There was no end to the surprises of that wonderful school! When Rhoda
returned to her cubicle to get "tidy" for dinner, she washed, brushed
her hair, put an extra pin in her tie to make sure that it was straight,
wriggled round before the glass to see that belt and bodice were
immaculately connected, put a clean handkerchief in her pocket, nicked
the clothes-brush over her skirt, and, what could one do more? It
seemed on the face of it that one could do nothing, but the other girls
had accomplished a great deal more than this. Rhoda never forgot the
shock of dismay which she experienced on first stepping forth, and
beholding them. It was surely a room full of boys, not girls, for
skirts had disappeared, and knickerbockers reigned in their stead. The
girls wore gym. costumes, composed of the aforesaid knickers, and a
short tunic, girt round the waist with a blue sash, to represent the
inevitable house colour. Thomasina's aspect was astounding, as she
strode to and fro awaiting the gathering of her forces, and the new
girls stared at her with distended eyeballs. Rhoda had registered a vow
never to volunteer a remark to the hateful creature; but Dorothy
stammered out a breathless--
"You never said--We never knew--Is it a _rule_?"
"Not compulsory, or I would have told you; you may do as you please.
They wear gyms, at Wycombe in the afternoon, and we have adopted the
idea to a certain extent. Most of the girls prefer it for the sake of
the games, for it is so much easier to run about like this. For myself,
I affect it for the sake of appearances. It is so becoming to my
youthful charms."
She simpered as she spoke, with an affectation of coyness that was
irresistibly amusing. Dorothy laughed merrily, and Rhoda resisted doing
the same only by an enormous effort of self-will. She succeeded,
however, in looking sulky and bad-tempered, and went downstairs feeling
quite pleased with herself for resisting an unworthy impulse.
All the old girls were in gym. costume, and a quaint sight it was to
watch them descending the great central staircase. Lanky girls, looking
lankier than ever; fat girls, looking fatter than ever; tall girls
magnified into giantesses; poor little stumpies looking as if viewed
through a bad piece of window glass. Plump legs, scraggy legs, and legs
of one width all the way down, and at the end of each the sad,
inevitable shoe, and down each back the sad, inevitable pigtail! Now
and again would come a figure, light and graceful as a fawn, the
embodiment of charming youth; but as a rule the effect was far from
becoming.
Rhoda's criticisms, however, were less scathing than usual, for she
herself was suffering from an unusual attack of humility! If any reader
of this veracious history has to do with the management of a self-
confident, high-spirited girl, who needs humbling and bringing to her
senses, let the author confidently recommend the pigtail and flat-heeled
system! To fasten back a mane of hair is at once to deprive the culprit
of one of her most formidable means of defence.
She has no shelter behind which to retire, as an ambush from the enemy;
she has nothing to toss and whisk from side to side, expressing defiance
without a word being uttered. The very weight of the pigtail is a
sobering influence; its solemn, pendulum movement is incompatible with
revolt. As for the slippers--well, try heel-less shoes yourself, and
test their effect! They bring one to earth, indeed, in the deepest
sense of the word. All very well to mince about in French shoes, and
think "What a fine girl am I," but once try mincing in flat, square
soles, and you will realise that the days are over for that kind of
thing, and that nothing remains but humility and assent!
Dinner over, the girls adjourned into the grounds; but as games, like
lessons, could not be begun without some preliminary arrangement, most
of the pupils contented themselves with strolling about, in twos and
threes, exchanging confidences about the holidays and hatching plans for
the weeks to come. Rhoda and Dorothy were standing disconsolately
together, when Miss Everett flitted past, and stopped for a moment to
take pity on their loneliness.
"What are you two going to do? You mustn't stand here looking like
pelicans in the wilderness. You must walk about and get some exercise.
I'm too busy to go with you myself, but--er--Kathleen!" She held up her
hand in summons to the second-term girl who had volunteered information
about the Lords and Commons--"Here, Kathleen, you remember what it is to
be a new girl; take Rhoda and Dorothy round the grounds, and show them
everything that is interesting. Have a brisk walk, all of you, and come
back with some colour in your cheeks!"
