IMPORTANT THINGS
JUDITH never forgot morning prayers on the first day of school at York
Hill. In some miraculous way the throng of girls, who crowded the
corridors before nine o'clock, formed in lines at the doors of their old
classrooms, new girls were piloted to a special position, and when the
prayer-bell rang, an orderly procession, beginning with the little
"Removes" and ending with the serious and important-looking Sixth Form,
filed into Big Hall and took their places.
The beautiful arching Gothic windows, the soft music from the pipe
organ, the dignity of the high, oak-beamed ceiling, all this to Judith's
beauty-loving mind was curiously satisfying. The service was short but
reverent; a hymn, the reading of the lesson, the prayers for the day,
and then the Head Mistress was reading out the promotion of old girls
and the placing of new girls.
Form Five A was announced; "Judith Benson, Josephine Burley, Sally May
Forsythe, Joyce Hewson, Nancy Nairn, Frances Purdy"--Judith's cheeks
glowed as the list was read. Five A! How pleased Daddy would be, and how
glad she was that she had stuck to the hated mathematics this summer!
And to be in Nancy's form, what joy!
Then followed a busy morning; new books piled high on the waiting desk,
new teachers, each seemingly more interesting than the last, new rules
to be learned, new girls to meet.
Judith was quite ready for buns and milk at eleven-thirty and enjoyed
her fifteen minutes in the open, and by the end of the morning she was
both tired and stimulated, for she found that she was required to think
for herself in order to take part in the discussions. There was to be a
written test to-morrow on the books which had been set for Form Five A's
summer reading and Judith had thought that she was prepared for it. But
as Miss Marlowe proceeded with her keen questioning, Judith began to
wonder if she knew anything at all about "The Idylls of the King." Miss
Marlowe had a way of saying, when answers were given, "Yes--yes--what do
_you_ yourself think?" which Judith, accustomed to teachers who had
spoken with a voice of authority, found disconcerting but highly
interesting.
After luncheon and a rest period, Nancy took Judith for a tour of
inspection; tennis courts, cricket field, gymnasium, common room, and
library were visited in turn, the etiquette of the stairs
explained--Judith learned that it was considered fearful "side" for a
Fifth-Form girl to use the front stairway to the entrance hall--and the
round ended in the tuck shop where Judith was introduced to the
presiding genius--Mrs. Wilcox, the housekeeper's sister--a bright-eyed,
cheerful little Englishwoman, who, to judge by the way the girls greeted
her, was immensely popular.
Sally May and Josephine hailed them from a coveted table by the west
window, and the four of them were soon busily and happily engaged with
peach sundaes and the foibles and peculiarities of teachers new and old.
The four-thirty bell caused a hasty scattering: Judith was enrolled in
music and studio classes and introduced to study hour in the library.
It _was_ a busy day. Judith, as she drifted off into the sleep that
claimed her before she had time to think over the events of the last
twenty-four hours, wondered drowsily whether she had been at York a day
or a week, and however was she going to tell Mother and Daddy _all_
about it as she had promised!
By the end of the week the new girls had been so well shepherded by the
old that Judith had lost her first shyness and bewilderment at living
with so many new people, and was beginning to feel that she herself was
an old girl and ready to uphold and defend York Hill traditions.
Everything had so far been made so easy for her that she had lost sight
of Aunt Nell's cryptic remarks concerning the important things that the
girls were to teach her. But the week was not to end without the
beginning of the discipline Aunt Nell had been thinking about.
When Nancy and Judith ran upstairs after luncheon on Friday, Judith was
surprised to find on her bedroom door a card. There was one on
Josephine's too.
"Oh, dear," groaned that young person, "bedroom inspection already! And
I left my boots under my bed last night. 'C,' of course, and I did want
to have at least 'B's' this term. What've you got, Judy?" And looking
over Judith's shoulder she read aloud, "A. Excellent. A pretty room in
exquisite order."
"My word, Judy, you're in Miss Watson's good books all right. Did you
hear that, Cathy?"--as their prefect appeared in her door dressed for
going out, "Judy has 'A' on her card."
"Splendid," said Catherine approvingly; "I wish the rest of you would
take Judith's room as a model. You may thank your lucky star, Sally
May," she continued as Sally May joined them, "that Miss Watson hadn't
time to inspect your room. It's in a shocking state. Run along now and
have things ship-shape by dinner-time."
"Isn't she simply lovely?" breathed Sally May when Catherine had gone;
"I'd do _anything_ in this world for her. But I don't see how I could
_ever_ be tidy. I never looked after my things before and there's _so_
little space in these tiny rooms."
"They certainly are tiny," agreed Judith. "I couldn't think of anything
but a cabin on board ship when I saw mine."
"Well, if Cathy wants us to be tidy, we've just got to be," said Nancy
with finality, and Josephine and Jane were summoned to help eat the
last of Judith's chocolates, and lend their brains to a scheme "for
furthering extreme and painful neatness," as Sally May put it.
"We might have a box for fines," suggested Josephine hopefully.
