The School Carnival
The Camellia Buds considered that they possessed a real grievance. The
difference between an animated toy-shop and waxworks was so slight as to
be immaterial. In both the figures would require to be wound up, after
which they would perform various antics. The idea had certainly
originated with Peachy, and the Starry Circle had merely copied it.
Their stunt was in fact a shameless plagiarism.
"Why couldn't they have joined with us and we'd have done the toy-shop
all together?" demanded Agnes crossly.
"Oh, I don't know. It's just their perversity. It'll look so stupid to
have two separate shows. Whichever comes last will seem so stale after
the other."
"Why, of course, ours will come first! It _must_!"
"There'll be a fight for it."
"We can't squabble at the carnival with Miss Rodgers and Miss Morley
looking on. We'd better have our battle beforehand and get it over."
"Tell the Stars we mean to have first innings?"
"They'll never agree!"
"Look here, it's no use coming to open war with them. I vote we try
diplomacy. Has anybody thought of the programs yet?"
"I heard the seniors groaning over having to paint covers for them."
"Well, let's go to them privately and volunteer to help. Then we shall
have the opportunity of telling them that the Transition stunt is to be
in two divisions, and that Part I will be taken by ourselves."
"Quite a brain-throb!"
"Renie, I'm beginning to admire you!"
"Peachy can paint beautifully!"
"So can Joan and Esther. Shall I go and say we offer to do six programs?
Right-o! Come with me, Peachy. You're our champion wheedler."
The two delegates started at once on their diplomatic mission. They
felt indeed that there was no time to be lost. They found several of the
prefects collected in Rachel's bedroom, where possibly they were having
a little private candy party, for there were sounds of a rustling of
paper and a shutting of drawers before they were granted permission to
enter the precincts. The Transition girls always envied the seniors'
rooms. These were on the seaward side of the house, and their balcony
had glorious views over the bay and the surrounding coast. The
decorations were very tasteful. The walls were gray, with a stenciled
frieze of hydrangeas, and there were soft-shaded Indian rugs on the
polished wood floor. Rachel and her roommates had provided their own
luxuries in the way of pretty cushions, table-covers, pictures, and
flower-vases, and the general effect was of harmonious comfort.
"Well? What can I do for you?" inquired the head girl briefly, as Stella
admitted the diplomats.
It was not a very encouraging reception. Possibly the prefects were
annoyed at being disturbed in the midst of what they were doing.
Peachy, however, ignored Rachel's tone, and putting on her most winning
smile inquired:
"We wonder if you're painting any program covers for the carnival?"
Rachel lolled back in her chair and retied the bow that terminated her
long dark pigtail.
"Perhaps we are and perhaps we aren't," was her somewhat cryptic reply.
"The matter's in our hands entirely, of course," cooed Sybil, rocking to
and fro on a cane _sedia_.
"I know," put in Irene, trying to be tactful. "We only thought that
perhaps you might care to have a little help. Some of us would be ready
to paint a few if you like."
This put a different complexion on the case. The seniors, always
bristling for their privileges, resented idle curiosity--on the part of
the Transition. But an offer of help was another matter.
"There certainly is a great number to be done," said Erica, with a
beseeching look at Rachel.
The head girl thawed a little.
"Well, we shouldn't mind your taking a few off our hands," she conceded.
"Half a dozen? Sybil, will you get those programs out of my drawer? Put
anything you like on them--flowers, birds, figures, or landscapes. I'll
lend you this to copy the printing from. Let me have them by Thursday if
you can."
Rachel glanced meaningly at the door, as if she considered the interview
might now with decency come to an end. Neither Peachy nor Irene took the
hint, however. The main object of their mission had not yet been
broached.
"You've not written the program inside yet," commented Peachy, opening
one of the covers.
"We'll do that later."
"Shall we copy some for you?"
"Oh, no, thanks!"
Then Irene, growing desperate, blurted out what they had really come to
say.
"The Transition stunt is to be in two parts this time. Bertha and Mabel
are arranging one, and Peachy is getting up another. Do you mind putting
ours down to come first?"
"Sorry, but I'm afraid it can't be done," yawned Rachel. "Bertha has
been up and bagged first innings. I wrote it down, didn't I, Stella?
Where's that list? Yes, here we are. The juniors are to come first,
because Miss Morgan has trained them and she thinks they'll get the
fidgets if they wait, and it's better to have their performance over.
