The Anglo-Saxon League
There was an old established custom at the Villa Camellia that on the
evening of the last day of March (unless that date happened to fall on a
Sunday) the pupils were allowed special license after supper, and,
regardless of ordinary rules, might disport themselves as they pleased
until bedtime. Irene, who had not yet been present on one of these
occasions, heard hints on all sides of coming fun, mingled with mystery.
Peachy twice began to tell her something, but was stopped by Delia. Joan
and Sheila seemed to be holding perpetual private committee meetings;
Elsie spent much time in Jess Cameron's dormitory; and, wonder of
wonders, Esther Cartmell was seen walking arm in arm with Mabel Hughes.
Though Irene asked many questions from various friends as to the nature
of the evening's amusement she could get no certain information. They
laughed, evaded direct answers, made allusions to things she did not
understand, and whisked away like will-o'-the-wisps. Very much puzzled,
and not altogether pleased, she sought her buddy.
"They've all gone mad," she assured Lorna. "I can't get a word of sense
out of Peachy; Esther was almost nasty, and Jess shut the door in my
face. What's the matter with them? Have I developed spots or a squint?
Why have I suddenly become a leper?"
Lorna, who was busy with French translation, shut her dictionary with a
bang.
"I've no patience with them," she groused. "It's because you're English.
I suppose we shall have to get up a stunt of our own, just out of
retaliation, but I'm sick of the whole business."
"What _do_ you mean?"
"Why, it's become a sort of custom to make this a nationality night. The
American girls all band together, and so do the South Africans and the
Australians; and the Scotch girls are a _tremendous_ clique of their
own. They play jokes on every one else, and sometimes it almost gets to
fighting."
"Between the sororities?"
"Sororities are forgotten for the time being. Your dearest chum in the
Camellia Buds will turn against you if it's a question of Scotch or
English, or American or British. I advise you to put away everything you
value. The South Africans came into my cubicle last year and smeared my
cold cream over my pillow. Of course your bed will be filled with
brushes and boots, and any hard oddments they can find lying about. You
won't be able to find anything in the morning. The place is an absolute
muddle."
"How horrid!"
"Yes, it is horrid. I can't see the fun of it, myself. Practical jokes
can go too far, in my opinion, and some of those juniors get so rough
they hurt each other. I'd keep out of it only it's wise to stay and
defend your own cubicle, or you'd find your blanket hidden and your soap
gone."
"Do the seniors join in?"
"No. They barricade themselves in their bedrooms and have some private
fun, but they leave us to do as we like. It's the Transition and juniors
who play the tricks. Of course, the seniors must know what's going on,
because they used to do the same themselves, but they just shut their
eyes."
"Oh," said Irene thoughtfully. "And because a thing has always been must
it always be? Can't it ever be altered? Are we _bound_ to do nothing but
play tricks on the last night of March?"
"It ought to be altered. I've a jolly good mind to go to Rachel and tell
her my views about it. She's been much nicer lately than she used to be.
Perhaps she'd listen. If she doesn't there'd be no harm done, at any
rate. Will you come with me? I don't like going by my little lonesome."
The two girls tapped at the door of dormitory 9, and fortunately found
the head prefect within and alone. She received them quite graciously
and listened with interest to what Lorna had to say.
"I'm so thankful you've told me," she said in reply. "I agree with you
absolutely. It's time this silly business was put a stop to. We prefects
have held back because we didn't want to be spoil-sports, but I believe
you really voice the opinion of a good many girls. I used to get very
tired of it when I was in the Transition myself. If Miss Rodgers found
out some of the tricks that are played she'd never let us have the
holiday again."
"Can't we persuade them to do something else instead--something really
jolly?"
"We must. I'll think about it. Leave it to me. I've been turning it over
in my mind for some time, though my ideas never crystallized. I'll have
some scheme ready. I can depend on you two to support me in the
Transition?"
"Rather!"
