The End of the Term
Major Fitzgerald's astonishment at meeting his runaway daughter on
Westhaven Quay was great, but he was extremely thankful to find her
safe and sound. He had received a telegram from Chessington informing
him of her flight, and had started immediately for the College, coming
from Cork to Westhaven by a night cargo vessel, as he thought that a
quicker route than by the ordinary mail steamer from Dublin to
Holyhead.
He at once took Honor to a hotel, where he engaged a private
sitting-room and ordered luncheon; then he set to work to demand an
explanation of what was still to him an absolute puzzle and mystery. In
spite of her determination to suppress all mention of Dermot's
embarrassments, Honor speedily found herself pouring out the whole of
her troubles into her father's ears. She was no dissembler, never
having been accustomed to concealment, and possessing naturally a very
open character; so, with a few skilful questions, the Major easily drew
from her the entire story.
She had prepared herself to expect a stern rebuke, but to her surprise
her father seemed far more pained than angry.
"I thought my children could have trusted me!" he said. "You will find,
Honor, as you go through life, that no one has your interest at heart
so truly as your own father. Perhaps I have erred on the side of
severity, but it is no light responsibility to keep five high-spirited
lads under control, to say nothing of a madcap daughter. My father
brought me up on the rule of 'spare the rod, spoil the child', and I
thought modern methods produced a less worthy race, so I would stick to
his old-fashioned principle. I have taken far harder thrashings in my
boyhood than I have ever bestowed on Master Dermot. All the same, I
believed you knew that, though I might sometimes appear harsh, I meant
it for your good, and that I was the best friend you had in the world."
"You are, Daddy, you are!" cried Honor, clinging round his neck.
"Well, little woman, you must have more confidence in me another time,
and come boldly and tell me your scrapes. I would rather forgive you a
great deal than feel that you kept anything back from me. You've been a
very foolish girl, and have got yourself into sad trouble. Your mother
is wild with anxiety about you."
"How is Mother? Is she still so ill?" quavered Honor.
"She was much better until yesterday, when we received Miss Cavendish's
telegram. Naturally, that upset her very much. I have wired to her
already, to say that you are safely here with me."
"Oh, Daddy, let us go home to Mother at once!"
"No, my dear!" said Major Fitzgerald decidedly. "I couldn't let you
return to Kilmore with such an accusation resting against your name. We
must face that, and get it cleared up. I shall have a talk with both
Miss Maitland and Miss Cavendish. Don't you see that by running away
you are practically admitting yourself to be guilty? It was the
silliest thing to do! Come, don't cry! We'll get to the bottom of the
matter somehow."
"But you won't tell Dr. Winterton?" implored Honor, whose tears were
more for her brother than for herself.
"I won't promise. It may be necessary to do so. You needn't fear Dermot
will miss his exam.; I should of course stipulate that he must take it.
I don't believe, however, that he would be expelled. It is so near to
the end of the term, and if he secures a pass he will be leaving the
Grange in any case, to join his training ship. The young rascal! He
certainly deserves his thrashing. He's always up to some mischief!
There, dry your eyes, child, I won't be too hard on him! In the
meantime, we must think of getting back to Dunscar. We can just catch
the 2.40 train. The sooner we arrive at the College and ease Miss
Cavendish's mind, the better. I must buy you a hat as we walk to the
station, and then perhaps you'll look more respectable."
It seemed to Honor as if an immense weight had been lifted from her
mind. She began for the first time to understand her father, and to
realize how much he thought of and cared for his children's welfare.
The knowledge drew her nearer to him than she had ever been before. Her
troubles seemed over now that he had taken the responsibility of them;
she wished she had trusted him sooner, and felt that he was indeed, as
he had said, her best and truest friend.
Miss Maitland was greatly relieved that afternoon when her missing
pupil was restored to her, and congratulated herself that the mystery
had been solved, and that she was able to give a full explanation to
Major Fitzgerald of what had occurred.
The latter listened with close attention to her account.
"Pray don't apologize for having accused Honor falsely," he said. "As
house-mistress, it was your plain duty to act as you did, and the
evidence seemed overwhelming. I don't exonerate my little girl
altogether; she had no right to take the law into her own hands and
meet her brother in defiance of rules, and, still worse, to run away
from school; neither had she any business to climb through the window
into your study. She deserves a thorough scolding, but I think she is
truly sorry, and that the consequences of her foolishness have been
punishment enough."
