"IF I PASS--"
The Christmas holidays were over, the Easter holidays were over, and
spring was back once more. On the slope over which the new students had
gaily tobogganed two months before the primroses were showing their
dainty, yellow faces, and the girl gardeners were eagerly watching the
progress of their bulbs. Hearing that other plots boasted nothing rarer
than pheasant eye and Lent lilies, Rhoda had promptly written home for a
supply of Horsfieldi and Emperor, which were expected to put everything
else in the shade, but, alas! they were coming up in feeble fashion, and
showed little sign of flowering. "Another year," the gardener said,
"they would do better another year! Bulbs were never so strong the
first season." Whereat Rhoda chafed with impatience. Always another
time, and not _now_!
Always postponement, delay, uncertainty! Try as she might, checks
seemed to be waiting on every side, and she could never succeed in
distinguishing herself above her fellows. In moments of depression it
seemed that she was as insignificant now as on the day when she first
joined the school; but at other times she was happily conscious of a
change in the mental attitude towards herself. Though still far from
the front, she was recognised as a girl of power and determination; an
ambitious girl, who would spare no work to attain her end, and who
might, in the future, become a dangerous rival. Dorothy had long ago
thrown up the unequal fight, and even Kathleen had moments of doubt,
when she said fearfully to herself, "She is cleverer than I am. She
gets on so well. Suppose--just suppose..."
With milder weather, cricket had come into fashion, and on the occasion
of the first pavilion tea the Blues turned up in force. Thomasina sat
perched in manly attitude on the corner of the table, where, as it
seemed to the onlooker, every possible hindrance was put in the way of
her enjoyment of the meal. Irene Grey presided at the urn, Bertha
handed round the cups, and a bevy of girls hung over the cake basket,
making critical and appreciative remarks.
"Bags me that brown one, with the cream in the middle! I've tried those
macaroons before--they are as hard as bricks!"
"I wish they would get cocoa-nut cakes for a change; I adore cocoa-nuts,
when they are soft and mushy. We make them at home, and they are ever
so much nicer than the ones you buy!"
"That's what they call plum-cake, my love! Case of `Brother, where art
thou?' like the Friday pudding. Those little white fellows look
frightfully insipid. What Rhoda would call a `kid-glove flavour,' I
should say."
Every one laughed at this, for it was still a matter of recent
congratulation in the house that Rhoda Chester had invented an
appropriate title for a certain mould or blancmange, which appeared at
regular intervals, and possessed a peculiar flavour which hitherto had
refused to be classified.
In a moment of inspiration, Rhoda had christened it "Kid-Glove Jelly,"
and the invention had been received with acclamation. Did she say she
had never distinguished herself, had never attracted attention? No,
surely this was wrong; for in that moment she had soared to the very
pinnacle of fame. So long as the school endured, the name which she had
created would be handed down from generation to generation. Alas, alas!
our ambitions are not always realised in the way we would choose! When
one has pined to be in a first team, or to come out head in an
examination, it is a trifle saddening to be obliged to base our
reputation on--the nickname of a pudding!
Rhoda smiled brightly enough, however, at the present tribute to her
powers, and passed her cup for a third supply with undiminished
appetite. She had been playing with her usual frantic energy, and was
tired and aching. Her shoulders bent forward as she sat on her chair;
she shut her eyes with a little contraction of the brows; the dimple no
longer showed in her cheek; and when Bertha upset the tray upon the
floor, she started with painful violence. Her nerves were beginning to
give way beneath the strain put upon them; but, instead of being warned,
and easing off in time, she repeated obstinately to herself:--"Three
months more--two and a half--only two!--I can surely keep up for eight
weeks, and then there will be all the holidays for rest!"
It seemed, indeed, looking forward, as if the world were bounded by the
coming examination, and that nothing existed beyond. If she succeeded--
very well, it was finished! Her mind could take in no further thought.
If she failed--clouds and darkness! chaos and destruction! The world
would have come to an end so far as she was concerned.
It filled her with surprise to hear the girls discuss future doings in
their calm, unemotional fashion; but though she could not participate,
the subject never failed to interest. The discussion began again now,
for it was impossible to keep away from the all-engrossing subject, and
the supposition, "If I pass," led naturally to what would come
afterwards.