"I have it!" cried Nancy. "Judith's idea of the cabin was an
inspiration. Let's pretend we _are_ a ship. Cathy'll be the captain and
we'll be the crew and we'll have to be disciplined if we're not
orderly."
Nancy's plan was received with enthusiasm, chiefly because, since
sororities were not permitted in the school, it gave them a chance to
band themselves together. They had great fun discussing a name before
they finally settled on Josephine's suggestion of the "Jolly Susan."
"'Jolly,' because we _are_ jolly, and 'Susan,' because, well--don't you
think of 'Susan' as tidy, and a ship?"
So the cubicles were formally christened the "Jolly Susan" by Jane, who
donated a bottle of ginger-ale for the purpose, and Judith's empty
candy-box was hung up beside Catherine's door to hold the fines which
were to be used "for the sustenance of disabled (or dejected) seamen."
Sally May entreated Judith to show her how she managed to stow away all
her belongings so neatly, and when the half-past two bell rang for
outdoor recreation, the "Jolly Susan" was ready for Captain Catherine's
inspection.
A basket-ball practice for South House had been posted on the bulletin
board, but Judith felt lazy and wanted to finish "The Scarlet
Pimpernel," so, taking her book, she went across the quadrangle to a
sheltered spot under the big beech tree where she meant to spend a
blissful hour reading and lying at her ease on the soft warm grass.
The story would be sure to be interesting, but she postponed the treat
and lay watching the big white clouds sailing lazily across the blue of
the sky, and enjoying the brilliant splashes of colour in the maples at
the foot of the garden.
It had been a very happy week, Judith decided, reviewing the events
which she planned to chronicle in her letter to her mother to-night. How
nice everybody had been to her! No one could have a better chum than
Nancy! How pleased Mother would be that she had received such an
excellent mark for her room; and Daddy would be delighted at the high
mark Miss Marlowe had given her on that initial literature test; Nancy
and Josephine were loud in their admiration of the way she had
translated for Miss Langton in Latin class. Altogether, as Judith rolled
over on to her elbows and found the place in her book, she was feeling
happy and a bit too complacent. Only a page or two had been turned when
a shadow blotted out the flickering tracings of the beech leaves, and a
surprised voice said--
"Hullo, aren't you Judith Benson of South?"
"Yes," said Judith, sitting up and smiling politely, unconsciously ready
for a little more praise: she knew that this was Catherine's friend,
Patricia Caldwell, another South House prefect.
"Well, then, why aren't you playing basket-ball?"
"Because I don't want to play," said Judith calmly; "I prefer tennis."
Patricia almost gasped; this from a new girl--"She didn't want to!"
"Every girl is expected to join in the first practice matches so we can
pick our players for South," she said pleasantly but firmly. "Weren't
you at the Athletic Union meeting on Wednesday? I suppose you didn't
understand. However, you can join in the second half."
Patricia was Senior basket-ball captain and secretary of the Athletic
Union, and basket-ball was to her at present the most important thing in
the School. Judith felt rebellious, but made no reply. She watched
Patricia's retreating figure and wondered whether she dare skip the
practice.
Nancy, who had come to look for her, was questioned.
"Skip it? You had better not!" she exclaimed in horrified tones.
"But it isn't on my time-table," objected Judith. "Mayn't I do as I
please in spare time?"
"Why, but Patricia said you must," said Nancy.
Nancy, brought up in the traditions of York Hill, felt that it was
almost sacrilegious to question the authority of a senior prefect.
Judith was aggrieved and a bit defiant. She wanted to finish her story.
It was extremely pleasant out under the beech trees. She didn't want to
get up and dash about getting all hot and untidy, and making all kinds
of mistakes in a silly old game that did nobody any good as far as she
could see. Anyhow, her afternoon was spoiled now, and she began to wish
that basket-ball had never been invented. The very idea of action grew
more and more distasteful, but at the sound of the three o'clock bell
she got up very reluctantly and crossed over to the basket-ball court.
Fortunately she was dressed ready for the game, since at four o'clock
she was due at a gymnasium class.
Esther Harriman, who was umpiring, gave her a red scarf to tie on her
arm and briefly explained where she was to play and what she was to do.
Unfortunately the girl she was to check was Georgia Fisher for whom
Judith had taken an unreasonable dislike; partly because she disliked
the way Georgia giggled, and partly because she thought her impossibly
stupid. Judith hadn't much patience with stupid people!
"No, I haven't played much," Judith said loftily in answer to Georgia's
question. "I don't care about basket-ball--I'd sooner play tennis. Last
year I won the tennis prize." Georgia wasn't to think that she, Judith,
couldn't play games if she wanted to.
Esther blew her whistle, and instantly the two centres were leaping for
the ball, and before Judith could remember that she was supposed to be
on guard Georgia quite easily caught the ball, and passed it neatly to
Josephine who threw for the basket and made the first score for the Blue
scarves.
Judith looked annoyed and Georgia giggled, sympathetically.
