CHAPTER IV
Janie's Charge
The four-leaved shamrock having so far belied its reputation, andbrought bad luck instead of good upon its wearer, Honor put it away inher drawer, with the resolve not to test its powers again until she wasback in her own Emerald Isle, where, perhaps, it could exercise itsmagic more freely than in the land of the stranger.
Her first day at school was satisfactory, in spite of its badbeginning. She took her place in her new class, and made theacquaintance of Miss Farrar, her Form mistress, and all the seventeengirls who composed the Lower Third Form.
After the quiet and solitude of Kilmore Castle, to be at ChessingtonCollege seemed like plunging into the world. It was almost bewilderingto meet so many companions, all of whom were busily occupied withemployments into which she had not yet been initiated. It was anespecially fresh experience for Honor to belong to a class, instead oflearning from a private governess, and she much appreciated the change.It interested her to watch the faces of her schoolfellows, and tolisten to their recitations, or their replies to Miss Farrar'squestions. The strict discipline of the place astonished her: the readyanswers, the total lack of whispering, the way in which each girl satstraight at her desk, giving her whole attention to the subject inhand; the prompt obedience, even the orderly manner of filing out ofthe room for lunch, all were as unusual as they were amazing to one whohad hitherto behaved as she liked during lessons. She felt for thefirst time that she was a unit in a large community, and began to havesome dim perception of that esprit de corps to which Miss Cavendish hadreferred during their interview in the study.
In spite of her previous laziness and neglect of work, Honor was a verybright girl, and she contrived even in that first morning to satisfyMiss Farrar that she was capable of doing well if she wished. Perhaps,after all, the four-leaved shamrock had sent her a little luck, for shehappened to remember a date which the rest of the Form had forgotten,and won corresponding credit in consequence. When one o'clock arrivedshe arranged her new textbooks and notebooks in the desk that had beenallotted to her next to Lettice Talbot.
"Did you get into a fearful scrape with Miss Cavendish, Paddy?"whispered the latter eagerly. "Do tell me about it!"
But Honor pursed up her mouth and looked inscrutable. She was unwillingto divulge what had passed in the study, and Lettice's curiosity hadperforce to go unsatisfied.
On her arrival at St. Chad's Honor had been given a spare cubicle inthe bedroom occupied by the Talbots and Pauline Reynolds. On thefollowing afternoon, however, Miss Maitland sent for Janie Henderson, agirl of nearly sixteen, and informed her that a fresh arrangement hadbeen made.
"I am going to put you and Honor Fitzgerald together in the room overthe porch," she said. "I hope that you will get on nicely, and becomefriends. I want you, Janie, to have a good influence over Honor, andhelp her to keep school rules. She does not yet know our St. Chad'sstandards, and has very much to learn. I give her into your chargebecause I am sure you are conscientious, and will try your best to makeher wish to improve and turn out a worthy Chaddite. You may carry yourthings into your new quarters during recreation-time."
"Yes, Miss Maitland," answered Janie, with due respect. She dared notdispute the mistress's orders, but inwardly she was anything butpleased. She did not wish to leave her present cubicle, and looked withdismay at the prospect of having to share a bedroom with this wildIrish girl, towards whom as yet she certainly felt no attraction.
Janie Henderson had a painfully shy and reserved disposition. Hithertoshe had made no friends, invited no confidences, and "kept herself toherself" at St. Chad's. She was seldom seen walking with a companion,and during recreation generally buried herself in a book. Slight, pale,and narrow-chested, her constitution was not robust; and though a yearand a half at Chessington College had already worked a wonderfulimprovement, she was still far below the ordinary average of goodhealth. She was a quiet, mouse-like girl, who seldom obtruded herself,or took any prominent part in the life of St. Chad's--a girl who wascontinually in the background, and passed almost unnoticed among herschoolfellows. She had little self-confidence and a sensitive dread ofbeing laughed at, so for this reason she rarely offered a suggestion,or an opinion, unless invited. She often felt lonely at school, but hershyness prevented her from making advances, and so far nobody hadoffered her even the elements of friendship. It sometimes hurt her tobe thus entirely ignored and left out, but she had grown accustomed toit, and, shutting herself up in her shell, she followed the motto ofthe Miller of Dee:
"I care for nobody, no, not I, Since nobody cares for me."
