Honor Finds Favour
Honor was undoubtedly finding Chessington College a totally different
place from Kilmore Castle, and in the six weeks she had spent there she
had already learnt many lessons quite apart from textbooks. The wildest
bird cannot fly with its wings clipped, and at school Honor was so
bound round with conventionalities and restrictions that she never
dreamt of raising such turbulent scenes as had sometimes been her wont
at home. The calm, firm administration of Miss Cavendish, Miss
Maitland's wise control, and Miss Farrar's brisk authority, all seemed
indisputable; and even the regulations of Vivian Holmes might not be
defied with impunity. The Fitzgerald pride could not tolerate a low
place in class, therefore Honor prepared her work carefully, so that
she might be above Flossie Taylor and Effie Lawson, emulation urging
her to efforts which love of learning alone would not have effected.
She did not indulge so frequently as before in either "tantrums" or
bursts of temper, for these provoked such ridicule from the other girls
that she felt rather ashamed of them; and even her overflowing spirits
began to be modified to the level of what was considered "good form" at
Chessington.
There is a vast power in public opinion, and Honor, who at Kilmore had
lived according to a model of her own choosing, now found herself
insensibly falling in with the general tone of the College, and
acquiring the mental shibboleths of her schoolfellows. Naturally all
this was not accomplished at once, and "Paddy Pepper-box", as she was
still nicknamed, had many outbreaks and relapses; but by the time the
half-term arrived, Miss Maitland, in a long talk with Miss Cavendish,
was able to report that "Honor Fitzgerald was marvellously improved".
"She has the elements of a very fine character," said the
house-mistress, "though at present it is like a statue that is still in
the rough block of marble: it will take much shaping and carving before
the real beauty appears. There is sterling good in her, in spite of
certain glaring faults. She is at a most critical, impressionable age,
and will require careful management. Everything depends upon what
standards she forms now."
Though the whole atmosphere of St. Chad's had its effect upon Honor,
she owed more than even Miss Maitland guessed to the influence of Janie
Henderson. Janie seemed to have the power of drawing out all that was
best in her friend's disposition. In some subtle fashion she appeared
to demand the good, and, by presupposing it was there, to bring it
actually into existence. Many new ideas of duty, consideration for
others, and self-restraint, that had never before occurred to Honor,
now began to take root and grow--feebly at first, but the seed was
there, and the fruit would come afterwards. It was Janie who put the
first suggestion into her mind that life was more than a mere
playground, and that other people have paramount claims on us, the
fulfilling of which can bring a purer joy than that of pleasing
ourselves; Janie who, by implying what a comfort an only daughter might
be to father, mother, and brothers, made her realize how utterly she
had so far failed to be anything but a care; and Janie whose high
ideals and aspirations raised future possibilities of helpfulness of
which she had not hitherto dreamt, for until she came to St. Chad's
Honor had not heard of girls taking up careers, or fitting themselves
for any special work.
"I don't mean earning one's own living," said Janie. "Neither you nor I
will probably ever have to do that, and Mother says it is hardly right
for women who have independent incomes to overcrowd professions, and
drive out those who are obliged to keep themselves. What I want is to
settle on some useful thing, and then to do it thoroughly. I've a large
family of cousins in town, and they all are so busy, each in a
different way. One has trained as a Princess Christian nurse, and now
goes three days a week to give help at a creche. She took me once to
see the babies; they were the very poorest of the poor, but were
beautifully clean, and so good. Beatrice simply loves them. Then
Millicent, the second girl, has learnt wood-carving and metal-work, and
takes a class at a Lads' Recreation Club. One of her boys has turned
out so clever that he has been sent to the Technical Schools to study
'applied arts'. Milly is tremendously proud of him, particularly as he
comes from such a wretched, lost, drunken home. Barbara is very
musical--she teaches singing at a Factory Girls' Club; and Mabel helps
with a Children's Happy Evening Society."
"But can you do those kinds of things in the country?" asked Honor.