"You got to keep your eye on me, _and_ on the ball," she explained
good-humouredly, and proceeded to take the ball again in spite of
Judith's utmost endeavors to prevent her.
An exhausting half-hour followed. Georgia seemed to be _all_ arms,
thought Judith despairingly, trying in vain to check her. Once she did
get the coveted ball, and in the excitement of at last outwitting
Georgia, she threw it straight into the outstretched arms of Josephine
who wore the enemy's Blue scarf. Josephine threw her a kiss of thanks
when the ball was safely landed in the net, and Georgia's unfailing
giggle helped to heighten the colour in Judith's cheeks.
Up went the ball again and then swiftly it came, passed from one Red
scarf to another. "I _will_ have it this time," said Judith fiercely to
herself, too engrossed in a desire to win from the Blues to remember the
most elementary rules of the game; she caught the ball and ran, yes,
just ran to the goal and threw. The proverbial good luck which attends
the beginner was hers, but instead of the applause which Judith expected
there was a burst of good-natured laughter. She had run with the ball
and all in order to throw it into the Blues' goal!
Poor Judith, it was all she could do to smile feebly when Georgia met
her with a grin, and, "This ain't football, you know." She hated being
laughed at, and when the practice was finally over, left the campus
humiliated, cross, and hardly able to bear herself or any one else.
On the way back to the beech tree and the story-book, she consulted her
time-table to make sure of the time of the gymnasium class. Yes! thank
goodness, she was free until four o'clock--there was just time to finish
the chapter.
Four o'clock found Judith in line, a pair of dumb-bells tucked under her
arms, ready to march into the gymnasium as the three-thirty class
marched out. She had had two lessons already and was beginning to like
her class. Last year's instructor had been adored by the girls and
consequently their work was excellent. Miss Evans, a young teacher, new
to York Hill, busy finding out what her new classes could do, scarcely
realized how much _she_ was on trial. This afternoon she called out a
last year's girl to lead the class while she stood aside to watch and
criticize.
"Wrong, wrong," she cried, and held up her hand as figure five was
concluded. Now Miss Evans, as we said, was young and new at her job, and
did not count on the adoration which the girls had given her
predecessor.
"Quite wrong," she said again.
"That is the way we did last year, Miss Evans," stiffly replied Jane who
was leading.
"Indeed!" said Miss Evans, who did not like Jane's tone; "that doesn't
make it right. Is there any one here who belonged to another class who
can do this figure correctly?"
Alas, Miss Evans, your Irish impetuosity will cost you dear!
Condemnation shone forth from thirty pairs of eyes, the hot, unreasoning
condemnation of the young. Alas, Miss Evans, it will take you many a day
to recapture what you have just lost! Alas, poor Judith, here was the
opportunity to regain her lost self-complacency. It happened that she
had been taught figure five in a different fashion, and, eager to show
that she at least knew how, her hand went up.
"Ah, Judith knows how? Judith, stand out and do the figure."
The music began and Judith went through it accurately and perfectly,
entirely to her own satisfaction and to that of Miss Evans.
"Good," said Miss Evans, "that's right. Now once more, Judith, so that
the others may follow."
Judith's eyes flew to Nancy's. She loved to see the admiring affection
which she had been finding there. But Nancy's eyes were cold and
unseeing. Judith, like most clever little girls, was extremely sensitive
to public opinion, and she almost dropped her dumb-bells in an agony of
shame and humiliation as she saw the coldness of Nancy's eyes faithfully
repeated in all the eyes about her. Alas, poor Judith! "Teacher's pet,"
terrible phrase, was whispered as the class filed out, and when Nancy
and Josephine rushed down to the tuck shop for an ice-cream cone they
affected not to see Judith, who at first followed disconsolately, and
then fled to her room, where, with head buried under the pillows, she
sobbed herself into a misery of self-pity and supposed homesickness.
Five o'clock bell rang. Horrors! She had forgotten that Aunt Nell was to
be here at five o'clock to take her out for dinner. Aunt Nell would be
cross at being kept waiting. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Would she never find
her gloves? Where was her new scarf? She must have left them down in the
cloakroom after morning walk. A hurried flight to the cloakroom, another
search, and an entirely discomfited Judith presented herself in the
drawing-room.
Aunt Nell would look displeased, she thought, as she entered. Judith
really did not care that Aunt Nell had been inconvenienced, but merely
that disapproval, instead of the approbation for which she thirsted,
would be her portion. But Aunt Nell looked amused. Indeed, when they
were once in the motor she laughed outright.
"I must say, Judy, considering that you have been in school only a week,
you seem to have got rid of any superfluous neatness very quickly." And
she pointed to a mirror at the side of the car.
Judith's eyes rounded with horror; she had washed her face, but a grimy
streak still outlined one side of her chin, her hair was rough in spite
of a hasty brushing, and her hat was comically askew.
"I have been so busy," said Judith, turning scarlet and blinking to keep
back the tears of mortification at this last straw.
"Busy!" said Aunt Nell quizzically; "busy learning important things?"
"Very important things," said Judith.