"If I do well I shall go up to Newnham, and try for the Gilchrist
Scholarship--fifty pounds a year for three years. It's vacant next
year, and I don't see why I shouldn't have it as well as anyone else,"
said Bertha, modestly, and Tom pounded the table with her heels.
"Go in, my beauty, go in and win! I only wish you could wait a few
years until I am there to look after you. I am going to be Principal of
Newnham one of these fine days, and run it on my own lines. No work,
and every comfort--breakfast in bed, and tea in the grounds--nothing to
do but wait upon me and pander to my wishes!"
"I daresay! So like you, Tom! You would be a terror, and work the
girls to death. You are never tired yourself, so you would keep them
going till they dropped. I pity the poor creatures who came under your
rule, but most likely you will never be tried. You may be first
mistress, or second, or third, but it's not likely you'll ever be a
Principal!"
"It's not likely at all, it's positive sure," retorted Tom calmly.
"Principals, like poets, are born not made, and the cause can't afford
to lose me. I don't say for a certainty it will be Newnham; it may
possibly be Girton, or Somerville, or Lady Margaret Hall, but one of the
two or three big places it's bound to be. No one shall call me
conceited, but I know my own powers, and I intend that other people
shall know them too. Education is my sphere, and I intend to devote my
life to the advancement of my sex. Pass the cake, someone! I haven't
had half enough. Yes, my vocation is among women. You will hardly
believe me, my dears, but men don't seem to appreciate me, somehow!
There is a `Je-ne-sais-quoi' in my beauty which doesn't appeal to them a
mite. But girls adore me. I've a fatal fascination for them which they
can't withstand. There's Rhoda there--she intended to hate me when she
first came, and now she adores the ground I tread on. Don't you, Fuzzy?
You watch her smile, and see if it's not true! Very well, then; I see
plainly what Providence intends, and I'm going straight towards that
goal."
"And it is what you would like? You would choose it if you had the
choice?"
"Rather, just! It's the dream of my life. There is nothing in all the
world that I should like so much."
Pretty Dorothy sighed, and elevated her eyebrows.
"Well--I wouldn't. I enjoy school very much, and want to do well while
I am here, but when I leave, I never want to do another hour's study.
If I thought I had to teach, I should go crazy. I should like to have a
good time at home for a few years, and then--yes, I should!--I should
like to marry a nice man who loved me, and live in the country--and have
a dear little home of my own. Now, I suppose you despise me for a poor-
spirited wretch; but it's true, and I can't help it."
But Tom did not look at all scornful. She beamed at the speaker over
her slice of plum-cake, and cried blandly--
"Bless you, no! It's quite natural. You are that sort, my dear, and I
should not have believed you if you had said anything else. You'll
marry, of course, and I'll come and visit you in the holidays, and
you'll say to `Him,' `What a terrible old maid Thomasina has grown!' and
I'll say to myself, `Poor, dear old Dorothy, she is painfully domestic!'
and we will both pity each other, and congratulate ourselves on our own
escape. We have different vocations, you and I, and it would be folly
to try to go the same way."
"You are happy creatures it you are _allowed_ to go your own way," said
Bertha sadly. "I'm not, and that's just the trouble. I'm not a star,
like Tom, but I love work, and want to do some good with my education.
I should be simply miserable settling down at home with no occupation
but to pay calls, or do poker work and sewing; yet that's what my
parents expect me to do. They are rich, and can't understand why I
should want to work when there is no necessity. I may persuade them to
send me abroad for a year or so for languages and music, but even then I
should be only twenty, and I can't settle down to vegetate at twenty.
It's unreasonable to send a girl to a school where she is kept on the
alert, body and mind, every hour of the day, and then expect her to be
content to browse for the rest of her life! Now, what ought one to do
in my position? _I_ want one thing; _they_ want another. Whose duty is
it to give way?"
She looked at Tom as she spoke, but Tom swung her feet to and fro, and
went on munching plum-cake and staring into space with imperturbable
unconsciousness. Bertha called her sharply to attention.
"Tom! answer, can't you? I was speaking to you."
"Rather not, my dear. Ask someone else; some wise old Solomon who has
had experience."
"No, thank you. I know beforehand what he would say. `Submission, my
child, submission! Parents always know best. Young people are always
obstinate and hot-headed. Be ruled! Be guided! In time to come you
will see'--Yah!" cried Bertha, with a sudden outburst of irritation.