"I'm going to try, when I leave school. I thought if I could learn
ambulance work I could have a 'First Aid' class for the village girls.
Most of them don't know how to dress a burn, or bind up a wound. I have
another scheme too."
"What's that?"
"It's so ambitious, I'd better not talk about it. Perhaps the ambulance
work will be enough for a beginning, and the other could follow. Well,
if you insist upon my telling you, I should like to get up a
lace-making industry among the girls in our village. I read an article
in a magazine about someone who had revived the old Honiton patterns at
a place in Devonshire."
"A few of the women make lace in our neighbourhood," said Honor.
"How splendid! Then you could start the same at Kilmore, and we could
keep comparing notes, and get specimens sent to exhibitions--the 'Irish
Industries', you know, or 'Peasants' Handicrafts'. It's such a pity
that everything should be done by machinery nowadays! Why, you might
have quite a thriving colony of lacemakers at Kilmore--the women could
be working at their 'pillows' while the men are out fishing. If I begin
at Redcliffe, will you promise to try the experiment too?"
Such a proposal as introducing a new occupation for the tenants on her
father's demesne almost took Honor's breath away; yet to her active
mind it was rather attractive, and she drew a rapid mental picture of
the little barefooted colleens of Kilmore seated at their cabin doors,
plying the bobbins with deft fingers. Janie's ardour was infectious,
and if Honor were not yet ready to agree to all her plans, at least she
caught enough enthusiasm to be interested in the subject, and to admit
that it was a dream worthy some day of realization.
In the meantime, the ordinary school course gave ample scope for the
energies of both girls. Janie, though a great reader, was backward in
many subjects, and was obliged to study hard to keep up with the rest
of the class; while Honor, naturally far more clever, had not been
accustomed to apply her brains in any systematic fashion. The work of
the Lower Third was stiff enough to need constant application, unless
the girls wished to earn the reputation of "slackers", a distinction
which neither coveted. Besides their mental exertions, Honor, at any
rate, wished to maintain her credit in the playing-fields. Janie had
long ago given up all hope of becoming a good cricketer, or even a
moderate tennis player. She was not fond of exercise. To use her own
phrase, she "hated to be made to run about". Her ideal of bliss was to
be left to wander round the grounds with a book; but as this was
permitted only on Sundays, she was forced on weekdays, much against her
inclination, to take her due part in the games. She even went the
length of envying Muriel Cunliffe, whose sprained ankle did not allow
her to hobble farther than the garden for five weeks; and hailed with
delight the occasions when the school filed out for a walk on the
moors, instead of the usual routine of fielding, batting, or bowling,
all of which she equally detested.
During the latter part of the summer term, when the weather was
sufficiently warm, swimming was included among the outdoor sports.
There was a large bath behind the gymnasium, and here every girl was
obliged to learn her strokes, and to be reported as "proficient",
before she was allowed to venture on a dip in the ocean. Those who
reached the required stage of independence were taken in classes of
about twelve to practise under the critical superintendence of Miss
Young. The bathing-place was a sheltered cove among the cliffs, not far
from the College, and reached by a footpath and a flight of steps cut
in the rock. On the strip of shore stood a big wooden hut, partitioned
off into small dressing-rooms; and a causeway of flat stones had been
made down to the water, to avoid the sharp flints of the shingly beach.
Janie, though not an expert swimmer, had passed her novitiate, and
thoroughly enjoyed a leisurely round of the bay, with as much floating
included as Miss Young would allow. To Honor the sea was as a second
element. She had been accustomed to it from her babyhood, and was as
fearless as any of her brothers. She soon gave proof of her ability in
the bath, and was straightway placed among those Chaddites who were
privileged to visit the sea.
It was a glorious afternoon in the middle of June when she started for
her first trial of the waves of the Channel.
"It can't be anything like so rough as the Atlantic," she declared.
"I've swum out sometimes when there was a swell on, and it was quite
difficult to get back."
"Of course, we're not allowed to go when it's rough," said Janie.
