A Pair of Schoolgirls: A Story of School Days

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER XVI

  The William Scott Prize

  Dorothy, who was little the worse for her dangerous experience, wenthome on the morning following the accident, but it was several daysbefore Alison was able to be removed from the inn. She was not a stronggirl, and the fright and immersion combined had produced a state ofcomplete exhaustion. The quiet and rest which the doctor prescribed had,however, their due effect, and by the end of a week she began to seemher old self again. The surprise of the two girls when later they learntthe news of their relationship can be imagined. Mrs. Clarke wrote to herbrother-in-law, making a full avowal of everything; and though at firsthe found it hard to grant her the forgiveness she implored, his delightat finding his daughter alive outweighed his anger at the long and cruelcourse of deception that had been practised upon him. For the sake ofAlison, to whom he was much attached, he allowed himself to bereconciled to his sister-in-law, and agreed to forget the past and letbygones be bygones. Both he and Miss Sherbourne decided emphaticallythat Mrs. Clarke's share in the story must be kept a strict secret amongthemselves; it was most undesirable that either Dorothy or Alison shouldknow of the dishonourable part she had played. To both the girls and theoutside public it was enough to announce, without detailed explanations,that the mystery of Dorothy's parentage had been solved. Martha, theonly other person who had guessed at the facts of the situation, couldbe safely trusted to preserve silence.

  "I shall not at present claim for my daughter the fortune which islegally hers," said Mr. Clarke. "I do not need it, for I have been verysuccessful financially in India, and am now in comfortable circumstancesand able to retire from business. I could not see my brother's child inpoverty, so the trust money must still be devoted to Alison's benefit.When Rosamond is twenty-one, and of age to decide such matters forherself, I hope that she will agree to divide the legacy equally withher cousin, and thus set right what was originally a most unjust will."

  To Dorothy the discovery was both a delight and a pain. It removed thestigma that she considered had formerly attached to her, and placed herin the position of other girls as regarded name and family; but it hadcertain drawbacks which must be faced. Though she welcomed hernewly-found father, she clung passionately to the one friend who hadhitherto made the sum of her life.

  "Aunt Barbara has brought me up and done everything for me. I can'tleave her. I've promised to work for her and take care of her when I amold enough," she said earnestly.

  "I know, child. I know what we owe her. You and I will look after AuntBarbara together," replied Mr. Clarke.

  Dorothy's news made a great sensation at the College. The romantic storyappealed to the girls, and congratulations poured in upon her. Even HopeLawson and Valentine Barnett waxed cordial.

  "We've never had such an excitement at school before," declared RuthHarmon. "It's the most interesting thing I've ever come across in mylife."

  "We don't know what to call you now," laughed Mavie Morris. "You'reDorothy Greenfield, alias Rosamond Clarke. Which is it to be?"

  "Dorothy Greenfield, please, till the end of the term. Next session mynew name can be entered on the College register, and I'll start in afresh character."

  "Then in the meantime we'll call you Rosador, as a compromise."

  There was very little of the term left now, for the examinations were tobegin the next week, and after those were over would come the annualspeech day, which always concluded the school year. Dorothy's studieshad naturally been somewhat upset by the recent course of events, butshe had made an extra spurt at her work, and did not feel herself illprepared. She rather liked examinations. She had a clear head and a goodmemory, and a neat, concise method of setting forth her information.

  "I think it's quite inspiring to see a pile of fresh sheets of foolscapand a paper of questions," she declared.

  "Yes, if you can answer the questions," returned Mavie. "It's adifferent matter if one's stumped. I'm utterly against the competitivesystem."

  Dorothy laughed.

  "State your reasons, Mavie," urged Ruth Harmon. "We'll set 'TheCompetitive System' as a subject for the Debating Society."

  "Well, to begin with, emulation is the wrong spirit in which to promotework."

  "A grand sentiment--but nothing would promote work in you, you dear oldlazybones, so it's no use arguing the point."

  "Very well. If I'm content to absorb my knowledge in homeopathic doses,why must I be worried into swallowing more than I can digest? If I wererunning a school I'd allow the clever girls who wanted to go in forexams, to take them, and let the others alone. I call it sheer crueltyto put the ordinary rank and file on the rack. Next week will bepurgatory to me. You'll see me pining day by day, and gradually wastingaway."

  In spite of Mavie's forebodings, she survived the ordeal of theexamination, and presented her usual appearance of robust health at theend of the dreaded period.

  "I've done badly, though," she protested. "I expect I've failed in atleast half my subjects. The maths. was detestable and the geometrysimply wicked. Rosador, you're looking very smug. I believe you likedthe papers."