She was obliged to share in the daily games, which were compulsory forall; but she never joined in the voluntary ones unless she werespecially asked to do so, to make up a side, and then she played withan utter lack of enthusiasm. "Moonie", as the girls called her, was abookworm pure and simple. She had read almost every volume in theschool library; it did not matter whether it were biography, travels,poetry, essays, or fiction, she would devour any literature that cameher way. She lived in an imaginary world, peopled by heroes andheroines of romance, who often seemed more real to her than herschoolmates, and certainly twice as interesting. Half the time she wentabout in a dream, and even during lesson hours she would let herthoughts drift far away to some exciting incident in a story, or somemental picture of her own. It appeared as if Miss Maitland could nothave picked out two more opposite and unsuitable girls to share abedroom than Honor Fitzgerald and Janie Henderson; but she had goodreasons for her choice. Not only did she hope that Janie's sober wayswould steady Honor, but she also thought that Honor's high spiritswould have a leavening effect upon Janie, who was sadly in need ofstirring up.
"I wish I could shake the pair in a bag!" she confided to afellow-teacher. "It would be of the greatest advantage to both."
There was at least one compensation to Janie for being obliged tochange her quarters. No. 8, the room over the porch, was a specialsanctum, much coveted by all the other Chaddites. It was arranged toaccommodate only two, instead of four, and was the beau-ideal of everypair of chums. It had a French window opening out on to a tiny balcony,and, having been originally intended for one of the mistresses, wasfurnished rather more luxuriously than the rest of the bedrooms. Therewas a handsome wall-paper, a full-length mirror in the wardrobe, acomfortable basket-chair, and also what appealed particularly toJanie--a large and inviting bookcase, with glass doors. She conductedher removal, therefore, with less dissatisfaction than she had at firstanticipated.
"I call you lucky," declared Lettice Talbot. "I only wish I could goinstead. Everyone on our landing is envying you. I shall be rathersorry to lose Paddy--I think she's a joke."
"Especially as we're to have Flossie Taylor instead," said PaulineReynolds. "It's a poor exchange. I can't stand Flossie; she givesherself airs."
"She needn't put them on with us," observed Maisie. "I've had a quarrelwith her already. She was actually trying to make Lettice pick up herballs for her at tennis!"
"Lettice always picks up yours," suggested Pauline.
"That's a totally different matter," declared Maisie.
"I wish Miss Maitland would have let Flossie join the Hammond-Smiths,"said Lettice. "I can't imagine why she is making such changes. Oh,here's Honor! Do you know, Paddy, you have got notice to quit?--infact, you're going to be evicted from No. 13."
Honor had already been informed of the fact by the house-mistressherself. She appeared to take the news with the utmost sangfroid.
"I don't care in the least which room I have," she replied. "All Ibargain for is a room-mate who doesn't use 'cold pig' in the mornings.I haven't forgotten your wet sponge."
"You ungrateful Paddy! It was for your good."
"If you call me Paddy I shall call you Salad!"
"You can if you like. It's rather a pretty name, and has a juicy,succulent sound about it."
"Make haste, Honor, and clear your drawers," grunted Maisie. "Here'sFlossie Taylor coming down the
passage with her arms full ofunder-linen."
No. 8, like all other bedrooms at St. Chad's, was divided by a curtainthat could be drawn at pleasure. At present, however, this was pulledaside for the mutual convenience of the occupants of both cubicles. ToJanie the burning question to be decided was the possession of thebookcase. She tried to imagine that it was nearer her bed than Honor's,but justice forced her to come to the conclusion that it stood exactlyin the middle, between the two. With heroic self-denial she offered hercompanion the first choice of its shelves before she put away her ownlittle library.
"But I haven't brought any books with me," declared Honor. "You'rewelcome to the bookcase, so far as I'm concerned. We can take turns atthis luxury," sinking into the basket-chair.
"Don't you ever read?"
"Very seldom."
Janie went on arranging her volumes in silence, the poets on the topshelf, by the side of her edition of Scott's novels, and themiscellaneous authors below. She touched each book tenderly, as thoughit were an old and dear friend, opening one occasionally to glance at afavourite passage; and she became so absorbed in her occupation thatshe utterly forgot Honor's presence.
"There! I've stowed away all my possessions," remarked the latter atlast. "I don't know whether Miss Maitland judges a room by a tidybookcase. She said she was coming up presently, to see if we had putour things straight."
Janie started guiltily. She, who was expected to be the mentor and tokeep her companion up to the mark, was certainly the defaulter in thisinstance. Her bed and the chairs were strewn with various articles, andnothing seemed as yet in its right place.
