In a very few days Robina Starling was settled at school. She was as
completely settled there as though she had lived at Abbeyfield all her
life. She was the sort of girl who quickly fitted herself into a new
niche. She wasted no time in selecting her friends. She was not a
scrap afraid. She looked calmly, not only at the girls in the third
form, but at those superior beings--the sixth form girls. What she
thought she always said. Those girls who admired her said that Robina
was very straightforward, that it would be impossible for her to tell a
lie, and that they admired her for this trait in her character
extremely. The girls who did not admire her, on the contrary, said that
she was rude and ill-bred; but that fact--for she knew quite well that
they said it--seemed rather to please Robina than otherwise.
She was quick, too, about her lessons. Although she knew nothing in the
school way of knowing things, she had in reality a mass of varied
information in her little head. She had a startling way of announcing
her knowledge in and out of school. Miss Sparke used to find herself
sometimes put quite in the wrong by this extraordinary pupil.
"No, Miss Sparke," Robina said very calmly one morning during class,
when she had been a week in the school, "that was the old-fashioned
view, but if you look in the latest volumes on the subject, you will see
for yourself that things are changed now. Shall I look for you, Miss
Sparke, or will you do it yourself? It is a pity that you should teach
the wrong thing, isn't it?"
Miss Sparke said, "Hold your tongue, Robina; you are not to correct me
in school."
But she had coloured high when her naughty pupil spoke; and Robina, who
did not colour at all, nor show the slightest triumph, but who sat down
again in her seat with the utmost calm, made a deep impression on her
school-fellows. She, with several of the girls, examined the latest
authorities that afternoon, and as Robina was proved absolutely correct,
and Miss Sparke wrong, the poor teacher took a lower place in her
pupils' estimation from that moment.
"You see," said Robina, "although I am young in years, I have always
read grown-up sort of things. Father's frightfully clever, and so is
Mother, and as there are no other children at home, I just read what I
like. Besides that, I hear Father talking with other learned men.
Father's a great scientist, and he knows. Poor Sparkie is very well,
but she is no scientist, and she doesn't know."
"What is a scientist?" asked Frederica.
"Oh, Frederica!" said Harriet; "why surely you know that. A scientist
is--" but then she coloured, for Robina had fixed her bright eyes on her
face.
"Well," said Robina calmly, "you will explain to Frederica what a
scientist is, won't you, Harriet?"
"A person who knows science, I suppose," answered Harriet, blurting out
the words, and then dashing out of the room in a fury.
A laugh followed her to the door. She felt that she hated Robina. She
had never really liked her from the very first; and now, with a choking
sensation in her throat, she went out into the playground.
The first person she saw was Jane. Now Jane in her heart of hearts
greatly admired the new pupil. The fact that she was really naughty at
home had, it is sad to relate, but added to Jane's liking for her.
Harriet, it is true, was Jane's own special friend, but Harriet was not
nearly so amusing or so daring as the new pupil. Harriet now called her
companion to her in an imperious voice.
"Come here, this minute, you silly!" she said. "Why do you stand there
with your mouth gaping and your legs far apart? You look for all the
world like one of those foolish sheep on the back lawn."
"I am not a sheep; you needn't say it," answered Jane.
She had reached Harriet's side by this time.
"Well, come for a walk with me in the paddock," said Harriet. "I don't
want to be cross to you, Jane, but really that new girl, Robina--she is
past bearing."
"Oh, I like her so much," said Jane.
"You do?" answered Harriet. "You mean to tell me, you horrid thing,
that you would give me up for her?"
"Oh! no, no, Harry, of course not. I like you best, of course. You are
my real, oldest friend. But I suppose a girl may have two friends, and
I do like her. The thing that makes me so sad is this: she won't be my
friend; she snubs me like anything."
"There's one comfort," said Harriet; "she'll soon snub herself out of
the school if she isn't careful. Think of her correcting Sparkie this
morning! I never heard of such cheek in the whole course of my life."
Jane began to laugh. "It was very clever of her," she said.
"It was very impertinent of her," said Harriet.
"But she was right," said Jane, "and Sparkie was wrong."