  "They weren't bad, as papers go," returned Dorothy. She did not care toboast, but she was conscious that she had done well, and reached a markfar above her average standard.

  "Still, one never knows," she thought. "Exams. are uncertain things, andheaps of other girls may have done better than I have. I just won'tthink about the results."

  Governors' Day, as it was popularly called, was always rather a grandoccasion at Avondale. The school was a famous one in the town, andnumbered among its pupils many who came from the best families inColeminster. The governors liked to assure the parents that the Collegewas keeping up its well-earned reputation for efficiency, and to givesome opportunity for a general exhibition of the work done during theyear. With this end in view, the programme was representative of allbranches of the curriculum. A show of drawings, paintings, andhandicrafts done by the art classes was on view in the studio; thecollections of pressed flowers and natural objects made in connectionwith the Nature Study Union were put up round the walls of the museum;and the Charity Basket garments contributed by the Ambulance Guild werespread out in the Juniors' Common Room. There were to be recitations inFrench and German, songs and instrumental music, speeches by thegovernors, and the head mistress's report on the examination results andthe general progress of the whole school.

  "I like the dear old Coll. when it's turned upside down like this," saidRuth Harmon, who, with Dorothy, had been told off as a steward for theoccasion. "What a fearful cram! The people are simply pouring in. Idon't know how we're to find seats for everybody."

  "It is amazing how many the room will hold," said Dorothy. "They'rebringing in more chairs, and people will have to sit very close togetheron the benches."

  Dorothy was looking charming that afternoon, with an unwonted colour inher cheeks, and her fluffy brown hair tied back with a blue ribbon thatmatched the tasteful dress her father had provided for her. All the oldangularity had slipped away from her lately, and a new graciousness andsweetness had taken its place.

  "Dorothy Greenfield is like a hard, tight bud that has suddenly openedinto a flower," commented Miss Carter, who was quick to notice theimprovement.

  The lecture hall was filling rapidly with guests, and the stewards hadto be indefatigable in their exertions.

  "I want to be here, there, and everywhere at once," said Ruth. "I wish Iwere a conjurer, and could contrive two chairs out of one. Someone issmiling at you near the door, Dorothy."

  It was Percy Helm, who, with his father and mother and Eric, was makinghis way through the crush. Dorothy went to meet them and find themplaces.

  "Gabrielle is on the platform with the chorus, and Norma is among herown Form," she whispered.

  "And where are you going to sit?" asked Percy.

  "Oh, I'm a wandering Jew at present. I shall slip in somewhere at thelast."

  Promptly at three o'clock the proceedings began, and Dorothy, her
dutiesover for the present, found a corner that had been reserved for her onthe platform. From her seat she had a very good view of the hall. Howpretty it looked, she thought, with its decorations of flags andflowers, and its throng of interested faces! In the fifth row, not veryfar away, she could see her father with Mrs. Clarke, and dear AuntBarbara. Dr. and Mrs. Longton were also present, and the Vicar ofHurford and his wife. The Helms were beaming at her from the back row.

  "All my best friends are here to-day," said Dorothy to herself.

  The first part of the programme was musical; glees were sung by pickedmembers of the singing classes, and a few solos, both vocal andinstrumental, were given. Alison, who had been taking violin lessons,played in a quartette and acquitted herself very creditably, in spite ofa sudden panic of bashfulness. She came and sat beside Dorothy as soonas her part was finished.

  "I'm so thankful it's over," she whispered. "I do so hate doing anythingin public. I could see Mother looking at me all the time; I believe shewas as nervous as myself. My hand shook so dreadfully at first, I couldhardly hold my bow."

  "Never mind, it sounded quite right," replied Dorothy. "Everybodyapplauded, especially Father."

  "Yes, I saw Uncle David clapping hard. When are the exam. lists to beread? Have you heard?"

  "Not until after the interval, so Miss Pitman says. They're to come withthe speeches."

  The recitations passed off well, Grace Russell, the only member of theUpper Fourth who took part in them, distinguishing herself particularly.

  "Grace is A1 at languages," commented Alison. "She gets that trippingFrench accent most beautifully."

  At four o'clock there was an interval, and the audience adjourned fortea and to see the exhibits. Alison's collection of pressed flowers wasamong those on view in the museum, and she bore off her particularcircle of friends to look at it.