"To-day I expect it will be as smooth as a millpond. I'm so glad you're
not a beginner, and only learning to struggle round the bath!"
"So am I. To judge from Madge Summers's achievements yesterday, it
doesn't look like a pleasant performance. She appeared to be trying to
drown herself."
"Madge is horribly clumsy! I don't believe she'll ever manage to keep
afloat properly. She always flounders unless she has one foot at the
bottom. Pauline Reynolds wouldn't venture into the water at all at
first; Miss Young had to push her in. I shall never forget how she
shrieked; and she was so frightened, she actually swam three strokes!"
"Poor old Pauline! It was hard luck on her."
"Yes, it couldn't have been particularly nice. I didn't altogether
appreciate learning myself, with a row of horrid Hilaryites sitting on
the diving-board and jeering at my best efforts. However, 'those bright
days are o'er', and now 'I hear the ocean roar', as the poem says."
Each Chaddite was required to carry her own bathing costume and towel,
and to wait in the quadrangle for Vivian Holmes, who was to escort the
party down to the cove. Miss Young was already on duty, superintending
a batch of Aldwythites, who were to have the first half-hour in the
water, and who must vacate the dressing-hut before the second
contingent arrived.
"I wonder if there'll be any trippers to-day," said Lettice Talbot,
winding her towel artistically round her hat, and letting the ends fall
like a pugaree. "Sometimes excursionists from Dunscar walk along the
beach, and insist upon stopping to look at us."
"Are they allowed?" asked Honor.
"We can't help it. The beach is common property, and though the College
got permission to put up a wooden shanty, it has no power to prevent
anybody who likes from coming past. Some people are the greatest
nuisance. They bring cakes and bags of shrimps, and sit down on the
rocks to eat them while they watch us."
"What cheek!"
"Yes; we glower at them in as withering a manner as we can, but they
don't seem to mind in the least. I suppose they think we're part of the
seaside amusements, like the niggers, or the pierrots."
"Fortunately, that doesn't happen often," said Ruth Latimer. "We've
only been really annoyed once or twice; Lettice loves to exaggerate.
The cove is about the quietest spot on the whole shore. Here's Vivian;
it must be time to set off."
Honor was in her liveliest spirits as they walked along the cliffs. She
was overflowing with Irish blarney and nonsense, asking absurd riddles
and making bad puns, and sending the other girls into such fits of
laughter that Vivian called them to order.
"Don't be so horribly noisy!" she said. "Honor Fitzgerald, I wish you
were more sensible."
"I'm very contrite," replied Honor cheerfully. "You see, I've never
been taught to be serious-minded. I'm quite ready to learn, though, if
you'll set me someone to copy. Would this be better?" and she put on an
expression of such lugubrious gloom that the rest could not suppress
their mirth.
Vivian did not seem to appreciate equally the humour of the situation.
She was rather jealous of her position as monitress, and not unwilling
to show her authority. Moreover, she was responsible for the conduct of
the girls, who were expected to comport themselves discreetly on a
public footpath.
Honor was not a favourite of hers. Vivian considered her too forward,
and thought she made a troublesome element at St. Chad's. In her
opinion, a new-comer in her first term ought not to attempt to obtrude
herself, but should follow the lead of those who had been some years at
the school. She told her rather sharply, therefore, to come and walk
with her, and made the others go two and two, in a due and orderly
fashion.
"I see some people coming along the cliffs," she said, "and I should be
most ashamed if it were reported that the Chessington girls don't know
how to behave themselves."
"I wonder whether she's taking the opportunity to try to improve
Paddy's mind on the way," laughed Lettice to Ruth Latimer.
"She'll have a difficult task, then," remarked Ruth. "I can't imagine
Paddy engaged in very deep and serious discourse."
By the time the St. Chad's party had climbed down the rocky steps on to
the beach, the Aldwythites were just emerging from the hut, a lively,
bareheaded little company, spreading their hair to dry in the wind and
sunshine.
"It's simply delicious in the sea to-day," they called out; "quite
warm, and as calm as possible."