She was off again, smiling and waving her hand, and the three girls
stood gazing at each other in shy, uncertain fashion.
"Well," said Kathleen, "where shall we go first? The Beech Walk, I
suppose; it's half-a-mile long, so if we go to the end and back we shall
have a constitutional before looking at the sights. The grounds are
very fine here, and there is lots of room for all we want to do. You
can find a sunny bit, or a shady bit, according to the weather, but it's
only on really scorching days that we are allowed to lounge. Then
there's a scramble for hammocks, and the lucky girls tie them on to the
branches of trees, and swing about, while the others sit on the grass.
Once or twice we had tea under the trees, and that was fine, but as a
rule they keep you moving. Games are nearly as hard work as lessons!"
"But you needn't play unless you like?"
"Oh, yes, you must; unless you are ill or tired. You can get off any
day if you don't feel well, but not altogether. And you would not wish
to either. It would be so horribly flat! Once you are into a team, you
are all anxiety to get into another, and I can tell you when you see
your remove posted up on the board, it is b-liss!--perfect bliss!"
The recruits laughed, and looked at their new friend with approving
glances. She was, so far, the only one of the girls who had treated
them on an equality, and gave herself no air of patronage, and they were
correspondingly appreciative. They asked eagerly in which games she had
won her remove, and Rhoda, at least, was disappointed at the answer.
"Cricket! That's the great summer game. I've three brothers at home,
and used to practise with them sometimes to make an extra one. They
snubbed me, of course: but I'm not a bad bat, though I say it myself."
"And what about tennis?"
"Um-m!" Kathleen pursed up her lips. "We have courts, of course, but
its rather--_Missy_, don't you think? The sports captains look down on
it, and so, of course, it's unpopular. The little girls play
occasionally. It keeps them happy."
This was a nice way to speak of a game which had been for years the
popular amusement of young England! Rhoda was so shocked and
disappointed that she hardly dared mention croquet, and it seemed,
indeed, as if it would have been better if she had refrained, for
Kathleen fairly shouted at the name.
"My dear, how can you! _Nobody_ plays croquet except old tab-- I mean
ladies who are too old to do anything else. Miss Bruce plays sometimes
when she has the vicar's wife to tea. We hide behind the bushes and
watch them and shake with laughter. _Croquet_, indeed! I should like
to see Tom's face if you mentioned croquet to her!"
"It's a matter of perfect indifference to me what Miss Bolderston
thinks," said Rhoda, loftily; but she veered away from the subject of
games all the same and tackled lessons instead.
"Are you working for any special examination, or just taking it easily?"
"I'm going in for the Oxford Senior in summer. My birthday is so
horribly arranged that it comes just one week before the limit. A few
days later would give me a year to the good, but as it is it's my last
chance. If I can only scrape through in preliminaries I am not afraid
of the rest, but I am hopelessly bad in arithmetic. I add up with all
my fingers, and even then the result comes wrong; and when so much
depends upon it I know I shall get flurried and be worse than ever."
"The great thing is to keep cool. If you don't lose your head, I
shouldn't wonder if the excitement helped you. Say to yourself, `_Don't
be a fool_!' and _make_ yourself keep quiet," quoth Miss Rhoda, with an
air of wisdom which evidently impressed her hearers. They glanced first
at her and then at each other, and the glance said plainly as words
could speak that here was a girl who had strength of mind--a girl who
would make her mark in the school!
"I'll try!" said Kathleen, meekly. "I am terribly anxious about this
exam., for if I do well and pass better than any one else in the school
I shall get a scholarship of £40 towards next year's fees. That would
be a great help to my parents, for they are poor, and have only sent me
here that I may have a chance of getting on and being able to teach some
day. I should be so thankful if I could help, for it's horrid to know
the people at home are stinting themselves for your sake. I lie awake
at nights imagining that the report is in, and I am first, and then I
write a long letter home and tell them about it. Each time I invent a
fresh letter, and they are so touching, you can't think! I cried over
one, one night, and Tom came round to see what was the matter. At other
times I imagine I'm plucked, and I go cold all over; I think I should
_die_! Never mind, nine months yet! I'll work like a slave, and if I
_do_ fail no one can say it's my own fault."