Rachel, reporting the interview to her fellow prefects, found them
entirely in agreement. They were dissatisfied with many things in the
Transition and junior forms, and this Nationality evening was considered
the limit. Something seemed to be needed at the present crisis to weld
together the various factions of the Villa Camellia, and turn them into
one harmonious whole. The prefects were aware that the various
sororities were really rival societies, and that, though they might give
great fun and enjoyment to their respective members, they were
productive of jealousy rather than union.
"We want a common motive," said Rachel. "An inspiration, if possible. I
believe some sort of a league would do it. Something outside ourselves,
and bigger than just the little world of school. Something that even the
smallest juniors could join, and in which girls who have left could
still take an interest. It's dawning on me! I believe I've got it! I'm
going to call it 'The Anglo-Saxon League.' We'll get everybody to join,
and fix its first festival for the 31st of March. It should just take
the wind out of those silly nationality tricks. I'll speak to Miss
Rodgers and ask her to let us have a parade and dance, with prizes for
the best costumes. They'd love that, anyhow. I'll call a meeting in the
gym and put it to them. I believe it will catch on."
The pupils at the Villa Camellia were not overdone with public meetings.
They responded therefore with alacrity to the notice which Rachel, after
obtaining the necessary permission from the authorities, pinned upon the
board in the hall. They were all a little curious to know what she
wanted to talk to them about. A few anticipated a scolding, but the
majority expected some more pleasant announcement.
"Rachel's wrought up, but she doesn't look like jawing us," was the
verdict of Peachy, who had passed the head prefect in the corridor. Some
of the seniors constituted themselves stewards and arranged the audience
to their satisfaction, with juniors on the front benches and the
Transition behind. When everybody was seated, Rachel stepped on to the
platform and rang the bell for silence. Her cheeks were pink with
excitement and there was a little thrill of nervousness in her voice, as
if she were forcing herself to a supreme effort, but this passed as she
warmed to her subject.
"Girls," she began, "I asked you to come here because I want to have a
talk with you about our school life. You'll all agree with me that we
love the Villa Camellia. It's a unique school. I don't suppose there's
another exactly like it in the whole world. Why it's so peculiar is that
we're a set of Anglo-Saxon girls in the midst of a foreign-speaking
country. We ourselves are collected from different continents--some are
Americans, some English, some from Australia, or New Zealand, or South
Africa--but we all talk the same Anglo-Saxon tongue, and we're bound
together by the same race traditions. Large schools in England or
America take a great pride in their foundation, and they play other
schools at games and record their victories. We can't do that here,
because there are no foreign teams worth challenging, so we've always
had to be our own rivals and have form matches. In a way, it hasn't been
altogether good for us. We've got into the bad habit of thinking of the
school in sections, instead of as one united whole. I've even heard
squabbles among you as to whether California or Cape Colony or New South
Wales are the most go-ahead places to live in. Now, instead of
scrapping, we ought to be glad to join hands. If you think of it, it's a
tremendous advantage to grow up among Anglo-Saxon girls from other
countries and hear their views about things. It ought to keep you from
being narrow, at any rate. You get fresh ideas and rub your corners off.
What I want you particularly to think about, is this: it's the duty of
all English-speaking people to cling together. If they've ever had any
differences it's time they forgot them. The world seems to be in the
melting-pot at present, and there are many strange prophecies about the
future. Black and yellow races are increasing and growing so rapidly
that they may be ready to brim over their boundaries some day and swamp
the white civilizations. Anglo-Saxons ought to be prepared, and to stand
hand in hand to help one another. I've been reading some queer things
lately. One is that a new continent is slowly rising out of the Pacific
Ocean--Lemuria they call it--and some day, hundreds of years hence,
there may be land there instead of water, and people living on it. They
say too that the center of gravity of both the British Empire and the
United States is moving towards the Pacific. Sydney may grow more
important than London, and San Francisco than New York when the trade
routes make them fresh pivots of energy. Another funny thing I read is
that as the world is changing a new race seems to be emerging. Travelers
say that the modern children in Australia don't look in the least like
English children or French children, or any European nation--they are a
fresh type. America has been populated by people from practically all
the older countries, but I read that children who are being born there
now differ in their head measurements from babies of the older races.