"I couldn't help dipping into that book," she confessed. "It's acollection of old Irish fairy tales and legends. It was given meyesterday, before I left home, and I've scarcely had time even to lookat it."
"Are they nice?"
"Lovely, to judge by the one I've just sampled!"
"Then do tell it to me! I hate reading, but I'm an absolute baby forloving to be told old tales."
"I? Oh, I couldn't!" exclaimed Janie.
"Yes, you can--while I'm helping you to put all these things into yourdrawers. Do, mavourneen! I want to hear the Irish story."
When Honor's grey eyes looked pleadingly from under their long, darklashes, and a soft blarney crept into her voice, there were few peoplewho could resist her. Janie flushed pink; she was so seldom asked to doanything for anybody! She had no natural gift for narrative, but shemade an effort.
"There was once an Irishman called Murtagh O'Neil," she began, "and hewas walking over London Bridge, with a hazel staff in his hand, when anEnglishman met him and told him that the stick he carried grew on aspot under which were hidden great treasures. The Englishman was awizard, and he promised that if Murtagh would go with him to Ireland,and show him the place, he would gain as much gold as he could carry.Murtagh consented, so they went over to Bronbhearg, in Kerry, wherethere was a big green mound; and there they dug up the hazel tree onwhich the staff had grown. Under it they found a broad, flat stone, andthis covered the entrance to a cavern where thousands of warriors layin a circle, sleeping beside their shields, with their swords claspedin their hands. Their arms were so brightly polished that theyilluminated the whole cave; and one of them had a shield that outshonethe rest, and a crown of gold on his head. In the centre of the cavehung a bell, which the wizard told Murtagh to beware of touching; but,if at any time he did so, and one of the warriors were to ask: 'Is itday?' he was to answer without hesitation: 'No, sleep thou on!' The twomen took as much as they could carry from a heap of gold pieces thatlay amidst the warriors, and Murtagh managed accidentally to touch thebell. It rang, and one of the warriors immediately asked: 'Is it day?'when Murtagh answered promptly: 'No, sleep thou on!' The wizard toldhim that the company he had seen were King Brien Borombe and hisknights, who lay asleep ready for the dawn of a new day. When the righttime should come the bell would ring loudly, and the warriors wouldstart up and destroy the enemies of Erin, and once more the descendantsof the Tuatha di Danan should rule the isle in peace. When Murtagh'streasure was all finished, he went back to the cave and helped himselfto more. On his way out he touched the bell, and again it rang; butthis time he was not so ready with his answer, and some of the warriorsrose up, took the gold from him, beat him, and flung him out of thecave. He never recovered from the beating, but was a cripple to the endof his days."
"And serve him right, too!" declared Honor. "Brien Borombe was a greathero of Ireland."
"Yes, there's one of Moore's _Irish Melodies_ that begins: 'Remember theglories of Brien the brave'," said Janie.
"Are there any more stories about him in that book?"
"I'm not sure, but there are tales about fairy raths and changelingsand leprechauns and pookas and banshees, and all kinds of extraordinarycreatures."
"Then we'll have one every day, please! I think you're a first-ratestory-teller. You're almost as good as old Mary O'Grady. I've often satby her peat fire and heard about the banshee and the leprechaun; only,she believes in them. I'm so glad I've moved into this bedroom! I likeyou far better than those girls in No. 13."
When Miss Maitland came upstairs to inspect No. 8, she found Honor andJanie already on a more favourable footing than she had dared to hope,the latter chatting with a vivacity that no one at St. Chad's hadhitherto imagined she possessed. Once she had broken the ice of hershyness, and had broached her beloved topic of books, Janie had plentyto say; and, as Honor was also in a communicative mood, the pair seemedwell started on the high road to friendship.
It was fortunate for Honor that she had found a congenial room-mate, asher first days at Chessington proved rather a time of trial. She waswoefully and terribly home-sick. It seemed an absolute uprooting tohave been torn away from Kerry, and she considered that nothing in hernew surroundings could make amends for the change. Her pride upheld hersufficiently to prevent her from showing any outward signs of miserybefore the inquisitive eyes of her schoolfellows, but every now andthen the yearning for Kilmore would rise with an almost unbearablepain, and she would have to fight hard to keep her self-control. MaisieTalbot, she was sure, would regard home-sickness as "early Victorian",and consequently worthy of contempt; and she was determined not to giveeither Maisie or any of the others an opportunity of laughing at her.