"We will say no more about it," replied Miss Maitland; "it is an
unpleasant episode, which we shall be only too glad to consign to
oblivion. Honor has shown us already that she is capable of better
things, and I shall expect much from her in the future."
The runaway received a warm welcome from the Chaddites, who much
regretted their hasty action in condemning her without sufficient
proof.
"I'm afraid I misjudged you before, Honor," said Vivian Holmes.
"Flossie has told me that it was she who shammed ghost. It's a pity
there have been so many misunderstandings, but I'm glad you weren't
responsible for Evelyn's fright."
Vivian spoke kindly, but without enthusiasm. She was ready enough to
acknowledge Honor's innocence, but she still did not altogether approve
of her, and considered that there was much room for improvement before
she became a worthy member of St. Chad's. The monitress had no sympathy
with lawlessness, and preferred girls who upheld the school rules,
instead of breaking them. Undue exuberance of spirits during a first
term was in her eyes presumption, and not to be countenanced by a
monitress who did her duty.
She need not have been afraid, however, that the black sheep of her
flock was going to indulge in any more lapses from the strict path of
convention. Honor had returned in a very subdued frame of mind, and
gave no further occasion for reproof.
She took the girls' apologies for sending her to Coventry in excellent
part.
"If you really believed I'd stolen the sovereign, you were quite
right," she remarked briefly. "Anyone who'd done such a thing would
have richly deserved that, and worse. I care quite as much as you all
for the honour of the house."
To Janie alone, the one friend who had taken her part and stood up for
her when the whole school was against her, could Honor turn with a
sense of absolute confidence; the bond between them seemed closer than
ever, and she felt she owed a debt of gratitude that it would be
difficult to repay. Janie's joy at this happy ending to what had
appeared a scholastic earthquake was extreme; and, though she gave
Lettice the credit that was due, she could not help experiencing a
little satisfaction at her own share in elucidating the mystery. She
had worked hard to clear her friend's name, so it was delightful to
reap her reward.
The sensation caused by the events of the last few days was soon
forgotten by the majority of the girls in the excitement of the
examinations. For the next week the whole College lived in a whirl of
perpetual effort to marshal scattered facts, or recall forgotten
vocabularies. The classrooms, given over to pens, ink, and sheets of
foolscap paper, were the abodes of a silence only disturbed by the
occasional scratching of a pen, or the sigh of a candidate in the
throes of attacking a stiff problem. To Honor the experience was all
new. She tried her best, but found it difficult to curtail her
statements sufficiently to allow of her answering every question, in
spite of Miss Farrar's oft-repeated warning against devoting too much
time to one part of the paper. She was, of course, at a great
disadvantage, as she had spent only one term at Chessington, and the
examinations were on the work of a whole year; but she nevertheless
acquitted herself creditably, and actually gained higher marks than
several girls who had come to school the preceding September.
"I feel as if I'd been in a battle!" she announced, when at length the
ordeal was over and the last set of papers handed in. "My fingers are
soaked with ink, for my fountain pen leaked atrociously; but it wrote
so much quicker than an ordinary one that I didn't dare to abandon it."
"You'll soon get the ink off," said Lettice. "Miss Maitland always puts
plenty of pieces of pumice stone and slices of lemon in the
dressing-room at examination time. I'm sure I've failed in geometry,
and I shall be very much surprised if I find I've scraped through in
physics."
"I feel just as doubtful over English language," said Chatty Burns.
"But it's no use worrying ourselves any more; we can't correct mistakes
now, whatever stupid ones we may have made."
"And we can just have a few peaceful days until the sports," added
Lettice.
The end of the term was always celebrated by a gathering of parents and
friends, at which the girls gave exhibitions of their skill in running,
jumping, or some of the physical exercises that they had learnt with
Miss Young. This year the programme was to include military drill and
flag signalling. The latter was a new departure in the school, but one
that everybody had taken up with enthusiasm. Little bands of the most
expert performers had been selected, and these practised diligently in
the playing-fields, waving their messages with great accuracy and
dispatch.
