers and marked off by white r.bbons. As the Seniors, in caps and gowns, filed in, Mary Harshaw, President of the Junior Class, cut the ribbons. The sermon was preached by Rev. Dr. Sedgewick, minister of the Metropolitan Church in Toronto. Dr. Sedgewick addressed his very inspiring words particularly to the graduating class. He spoke of the many doors which are open to youth, and stressed the fact that although along the line of finding employ- ment, things were not looking their brightest now, opportunities are bound to come to those who look for them. We feel sure that every girl left the church that night with the text of that great sermon in her heart, Behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it. (Sllasa lag Monday, June the sixth, was Class Day this year. The Juniors spent a busy morning making the Daisy Chain for the ceremony in the afternoon, and their faces at lunch showed that their labour had reached a satisfactory ending. At two o ' clock, the Seniors, capped and gowned, linked by the chain of flowers which passed over their shoulders, came into the Concert Hall, where the reading of their personal biographies and the cutting of the chain took place. Alice Carscal- len read the Class Prophecy and Muriel Wilford gave the Valedictory. A pleasing part of the afternoon Was the presentation of a gift from all the girls to Hana Fukuda, who is leaving us this year to go home to Japan. The Seniors, through their presi- dent, made a gift of a silver flower basket to the school in memory of their happy year. After a jolly dinner, given to the class by the Juniors, the evening was spent with the school, dancing and singing about a cheerful bonfire, where the books most diffi- cult and dreaded in examinations were burned by the Seniors, with clever rhymes. Page Twenty-Five

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At the door of the Editor ' s office Helen leaves me, making me promise to go with her later to the Foster Orphanage, to see Vesta. She tells me Vesta is very popular with the youngsters, because she gives them the same kind of meals as were served at O.L.C. so many years ago. On re-entering Mary ' s office, I hear a woman talking most excitedly. What does that doctor mean by putting in the paper that snakes ' brains boiled in water make a good complexion cream? By the way, who is that doctor? This voice does sound familiar to me, and while Mary digs into her files, I hear Suffering snakes, how did you get here? And who should it be but Ruth Allgeier! At last Mary, feigning seriousness, says I am sorry to say, Dr. Allgeier, the person to whom you were fling- ing all those remarks is no other than our dear friend, Dr. Muriel Wilford. Ruth a doctor? She says to me, I am doing research work chie fly with snakes and spiders. After Ruth ' s departure, Mary informs me that Willie is in China doing medical work, and one of her discoveries has evidently caused disagreement. Talking about Willie turns my thoughts to Norma. At the mention of her name, Mary smiles and says Wait ten minutes. A gay voice interrupts us here, Have you heard the latest? and in trips Velva Brooks. After greeting me she proceeds with the latest. Did you know that Mary Beckman has been married for years? I am going to put her photograph in the paper with her two children, Pierre and Lucienne. She is Mrs. Parley- Vous Francais. Mary adds, Velva edits the Society Column. What do I hear now? There is a buzzing and crackling, and behold, on the wall a form is appearing. Slowly it becomes clearer and there, in a luxurious room, I see Norma lounging in a deep chair. She sings to her Chinese servant, Tell master no can come chop chop for tennis. Then she turns toward an instrument at her side and sings into it, Hello, old editor, are you ready for my report? The latest news from Shanghai is sung to us, and as she finishes, she slowly fades and vanishes. Mary notices my astounded expression, Haven ' t you heard of television? Norma is our singing reporter in the Orient. She obtains all sorts of inside information, and is having a gay time. How can you make the ' Ladies ' Never-at-Home Journal ' so well known? I de- mand of Mary. Oh, haven ' t I told you that Dorothy Friedman is Circulation Mana- ger? She travels all over the continent. Her husband edits a rival newspaper called Men ' s Rights. We here are interrupted by Ruth Allgeier, who strides in with her golf bag. Come on here and join Marjorie Ruddy and myself in a game. Marjorie has just returned from a trip around the world. You know she is travelling correspondent for this paper. On my way home, I bump into a short little woman who thrusts some sort of picture in front of me. I look and exclaim: Marian Crow, as I live! Marian explains that she needs money badly, and I take the picture she hands to me. I turn it one way and another. What is the matter? Don ' t you know a picture when you see one? I acknowledge my ignorance as to what it represents. Haven ' t you heard of my famous ' Much of a Muchness? ' It ' s very well known. As I leave Marian, my parting word is You know, Marian, I could not possibly pay you what your picture is really worth, and she thanks me for the compliment. After this eventful day, I drop into my armchair, and picking up the Ladies ' Never-at-Home Journal, my eye is caught by the headline, Miss Margaret Day Asserts Eastern Climate Bad For the Heart; and reading the article beneath, I gather that our old friend has entered politics and is still standing up for the West. It is my habit now, to sit down in comfort every evening, and read the famous Ladies ' Never-at-Home Journal.