The Chaddites had soon donned their bathing costumes, and went
scampering down the causeway to take the coveted plunge into the waves.
"I don't know anything more glorious than the first few strokes of
one's swim," said Lettice, floating for a moment or two by Honor's
side. "I'm sure a frog couldn't enjoy it more, and a duck simply isn't
in it!"
Honor seemed as much at home in the water as the fishes, and Miss
Young, after watching her progress near the shore, gave her permission
to go with the more advanced members of the class for a tour of the
bay.
"I shall not be far off myself," she remarked, "and of course you must
come back the instant I call to you."
"Miss Young generally stays close to the girls who aren't so much used
to it, in case they should get cramp, or turn giddy," explained
Lettice. "Beatrice Marsden and Ivy Ridgeway are only beginning, so I
expect she'll paddle about with them in four feet of water. Janie
Henderson never ventures very far either."
Once out in the bay, Honor began to distinguish herself, greatly to the
delight of her admiring friends. She swam on her side and on her back,
dived to pick up stones, and even contrived to make a wheel.
"How plucky you are!" exclaimed Lettice. "I should never dare to
attempt such feats; but then, I haven't the sea to practise in at home.
Look at Chatty; she's trying to do a wheel too. I know she'll come to
grief. Chatty! Do you want us to have to practise life-saving?"
"No, thank you," said Chatty; "I was only seeing what I could manage.
Look here! suppose we swim right round the bay. We can take a rest
every now and then by floating and towing each other along."
Though there were no excursionists on the shore that day, the girls
noticed a small boat bobbing about near the point of the cliffs. It
contained three people, who were evidently visitors from Dunscar. A
young man in his shirt sleeves, with a pocket-handkerchief tied over
his head, was rowing in a very awkward fashion, as if it were the first
time he had handled a pair of oars; while his companions, girls of
about sixteen and seventeen, kept jumping up and changing places, or
leaning suddenly over the side to catch pieces of seaweed.
"Vivian might complain of their laughing," said Lettice. "Just listen
to them! Aren't they fearfully vulgar?"
"Cheap trippers come over for the day, no doubt," said Chatty. "Look!
One of the girls is pretending to throw the young man's hat overboard,
and he's trying to clutch it."
"The silly things! They're making that boat heel over far more than I
should appreciate, if I were inside her," remarked Honor. "I don't
believe they know there's any danger."
"I wonder they were allowed to go out without taking a boatman. I'm
sure it's not safe," said Lettice.
The three young excursionists were still struggling and fighting over
the hat when round the corner of the headland came the steamer from
Westhaven, steering much closer to the shore than was her custom. She
had started late, and her captain was trying to make up for lost time;
and, in consequence, she was going at top speed. Her screw made such a
tremendous wash that in a moment the sea was as rough as if there had
been a storm. The bathers felt themselves tossed about like corks, and
struck out as hard as they could for the shore, trying to keep abreast
of the waves that threatened to overpower them. The next moment there
was a chorus of wild, agonized shrieks, and the little cockle-shell of
a boat whirled rapidly past, upside down, the young man and one girl
clinging desperately to it, with white, terror-stricken faces. The
other girl was nowhere to be seen. She rose in a few seconds, however,
struggling violently, and sank again; then, when she came up for the
second time, she had drifted a good distance farther on, and was
strangely quiet.
The Chaddites had been separated by the sudden shock of the unexpected
occurrence. Lettice found it as much as she could manage to keep her
head above water, and Chatty acknowledged afterwards that she had never
before felt in such danger of her life. Honor, however, was swimming
fast in the direction of the drowning pleasure-seeker, and seized her
just as she was on the point of going down for the third time. Luckily
the poor girl had lost consciousness, and so did not grip her rescuer,
or it might have ended fatally for them both. As it was, Honor was able
to put her arm under her and keep her afloat while she called loudly
for help.
But no one could come immediately. The heavy sea had got Ivy Ridgeway
into difficulties, and Miss Young dared not leave her while she was
still out of her depth; and the others were only able to save
themselves: so Honor was obliged to do her best alone. By this time the
steamer had stopped and was lowering one of its boats, but it took
several minutes before the latter could be launched.
