A First Day at School
There were thirty-three girls at Heathercliffe House, and they were
divided into four forms. Miss Kaye herself taught the first class,
Miss Barrett the second, Miss Arkwright the third, and Miss Coleman
the Kindergarten, while Mademoiselle took French and Needlework, and
Miss Denby the music, a few elder girls, however, learning from a
master, who came twice a week to give lessons.
Sylvia found that she very soon settled down into the ordinary routine
of her new life. Miss Kaye was kind, and tried to make school seem as
much like home as possible. There were a certain number of clearly
defined rules, but on the whole the pupils were allowed a good deal of
liberty, which she trusted to their sense of honour not to abuse. Four
of the eldest girls were monitresses, responsible for the behaviour of
the third and fourth forms, and the younger ones were encouraged to
come to them with their troubles or difficulties.
"You see, telling a monitress isn't like telling a teacher," said
Linda, "and Mercy Ingledew's so nice she never makes mischief. I'm
glad she's on our landing instead of Kathleen Gilchrist."
To Linda Sylvia had been attracted at once, and when she found that
her room-mate liked the same occupations and the same books as
herself, had read _Eight Cousins_ and _The Little Duke_ and was just
beginning _Ivanhoe_, she felt the friendship was sealed. Linda was
certainly a very different companion from Effie and May or any of the
other children whom Sylvia had known at home. She seemed so much older
and more sensible, and was interested in many things which she was
only too pleased to explain to her new friend.
"You must come and see our gardens," she said on the first morning,
when lessons were over and the girls were amusing themselves in the
grounds. "They're over here at the other side of the lawn. We may each
have a small one of our own or share a double one. They don't look
very nice now, because of course we couldn't take care of them in the
holidays and the weeds grew so dreadfully, but it's getting time to
dig them up and plant bulbs. This is mine. There isn't much in it now
the annuals are over. If you like I'll give it up and join at a larger
one with you."
"That would be jolly," said Sylvia, "if there's one to spare."
"Oh yes! Nobody has that big double one by the cucumber frame. Shall
we begin now to weed, and on Saturday we can move out any plants we
want and decide what we'll put in it. Come along for the gardening
tools. I shall have to lend you mine."
The tools were kept in a shed at the back of the house. Linda had a
dear little set of spade, rake, hoe, trowel, and basket, so the pair
set to work at once upon the new patch of ground.
"Please dig carefully," said Linda, "in case we come across any
treasures. This piece belonged to Ellie Turner and Sophy Hardman, and
they may have left something in it. Yes, I believe that's a clump of
daffodils. I remember they had some, and there was a root of
forget-me-not in the corner if no one else has taken it away."
"Couldn't we do anything special with our garden?" asked Sylvia.
"What do you mean by special?" said Linda.
"Something that would be different from anybody else's. Couldn't we
put our names in flowers?"
"We might sow them in mustard and cress in the spring."
"Yes, but now. Suppose we put Linda at one end and Sylvia at the other
in white stones."
"Oh, that would be lovely! What a glorious idea! We'll borrow Sadie
Thompson's wheelbarrow and do it at once. How did you think of such a
jolly thing? I wonder where Sadie is. We'll go and look for her."
It was a vain search, however, for Sadie could not be found, and
nobody appeared to know where she was; so after hunting for some time
Linda gave it up.
"What a nuisance!" she cried. "I shall take it out without asking her;
we really can't wait. I don't suppose she'll mind. We shan't do it any
harm." And she trundled the little barrow out of the shed and wheeled
it to the farther end of the back carriage drive, where she thought
they might find some stones.
Heathercliffe House had the most delightful garden. In front were two
large lawns, an upper one used for croquet and a lower one for
tennis. Between the two was a rosery where a great many beautiful
roses were still blooming, although it was now October.
"On Miss Kaye's birthday," said Linda, "we always make her a garland
and put it on her head. She laughs, but she wears it for a little
while and it looks so nice."
The front carriage drive was well rolled and kept very neatly, but the
back one was just like a country lane; there were thick trees on each
side with grass and wild flowers growing between, and in a corner near
the gate was a small disused quarry, with high, rocky sides covered
with gorse bushes and long brambles. Linda could not have chosen a
better place to find stones; there were any number lying about, and
though they were not white ones, they were a very light grey colour.