"I'm sick of it! I've had it dinned into my ears all my life, and I
want to hear someone appreciate the other side for a change. I'm young;
I've got all my life to live. If I were a boy I should be allowed to
choose. Surely! surely, I ought to have _some_ say in my own affairs!
Don't shirk now, Tom, but speak out and say what you think. If you are
going to be a Principal you ought to be able to give advice, and I
really do need it!"
"Ye-es!" said Tom slowly. "But you needn't have given me such a poser
to start with. It's a problem my dear, that has puzzled many a girl
before you, and many a parent, too. The worst of it is that there is so
much to be said on both sides. I could make out an excellent brief for
each; and, while I think of it, it wouldn't be half a bad subject to
discuss some day at our Debating Society: `To what extent is a girl
justified in deciding on her own career, in opposition to the wishes of
her parents?' Make a note of that someone, will you? It will come in
usefully. I'm thankful to say my old dad and I see eye to eye about my
future, but if he didn't--it would be trying! I hate to see girls
disloyal to their parents, and if the `revolt of the daughters' were the
only outcome of higher education I should say the sooner we got back to
deportment and the use of the globes the better for all concerned. But
it wasn't all peace and concord even in the old days. Don't tell me
that half a dozen daughters sat at home making bead mats in the front
parlour, and never had ructions with their parents or themselves! They
quarrelled like cats, my dears, take my word for it, and were ever so
much less happy and devoted than girls are now, going away to do their
work, and coming home with all sorts of interesting little bits of news
to add to the general store. It's impossible to lay down the law on
such a question, for every case is different from another, but I think a
great deal depends on the work waiting at home. If a girl is an only
daughter, or the only strong or unmarried one, there is no getting away
from it that her place is with her parents. We don't want to be like
the girl in _Punch_, who said, `My father has gout, and my mother is
crippled, and it is so dull at home that I am going to be a nurse in a
hospital!' _That_ won't do! If you have a duty staring you in the face
you are a coward it you run away from it. An only daughter ought to
stay at home; but when there are two or three, it's different. It
doesn't take three girls to arrange flowers, and write notes, and pay
calls, and sew for bazaars; and where there is a restless one among
them, who longs to do something serious with her time, I--I think the
parents should give way! As you say, we have to live our own lives,
and, as boys are allowed to choose, I think we should have the same
liberty. I don't know how large your family is, Bertha, or--"
"Three sisters at home. One engaged, but the other two not likely to
be, so far as I can see, and Mother quite well, and brisk, and active!"
"Well, don't worry! Don't force things, or get cross, and they'll give
in yet, you'll see. Put your view of the case before them, and see if
you cannot meet each other somehow. If they find that you are quiet and
reasonable they will be far more inclined to take you seriously, and
believe that you know your own mind. That's all the advice I can give
you, my dear, and I'm afraid it's not what you wanted. Perhaps someone
else can speak a word in season!"
"Well, I side with the parents, for if the rich are going to work, what
is to become of the poor ones like me, who are obliged to earn their
living?" cried Kathleen, eagerly. "Now, if Bertha and I competed for an
appointment, she could afford to take less salary, and so, of course--"
"No, no! That's mean! I do beg and pray all you Blues that, whatever
you do, you never move a finger to reduce the salaries of other women!"
cried Tom fervently. "If you don't need the money, give it away to
Governesses' Institutions--Convalescent Homes--whatever you like; but,
for pity's sake, don't take less than your due. For my own part, I must
candidly say that when I am Principal I shall select my staff from those
who are like Kathleen, and find work a necessity rather than a
distraction. It seems to me, if I were rich and idle, I could find lots
of ways of making myself of use in the world without jostling the poor
Marthas. I could coach poor governesses who were behind the times, but
couldn't afford to take lessons; I'd translate books into Braille for
the blind; I'd teach working boys at their clubs, and half a dozen other
interesting, useful things. There's no need to be idle, even if one
_does_ live at home with a couple of dear old conservative parents.
Where there's a will there's a way!"
"But I want it to be my way!" sighed Bertha, dolefully. Like the
majority of people who ask for advice, she was far from satisfied now
that she had got it.