"It might come in useful if there were a war," said Lettice; "and, at
any rate, it will be very convenient at home. I mean to teach some
friends who live at a house close by, and we shall be able to stand at
our bedroom windows and talk with our flags."
"It will be fun out yachting," said Madge Summers. "We can signal any
vessel we pass, and ask her name, and where she is going, and all kinds
of questions."
"I wish Miss Young would teach us heliography next term," said Honor.
"I should like flashing messages with looking-glasses."
"We'll ask her; but we shall have to wait nearly a year. We only have
hockey in the winter term, with gymnasium work when it's wet. Are any
of your people coming over on Thursday?"
"I'm afraid not--it's such a long way from Kerry! My mother is still
ill, and my father is busy."
"That's a pity!" said Lettice. "We all like our parents to turn up for
the sports. There's generally an absolute crowd."
As Lettice had indicated, a large number of visitors made their
appearance on breaking-up day. The quadrangle and playing-fields were
gay with summer dresses and parasols, and everywhere girls might be
seen conducting little parties of friends over the College buildings.
"The whole place seems topsy-turvy," remarked Honor. "You can go where
you like, and actually speak in the laboratory without forfeits! Even
the library is turned into a tea-room!"
"Yes, there are no rules this afternoon," replied Janie.
The sports were held in the cricket ground, and began punctually at
half-past four. Forms had been brought from the school, to make seats
for the spectators and for those of the girls who were not taking part
in the proceedings.
"I like a large audience," said Chatty Burns; "it's rather inspiring.
Of course, it makes one nervous, but, at the same time, it puts one on
one's mettle. I always do better when there are plenty of people to
watch."
"Especially when one feels that one is working for the credit of one's
own house," said Ruth Latimer. "We all want to see the orange ribbon to
the fore to-day."
"I'm afraid we've very little chance of winning anything," groaned
Madge Summers. "The Hilaryites are almost sure of the long jump. Mona
Richards beats the record. They call her 'The Kangaroo'!"
"And the School House will get the high jump," said Lettice. "We
haven't anybody so good as Lois Atkinson."
"How about the Atalanta race?"
"Doubtful. I expect it will go to Aldwyth's, or Bride's. They've been
training their champion runners the whole term, while we were
concentrating our energies on cricket. No Chaddites have even entered,
I believe! Chatty, you ought to be in it."
"It seemed no use putting down my name. I was practising last week--you
remember, we had a general trial of all the houses?--and I soon found I
hadn't a ghost of a chance."
"Well, St. Chad's must content itself with its cricket laurels. We've
got the cup for this year, at any rate."
The first portion of the programme consisted of military drill and
physical exercises, in which the whole school took part, showing a
readiness and promptitude of action worthy of a regiment. Miss Young
had prepared a little surprise for the visitors. At the end of the
display, the girls suddenly ranked themselves so that their sailor
hats, viewed from a distance, formed the College motto: "United in
effort"; then, at a sign, they moved again, and the greeting, "Welcome
to Chessington" appeared instead. Naturally, this caused much applause,
and many congratulations were offered to Miss Cavendish on the
excellent discipline prevailing throughout.
The flag signalling was confined to a picked band, so the greater
portion of the girls now joined the spectators, only those who had
entered for the various competitions remaining in a separate corner of
the field.
"I'm glad we have five Chaddites at flag work," said Chatty Burns;
"it's a larger proportion than any other house. But there our triumphs
are likely to end."
"We won't give up too soon," said Lettice. "There's an old proverb:
'You're never killed till you're dead'. We might manage to score, after
all."
In spite of Lettice's sanguine anticipations, St. Chad's did not appear
likely to win any triumphs on this occasion. The long jump, as everyone
had expected, fell easily to Mona Richards, who thoroughly justified
her nickname of "Kangaroo", and caused the Hilaryites to hold up their
heads with the proud consciousness of victory. The high jump seemed at
first of more doubtful issue; both Dorothy Saunders, of St. Bride's,
and Rachel Foard, of St. Aldwyth's, ran Lois Atkinson very close, and
the School House had almost made up its mind to a beating when the luck
suddenly turned, leaving Lois mistress of the event.