There were a few blackberries still remaining on the brambles, but the
ripest hung far out of reach and were quite impossible to pick, though
Sylvia scratched herself in a vain attempt.
"It's no use. I'd best give them up and stick to the stones," she
said. "If we ever go down to the beach we might bring back some shells
too. Do you find any here?"
"Yes, lots, at one particular place, pink and white and yellow ones.
They'd look pretty as an edging, but it would take a fearful long time
to fetch enough to go far. I expect we shall need a great many barrows
of stones before we can make both our names. I wouldn't pick up too
small ones if I were you. There, I can't possibly wheel any more, so
we'd better start."
The barrow was heavy and they took it in turns. It seemed a long way
all round the back drive, through the rosery, and along the apple-tree
avenue till they reached their own garden and tipped the stones down
in a heap. A very small pile it looked, too, only sufficient for about
three letters, and they sighed to think of the number of journeys that
would be needed before their great scheme was complete. Off they went
again, however, to the quarry and refilled the barrow as fast as they
could.
"There can't be very much time before dinner," said Linda, "though I
haven't heard the first bell yet. We must get on as quickly as we can,
because I don't know what I should do if there wasn't time to put
Sadie's barrow away. We have to run in the very second we hear the
bell, and wash our hands."
"It's full enough now," said Sylvia. "I'll start with it first. Don't
jog me or I shall upset it."
"I think we might make a short cut," suggested Linda. "Instead of
walking all round the drive and the avenue we'll go straight through
the shrubbery, it will take off an enormous corner and save us the
hill by the rosery. We're not supposed to go there, but no one will
notice."
They plunged therefore under the trees, wheeling the little barrow
with some difficulty over the grass and among the rhododendrons, and
were just getting in sight of the lawn when Linda suddenly stopped and
clutched Sylvia by the arm.
"Look!" she cried. "There's Sadie Thompson coming with Gertie
Warburton. What will she say when she finds we've taken French leave
with her barrow? She'll be ever so cross. Give it me quick and we'll
rush over here amongst the bushes. Perhaps they won't see us."
She seized the handles from Sylvia's grasp and they scuttled as fast
as they could under the over-hanging boughs of a particularly big
rhododendron, which appeared to offer a safe retreat.
"Quick, quick, they're looking!" cried Linda, bending low to avoid the
branches and scrambling farther under the bush. "Hullo! Why! Oh! I
say! What's happened?" She might well exclaim, for to her extreme
astonishment the wheelbarrow suddenly seemed to plunge into the
ground, and she saw before her nothing but the tips of the handles
standing out from among a quantity of dead and withered leaves.
"How very peculiar!" she said. "There must be a hole here. Why, it's a
sort of pool, I believe. Look, it's all horrid black mud and water
under the dead leaves. What a disgusting mess the barrow is in! How
are we to get it out?"
"We've lost all our stones," said Sylvia, kneeling at the edge and
breaking off a stick to poke into the muddy depths below. "What a
queer place it is!"
"I don't mind the stones, because we can find some more, but I do mind
the barrow. Even if we fish it out, how are we ever to wash it? Sadie
will be most dreadfully angry, and we shall get into such a scrape. We
aren't really allowed to borrow each other's things without asking,
and if Sadie turns nasty, and tells, and Miss Kaye hears about it, I
don't know what may happen."
"Can't we pull it out and take it to the back drive again, and bring
a watering can to wash it with?" said Sylvia.
"We might, but it's so hard to get it. When I tug it only seems to
flop in deeper."
"Let me try."
"You can if you like, but I think the stones are weighing it down."
"You go a little farther on then, and let me come to where you are, so
that I can reach properly."
Linda crawled cautiously along, feeling her way as she went.
"It seems to be a kind of sunk tub," she said. "Look, the edges are
made of wood, and it's filled up with water. Oh, do be careful,
Sylvia!" she exclaimed as the latter leaned over to grasp the handles.