Perhaps some of you may be interested in this and some of you may only
be bored, but what I want to rub in is that if a new, and perhaps
superior, race is evolving it's surely part of our work to help it on.
Here we all are, girls from England, America, and the British Colonies,
of the same race and speaking the same language. Let us make an
Anglo-Saxon League, and pledge ourselves that wherever we go over the
face of the world we will carry with us the best traditions. We're out
for Peace, not War, and Peace comes through sympathy. The women of those
great eastern nations, the Chinese, the Japanese, and the Hindoos, who
are only just awakening to a sense of freedom, will look to us
Westerners for their example. Can't we hold out the hand of sisterhood
to them, and teach them our highest ideals, so that in the centuries to
come they may be our friends instead of our enemies? It's a case of
'Take up the White Man's burden.' We stand together, not as Scotch, or
Canadians, or New Zealanders or Americans, but as good Anglo-Saxons, the
apostles of peace, not 'frightfulness.'
"I'm going to ask every girl in this room to join the League. There'll
be various activities in connection with it. We haven't decided all yet,
but we hope one of them will be to establish a correspondence between
this school and other schools in England and the Colonies and in
America. We'd like to write letters to their prefects and hear what they
are doing, and have copies of their school magazines. It would be like
shaking hands over the ocean. Then why shouldn't we correspond with
girls in missionary schools in India or China or Japan? Think how
exciting to have letters from them and read them aloud. We should hear
all about their eastern lives, and all kinds of interesting things.
"Well, these are far-away schemes yet that need a little time to
establish. I've something much nearer to put before you. Miss Rodgers
has given us seniors leave to hold a fancy-dress dance on the 31st of
March, from 7.30 to 9.30, here in the gym. We invite every girl who
joins the League to come. Nationality costumes will be welcomed. There
will be first, second, and third prizes for the best dresses. The judges
will take into consideration the scantiness of the materials available,
but they wish to announce that any girl found guilty of borrowing
articles for her costume without the leave of their owners will be
disqualified, and further, that any member of the League convicted of
playing practical jokes will be expelled from the dance. The prefects
think it wise and necessary to mention that, though the evening of March
31st has been set aside as a holiday and certain rules have been
relaxed, the school is nevertheless bound to preserve its usual code of
good manners, and every girl is put on her honor to behave herself. I'm
sure I need not say more, for you surely understand me, and agree that
when Miss Rodgers has allowed us to have this fun we ought not to abuse
her kindness. Will every one who's ready to join the League and wants to
come to the dance hold up her hand."
Almost every girl in the room responded to Rachel's invitation.
Some--the higher-thinking ones--were attracted by the ideals of the
League itself; others were merely anxious not to be left out of the
festivities. It was a long time since the school had had a fancy ball.
There had been private carnivals in the dormitories, but not a public
official affair at which everybody could compete in the way of dresses.
Rumor spread like wild-fire round the room. It was whispered that Miss
Morley herself meant to come, disguised as Hiawatha, that Miss Rodgers
had offered a gold wrist-watch as first prize, and that there were yards
of gorgeous materials in the storeroom to be had for the asking. The
thrill of these manifold possibilities was sufficient to eclipse the
attractions of their former intentions for the evening's amusement. It
was really more interesting to evolve costumes than plan tricks. Every
true daughter of Eve loves to look her best, and womanhood, even in the
bud, cannot withstand the supreme magnet of clothes. Little Doris
Parker, South African hoyden as she was, voiced the general feeling when
she confessed:
"I'd meant to give those Australians a hot time of it. They may thank
their stars for the League. Though I'm rather glad I shan't have to
tease Natalie, because she's my chum. We're both going together as
southern hemispheres. It'll be ripping fun."
The Camellia Buds, who had been temporarily estranged by the impending
national divisions, returned to the friendly atmosphere of their
sorority, and lent one another garments for the fête.
