The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER XIII

  Miss Maitland's Window

  While the weather continued to be so hot and close, Miss Maitlandallowed the girls to spend their evening recreation in the garden, sothat they might have a blow of fresh, cool air before they went to bed.They enjoyed sitting under the trees with books or fancy work, thoughas a rule their tongues wagged so fast that there was little display ofindustry with their needles.

  "I hate sewing," confessed Honor, "and it's no use pretending I likeit."

  "This piece of embroidery has lasted me three terms, and it isn'tfinished yet," said Maisie Talbot, leisurely snipping off a thread, andpausing before she chose another piece of silk.

  "I don't have to look at my knitting," said Chatty Burns; "but then,I'm Scotch, and every Scotchwoman knits."

  "You're getting on so fast, it will do for me as well," said Honor,lying comfortably on the grass with her hands clasped under her head,and watching Chatty's rapidly growing stocking. "It's a 'work ofsupererogation', and that always leaves a little virtue over, to countfor somebody else."

  "I didn't say I'd hand the extra merit on to you," retorted Chatty.

  "You can't help it. If there's so much to spare it must go somewhere,and I'm the idlest person; it will naturally fly to make up mydeficiencies."

  "What a fallacious argument!" declared Maisie.

  "Do you know," interrupted Ruth Latimer, "that it's exactly a fortnighton Friday to the end of the term?"

  "Know! I should think we do know!" replied Lettice. "I expect each oneof us is counting the days, and longing for the time to come, if I'many sample of the rest of the school. I say, 'One more day gone', everynight when I get into bed."

  "It's glorious to think the breaking-up is so near," said PaulineReynolds. "What are you all going to do in the holidays?"

  "We're starting for the Tyrol at the beginning of August," said Ruth."We want to have a walking tour. We shall leave our heavy luggage atBotzen, and then tramp off up the mountains with just a few things inknapsacks on our backs, and stop at chalets and little inns('guest-houses', as they are called there) on the way. We shall feelmost delightfully free, because we can go any distance we like, andshall not be bound to arrive at any special place by any special time.That's the beauty of a walking tour."

  "How far can you go in a day?" asked Honor.

  "It just depends. If one is in the hot valleys, quite a short distanceknocks one up; but when one gets the real mountain air, one can marchalong without feeling the least scrap tired. I once did twenty miles inSwitzerland, but that's my record."

  "And a pretty good one," said Pauline, "particularly as one oughtn't toreckon miles in Switzerland; one counts mountain climbing in hours."

  "Yes, I've sometimes been deer-stalking at home," said Chatty, "andit's a very different affair toiling uphill over the heather fromwalking on a flat road. We're not going away this summer. Father hastaken some extra shooting, and we're to have a big house-party instead.It's great fun! I like helping to carry the lunch in the little ponytrap on to the moors; and we have jolly times in the evening--games,and music, and dancing. Have your people settled any plans yet,Pauline?"

  "They talk of Norway. It would be glorious to see the midnight sun, andthe lovely pine forests. I've wanted to go ever since I read _Featson the Fiord_."

  "You won't find it so romantic as that," laughed Ruth Latimer. "Thingshave changed since the time Harriet Martineau wrote about it. There areno pirates nowadays, to try to kidnap bishops and burn farms. Youmight, perhaps, find Rolf's wonderful cave, but I'm sure there isn't apeasant left who believes in the water sprite, and the Mountain Demon,and Nipen, and all the rest of the spirits of which Erica was soafraid."

  "Perhaps not; but the country's just as beautiful, and I shall see thefiords, if I haven't any adventures there. I didn't say I wanted tomeet pirates among the islands; on the whole, I should prefer theirroom to their company."

  "Well, I wish you just one adventure, to keep up the element ofromance. Perhaps your boatman will row you into the middle of thefiord, and demand your purse before he consents to take you back to thevessel; or you may be shipwrecked on a sunken rock, and left strandedin the Arctic Circle, dependent on the hospitality of the Laplanders!"