  "It's got 'Highly Commended'," she remarked gleefully. "Uncle David,that's the very piece of rock rose you climbed up the cliff to pick forme--don't you remember it? Miss Sherbourne, you sent me that catchflyfrom Hurford. I got most of my flowers at Latchworth, and just a fewfrom Beechfield. Do you recognize this? It's the water plantain. Theinnkeeper at Longacre brought me a big bunch of it just before I left.Wasn't it kind of him? I keep it as a specimen, and as a memento of mydipping as well."

  Alison spoke brightly. She had not been told how serious her collapsehad been after her rescue from the river; and she little knew what animportant share the water plantain had played in bringing about thehappy reunion between her uncle and cousin.

  "Dorothy has 'Commended' for her drawing from the cast," she continued,dragging Uncle David to the other side of the room. "Isn't it good? It'sthe head of Clytie up there, so you can see how like it is. And we'veboth got 'Neatly Rendered' for our Guild garments. Yes, yes, Uncle; youmust come and see them, even if you don't know anything about sewing.Mine's the flannel jacket, and Dorothy's is the child's nightdress. Wedid every stitch of them ourselves."

  "Did you bake the cake that has just disagreed with me at tea?" enquiredMr. Clarke, with a twinkle in his eye.

  "No, you naughty man! We don't have cookery classes. When we do, I'lltake care to bring something home, and insist upon your eating it, everycrumb. Now, we've shown you all our exhibits, and we must go downstairsagain and take our places. The speechifying is going to begin directly."

  The second part of the programme represented the real business of theafternoon. Alderman Herbert, the chairman of the committee of theCollege, gave an opening address upon the general aims and objects ofthe system of education pursued at the school; and this was followed byMiss Tempest's report on the work done during the year. Then came theexamination lists. Dorothy listened eagerly. She had done well,certainly; but until the final scores were read, it was impossible tocompare her results with those of the top girls in other Forms. She wasthe best in the Upper Fourth, but probably one of the divisions of theSixth might be able to produce an even higher record.

  At the end of the lists Miss Tempest paused.

  "Before continuing," she said, "I should like to give a word ofexplanation as to the terms upon which the William Scott Memorial isawarded. It is a prize which was bequeathed by the founder of theCollege to be given annually to whichever girl has gained the highestpercentage of marks in the examinations. This year the honour falls tothe Upper Fourth Form, where Dorothy Greenfield has gained 987 out of apossible 1000."

  Dorothy listened like one in a dream. She could scarcely believe theevidence of her own ears. But it was true, for Alison was nudging her,and the other girls were whispering to her to "go forward". Very shylyshe rose and walked to the front of the platform, where Alderman Herbertwas beckoning her.

  "I think we may all congratulate the lucky winner of the William ScottMemorial," he said, laying a kindly hand on Dorothy's shoulder. "Suchsuccess can only be the result of hard work and sustained effort. TheUpper Fourth may well be proud of its record. I have much pleasure, mydear, in presenting you with this watch, which has been chosen for theprize."

  As he spoke, he handed Dorothy a morocco case, and taking the beautifullittle blue-enamelled watch from its satin bed, he pinned it on to herdress. The audience broke into a storm of applause. Dorothy had grownpopular lately among the girls, and many of their parents had heard ofthe strange circumstances of her loss and finding. She received quite anovation as she stood, smiling and blushing, by the side of the chairman.

  "I'm so delighted," exclaimed Alison, as Dorothy returned to her place."Let me look. Oh, what a ducky little watch! It's the prettiest I'veever seen. But it isn't _that_ I care about so much--it's the honour ofwinning. To think that our Form has got the Memorial! You dear, clever,industrious busy bee! I can't tell you how proud I am you're myrelation."

  "I'm glad my last appearance as Dorothy Greenfield has been a favourableone," laughed Dorothy. "Next term I shall be on the school register asRosamond Clarke."

  * * * * *

  And here we must take leave of the cousins, for their story is alltold. Mr. Clarke has bought a charming house at Latchworth, and is verybusy furnishing it so that it may be ready for a certain occasion towhich he is looking forward greatly. He is tired of Indian life, and hasdecided to settle down permanently in England. Dorothy is keenlyinterested in her new home, and especially pleased that it is so near toLindenlea, and that she and Alison can still travel by train together tothe College. As for Aunt Barbara, before the summer is over Dorothy willhave learnt to call her by a dearer name still, and Holly Cottage willbe to let.

  Transcriber's Notes:

  Punctuation has been standardised. Changes have been made as follows:

  Page 166 he had the good manners to conceal her _changed to_ she had the good manners to conceal her

  Page 19

  emissaries of Doris Earnshaw and Noelle Kennedy _changed to_ emissaries of Doris Earnshaw and Noelle Kennedy