She felt very keenly the confinement and restraint of school life. Tobe obliged to study lessons and play games at specified hours, allwithin a certain limited area, seemed an utter contrast to the freedomin which she had hitherto revelled; and she would long for a scamperwith Bute and Barney, her two terriers, or a sail with her father downthe creek and out into the Atlantic. She would pour enthusiasticdescriptions of her home into Janie's ears, until the latter felt sheknew Kilmore Castle and its demesne, and the little fishing village,with its peat smoke and its warm-hearted peasants; and the rocks andthe moors and the stream, and the green, treacherous bogs, almost aswell as Honor herself.
Notwithstanding her former reputation for unsociability, Janie, at theend of three days, had completely lost her heart to this wayward,impulsive daughter of Erin. It was true, Honor was apt to be trying attimes. Her gusts of hot temper, petulance, or utter unreasonablenesswere rather disconcerting to anyone unaccustomed to the Celticdisposition; but they never lasted long, and Janie soon found out thather friend rarely meant what she then said, and was generallyparticularly lovable after an outburst, with a winsome look on her faceand a beguiling, endearing tone in her voice that would have gainedforgiveness from a stone.
With the rest of the members of St. Chad's Honor was also on goodterms. She could be very amusing and full of racy Irish humour when sheliked, and would send the girls into fits of laughter with her quaintsayings and funny stories. Her nickname of "Paddy Pepper-box" stuck toher, and she certainly justified it occasionally.
"She's like a volcano," declared Lettice Talbot. "Sometimes if youtease her she starts with a bang, and lets off steam for five minutes.Then it's all over, and she's quite pleas
ant again, until next time."
"I'd rather have that than sulking, at any rate," said DorothyArkwright. "A storm often clears the air."
"It's not much use chaffing her, either," said Madge Summers, "for shealways seems to get the best of it."
"Yes; if she's down one minute she'll bob up again the next, like acork."
Honor's humours were apt to overflow into the region of practicaljokes. These were generally played on such genial recipients as LetticeTalbot and Madge Summers, but occasionally she would venture on moredangerous ground. One afternoon, at the end of her first week atChessington, she was in the dressing-room, changing her shoes inpreparation for cricket, when Ruth Latimer interposed.
"I forgot to tell you, Paddy! Games are off to-day."
"Why?" asked Honor in astonishment, for the hour and a half in theplaying-fields was as strict a part of the college curriculum as themorning lessons.
"Because it's the Health Testing."
"What's that?"
"A kind of medical examination," explained Dorothy Arkwright. "Wealways have it at the beginning of each term, to make sure that, asMiss Cavendish expresses it, we are 'physically fit for the duties ofschool life'."
"Oh!" said Honor, looking rather aghast at the prospect.
"You needn't pull such a long face, Paddy," said Lettice. "We none ofus mind; indeed, we think it's a joke."
"We have a lady doctor, you see," said Ruth, "and she's so jolly, shekeeps one laughing all the time."
"What does she do?"
"Oh! weighs us, and sounds our lungs, and tests our eyes, and measuresour chests."
"You'll have to draw a deep breath, and to put out your tongue, and tolet her look at your teeth," added Lettice.
"And if any girl is really very much below standard," said Dorothy,"she is 'turned out to grass'. That means that she only doeshalf-lessons."
"Of course, she has to be rather bad for that," remarked Ruth.
"It's never been my luck yet!" lamented Lettice.
"I should think not, with those fat, red cheeks! You couldn't lookdelicate, however hard you tried."
"It happened to Janie Henderson, though, in her first term. How littledid you weigh, Moonie?"
"I'm sure I forget," returned Janie, who had joined the group.
"But you had to be fed up on cream and beaten eggs and all kinds ofthings. I remember how we envied you."
"Are you weighed in stones or pounds here?" asked Honor.
"In stones. It's very puzzling to some of the Colonials, becausethey're accustomed to American machines that register in pounds. Theyhave to do a sum before they can calculate the result."
"When does this exam. come off?"
"Some time this afternoon. We go up in relays. It's St. Chad's turnto-day. On Wednesday it was the School House, and on Thursday, St.Aldwyth's. Then on Saturday it will be St. Hilary's and St. Bride's. Ittakes nearly a week to get through the whole school."
The medical examination was to be conducted at the sanatorium, and Dr.Mary Forbes was already installed there, and busily employed, whenHonor and her classmates arrived.