The next item was the "Atalanta Race", so called because each
competitor was obliged to pick up three apples during its course, and
present them duly at the winning post--not an easy feat to accomplish,
as it was possible to drop the first and second in the hurry of
snatching at the third.
"There are eleven in for it," announced Lettice, as the candidates
began to take their places at the starting-point. "Five scarlet
ribbons, two pinks, three violets, and one blue. Not a single Chaddite,
alas! Yes, I believe there actually is! Look, there's an orange hat
walking up, to make a twelfth!"
"Who can it be?" asked several of the girls, straining their eyes to
catch a glimpse of the last comer, who was rather hidden behind the
others.
"She's about Pauline's height," said Lettice. "No; Pauline is over
there, with Madge and Dorothy. It's not tall enough for Effie Lawson,
nor fat enough for Claudia Hammond-Smith. Can it possibly be Adeline?
Why, girls, by all that's wonderful and marvellous, it's Janie
Henderson!"
Janie's appearance among the trained runners in the Atalanta race was
indeed sufficient to cause the most unbounded astonishment. Her general
dislike of active exercise was proverbial. It was well known that she
only played games under the strictest compulsion, and throughout her
school course she had earned the not unmerited reputation of a
"slacker". That she, the most unathletic and altogether unlikely girl
in the College, should have calmly taken her place as the sole champion
of St. Chad's in so difficult a race seemed nearly incredible.
"I wonder Miss Young let her!" gasped Ruth Latimer in horror. "She's
bound to fall out immediately."
"And it will bring more discredit on the house than if no one had
tried," added Chatty Burns. "I'd have gone in for it myself, only
Vivian begged me not to."
"I call it a regular swindle!" said Maisie Talbot. "Honor, did she tell
you of this mad scheme?"
"Not a word!"
There was a curious expression on Honor's face as she answered, a look
of mingled surprise and enlightenment. She had not forgotten the talk
at St. Kolgan's Abbey, and she alone of the whole school knew the
motive that had prompted Janie to such an amazing action, and could
account for this apparent inconsistency of conduct.
"I never dreamt of her really doing it!" she murmured, under her
breath.
"Someone ought to stop her in time!" exclaimed Lettice indignantly.
So far, however, from placing any hindrance in the way of Janie's
attempt, Miss Young, on the contrary, appeared to be giving her a few
words of encouragement and final advice.
The course was to be three times round the cricket ground, an apple to
be picked up in each circle. Heaps of early green codlins from the
orchard had been disposed at regular intervals, and competitors might
select from which pile they wished, so long as they took neither more
nor less than the one required specimen in every round, the object
being to prevent a general scramble. There were to be no handicaps, so
the twelve girls were drawn up in even rank, each girl with one foot on
the white line, and her eyes fixed on Miss Young, in readiness for the
signal to start. It was an anxious moment.
"One! Two! Three--off!"
They were gone, a row of young athletes, each bounding forward in the
ardent hope of outstripping the rest, and gaining the coveted silver
cup of victory. The race was always a great feature of the Chessington
sports, but to-day, to the members of one house at any rate, it
afforded a spectacle of more than ordinary interest. The eyes of all
the Chaddites seemed riveted upon Janie, and they watched with frantic
excitement to see how she would conduct herself in the struggle.
"She's keeping well up with the rest," whispered Lettice.
"And has a very light, swinging pace," replied Ruth.
"She's actually ahead of Connie Peters already!" said Chatty.
"And gaining on Christina Willoughby!"
"There! She's picked up her first apple!"
"And passed Blanche Hedley!"
"If she only goes on at this rate, St. Chad's may begin to hope."
"Too good to last, I'm afraid."
"She's begun the second round!"
"She's flagging a little!"
"No, she isn't! She's saving herself for a spurt. There! I told you so!
She's passed Christina now!"
"I can hardly believe it's Janie Henderson who's running. It doesn't
seem possible!"
"Well, of course, she's extremely light; that gives her a great pull
over most of the others."
"But I didn't know she could run at all!"
"Perhaps she didn't either, until she tried."
"She's picked up her second apple!"
"And Alice Marsh has nearly knocked her over, through rushing to the
same heap."