"I have no doubt she was wrong herself," said Harriet, "although," she
added, "she did prove her point in that horrid encyclopaedia."
The little girls had now reached the paddock. Here was delicious shade
and green grass, and the heat of the July sun was tempered by a lovely
breeze. Harriet, whose cheeks were hot with annoyance, began to cool
down. Jane watched her with eager eyes.
"Harriet," said Jane; "you don't think for a minute that I love anyone
as much as you?"
"I hope you don't, Janie," said Harriet; "it would be awfully unkind of
you. But now listen to me. We must do something to stop this."
"To stop what?" asked Jane.
"That young 'un taking the lead in everything. It is too ridiculous.
She hasn't been more than a week in the school, and yet everything
yields to her. She struts about with her head in the air and even talks
to the girls of the sixth form, and isn't a bit afraid of Sparkie or
even of Devigny. The next thing we'll find if this goes on is that Mrs
Burton herself is corrected by her. I wish, I do wish, I wish beyond
_anything_, I could get her proved in the wrong herself."
"Oh, Harriet!" exclaimed Jane.
"Yes, I do," said Harriet; "I don't pretend otherwise; she has taken
everything from me."
"Oh, what _do_ you mean?" said Jane.
"I had not much," continued Harriet; "but yet I had one thing. I was at
the head of my form; I was certain of the best prizes; I was considered
the clever one. I was not vain of it, but I was glad. Now, I am the
clever one no longer. She is at the head of the form. Although she has
been such a short time in the school, she will get a prize at break-up;
I know she will. It isn't that she has ever been taught in the school
way, but she knows such a lot. Oh, I do hate her, Janie! I wish--I
wish she had not come!"
"Poor Harriet!" said Jane.
She felt immensely pleased herself at this confidence reposed in her.
Hitherto Harriet, with her pale face, her lank hair, her tall young
figure, had been very condescending to black-eyed, roly-poly Jane. She
had kept Jane under, and had only condescended to listen to her now and
then. It was delicious to be confided in; to have Harriet explain to
Jane what she felt about things. After a time, Jane said softly: "Until
Robina came, we were the _only_ naughty girls in the school."
"Oh, we were not a bit naughty in reality," said Harriet. "It pleased
you to think it, Janie. When I told you that we were the naughty ones,
you used to be as proud as Punch; but we were not really naughty as she
could be naughty. I declare since she came I feel that I could do
anything."
"Let us make _her_ naughty," said Jane, in a low tone.
"Let us what?" asked Harriet, turning and facing her little companion.
"I know!" said Jane after a pause. "I heard what they said when I was
hiding under the holly bush. They said that she was sent to school
because she was so noisy and wouldn't obey anyone. Up to the present
she has only been a little naughty; she has done the sort of things that
people forgive. Let us make her do something that people don't forgive:
let's make her awfully disobedient."
"I declare, Janie," said Harriet, "you're a much cleverer girl than I
gave you credit for. That isn't at all a bad idea. Of course it's
naughty of us to wish anything of the sort; but then she is too
aggravating, and--and--if she takes my character for cleverness away,
and keeps the head of the form, and wins my prize--I _cannot_ stand it.
Oh, she put me to shame just now before the others--I won't tell you
how, for it isn't worth while; but she--she laughed as I went out of the
room, and--the others laughed, too. I _hate_ her! I don't mind what I
do to get her into trouble!"
"We mustn't do too much, we must be careful," said Jane. "But if she is
really very disobedient at home, why should she not be disobedient just
once at school? You are clever enough to manage that, aren't you,
Harriet?"
"And you are clever enough to help me," answered Harriet. "Well, let's
say no more now; mum's the word. They're going to have tea on the lawn,
and we may as well join the others. I shall not feel nearly so bad now,
Janie, since you are my friend, and we are making up a little plot
together. Let's think very hard. Let's put on our considering caps,
and let's meet again here this hour to-morrow."
"Oh, Harriet!" said Jane. "I am glad and I'm sorry. I'm a bit
frightened, and yet my heart goes pit-a-pat with excitement. I do love
you, Harriet. Oh dear, oh dear! I wonder if this is desperately
wicked!"