Then, of course, comes our stunt, and then the Transition."
"Could we possibly have our half of the Transition stunt before yours?
It would make more variety."
"Most certainly not!"
Rachel's brow was puckered in a frown, and Sybil, from the depths of the
rocking-chair, murmured, "Cheek!"
"We've got the program all fixed up, and we're not going to change it
for anybody," chirped Erica.
"Any one who isn't satisfied needn't act," endorsed Rachel, with such a
very decided glance at the door that the two delegates could no longer
obtrude their presence, and were obliged to beat an unwilling retreat.
They walked along the passage very dissatisfied with the result of their
mission.
"We've got all the fag of painting these wretched programs, and gained
nothing at all," groused Irene.
"They might have told us first about Bertha. Isn't she an absolute
Jacob--supplanting us like this?"
"Those seniors are _most_ unsympathetic. I want to go back and tell
Rachel what I think of her."
"She'd only say, 'How foreign' if you got excited. And it wouldn't be an
atom of use either."
"They've taken the best place in the program for their stunt."
"Trust the prefects to do that."
"What's to be done about it?"
"It will need some thinking over."
Peachy's agile brains were rarely to be beaten. She slept upon the
problem, and informed her friends afterwards that inspiration came to
her at exactly 3 a.m.
"I know, because I heard the convent clock strike. I sat up in bed and
laughed. I wonder I didn't wake the dormitory, but nobody stirred a
finger. Listen, and I'll explain. The situation at present is this:
Bertha and her Starry Circle have cribbaged our idea and forestalled us
on the program, and are going to act their wretched waxworks first, and
are congratulating themselves that their piece will take the shine out
of ours."
"So it will, I'm afraid. The audience will have sat through the juniors'
play, the seniors' stunt, and the waxworks. They'll be bored stiff to
see our toy-shop straight away afterwards."
"Well, they _shan't_ see it. That's my idea. Let's drop the toy-shop and
do something quite different."
"Drop our toy-shop! O-o-h!"
"We'll do it some other time. But you see we've one advantage on the
program at any rate. We come last."
"That's what we're raving against."
"I know! But if you think of it, it's a great opportunity. Suppose we
do a splendid finishing tableau instead of animated toys? It would make
a magnificent wind-up, and would be a surprise for everybody. Think of
the amazement of the Starry Circle, when they're expecting us to do a
pale copy of their own stunt, to see us posed as a tableau, and
everybody clapping the roof off."
"It would be rather sporty."
"Only I did so want to dress up as a kangaroo," mourned Joan dolefully.
"You shall be Australia instead, and you'll look far nicer. I'll
guarantee to make you ever so pretty. It's to be an Anglo-American
pageant, to symbolize the school. We'll have Columbia and Britannia and
all her colonies, in a sort of _entente cordiale_. You'll see it will
please Miss Morley and Miss Rodgers no end. That Starry Circle will be
just _aching_ with envy. They'll wish they'd been in it. It will
absolutely take the wind out of their sails and lay them flat."
"Peachy Proctor, there's a spice of genius in your composition," said
Jess admiringly. "I could never have thought of that myself."
"Oh, fiddlesticks! Glad you approve though. Now what we've got to do is
to hustle up and get busy over costumes. They'll take some contriving.
Hide all your best things away from the Stars, or they'll be
commandeering them. Mabel has no conscience. And be careful that not the
least teeny-weeny hint leaks out. Let's talk openly about the toy-shop,
and pretend we're still going on practicing for it. It will be all the
bigger sell for them when they find out."
The Camellia Buds, having undertaken to paint six program covers, nobly
did their duty and finished them in the prescribed time. Lorna offered
to take them to Rachel's room, and met with quite a gracious reception
from the head girl. So much so that she ventured to put forward a
suggestion of her own.
"May Part I of the Transition stunt have a time limit?" she asked. "We
want to have some idea when we're to come on."
"Certainly," agreed Rachel. "We can't let Part I go on _ad infinitum_. I
hadn't thought of that. I shall tell Bertha she may have ten minutes and
no longer. I shall ring the curtain bell if she exceeds. I see your
point entirely. It's only fair."
"I was afraid if it was getting near tea-time the audience mightn't want
to stay."
"Exactly. I'll take care your stunt isn't crowded out. Trust that to me.
I'm not head girl here for nothing. And I'm not entirely blind either.
My advice is to look after yourselves."