"It's a good thing Rachel put a stopper on commandeering," commented
Delia. "Mabel was simply shameless at the Carnival. Had anybody told?"
"Sybil and Erica knew; and Rachel isn't really as blind as we thought.
At any rate, she's awake now, and a far nicer prefect than she used to
be. By the by, we're to draw lots as to who may borrow out of the
theatrical property box."
"Oh, goody. I hope I'll win. There's a little gray dress there I've set
my heart on. I'll cry oceans if I don't get it," declared Peachy.
"Cheer up, poor old sport! If the luck comes my way I'll try and grab it
for you. I don't need anything for myself, thank goodness."
"You white angel! That's what I call being a real mascot. I'll share my
last dollar with you some day--honest Injun!"
The contents of Miss Morley's theatrical property box, apportioned
strictly by lot, did not go far among fifty-six girls. Miss Rodgers
allowed two of the prefects, with a teacher, to make an expedition into
Fossato and rummage the shops for some yards of cheap, gay materials,
imitation lace, and bright ribbons, which they were commissioned to buy
on behalf of certain of their schoolfellows, but most of the dancers had
to contrive their costumes out of just anything that came to hand, often
exercising an ingenuity that was little short of marvelous. Acting upon
Rachel's suggestion many of them personified various continents or
countries. The Stars and Stripes of the American flag were conspicuous,
and there were several Red Indians, with painted faces and feathers in
their hair.
Sheila, Mary, Esther, and Lorna repeated the costumes they had worn at
the tableau, and went as representatives of Canada, South Africa, India,
and New Zealand, but Peachy lent her cowboy costume to Rosamonde, and
turned up as Longfellow's "Evangeline," in gray Puritan robe and neat
white cap, a part which, though very becoming, did not accord with her
mischievous, twinkling eyes.
"Not much 'Mayflower Maiden' about you!" giggled Delia.
"Why not?" asked Peachy calmly. "I guess poor Evangeline wasn't always
on the weep! No doubt she had her lively moments sometimes. I'm showing
her at her brightest and best. You ought to give thanks for a new
interpretation of her!"
Winnie Duke scored tremendously by robing in skin rugs as a Canadian
bear, while Joan was able to carry out a long-wished-for project and
turn herself into a very good imitation of a kangaroo.
Fifty-six girls, arrayed fantastically in all the colors of the rainbow,
made a delectable sight as they paraded round the gymnasium. The
prefects had shirked the difficult and delicate task of judging, and had
called in Miss Rodgers and Miss Morley to decree who were to receive the
prizes. Perhaps they also found the decision too hard, for they chose a
dozen of the best, put them to the public vote and counted the shows of
hands. Gwen Hesketh, a member of the Sixth, in a marvelously contrived
Chinese costume, was first favorite; little Cyntha West, as a delightful
goblin, secured second prize, while the kangaroo, to the satisfaction of
the Transition, was awarded the third. The gold wristlet watch was of
course a myth, and the rewards were mere trifles, but the principals had
risen to the occasion sufficiently to contribute to the entertainment by
providing lemonade between the dances, which in the opinion of the girls
was a great addition to the festivities, and made the event seem more
like "a real party."
Before they separated, the League formed an enormous circle round the
room and each clasping her neighbor's hand, all joined in the singing of
"Auld Lang Syne": cowboy and Indian princess, Redskin and Scotch lassie,
Canadian and Jap roared the familiar chorus, and having thus worked off
steam retired to their dormitories and went to bed without breaking
their pledge of good behavior. Rachel, returning from her round of
supervision, heaved a sigh of immense relief.
"I was dreading this evening," she confided to Sybil. "I was so afraid
they'd forget their promises and begin that rowdy teasing. I believe
we've broken the tradition of that, thank goodness. I hope it may never
be revived again."
"Thanks to the Anglo-Saxon League!"
"And may _that_ go on and flourish long after _we_ have left the Villa
Camellia," added Rachel.