"I'll give you a kiss if you will faithfully promise not to say one word
of our conversation to another soul," said Harriet.
Her kisses were considered great favours by the hungry Jane, who now
received solemnly a peck on her forehead from Harriet.
"We'd best not be seen too much together," said Harriet. "I will go
round by the fish-pond to the lawn, and you can run into the house and
come out that way."
There is no doubt whatever that these two girls felt a very extra spice
of naughtiness in their hearts on that afternoon.
Meanwhile, Robina was enjoying herself; she was the centre of a large
circle of girls. She was very nicely dressed, to begin with; and she
looked, if not pretty, yet exceedingly interesting; her face was so full
of intelligence and her expression was so varying, that it was quite a
delight to watch her when she talked. She had the merriest laugh, too,
like a peal of bells, and she had a very good-natured way of drawing a
neglected girl to her side, and putting her arm about her and making
friends with her for the time being. In particular, she was fond of
little children, and the small girls of the school clung round her,
pressing up to her side, and begging to be allowed to sit on her knee
and fondle her, as tiny girls will.
The first form in the school at present only consisted of four little
girls. There were Patty and Cissy Price--two wee sisters of seven and
six years of age; and there was Curly Pate--as they called her--the
youngest girl of all, who was not yet quite six; and there was little
Annie, who was older than the others, but very small in stature and very
delicate.
Curly Pate was the baby of the school, and was somewhat spoiled in
consequence. She was a perfect roly-poly creature, with fat arms and
creasy, fat neck and little fat legs. Her face was perfectly round--as
round as a ball, and she had blue eyes and a soft complexion, and
fluffy, curly, baby hair all over her little head. Her hair was short
and thick, and of that fine, fine quality which only very tiny children
and babies possess.
From the eldest to the next youngest girl in the school Curly Pate was
the darling. Anyone would be proud to walk with her, to caress her, to
submit to her whims; and Curly Pate, like all young queens, was
exacting. She had her preferences. She liked Constance Amberley better
than any of her own small companions. When Constance walked about the
grounds with Curly Pate on her back--that young person pretending that
she was riding her pony and desiring her "Gee-gee" to go faster, and
pounding her on the head and shoulders in no inconsiderable degree--
Constance, far from being pitied, was envied by everyone else in the
school. But lo, and behold! when Robina appeared, that fickle young
person--the school baby--changed her tactics. She walked straight up to
Robina on the first day of her appearance in the playground and said:
"I 'ike oo--new dirl!" and established herself on the spot, Robina's
ruler.
Robina was elected to be the baby's slave, and the others laughed and
joked at Constance, and watched the baby with delight. The other little
girls followed suit, as very small girls will.
On this special afternoon Robina had the four small children in a circle
round her. Curly Pate, it is true, occupied the place of honour on the
young lady's lap, but Patty and Cissie Price, and grave, pale little
Annie were also close to the popular favourite.
"Tell us a story, Robina," asked Cissie Price.
"Not now," said Robina; "and you are not to pull me, babies, for it
makes me too hot. Curly, sit still, you little imp! I'll put you off
my knee if you don't behave."
Now none of the other girls in the third form would have dared to speak
to Curly in that tone. They would have received a slap in the face for
their pains, but Curly took it quite meekly from Robina.
"I--is--dood. I is--vedy dood. I 'ove oo," she said.
She nestled up close to Robina, pulling that young person's hand round
her waist, and patting the said hand with her own two fat little ones
and saying, over and over again: "I 'ove oo, Wobbin--I 'ove oo!"
It was on this scene that Harriet and Jane appeared. Since Robina had
come, Harriet had rather avoided her. She had been jealous, poor child,
from the first moment; but now she altered her tactics, and forcing her
way through the group, sat down close to the new favourite.
"There's no room here," said Robina. "Go a little further off, please,
Harriet; you are pushing little Annie and making her cry."
"I don't care twopence for little Annie!" cried Harriet, rudely. "I
have as good a right to sit here as anybody else. Don't press me,
Annie; if I am in the way, you're the person to make room, not me. Go
back to your nursery, won't you?"
