A Casting Vote
Gwen had not been prepared to find the Fifth exactly a bed of roses,
therefore she was hardly surprised at the thorns which beset her new
path. In spite of the extra teaching from Miss Woodville, she found
the work of the Form extremely difficult, especially in mathematics.
There was a whole book of Euclid theorem which she had not been
through, and the consequence was that every other problem had some
little point proved by a theorem of which she had never heard. It was
a most decided stumblingblock. It is possible to sit and look at a
problem for hours without getting any further if there is just one
statement of whose existence one is not aware. More than once Gwen had
to hand in a blank page, and felt very humiliated at the meaning
glances which passed between Rachel Hunter and Edith Arnold. Neither
of these was yet reconciled to Gwen's presence in the Form. Rachel,
mindful of her own delayed promotion to the Upper School, persisted in
regarding her as an "intruding kid", and Edith could not forgive her
intimacy with Netta Goodwin. Manifold small slights and snubs fell to
Gwen's share, and though she affected to make light of them, they
hurt all the same. She knew that under happier auspices she might have
been friendly with Hilda Browne, Iris Watson, Louise Mawson, and
several others of whom Father would have approved, and whom, with his
entire sanction, she might have invited occasionally to the Parsonage.
She was aware that she was in the worst set in the Form, and that not
one of her new chums would pass muster if judged according to her home
standards.
"I can't ever ask them, that's all," she declared. "Annie's giggles
would give Beatrice a fit, Millicent puts on side horribly, Minna
would probably make fun of everything, Claire Harris is absolutely
vulgar, and as for Netta--no! Dad mustn't see Netta on any account."
Another not unexpected trouble had fallen to Gwen's share. As a member
of the Upper Fourth she had, at the beginning of the term, been chosen
Junior Basket-ball Captain, to arrange Lower School team games and
matches, and she had worked very hard to get things going. On her
promotion, however, it had been a greatly discussed point whether she
should resign or finish the season. Some of the Upper Fourth, knowing
how much was due to Gwen's exertions, had been anxious for her to
retain her post, but on the whole the popular verdict was against her.
To Gwen's disgust, her old friends, Eve Dawkins and Alma Richardson,
were the loudest in her disfavour, and it was chiefly owing to their
eloquence that she was requested to resign. She had been proud of her
captaincy, and to give it up was a wrench. There seemed nothing at all
in her new Form to compensate for the loss, and sometimes she wished
heartily that she had never been moved.
The present excitement in the Fifth was a "Literary and Dramatic
Club", the members of which intended to act a piece at Christmas. It
was a rather cliquish society, worked with more favour than fairness,
and was principally among those girls whose homes lay near to the
school.
"They stay behind at four o'clock to rehearse," explained Netta. "It's
really only among about half a dozen."
"Are you in it?" queried Gwen.
"I, my dear child? Hardly! You don't imagine the high and mighty Iris
Watson would ask yours truly? Saints and sinners don't mix in this
Form, if you please!"
"Do you mean to tell me the whole thing is in the hands of Iris and a
few others?"
"With your usual astuteness you've hit the nail on the head."
"But that's monstrously unfair!" exclaimed Gwen indignantly. "A
Dramatic Club ought to be for the whole Form. Everybody ought to have
an innings, in the name of common justice."
Netta shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't want to act with Iris and Edith and Louise, thank you! A
pleasant performance it would be! They may keep their precious piece
to themselves, so far as I'm concerned."
"But that's not the point," persisted Gwen. "It's the fairness of the
thing I'm talking about. One set has no right to monopolize
everything."
"It is sickening, certainly."
"It's worse than sickening, it's intolerable, and I'm going to make a
stand against it."
"You can try if you like, but you needn't expect success."
When Gwen had a cause to champion, she was ready for a fight, even on
the losing side. One of her characteristics was a strong sense of
justice, and here, she considered, was a distinct case of oppression.
She thought over her plan of campaign, and decided that she would ask
to be admitted to the Dramatic Club. Next morning, accordingly, she
approached the five or six girls who constituted that society.