"I'm all right. I've got them quite firmly. Now I'm going to give one
good tug and a shake to get rid of the stones and then I expect it
will come."
"Shall I hold your dress?" asked Linda, looking on with a shiver of
apprehension.
"No, don't touch me! There, I can feel the stones go. It's coming!
It's coming!"
And so it was, but far more suddenly than Sylvia had calculated; the
unexpected jerk completely overbalanced her, and before she had time
even to clutch at one of the rhododendron boughs she had fallen
together with the barrow into the pool. Luckily it was not deep, and
she was in no danger of drowning, but the mud was thick and black at
the bottom, and as she scrambled hastily out she looked as if she had
been dipped into an inkpot.
"Oh! Sylvia!" cried Linda, "What are we to do? We can't possibly help
everyone finding out now. What a frightful mess you're in!"
"So I am," said Sylvia, looking ruefully at her spoilt clothes, and
trying to wipe off some of the mud with her hands. "I didn't get the
barrow up either."
"Oh, never mind the barrow; we can't stop for it now! There's the
dressing bell. We shall have to go and tell somebody. You're simply
streaming with mud, and we shall both be late for dinner."
Feeling very guilty, the pair crept out from under the bush and tried
to dash across towards the side door, on the chance that Sylvia might
be able to reach the bathroom and remove at least some of the traces
of her dipping before anyone caught her. It was a vain hope, for in
turning the corner they ran almost into the arms of Miss Coleman, who
had come out to look for a missing member of her small flock.
"Sylvia Lindsay," she cried in horror, "you naughty child! Where have
you been? And what have you done to yourself?"
"I don't know," replied Sylvia, dissolving into tears, which made
white trickles down her dirty cheeks like little rivers on a map; "I
fell in somewhere, and it was all mud, and it's cold, and please may I
go in and change my things?"
"Come with me to the bathroom this minute," said Miss Coleman,
abandoning her search for Dolly Camden, and hustling Sylvia before her
with much indignation. "Linda, go and tidy yourself! Miss Kaye will
have to hear of this. It is a very bad beginning, Sylvia, for your
first day."
Sylvia was soaked to the skin, and was obliged to take a hot bath and
put on a whole fresh set of clothes, while Miss Coleman stood grimly
by and asked questions till she had drawn all the facts of the story.
They were so late for dinner that they only arrived in the dining-room
at the pudding course, and Miss Coleman, after a few quiet words of
explanation to Miss Kaye, made Sylvia sit with her at a small side
table instead of going to their proper places. Miss Kaye glanced at
Sylvia but made no remark, and one of the servants brought their
plates of meat and vegetables. They were half-cold, and Sylvia could
not enjoy anything when she thought of the scolding that was to
follow. She caught Linda's eye from the other side of the room, but
did not dare to turn again in that direction, because Miss Coleman was
looking at her. She knew so little of school life that she had no idea
what punishment would be inflicted for such crimes as borrowing a
barrow without leave and tumbling into a tub full of muddy water. In
none of the books she had read did the girls do any such things.
"They generally cheat at lessons, or read the examination questions
beforehand, or copy each other's essays," thought Sylvia. "And this is
quite different. Even Sara Crewe never fell into a tub, nor any of the
girls in _Gertrude's Schooldays_. I wonder what Miss Kaye will say!"
Miss Kaye lingered over pudding, evidently with the intention of
allowing the latecomers a few extra minutes, then, rising and saying
grace, she announced:
"Linda Marshall and Sylvia Lindsay will come to my study at a quarter
to two," and left the room.
"We're in for it now," said Linda, clasping Sylvia by the hand as they
met in the passage. "Oh, why did we ever get those wretched stones?
And we've left the barrow at the bottom of the pool! We shall have to
tell about that. Was Miss Coleman very cross?"
"She was rather. She kept hurrying me on, and saying 'Be quick!' all
the time. You can't think how terribly the mud stuck. I had even to
wash part of my hair. It's not dry yet."
"Let us go into the classroom. I don't want to meet Sadie; I'm afraid
she'll ask about it. It's nearly a quarter to two now. I'm beginning
to shake in my shoes."
