The Nabobs is, I suppose, one of the best girls' schools in England.
Anyhow it is perhaps the most exclusive unless you have money enough.
But, as the prospectus says, "it commands an extensive view of the
English Channel," and I suppose these things have to be paid for. At
all events there is no doubt that the principal, Miss Penn-Cushing,
has her heart in her work and is a splendid disciplinarian, and so I
sent my niece Mollie there to be finished (her mother being in India).
I have an idea at times that it is Mollie who will finish Miss
Penn-Cushing, but I try to preserve a benevolent neutrality combined
with a regular supply of food parcels to my niece.
Miss Penn-Cushing is LL.A. of one University and LL.B. of another,
and, I think, LL.C. of a third, so that she ought to be more than a
match for six Mollies.
I have always had the impression that Miss Penn-Cushing regarded me as
a humble entomological specimen until the other day when she paid me a
staggering compliment. She herself teaches all the English literature
in her academy, and each class in turn goes up to her room to receive
its daily dose. Mollie says that when she grows up she is going to
give up English literature for ever and read something interesting.
I am glad that the revered Principal is never present to hear Mollie's
blasphemies, at which I as an uncle have to shudder. Since the
publication of _The Cambridge History of English Literature_ Miss
Penn-Cushing has been steadily absorbing it, to help her in her daily
task, and has apparently reached the chapter in which is suitably
acknowledged the debt of English literature to _Punch_.
So at least I judge, for she gave the girls a long serious talk on
humour in literature, how to detect it and what should be done about
it. One rather sensitive child began to cry, but Mollie, who has
never kept a secret in her life and in fact loves to drag her uncle's
skeletons out of cupboards, blurted out, "Uncle writes for _Punch_!"
I was somewhat alarmed when I heard of this, for I did not know how
Miss Penn-Cushing, who keeps all the girls' uncles in order, might
take it. My fears were groundless, perhaps stupid, for the immediate
result was an invitation to examine Mollie's form in literature at the
forthcoming Christmas examination. I felt uplifted in spirit; I felt
that people were beginning to understand me. I even entertained an
hallucination that perhaps Mollie might now treat my intellect with
respect and stop calling me "Old dear." Three inches taller I sat down
to my desk and, thanking Miss Penn-Cushing for the honour paid me, I
promised I would do my best, although it would be my first appearance
in the _role_.
I determined, however, not to allow this distinction to make me
overbearing to my inferiors at our next speech-day. I would be affable
to ordinary uncles, common parents and guardians of the other girls,
but I would lead the conversation artfully on to other literary
critics and examiners of the past. As a preparation I read up MATTHEW
ARNOLD.
It is not easy to be an examiner, I found. I would rather write ten
leading articles than one examination-paper. It appeared that I had
to set themes for essays as well as questions in literature. We never
learnt literature when I was young and I didn't know you could, but I
borrowed a text-book from Mollie and did my best.
The result was a crushing letter from the lady principal. She said
that "The Ten Points of a good Doll" seemed a preposterous subject
for senior students of literature to write about, and "My Favourite
Elopement in Fiction" would be outside the purview of any of her
girls. She would substitute instead (with my permission), "The Debt of
Literature (as well as Science) to DARWIN" and "My Favourite Piece of
Epic Poetry." In fine, if I did not really mind, she would herself set
all the questions and I should examine the answers. She thought that
the more fructiferous course.
How to mark was my chief difficulty. How many marks should one give a
darling with brown eyes and a musical laugh (Mollie has brought her to
tea often) who signs herself "Norah O'Brien," and winds up delightful
irrelevances about DARWIN and her abhorrence of reptiles with a
personal appeal to the examiner. I do not know what other examiners do
in such cases. It was a beautifully worded and most respectful appeal.
I decided to give her forty for Norah and forty for O'Brien. Both
names have always appealed to me.
This made it necessary for me to give eighty marks to her sister
Kathleen, who wrote really an excellent essay on a subject we had
stupidly forgotten to set. It was an excellent subject, and she has
even browner eyes than Norah, but as an examiner one must be rigid and
impartial.
Eunice came next. This name recalled dear memories of the past and of
what might have been. But as an examiner I could not let old dreams
weigh down my impartial scales, so I refused to give her more than
eighty. Finally, for they are really charming girls and know far more
about literature than I do, I gave eighty to everybody except Mollie,
and for being Mollie I gave her eighty-two.
I forgot. There was one perfectly horrid little girl called Katie de
Pinnock. She never shared her chocolates with anyone; the fact was
notorious. She wrote in a copperplate hand sentiments like
these: "MILTON awes me; SHELLEY thrills me; BLAKE, the prophet of
self-sacrifice, is ever my consolation and my guide. I ask for nothing
beyond." I gave her nineteen.
And now comes the tragedy. Miss Penn-Cushing's letter of thanks
was icy. She feared I had been "a thought nepotic," and (with my
permission) she would revise my marks.
She dealt me the final blow at our Speech-Day. "I have decided," she
gave out, "to award the first prize in Literature to Miss Katie de
Pinnock. I am sure, though, that you will not be surprised to hear
that Mr. Marcus O'Reilly, our examiner, was so impressed with the
literary excellence of all your papers that he has presented the whole
class with consolation prizes. We tender him our heartiest thanks."
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Farmer._ "EH, LUCY, THESE MOVING STAIRS DO BE VINE
THINGS VOR SAVING VOLK'S TIME."]
* * * * *
Commercial Candour.