  "No, thanks! I believe their tents are disgustingly dirty. I hope I maysee a Lapp settlement, all the same, and also a few seals. I'm afraid awhale, or an iceberg, is too much to expect."

  "Where are you going, Lettice?" enquired Chatty.

  "Nowhere in particular, unless Maisie and I are asked to our aunt's.But we shall have jolly fun at golf and tennis. When one has been atschool the whole term, one likes to be at one's own home, and to meetall one's friends again. It feels such ages since one saw them."

  "Yes; the middle part of the term always seems to drag dreadfully, andthen the last comes with a rush, and the exams. are on before one knowswhat one is doing."

  "Don't talk of exams!" cried Pauline. "I expect I shall fail in everysingle one. I'm completely mixed up in chemistry, and I never canremember dates and names properly. My history paper will be a series ofdashes: 'War with France was renewed in ----, when the English gainedthe decisive battle of ----, in which the Prince ---- was slain and theDuke of ---- taken prisoner. By the Treaty of ---- a truce wasconcluded', &c."

  "Perhaps Miss Farrar will think it's a guessing competition," remarkedHonor.

  "I dare say she will. I wish we needn't have exams., or marks, or anyhorrid things, to show whether we've done well or badly."

  "I can get on tolerably with facts," said Lettice, "but I'm alwaysmarked 'weak' for composition. Miss Farrar says I use tautology andrepeat myself, and that my grammar is shaky and my general style poor.She told me to take Macaulay as a model, but I can no more copy otherpeople's ways of writing than I could improve my features by staring atthe Venus de Medici."

  "Poor old Salad! You're not cut out for an authoress."

  "I'm certainly not; I'd rather be a charwoman! I don't aspire to beeditress of the school magazine, I assure you, nor even a contributor.By the way, Honor, why don't you send something? I'm sure you could."

  "I did think of it," replied Honor. "I was going to make a nice littleseries of acrostics on all of your names. I did one about Chatty, andshowed it to Janie; but she said that it was far too slangy, and Vivianwould never pass it, so I tore it up, and felt too squashed to go on."

  "Oh! what was it?" exclaimed the girls. "Can't you remember it?"

  "I'll try. I believe it went this way:

  "C hatty Burns is just a ripper! H air's the colour of a kipper; A nd her face so round and red is T hat you'd think her cheeks were cherries. T hough we often call her 'Fatty', Y ou depend we're nuts on Chatty."

  "What a shame!" cried the indignant original of the acrostic. "Myhair's auburn, it's not the colour of a kipper!"

  "We certainly call you 'Fatty', though," laughed Lettice. "I think thepoem is lovely!"

  "It's a good thing you tore it up, all the same," said Ruth. "Vivianwould have been simply horrified. We have a crusade against slang atChessington, and 'ripper' is one of the words absolutely vetoed. Weonly say 'jolly' by stealth."

  "I'm sure 'jolly' ought to be allowable. I saw it in a book in thelibrary: 'as jolly as a sandboy', was the expression."

  "What is a sandboy?" asked Lettice. "The phrase is always quoted as thehigh-water mark of bliss."

  "I've never been able to find out," said Ruth. "I suppose it's eitherone of those wretched little urchins who dive for pennies, or anordinary donkey boy. But this is what Miss Farrar calls 'a digressionfrom the subject'. I want to hear if Honor has written any moreacrostics."

  "I made one on Lillie Harper," replied Honor. "It had an illustration,too, done very badly, in just a few crooked strokes, like littlechildren draw:

  "L illie is a dab at cricket; I depict her at the wicket. L ook how tight her bat she's grasping, L eaving all the fielders gasping! I have done this sketch in woggles
, E specially to show her goggles.

  "It ought to have the picture to really explain it," said Honorregretfully; "I'm sorry now that I tore it up. I began a piece on theexams. too; it was a parody of 'The boy stood on the burning deck', butI can't get beyond the first verse:

  "The girl sat at the hard, bare desk, Whence all but she had fled; Her fingers they were stained with ink, And aching was her head."

  "Oh, go on! It would be so nice!"

  "It's impossible to think of any more."