"You won't fail. Don't imagine anything so horrible! You will get over
your nervousness and do splendidly, and write your letter in real
earnest," cried Dorothy cheerily. "I am going in for the Oxford too,
but you need fear no rival in me. I am one of those deadly,
uninteresting creatures, who never reach anything but a fair medium.
There isn't a `distinction' in me, and one could never be first at that
rate. A scrape-through pass is all _I'm_ good for!"
"I could get two distinctions at once! I know more German and French
than ninety girls out of a hundred. Two distinctions! It's a big
start. I wonder--I wonder if I could possibly be first!" said Rhoda to
herself, and her breath came fast, and her cheeks grew suddenly hot.
"Nine months! Nine months!" If she studied hard, and worked up the
subjects on which she was behind, might she not have a chance with the
rest? The first girl! Oh, if only it could be possible, what joy, what
rapture! What a demonstration of power before the school. She went off
into a blissful dream in which she stood apart, receiving the
congratulations of Miss Bruce and her staff, and saw Thomasina's face
regarding her with a new expression of awe. Then she came back to real
life, to look remorsefully at her new friend, and notice for the first
time her pinched and anxious air.
"But I would give Kathleen the money. I want nothing but the honour,"
she assured herself, shutting her mind obstinately against the
conviction that such a division might not be altogether easy to arrange.
"And Dorothy is going in, too; lots of girls are going in, so why
should not I? And if I enter I must do my best; nobody could object to
that!"
Nevertheless there was an unaccountable weight on her heart, which made
it a relief when the subject dropped, and Kathleen began to point out
the various out-buildings scattered over the grounds.
"That's the pavilion. We keep all the games there, and it's so nicely
furnished. There is quite a pretty sitting-room, and a stove, and all
the materials for making tea. On Saturday afternoons the winning teams
may stay behind and have tea there by themselves, and buy cakes from the
housekeeper. It's ripping! We look forward to it as the Saturday
treat, and aren't you just mad if your side loses! That's the joiner's
shop. You can have lessons if you like, and learn to make all sorts of
things; but I've no ambition to be a carpenter, so I don't go... That's
a summer-house, but it's so earwiggy that we leave it alone... That was
meant to be a swimming-bath, but the water comes straight from a well,
and it is so deadly cold that the girls got cramp, and Miss Bruce
forbade them to use it any more. It looks wretchedly deserted now. If
you want to be miserable all by yourself you couldn't have a better
place. It's so still and dark, and the birds have built their nests in
the corners, and come suddenly flying past, and frighten you out of your
wits... Those little patches are the girls' own gardens. You can have
lessons in gardening, and get a prize if you are clever. I don't go in
for that either, for it's an extra expense."
"Oh, I must have a garden!" cried Rhoda quickly. "I adore flowers, and
they could send me cuttings from home. I always had my own garden, but
I didn't do the work, of course. I just said how it was to be arranged,
and what plants I wanted, and every one admired it, and said how
successful it was. I had big clumps of things, you know; not one
straggling plant here and another there, but all banked up together.
You should have seen my lily bed! I made the men collect all the odd
bulbs and plant them together, and they were a perfect show. The scent
met you half-way down the path; it was almost overpowering. And then I
had a lot of the new cactus dahlias, and left only about two branches on
each, so that they came up like one huge bush with all the lovely
contrasting colours. Many people say they don't like dahlias, but that
is only because they haven't seen them properly grown."
"Oh well, I loathe them myself, and I always shall do. You never get
any satisfaction out of them, however pretty they may be, for as soon as
people see them, they begin groaning and saying, `Oh, dear, dear, autumn
flowers already! How sad it is. Winter will soon be upon us.'"
Dorothy sniffed derisively. It was evident that no support was to be
expected from her on the dahlia question, and Rhoda felt that only time
and experience could prove to her the folly of her position.