"Want to join our Dramatic Club!" exclaimed Louise Mawson almost
incredulously. "I dare say you do!"
"But you won't!" said Hilda Browne quickly.
"Cheek!" ejaculated Rachel Hunter.
"Why shouldn't I join?"
"On the other hand, why should you?"
"Because a society ought to be open to the whole Form, and not just
kept amongst a few. We didn't manage things like that in the Upper
Fourth."
"How very kind of you, fresh from the Juniors, to come and give us
Seniors a lesson in managing our affairs! Perhaps you'd like to be
President? Would that content you?" enquired Hilda Browne
sarcastically.
"I don't want to be President, but I claim the right to have some say
in the matter. The thing ought to be properly constituted, and every
girl in the Form ought to vote for officers."
"Well, of all cool proposals!"
"Look here, Gwen Gascoyne, you need suppressing!"
"She's not worth noticing!"
It was only what Gwen had expected, but she felt she had at any rate
opened fire. She did not mean to retire vanquished after a first
attempt. She now directed her energies to another quarter. She
canvassed the entire Form, asking each girl separately if she did not
consider the Dramatic Club ought to be put upon a general basis.
Everybody, except those who were already members, agreed. Many had
thought the present arrangement unfair, and had grumbled loudly,
though nobody had had the initiative to start a revolt. Now Joan
Masters and Elspeth Frazer took the matter in hand seriously, tackled
the clique, and argued the question.
"You may run a private club if you like for your own amusement," said
Elspeth, "but if you're going to call it 'The Fifth Form Dramatic',
and give a performance before the other Forms at Christmas, then it
must be a fair and open thing. Everyone must be eligible for
membership, and officers should be chosen by ballot."
"Half of you wouldn't be able to join," declared Hilda Browne.
"That's our own lookout. The point is that we ought to be able to do
so if we want. If you persist in keeping it all to yourselves, you may
act without an audience, for none of us will come to see you, and
we'll tell the other Forms what the quarrel is."
"I know they'd back us up," said Joan Masters.
Very unwillingly the clique gave way. They knew they had no just
ground for their position, but they had hoped it would not be called
in question.
"It's all the fault of Gwen Gascoyne, with her Lower School notions,"
said Rachel Hunter.
"She needn't think she's going to act!" asserted Edith Arnold.
"Don't want to!" rapped out Gwen, who happened to overhear. "I should
miss the bus if I stayed behind after four. I only wanted to see
things made fair and square."
Though the new arrangements were really owing to Gwen's enterprise,
nobody was willing to accord her any thanks. Joan Masters and Elspeth
Frazer received all the credit for having righted the wrong; and
though a few might remember that Gwen had started the movement, they
were almost ready to agree with Rachel Hunter that it was rather
pushing of an ex-Junior to have taken so much upon herself. They had
not yet forgiven her translation to the Fifth, and only the utmost
humility on her part would have reconciled them. Humility was
certainly not Gwen's characteristic, so she still went by the epithet
of "that cheeky kid" in the Form.
"So much for their gratitude," confided Gwen to Lesbia. "I don't want
to act, but some of those who have got into the play might at least
acknowledge what I've done for them."
"They seem a hateful set!" sympathized Lesbia.
"Detestable!" said Gwen with unction.
One thing had not been settled by the Dramatic Society, and that was
their choice of a President. Names were canvassed freely in the Form,
and finally Hilda Browne and Elspeth Frazer were put up as candidates.
Voting was to be by ballot during the interval, but while the papers
were being given out Gwen bolted. She was feeling cross and forlorn,
and sick of the whole affair.
"I don't mind who's chosen President," she thought "It makes no
difference to me. They may elect whom they like."
So she went a solitary little walk round the playground, whistling a
tune, and trying to look as if she didn't care about anything. She had
not been there very long before she saw Betty Brierley and Ida Young
signalling to her from the gymnasium door. She took no notice of their
beckonings, whereupon they ran after her, and seizing her one by each
arm, began to drag her towards the house.
"You're wanted most particularly, Gwen Gascoyne!" said Betty
excitedly.