Lorna returned to the Camellia Buds feeling she had considerably scored
over the Stars. Her previous acquaintance with school theatricals had
taught her that audiences are human, that even teachers will not sit
through too lengthy a performance, and that the lure of tea cannot be
resisted by those who are accustomed to drink it daily at 4 p.m. As
their own dormitory was half in possession of the enemy, Irene and Lorna
adjourned to Peachy's bedroom to make preparations for their costumes,
and held cosy sewing-bees in company with Delia, Jess, Mary, and any
other chums who were able to join them. They kept their properties
safely locked up inside one of the wardrobes in No. 13, and Peachy wore
the key tied under her skirt with a piece of ribbon.
"Because you can't trust that sneaking Mabel not to come in and poke
about," she explained grimly. "I know she wants my dressing-gown."
"We shall have to gallop with our costumes if we're to make anything of
a show," said Sheila, hastily running seams in a creation of scarlet and
blue, destined to clothe Canada.
"I know, but we'll wear them even if they've got raw edges and are
fastened together with pins. I don't suppose the audience will be near
enough to see the stitches. I hope not, at any rate. Mine are absolute
cats' cradles."
By the day of the festival, however, the Camellia Buds were exactly
ready. They had kept their secret strictly, and flattered themselves
that their rivals the Stars were in complete ignorance of their change
of program. The acting was to be in the gymnasium, not in the garden,
for a sirocco wind was blowing and the overcast sky promised rain. It
was a pity, for the pergola would have made such a beautiful background,
and some enthusiasts even petitioned Miss Morley to keep to her original
plan.
"And have you all wet through, and the guests shivering with cold?" she
replied. "No, indeed! Be thankful we have such a large room as the gym
to act in. Otherwise the fête would have been put off altogether."
The girls were allowed, however, to decorate the platform with flowers,
and to hang up Chinese lanterns so as to give a festive appearance to
the scene. The performers donned their costumes in good time, but wore
waterproofs over them to conceal them. They wished to witness each
other's stunts, yet did not want to reveal their own secrets too soon.
There was quite a good audience assembled in the gymnasium. Miss Rodgers
and Miss Morley had sent out many invitations, and some parents and
friends had come over from Naples to combine a peep at the celebrated
Fossato festival with a visit to the school. Irene's cup of joy was full
when, to her utter amazement, she saw her own father, mother, and
brother walk into the room.
"Well! You _are_ a surprise package," she exclaimed, greeting them
gleefully. "Why didn't you write and tell me you were coming?"
"We didn't know ourselves," said Vincent. "We never thought we could
manage to get off, and we didn't want to disappoint you. When does your
stunt come on?"
"Not till the end, so I can sit with you most of the time. Oh! It's
simply too good to have you all turn up like this. Mother darling,
there's a chair for you here, and I'll be in the middle between you and
Daddy."
The entertainment began with a fairy play acted by the juniors. They
looked very pretty in their gauzy garments, and little Désirée, in a
gossamer robe of elfin green, made an attractive queen, so dainty and
ethereal that the audience almost expected to see through her. "What a
sweet child!" was the general comment, as she tripped back in response
to a storm of clapping, to give an encore to her "Moonbeam Song."
The juniors retired, having covered themselves with glory, greatly to
the satisfaction of Miss Morgan, who had spent much time in training
them for their performance.
It was now the turn of the seniors. They had got up an operetta of
Robin Hood, and appeared clad in the orthodox foresters' costume of
Lincoln green, with bows, arrows, and quivers. Stella, as Maid Marian,
and Phyllis, as the Curtle Friar, were especial successes; while Will
Scarlett and Little John gave a noble display of fencing with
quarter-staves, a part of the program which they had practiced in
secrecy, under the instruction of the gymnastic mistress, and now
presented as a complete surprise to the school. Their acting was so
spirited that everybody was quite sorry when the short piece was ended,
and would have liked certain scenes repeated, had not Miss Morley
pointed to her watch and shaken her head emphatically to forbid further
encores. Past experience had warned her not to allow one section of the
school to monopolize an undue share of the time to the exclusion of
others.
"It's the turn of the Transition now," she said. "We shall only just
work through our program by half past four."