"She begins with monitresses, and then works downwards," explainedDorothy. "I don't expect it will be our turn for half an hour yet, butwe're obliged to stay here, to be ready in case we're called."
"It's not nearly so alarming as the dentist's," said Ruth.
The waiting-room was full of girls, who were beguiling the time withjokes and banter and lively chatter. Lettice, Ruth, and Dorothy soonmingled in the crowd, and forgot all about their Irish companion untilthe voice of Vivian Holmes was heard announcing:
"Next--Ruth Latimer, Chatty Burns, Madge Summers, and HonorFitzgerald."
"Where's Honor?" asked Lettice. "She was here just now."
"Why, she's there!--actually outside in the garden," replied Dorothy.
"What's she doing, dodging about the rockery?"
"Someone call her--quick!"
Honor came running in, looking rather flushed and hot, and with acurious, bulgy appearance about her blouse.
"Where have you been?" demanded Ruth, but her question went unanswered,for Vivian whisked the four girls with scant ceremony into Dr. MaryForbes's consulting-room. Time was too precious to be wasted, and themonitress was something of a disciplinarian. Honor sat watching withdeep interest while first Ruth, then Chatty, and finally Madge wereduly examined and passed as "sound". She was called then, and after hername and age had been entered on her chart, and her height taken, shewas told to step on to the weighing machine. Round swung the pointer,and stopped at 8 stone 4 lb. Dr. Mary looked at the dial almostincredulously. She thought there must be something wrong with themachine.
"Stand off for a minute," she said, "while I examine the weights. Imust have made a mistake."
Honor obeyed, with a very solemn face. She appeared to be taking thematter with unusual seriousness. Dr. Mary readjusted the lever, andeven oiled the machine; but when Honor stepped on to it again itregistered exactly the same.
"It's most extraordinary!" exclaimed the lady doctor. "For a girl ofyour height and slight build I have never known such a record," and shegazed at Honor's rather slender proportions in amazement.
"I expect it's bones," volunteered Honor. "The Fitzgeralds are abig-boned family."
"Your bones would have to be of cast iron, to bring you up to eightstone odd," cried Dr. Mary. "The machine must be at fault. It's absurd,on the face of it--a small, slim girl like you!"
"Perhaps it's the change of air since I arrived," said Honorinnocently, but at the same time she looked at Madge Summers with avery mischievous expression on her face.
"She's up to something!" thought Madge, and nudged Ruth, though shedared not venture to whisper.
"Of course, we eat a great deal over in Ireland," continued Honor."There is nothing like potatoes for making one grow. I saw in the_British Almanac_ that they were twice as nourishing as anything,except herrings and oatmeal; and we have those too in Kerry."
"I think, in that case, we must try Banting," said Dr. Mary, who musthave caught Honor's glance, for she suddenly took hold of her, andbegan feeling her carefully.
"Ah!" she exclaimed; "so these are the extra bones, are they?" anddiving into her patient's pocket, she drew out stone after stone, andas many more again that had been tucked down in the front of the whiteflannel blouse.
The doctor was a good-tempered woman, with a strong sense of humour,and, instead of scolding, she laughed heartily at having been taken inby such a trick.
"I've had patients who shammed ill before," she declared, "but neversuch a scandalous case of imposition as this."
"Well, the girls told me the weight was to be reckoned by stones," saidHonor, with a twinkle in her eye, "so I thought I'd better come wellprovided. I'm not at all sorry to be rid of them, if they're notwanted."
"Get on to that machine again immediately!" commanded Dr. Mary, with aneffort to be severe. "Ah! 6 stone 5 lb. is rather a difference. It'slucky for you I didn't put you on starvation diet to reduce you. Don'ttry to be so clever again, or I shall have to perform an operation toget rid of your cheek!"
Madge, Ruth, and Chatty had sat chuckling with subdued delight duringthe interview, and the moment they were out of the room they publishedthe story abroad, for the edification of the others.
"She thinks of such funny things!" laughed Madge, "things that nobodyelse would ever dream of doing."
"I was afraid she'd get into a fearful scrape," confessed Chatty.
"Oh, Dr. Mary Forbes is too jolly to mind!" said Ruth. "She was farmore amused than cross. If it had been Miss Maitland, or MissCavendish, now! But I should imagine that even Honor Fitzgerald wouldscarcely dare to play a practical joke upon either of them!"
The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life Page 4