"We've been sent to fetch you quick!" chimed in Ida.
"Hello! Hands off!" cried Gwen, dragging herself from their grasp.
"What do you want with me, I should like to know?"
"It's the others who want you."
"What for? Didn't know I was so popular!"
"You've not voted for a President yet."
"No, and I don't mean to, either."
"But, Gwen, you must! We've taken the ballot, and the votes are
exactly even. You've got the casting vote!"
"Have I, indeed? No, thank you! It's rather too great an honour!"
"But look here, Gwen, it's the only way to decide it. We've got to
choose either Elspeth or Hilda."
"Then you may fight it out amongst you. You don't suppose, when you've
all voted by ballot, that I'm going to take the responsibility of a
casting vote. It's a most unfair proposal. Why, the rejected candidate
and all on her side would never forgive me!"
"We might have the ballot again," suggested Betty. "Then you need only
put your cross."
"As if everybody wouldn't know who was responsible for the extra
cross! I might as well write Gwen Gascoyne on my paper at once! It's
no use pulling my arm; I'm not coming in to be made a cat's paw. You
may go and tell the others so if you like."
Betty and Ida departed, grumbling loudly at Gwen's
"unaccommodatingness", as they called it, and Gwen stayed in the
playground until the bell rang, fuming with indignation. Every fresh
little episode seemed to serve to make her more of an alien in the
Form than ever. But here her decision was absolutely justifiable; not
one of the girls would have cared to accept the unenviable role which
they had wished to thrust upon her. Perhaps for that very reason they
were all the more annoyed at her action. She was received with black
looks when she re-entered the classroom. Elspeth Frazer whispered
something to a friend, and turned away. Gwen could not quite hear, but
it sounded painfully like "beast!"
"Have they settled it?" she asked Netta.
"Yes; Elspeth and Hilda drew lots, and Hilda won. I'm fearfully sorry
she did. Elspeth says it's all your fault, and that you ought to have
voted for her when you'd made such a fuss about the clique."
"Would you have given a casting vote yourself?"
"Well, no; but if you'd only stayed and voted by ballot like everyone
else, then nobody would have known who'd given the odd one. It was
most stupid of you to rush away. You're rather an idiot, Gwen
Gascoyne!"
"'_Et tu, Brute!_ Then fall, Cæsar!' I'm like the old man and his ass
in Æsop; I seem to end by pleasing nobody."
"Do you wish to compare yourself with the old man or the quadruped, my
child? The latter's the more apt, certainly!"
"Oh, good night!" said Gwen, who was getting the worst of it "I wish
sometimes I'd never come into your wretched Form."
"You'd be far more at home among the Juniors!" snapped Netta, rather
out of temper.
A few days after this was the Rodenhurst Annual Distribution of
Prizes. It was always held in the beginning of November, rather an
unusual date, to be sure, but Miss Roscoe found it convenient in many
ways to have it in the middle of the autumn term. It gave plenty of
time to receive examiners' reports, and to chronicle successes in the
July examinations, but on the other hand it did not interfere with
Christmas celebrations.
The function took place in the Town Hall at Stedburgh, and there was
invariably a large gathering of parents and friends. To the whole
school it seemed an important occasion, and both Gwen and Lesbia were
full of excitement when the afternoon arrived.
"Not that I need alarm myself that I shall be called upon to walk up
and receive a prize!" said Lesbia. "Never got one in my life, and
never shall!"
"You might get the Sewing or the Holiday Competitions," said Gwen,
trying to be encouraging.
"No fear! One genius is enough in a family! I'll go prepared to clap
you!"
All the girls wore white dresses and blue hair ribbons, and made quite
an imposing array as they sat in the central aisle of the large room
at the Town Hall.
"There seem to be far more of us when we're in white!" said Gwen. "We
don't look half so many in the lecture hall at school. Have a few
little angels crept in unawares?"
"You're not one of them, at any rate," laughed Netta, who was sitting
next to her.