Even the Camellia Buds, though they watched with jaundiced eyes, could
not deny that the members of the Starry Circle managed their waxworks
very creditably. Elsie indeed, as Madame de Pompadour, was not
convincing, but Mabel made a distinguished Sir Walter Raleigh, and
Bertha surpassed herself as Queen Elizabeth. The rival sorority, after
witnessing this triumph, was more and more thankful to have abandoned
the idea of acting an animated toy-shop. It would certainly have seemed
tame to continue on the same lines as the prior performance. As it was
they chuckled with satisfaction behind the curtain, while they arranged
themselves for the tableau.
"I guess it will make them sit up," purred Peachy, setting a curl
straight with the aid of her pocket-mirror. "It will be frightfully hard
to keep still, for I shall just want to stare round and see their faces,
but don't alarm yourselves. I promise not to give so much as a blink. I
wouldn't disgrace our stunt for the world. I'll be a rigid marble statue
till the curtain drops."
"Sh! sh! Don't chatter so much," warned Jess. "Aren't you ready yet?
Miss Morley's getting impatient."
"It's nearly half past four, and I expect everybody is longing for
tea," put in Irene.
"They'll have to wait for it till we've done our stunt. We're not going
to be left out," said Peachy, hurriedly taking her pose.
The allegorical scene in which the girls were grouped presented a pretty
picture as the curtain rose.
In the center Agnes and Delia, dressed as Britannia and Columbia,
supported the Union Jack and the Stars and Strips together with a bunch
of camellias as a delicate compliment to the school; Jess, in plaid and
tam-o'-shanter, stood for her native Scotland; Peachy, with fringed
leather leggings and cowboy's hat, was a ranch-girl; Joan in a somewhat
similar costume represented "the bush" in Australia; Sheila in a white
coat trimmed plentifully with cotton wool made a pretty Canada; Irene
was an Irish colleen; Mary, with bunches of mimosa, typified South
Africa; and Esther, gorgeous in Oriental drapery and numerous necklaces,
was an Indian princess. But perhaps the most successful costume of all
was Lorna's. She had been chosen to take the character of New Zealand,
and was dressed in a pale yellow wrapper decorated with beautiful sprays
of tinted leaves. Round her head was a garland of orange blossoms, and
in her arms she held great branches of oranges and lemons, to typify the
fruits of the country she was impersonating. With Lorna's dark eyes and
hair the effect was most striking. She kept her pose admirably, scarcely
blinking an eyelid, though Mary palpably moved, and even Joan was guilty
of a smile. The audience, immensely surprised and pleased with the
tableau, clapped enthusiastically. It was felt to be a very fitting
finish to the festival.
"You kept your secret well, girls," said Miss Morley, as she
congratulated them afterwards. "I'm sure nobody had the least hint. It
was charmingly thought out and arranged. Come along now and have some
tea. It has really been a most successful afternoon."
Audience and performers, the latter in all the glory of their pretty
costumes, mingled together now for conversation and tea-drinking. Irene
quickly joined her family, and had much to say to them, and many
questions to ask about their doings in Naples.
"I say, Renie," whispered Vincent, suddenly interrupting her, "tell me
who's that lovely girl? She looked the best in the whole of your
tableau."
Irene followed his glance to the yellow-clad figure handing the teacups
which Miss Morley was filling.
"That's Lorna. One of my best chums. Yes, that costume suits her. I want
to bring her to speak to Mother. Yes, Lorna, you _must_ come. I simply
shan't let you run away. Mummie darling, this is Lorna. We room
together, you know."
Lorna, dragged forward much against her will to be introduced, stood
shy and blushing, but her heightened color and evident confusion added
to her attraction, and several heads were turned to glance at her among
the guests in that quarter of the room. It was not until this occasion
of the carnival that any one at the Villa Camellia had recognized Lorna
as a budding beauty.
"You ought always to wear yellow," Peachy said to her afterwards. "It's
quite your color. By the by, who chooses your clothes for you?"
"Miss Rodgers generally takes me to Naples and buys them."
"She's no taste. Her ideas run to a gym suit and a school panama and
nothing beyond. I'll give you a tip. Next time you need an evening dress
or a Sunday jumper, engineer it so Miss Morley does the shopping. She'll
get you something pretty, I'll guarantee. She chose that blue _crêpe de
chine_ for Delia. Don't forget. And don't look so fearfully surprised.
If you haven't thought about your clothes before it's time you did. My
dear, you'll pay dressing. Come close and I'll whisper to you: some of
those Stars are just too jealous of you for words. I'm tickled to bits."