It took a good deal of screwing up of courage before the two culprits
ventured to give a faltering tap at the door of the study.
"Come in!" said Miss Kaye's brisk voice.
The children looked at each other and entered with much the same
feeling as they would have experienced at a visit to the dentist's.
Miss Kaye was seated at her desk, which was covered with papers, and
merely glancing up for an instant said: "I am busy, so sit down till I
have leisure to attend to you," and, taking no further notice of them,
went on with her writing. Linda stole quietly to the sofa, and Sylvia
sank on to the nearest chair, where she sat very still, looking with
eager eyes round the prettily furnished room. She had a warm
appreciation for artistic things and she gazed with delight at the
beautiful Burne Jones engravings, the old oak cupboard with its blue
china, the silver bowl of roses on the side table, and the bookcase
full of richly bound volumes. Miss Kaye herself, she thought, made
part of the picture. She liked her brown eyes, her clear, fresh
complexion, and her abundant auburn hair.
"She's good-looking," reflected Sylvia. "Not at all horrid and old and
sour. I dare say she could be rather stern, yet she looks as if she
could laugh too. I like her eyes, they are so dark and quick and
shining. They seem to take one all in at once. I wonder if she's going
to be very angry."
Miss Kaye looked up just at that moment and met Sylvia's gaze with an
expression which seemed to say: "Well, what do you think of me?" But,
seeing the child flush scarlet, she folded her letter, placed it in
the envelope, and stamped it; then, ringing the bell, handed it to a
servant and told her to take it at once to the pillar box in time for
the afternoon post.
"Now I am ready," she said, turning at last to her little pupils.
"Linda and Sylvia, you have been in trouble, and I wish you to tell me
yourselves what has occurred."
It was hard to begin, since everyone had a natural awe of the
headmistress; but once the plunge was made they found themselves
relating their tale fairly connectedly, with the help of a few
questions. Miss Kaye listened gravely.
"This is what comes of borrowing without leave and going where you are
forbidden," she said. "The tub is used by the gardener for storing
water, and no doubt with the rainy days we had in September it has
accumulated a good deal of mud as well. I will take care that the
wheelbarrow is recovered and washed, and I shall expect you both to
apologize to Sadie. It is one of the rules of the school that the
girls should respect each other's property. You may go now, but do not
let this happen again."
Rejoiced to escape so easily, the children fled, eager to describe
their adventure to the rest of the class, who were brimming over with
curiosity after the hurried account which had been whispered by Linda
at dinner and passed on by the next girl with so many variations that
the general version was that Sylvia had taken a ride in the gardener's
barrow and fallen down a well. There was scarcely any time before
afternoon school, but they managed to give a proper explanation and
thoroughly enjoyed the telling and the effect it produced. Marian
Woodhouse might turn up her nose and call them babies, but she
listened all the same, and, Sylvia could not help thinking, was just a
little jealous to find them the centre of so much interest.
[Illustration: "SYLVIA WROTE HER FIRST LETTER HOME THAT EVENING"]
Sylvia wrote her first letter home that evening after tea, and found
she had such an amount to put in it she hardly knew how to begin. It
ran thus:
"HEATHERCLIFFE HOUSE,
"_October 5th_.
"MY DARLING MOTHER AND FATHER,
"I am much happier than I expected. This morning I fell into a
tub full of mud and spoilt all my clothes. Miss Coleman is going
to have my new dress washed, but she does not think it will ever
look nice again. I am wearing my green merino. I like Linda
immensely. She has read the sequel to _Eight Cousins_ although
it is a love story and she is only eleven. I wish I might. We
are going to have a garden together. Will you please send me
some bulbs to plant in it. Marian Woodhouse said I did not know
how to spell last night, but I only had three mistakes in
dictation this morning and she had four. Miss Arkwright says my
writing is bad. She has given me a new copybook. Miss Coleman
took my box of toffee away and locked it up in a cupboard. She
says I may have some on Saturday. I hope Dicky is well. Please
do not forget to give him his groundsel. There is a black kitten
here with white paws and a white tip to its tail. I send kisses
to everybody.
"Your loving daughter,
"SYLVIA."