To Gwen the great feature of the occasion was that Father was seated
on the platform, in company with several other clergymen and the
Mayor, who was to distribute the prizes. Beatrice was amongst the
audience, and had brought Martin with her, and Giles and Basil had
come with the Boys' contingent. All her family were present, and if
she were to get a prize, how pleased they would be!
The proceedings began with the usual speeches from the chairman and
others. Gwen had heard these every year, and they were always pretty
much on the same theme. It is hard to be original at prize-givings,
and the gentlemen who had been asked to "say a few words" might be
forgiven if their remarks were somewhat hackneyed. Miss Roscoe read
the examiners' report on the school, and the successes in the
Matriculation and the Senior and Junior Oxfords. These the girls knew
already, so, though they clapped heartily, it did not cause much
excitement. Everyone was waiting in suspense for the prize list.
Miss Roscoe always began with the lowest Form, so the first to walk up
to the platform was a small kindergarten child, who had won honours
for "general improvement". Neither Giles nor Basil had any luck; they
were too erratic to be serious students, but when it came to the turn
of the Middle Second, Lesbia Gascoyne was awarded the prize for plain
sewing. A perfect storm of clapping greeted pretty Lesbia as she
returned down the hall to her place. She was a tremendous favourite at
Rodenhurst, and Seniors and Juniors alike applauded. It was the first
time she had ever distinguished herself in any way, and though it was
only for plain sewing, the girls were ready to give her an ovation. At
last the Upper Fourth was reached, and Gwen knew that as she had taken
her exams with her old Form (the Middle Fourth it had been in July)
her name would be still on that list.
"First prize for Mathematics, Gwen Gascoyne," read Miss Roscoe.
Gwen's heart thumped, for a moment she did not move, till Netta gave
her an admonishing push, then she walked up the hall. The Mayor handed
her a volume of Coleridge's poems, handsomely bound in calf, and
emblazoned with the school arms; he smiled pleasantly as he did so,
and added a word of compliment. Gwen murmured "Thank you", and turned
away. Father was clapping his loudest on the platform, and there was a
nervous little applause from the rest of the family and from Netta,
but that was all. Not a single girl in either Gwen's old Form or her
new one gave her the least sign of appreciation. The colour flamed
into her face as she made her way back to her seat. It is hard at any
time to be unpopular, but it is a cruel thing when the lack of favour
is displayed before a public audience. Gwen stuck her nose in the air,
and put on the most defiant, don't care expression she could assume,
but she felt the slight deeply, especially when she heard the hearty
reception given to Iris Watson, who had won the Languages medal.
"Never mind, childie!" said Mr. Gascoyne, when at "good night" time
that evening, in the safe sanctuary of Father's study, she broke down,
and burst out crying; "you did your best, and you deserved your prize.
That's the main thing!"
"I shall hate the prize now!" sobbed Gwen. "I can't bear to look at
it; it will always remind me of this horrid afternoon. Why should they
have been so nasty to me? They clapped Lesbia!"
"Gwen, you're not jealous?" Father's voice was just a trifle anxious.
"No, no!" gulped Gwen emphatically. "Lesbia's a darling; I don't
wonder people are fond of her. But oh, Dad, it is hard sometimes to be
left out in the cold!"
"Very hard. Many older and wiser people than you have felt that. Yet
to bear neglect well is one of the bravest things in life. Don't worry
about not being appreciated; your own self-respect is worth more to
you than the opinion of other people. If you're quite sure you're
doing your duty, you can afford to ignore what the world thinks."
"I don't know why I should be so unpopular," sighed Gwen, squeezing
Father's hand tightly, and rubbing her cheek against his coat sleeve,
as if there were something comforting in the very feel of the cloth.
"You must live it down. It may take a long time, and a great deal of
patience, but I'm sure you'll win, and the girls will be proud of you
yet."
"Proud! They may get to tolerate me, but I don't believe I'll ever
make them like me, Daddy!"
"Courage! We never know what we can do till we try. If you want to be
liked, make yourself wanted. Good night, childie! Cheer up! The
world's not such a bad place, after all."
"Not while you're in it!" said Gwen, kissing the dear, plain face that
was so like her own.