"Hold on a bit!" the sailors shouted encouragingly to Honor; and once
they were clear of the vessel, they rowed with a will.
They reached the pair at last, and lifted the unfortunate girl,
insensible and helpless as a log, over the gunwale.
"Better let us take you in too, miss!" said the coxswain to Honor.
"No, thanks; I'm all right," she replied, and, turning round, she swam
straight back to the shore.
The passengers on the steamer gave cheer after cheer as they watched
the little figure making its way so pluckily; and more than one person
heaved a sigh of relief when it arrived in shallow water, and walked
out on to the beach.
Meanwhile, the boat had picked up the young man and the other girl, who
had clung to their upturned craft till they were in the last stage of
exhaustion.
Poor Miss Young actually shed tears when she saw all her class safe and
sound on dry land once more--a weakness of which her pupils never knew
her to be guilty before or after.
"I'm not sure if I don't feel a little bit weepy myself," said Maisie
Talbot. "Lettice is not a remarkably strong swimmer, and when I saw her
so far out in the bay I thought--But there! it's over now, and I won't
imagine horrible tragedies."
"It was a near shave for several of us," said Chatty soberly.
Honor took the whole affair with the utmost coolness; indeed, she
insisted upon treating it almost as a joke.
"One doesn't always have the luck of picking up a mermaid," she
declared. "I may find Father Neptune, or the Sirens, if I go a little
farther; or perhaps I might drag back the sea serpent, as a neat little
specimen for the school museum. If the trippers are often going to
provide us with such entertainment, we shall have very lively times at
bathing."
"All the same, I'm sure she's more upset about it than she pretends,"
said Lettice. "Her hands were trembling so much when she was dressing,
she could scarcely button her blouse. It's just like her, though; she'd
rather say something funny any time, than look serious."
Miss Young praised Honor highly for her "splendid bravery and presence
of mind", and Miss Maitland added warm words of commendation. As for
the Chaddites, they could scarcely make enough of her.
"No other house can show such a record," said Maisie enthusiastically.
"We've beaten St. Hilary's hollow!"
"And even the School House," added Chatty, "though their monitress once
stopped a runaway donkey on the shore."
"Paddy, we're proud of you!" said Lettice.
"Please don't say any more about it!" protested Honor. "I was only
enjoying myself. I feel a great deal prouder when I've finished a sum
in cube root, because I simply hate arithmetic. Swimming is as easy to
me as walking, and I'm sure you'd each have done the same if you
could."
Naturally, Honor was the heroine of the school, especially as the
affair got into the newspapers, and the Royal Humane Society wrote to
say that she would be presented with a medal in recognition of her
courage. The father and mother of the girl whose life she had saved
called with their daughter at the College, and begged to be allowed to
express their gratitude, so Honor was sent for by the head mistress.
She would have been glad to avoid what seemed to her an embarrassing
interview, but there was no escape.
"These people have come on purpose to see you," said Miss Maitland; "it
would be not only discourteous but unkind if you were to refuse to
speak to them."
Honor had not been in Miss Cavendish's study since the memorable
occasion when she had so injudiciously sported the shamrock, and as she
entered the beautiful, old-world room again she could not help a
feeling of wonder at how much had happened since she had first set foot
there, and of relief that this second summons should be for
approbation, instead of blame.
She would give no account afterwards of what took place, or what the
girl's parents said to her, though Lettice was full of curiosity and
pressed her for particulars.
"Look here!" she exclaimed; "if anybody says another word to me about
this business, I shall leave St. Chad's and go across to St. Hilary's.
I should be sorry to desert you all, but I'm sick of the very sound of
'life-saving'! As for the medal, I'm thankful to say it will be sent to
me by post during the holidays, so there'll be no dreadful ordeal of
presentation. Now, I've told you as much as I intend, so please go
away, and let me do my preparation in peace!"