  "The time rolled on, she could not go Without her teacher's word,"

  improvised Ruth.

  "That teacher, taking tea below, Her sighs no longer heard,"

  finished Honor. "Only, Miss Farrar wouldn't be taking tea in the middleof an exam. No, it can't be done!"

  "Then we must put 'To be continued'," said Ruth.

  "Make another acrostic, Paddy!" urged Lettice.

  "Acrostics are too hard, because one is hampered by keeping to theletters of the girls' names," objected Honor. "Limericks are mucheasier. How would this do for Vivian Holmes?--

  "There was a head girl of St. Chad's, Who was subject to fancies and fads; When we tried to talk slang, She declared it was wrong, And said she considered us cads."

  "Good!" laughed Ruth. "Only, of course, Vivian wouldn't dream of usingsuch a word as 'cad'. Now, I've got one about you:

  "There's a girl at our house we call 'Paddy': She's not 'goody-goody', but 'baddy'; She loves practical jokes, Or to play us a hoax, Though we tell her such tricks are not 'Chaddy'."

  "Very well, Miss Ruth Latimer! I'll return the compliment," said Honor."How do you like this?--

  "There's a girl at our house who's called Ruth: She is fond of an unpleasant truth; She says she is seeking To practise plain speaking, But we think she is merely uncouth."

  "I don't mind in the least," declared Ruth; "in fact, I'm ratherflattered than otherwise."

  "Make one about Maisie or me," implored Lettice. "You can say as nastythings as you want."

  "Nothing could possibly rhyme with Lettice," announced Honor after amoment's cogitation, "or with Salad either. I might do better withMaisie. Let me see--crazy, hazy, daisy, lazy--I think those are all.Will this suit you?--

  "There's a girl in this garden called Maisie; At lessons she's horribly lazy, But she's splendid at sports, And at games of all sorts, While o'er cricket she waxes quite crazy."

  "What are you all laughing at?" enquired Flossie Taylor, sauntering upto join the group, and taking a seat on the grass.

  "Limericks. Honor is winding them off by the yard. Now, Paddy, let ushave one about Flossie! Quick, while your genius is burning!"

  "It's only flickering," laughed Honor, "but I'll try:

  "There's a girl at St. Chad's who's named Flossie; She tries to be terribly 'bossy', She sets us all straight (Which is just what we hate), And makes us exceedingly cross(y)."

  "Oh, what a fearfully lame rhyme!" said Lettice.

  "I know it is, but I couldn't think of any other word. If you'reoffended, Flossie, you can go away."

  "I'm not silly enough to care about such trifles," replied Flossieloftily.

  "You've quite left out Janie," said Lettice, "and there she is sewingall the time, and as usual never offering a single remark. JanieHenderson, why don't you talk?"

  "You don't give me a chance to put in a word," protested Janie."Perhaps I'm like the proverbial parrot, which couldn't talk, butthought all the more."

  "You mean that I do the talking, and not the thinking?"

  "I didn't say so."

  "But you implied it. You deserve a horrid Limerick, and I shall makeone myself. Wait a moment, while I rack my brains. Oh, now I've gotit!--

  "Miss Henderson, otherwise Jane, May think very hard with her brain, But it never comes out, So she leaves us in doubt If there are any thoughts to explain.

  "There! You can't retaliate, because, as Honor says, there isn't a rhymefor Lettice."

  "It's a good thing, for we might get too personal," interposed Chatty."I think we've been over the margin of politeness as it is. Suppose wechange the subject. Do you know, the honey dew is dropping from thislime tree overhead and making my knitting needles quite sticky!"

  "It would be a lovely tree to climb, the boughs are so regular," saidHonor, gazing into the green heights above.

  "I don't believe I could go up a tree if a mad bull were after me,"asserted Pauline. "I should just collapse at the bottom, and be goredto death, I know I should!"

  "It isn't difficult," declared Honor. "You've only to catch hold of thebranches, and keep swinging yourself a little higher. I've climbed everso many trees in our garden at home."

  "I should like to see you do it here, then."

  "Very well! I'll show you, if you don't believe me."