When all the out-buildings had been explained, Kathleen led the way down
a winding path which seemed to lead to nowhere in particular, but rather
to come to an abrupt _cul-de-sac_ in the shape of a high grey wall. Her
companions wondered at her choice, but she went forward with an air of
determination, so that there was nothing left but to follow, and hope
soon to return to more interesting scenes. When she came to the end of
the path, however, she stood still and began to smile with a most
baffling air of mystery. What did it mean? What were they expected to
see? The girls wheeled to and fro, looked at the paths, the beds, the
flowers, frowned in bewilderment, and then suddenly lifted their eyes to
the wall, and uttered simultaneous exclamations of surprise.
The wall was dotted over with little tablets of stone, on each of which
was a neatly engraved inscription, and each inscription bore the name of
a girl at its head. Rhoda craned forward and read first one and then
another:
"...Winifred Barton, joined Hurst Manor, September, 189--, left
Christmas, 189--. The youngest pupil who ever obtained honours in
Mathematics in the Oxford Local Examinations."
"Elizabeth Charrington, an old pupil of the school, obtained First Class
in the Honours School of Modern History at Oxford."
"Eleanor Newman, joined Hurst Manor, September, 189--, left Mid., 189--.
Beloved by her fellow-students as the kindest and most loyal of
friends, the most unselfish of competitors. Held in grateful
remembrance for the power of her influence and example."
"Fanny Elder. For two years Games President of the school. Winner of
the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Tournament, 189--. Holder of Edinburgh Golf
Cup, 189--. A just and fearless sportswoman..."
The list of names went on indefinitely, but Rhoda had read enough to
inflame curiosity, and wheeled eagerly round to confront Kathleen.
"What is it? What does it mean? Who puts them up? Is it just the
cleverest girls?--"
"It's the Record Wall!" said Kathleen. "We are very proud of our Record
Wall at Hurst. The cost of these tablets is paid by the pupils
themselves, and they are put up entirely at their discretion. The
teachers have nothing to do with it. If a girl has distinguished
herself at work, but is conceited and overbearing, and makes herself
disliked, no one wants to put up a tablet to _her_; so it is really a
testimony to character, as well as to cleverness. Eleanor Newman was
quite stupid, they say. I never knew her. She never passed a single
examination, nor took a prize nor anything, yet every one loved her.
She was a little, fair thing, with curly hair too short to tie back, and
soft, grey eyes. She wasn't a bit goody, but she always seemed waiting
to do kind things, and make peace, and cheer the girls when they were
home-sick. And no one ever heard her say a cross word, or make an
uncharitable remark."
"And did she die?" croaked Rhoda solemnly. A long experience of girls'
stories had taught her that when girls were sweet and fair, and never
said an unkind word, they invariably caught a chill, and died of rapid
consumption. She expected to hear the same report of Eleanor Newman,
but Kathleen replied briskly:
"Die! Not a bit of it. She married, at nineteen, a doctor down in
Hampshire, and brought him to see the school on their honeymoon. The
Greens escorted her in a body to the Record Wall, and when she saw her
own name she covered her face with her hands, and flew for her life.
And her husband looked quite weepy. The girls said he could hardly
speak!"
"Ah-h!" sighed Rhoda, and was silent. She felt "weepy" too, filled with
a sudden yearning, a sudden realisation of want. Eleanor Newman had
risen to heights to which she could never attain. "A little, fair
thing, and almost stupid," yet her school-fellows loved her, and
immortalised her name in words of grateful loyalty. She sighed again,
and yet again, and heard Kathleen's voice cry sharply--
"Oh, I look at that empty space, and wonder if this time next year I
shall read there that I have passed first, and won the Scholarship. I
wonder if ever, ever there will be a tablet with my name upon it!"
"I expect there will be," said Dorothy. "It's a lovely idea, and I can
imagine every girl longing to see her name on the scroll of honour; but
for my own part I never shall. Not for this child! There is no hope
for me, unless they put me up as `a good little tortoise who never fell
asleep.' The worst of it is that in real life the hare keeps awake too,
and spoils one's chance. I must be content to bloom, in obscurity--`A
violet by a mossy dell, half hidden from the eye'--"
But Rhoda already saw a new tablet twinkling on the empty space, a
tablet recording phenomenal success and distinction, and the name at the
head of the inscription was not "Kathleen Murray," but one much more
familiar in her ears!