Annie, who was a very timid child, began to cry. Robina immediately
rose, lifted Curly Pate on to her shoulder, and said to the three other
little ones:
"I have changed my mind. I will tell you a story now, but no one else
shall listen; it's a lovely, true, true fairy tale. We'll just sit
under that tree, and you shall all hear it."
They followed her, clinging to her skirt and one of them trying to grasp
her hand. Harriet's face grew black. Frederica said:
"Well, Harriet, you don't look too well pleased; but for my part, I
think Robina was quite right; you ought not to have taken poor little
Annie's place."
"Do you mind telling me," answered Harriet, "what right those children
have to interfere with us? They belong to the first form; let them stay
in their nursery."
"Oh, as to that," said Rose Amberley, "they have as good a right to the
lawn as we have. They are always allowed to play here every afternoon;
and Robina invited them to tea; she bought a lot of sweeties, chocolates
and cakes for them. They are Robina's guests; they just worship her."
"Worship her, indeed!" said Harriet. "Well--_I_ don't worship her."
"Anyone can see that, Harriet, and it is a great pity," said Rose
Amberley. "Robina is a very nice girl, and as good as gold."
"Oh, is she!" said Harriet. "Jane, what do _you_ think?"
"I know what I know," said Jane, nodding her little head with great
firmness.
Frederica looked very hard at Jane; then she glanced at her own sister.
"Look here," she said suddenly; "we have all been very happy at school,
haven't we?"
"Who says we haven't?" answered Harriet. She felt crosser than ever,
for there were such peals of laughter coming from under the shelter of
that tree, where Robina was telling the babies her fairy tale. "Who
says we haven't?" she repeated.
"The reason we have been happy," continued Frederica, "is simply this:
we have been--or at least we have tried to be--good. It would indeed,"
continued the young girl, "be very difficult to be anything but good
here--here, where things are so sweet and everyone is so kind, and even
lessons, even lessons are made such a pleasure. Why shouldn't we all
keep on being good? why should we be jealous?"
"Who says anyone is jealous?" said Harriet.
"Oh, Harriet!" said Frederica; "you know you are, just a little bit."
"I don't wonder she's jealous!" suddenly burst from Jane. "Robina has
taken her place in class. Harriet is our clever one; she doesn't want
to--to--"
"Oh, I am sure she is not small-minded enough for that," said Frederica
at once. "If a cleverer girl comes to the school--"
"She is _not_ cleverer!" burst from Harriet.
"Well, Harriet, you've got to prove it. If you are clever, work still
harder, and resume your place in the class, and I'm sure we'll all be
delighted: fair play is fair play, and it's very mean of you to be angry
about nothing. Ah! here comes tea, and I am so thirsty. Let's help to
lay it out, girls!"
Immediately every girl had started to her feet: a white table-cloth was
spread on the lawn, cups and saucers followed suit; tea, cake, bread and
butter, dishes of fruit were soon being eagerly discussed. The small
children gave a whoop of excitement, and Robina returned, still carrying
Curly Pate, with the others in her train.
During tea, one of the little ones suggested that they should turn
Robina into a queen. No sooner had the thought been uttered than it was
put into execution. She was seated on a special chair and crowned with
flowers, which the children had been gathering for her. A wreath of
flowers surrounded her laughing face, and a garland of flowers was
placed round her neck. Curly Pate looked on just for a minute, then
said eagerly: "Me too! me too!"
"Why should there not be two queens?" said Robina. "Gather some white
flowers for the baby, somebody."
"Somebody" meant everybody--that is, except Harriet, for even Jane was
drawn into the whirlpool of excitement. Nothing could be prettier than
the happy faces of the children; and especially of the queen with her
flowers--her cheeks slightly flushed, her queer, half-wild,
half-pathetic eyes brighter and darker than usual, one arm encircling
Curly Pate's dear little fat body, and of Curly Pate herself, shrieking
with delight while a crown of white daisies encircled her little head.
It was on this scene that Mrs Burton, accompanied by a gentleman whom
the girls had never seen before, suddenly appeared.
Book 1--CHAPTER FOUR.