  The lime tree in question stood close to the house--so near, in fact,that some of its boughs brushed the windows. Miss Cavendish had severaltimes decided to have it cut down, thinking it interfered with thelight; but Miss Maitland had always begged that it might be spared alittle longer, saying she loved its cool shade.

  Honor swung herself quite easily from branch to branch, while the groupof girls below watched her with admiration.

  "You look like a middy going up the main-mast," said Ruth.

  "Or a monkey at the Zoo," added Lettice.

  "That's the voice of jealousy," remarked Chatty. "Lettice is green withenvy because she can't do it herself."

  "A squirrel would be a happier simile," suggested Ruth.

  AN UNLUCKY ESCAPADE]

  "She's getting along very quickly," said Pauline.

  Half-way up the tree Honor paused and looked down.

  "Hallo!" she cried, "I'm just by Miss Maitland's study. I shall go in,and pay her a call. Ta-ta!" and she disappeared suddenly through theopen window.

  "What will Miss Maitland say if she's there?" exclaimed Lettice.

  "I don't believe she'd be cross," said Maisie. "She'd be amused to seeanybody come in so funnily."

  Honor was absent only about a minute, then her beaming face peeped fromthe window once more.

  "Miss Maitland's not at home," she announced. "I've left my card withthe footman, and said I'd call again another day, in my aeroplane. Keepout of the way down there--I'm coming!" and down she came, with a rushand a scramble, arriving quite safely, however, with only her hairribbon untied and her hands a little grazed.

  "You see, it's really a very easy matter," she explained; "we do farharder things in the gym."

  "Can you find a good foothold?" asked Flossie.

  "Oh, yes! There are heaps of places that seem made on purpose to putyour toe in. It's almost like a ladder."

  "Here's Vivian!" said Chatty. "I'm afraid she's come to call us in."

  "What a nuisance! I don't want to go to bed."

  Chatty had accurately guessed the monitress's errand.

  "It's nearly nine o'clock," proclaimed Vivian. "Didn't you hear thebell? I rang it at the side door."

  "We didn't hear a sound," replied Lettice. "But then, we were alllaughing so much. Honor Fitzgerald has just been climbing the limetree, and she went right through the window into the study."

  "Honor Fitzgerald is a hoyden, then," said Vivian. "And what businesshad she to go inside Miss Maitland's room? It was a piece of greatimpertinence."

  "I'm sorry I told you," said Lettice ruefully.

  "I wish Vivian could have heard the verse you made about her!"whispered Pauline to Honor. "Is hoyden a dictionary word, or not? I'mafraid I should have said 'cheek' instead of impertinence, but I'm nota monitress."

  The girls had entered the dressing-room, and were putting away booksand sewing materials in their lockers, when Maisie exclaimed:

  "Oh, what a bother! I've left my work-basket on the grass. It was open,too, and if there's a heavy dew
my scissors and crewel needles will becovered with rust. Lettice, do go and fetch it for me!--there's justtime."

  Lettice was so accustomed to wait upon her elder sister that she didnot even remonstrate, but turned straightway and ran into the garden tofetch the lost property. It had grown suddenly very dusk, almost dark.The lime tree stood out tall and black by the side of the house, andthe bushes were dense masses of shadow. Lettice had to grope for thebasket, but found it at last, and began to retrace her steps along thehardly-discernible path. She was about twenty yards away from the limetree when a slight noise made her look back, and she noticed the figureof a girl swinging herself down by the branches in the same way asHonor had done. Whoever it was alighted on the ground gently, andrushed off into the bushes before Lettice could see her face, though itwould have been too dark, in any case, to distinguish her features. Itwas all done very quickly, and so silently that, except for the firstsound, there was scarcely a rustle.

  Lettice was in a great hurry, and did not stop to make anyinvestigation; indeed, she did not trouble to give the matter athought. It seemed a trifling little incident, not even worthmentioning to the others; yet it was one that she was to rememberafterwards, in view of certain events that followed, for it wasdestined to make a link in the strangest chain of circumstances thatever occurred at St. Chad's.