"Never mind! it hasn't really hindered her."
"She and Nettie Saville are almost equal now!"
"How well she keeps up!"
"There she goes, past the post again!"
"This is actually the last round!"
"And that's her third apple!"
"She'll let it fall!"
"No, she won't; she's got them quite tight!"
"She's up to Nettie!"
"No--Nettie is spurting, and gaining fast!"
"Janie must push on!"
"Hurrah! Nettie has dropped an apple, and she'll have to stop, and pick
it up."
"Janie is ahead of everyone!"
"If she wins, it will be a triumph for the orange ribbon!"
Thus the girls, with continuous anxiety, followed the events of the
race, all unknowing that Janie was playing for a far higher stake than
they realized, and that on the result of that race hung, not only the
honour of St. Chad's, but the future of a human soul, capable of
infinitely so much more than it had yet achieved.
"They're all putting on steam! Oh, look! Alice Marsh is almost even!"
"And so is Christina!"
"And Connie Peters has gained what she lost at first!"
"Janie mustn't fail now!"
"Nettie has passed her!"
"Then she'll lose, for a certainty!"
"Oh, dear! I hardly dare look!"
"She won't! She won't! She's making a last dash! She's in front of
Nettie! She's gaining--three feet--four feet! Well done, Janie! Go on!
Go on! You're safe! Don't flag now!"
"Oh! Hurrah for St. Chad's! She's actually won!"
The wild delight of the Chaddites at this most marvellous and
unexpected achievement was beyond all bounds. They cheered themselves
nearly hoarse, and waved their handkerchiefs in the exuberance of their
joy. To have gained the Atalanta race was a score for their house
which, added to their previous cricket successes, would place it on the
highest pinnacle of the athletic records of the year.
"And to think that my delicate Janie should be capable of such a feat!"
exclaimed Mrs. Henderson, who had watched the contest with hardly less
excitement than the Chaddites themselves. "Chessington has been the
making of her, and I cannot thank you enough, Miss Cavendish, for your
care of her general health. She is another girl from what she was two
years ago. The doctor always told me that plenty of exercise would be
her salvation, but I could never persuade her to run about at home."
"I am as delighted as you at the change," declared Miss Cavendish.
"Janie has shown us quite a new phase to-day, and we shall take care
that she keeps up to this standard."
Janie herself, panting and flushed with victory, heard the applause
almost as in a dream. It was sweet to her ears, yet it was not the
reward for which she had striven. Her eager gaze searched down the long
line of clapping girls till she found Honor's face. For a moment their
eyes met, but in that one swift glance she read all she wished to
learn, and could interpret without the medium of language her friend's
unspoken thoughts: "It was a bargain. You have kept your part of it,
and I will keep mine."
The Honor who returned to Ireland next day was indeed changed from the
one who had left home in disgrace only thirteen weeks before--so much
more thoughtful, sympathetic, and considerate, with such higher ideals
and nobler aspirations, that she scarcely seemed the same: an Honor who
could tread softly in her mother's room, and give the required
tenderness to that dear one who was to be spared so short a time to
her; an Honor who, while keeping all her old love of fun, could forget
self, and turn her merriment into sunshine for others. Character is a
plant of slow growth, and she was not yet all she might be; but she had
set her foot on the upward ladder, and whether at school, or at home,
or in after years, life to her would always mean a conscious effort
towards better things.
It seemed to her as if she had been away years, instead of only three
months, when she and Dermot (who had passed his examination for a Naval
cadetship) drove from Ballycroghan along the well-known road to
Kilmore. The villagers stood at their cabin doors waving a greeting;
her father, and actually her mother too, were waiting for her on the
Castle steps when she arrived; and her four elder brothers had
collected all the dogs of the establishment to join in a warm, if
somewhat uproarious reception.
"I believe everything looks glad to see me," said Honor, "the very
house, and the trees, and the birds, and the flowers in the garden! I'm
going to have the most glorious holidays, and enjoy every hour of them.
It feels almost worth while to have been thirteen weeks at Chessington,
for the joy of such a coming home again!"
* * * * *
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
_At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland_
End of Project Gutenberg's The New Girl at St. Chad's, by Angela Brazil