NEW ARRIVALS
“Oh, I’m so glad we’re off,” said Sybil. She settled herself more
comfortably into a corner of the carriage, then turned to see with
amazement that her elder sister was _crying_--crying as though she were
twelve years old instead of being fourteen, and a housekeeper at that!
“Why, Gretta!” exclaimed the surprised child in horror. Then the corners
of her own mouth turned down, her eyes opened wider and wider, and in
another moment they would certainly have overflowed in sympathy had not
the older girl, with a mighty effort, pulled herself together.
“It’s all right, Sybil, don’t take any notice of me. I was only so
afraid that dad would miss us.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t look like that,” half sobbed Sybil. “I hope
school isn’t going to be horrid, after all. Ann said it would be, and
now you’re crying about it. It’s unkind of you to frighten me, and if
the girls are going to be nasty I shan’t stay. I shall write and ask
auntie to take me away!”
It was rather a miserable little couple who peered out of the carriage
window at York station and looked anxiously for their aunt and cousin,
who were standing on the platform awaiting the incoming train. Margot
herself, the self-reliant Margot, was looking a little forlorn, too,
though she would not have owned to it for worlds, and even Auntie Tib
had a lonely feeling at the bottom of her heart at the idea that she and
Margot were to be parted for the first time. But she did not show it.
That was not Mrs. Fleming’s way. All was laughter and bustle, and under
her genial influence the children’s spirits began to reassert
themselves.
“Have you got everything, dears? Gretta, where’s that fiddle? Now,
Sybil, Uncle Bob has sent you these chocolates for the journey, but
don’t make yourself ill, you know, for that would be such a bad
beginning----”
“Oh, auntie, how lovely!” Sybil grasped at the box. “And don’t our
clothes look nice! It’s the first time we’ve worn them, you know. Do you
think the girls at school will like them?”
“They’ll have far too many other interests to think about your clothes,
you may be sure,” said auntie. “We must hurry; it wouldn’t do to miss
the train.”
Only a very few minutes after that they were bustled into the Cliffland
carriage, and Margot, looking very serious, was hanging out of the
window and exchanging last words with her mother. “I’m going to write
to-night, mother, so look out for a letter to-morrow morning. Give
father my love, and don’t let him miss me.”
“All right, darling.” Mrs. Fleming kissed Margot again, but her last
words were for Gretta, and it was almost as though she could read the
thoughts that were passing in the child’s mind.
“Uncle Bob and I are going to take the car over to Redgate to-morrow,
dear,” she said, just as the guard was lifting his whistle to his lips.
“I shall have a talk with Ann, and will write and tell you how your
father gets on.”
There was no time for the child to express her thanks, the train was
off. Sybil and Margot were both hanging out of the window, waving their
handkerchiefs, and Gretta could only assure herself that auntie would
_know_ how grateful she was.
“And now we’re really going to school!” announced Sybil in a
conversational tone of voice, settling herself comfortably with the
chocolates and looking admiringly at her own brown legs. “Do you think
all the girls will come and meet us?”
“Very likely they won’t be there yet,” answered Margot, looking perhaps
a little pale-faced, but trying to talk unconcernedly; “or there may
even be some of them in this train. I wonder if we shall like them. I
always used to long to go to school in Australia, but, of course, we
lived too far out.”
“Who taught you?” asked Gretta, admiring her cousin’s pluck, and
proceeding to imitate her by entering herself into the conversation.
“Was it auntie?”
“Well, she did when I was little, but she was very busy, you know. When
I was nine she stopped, because Long Jake taught me then.”
“Long Jake!” exclaimed Sybil, looking up from her chocolates. “Whoever
was that?”
“Oh, it wasn’t _really_ his name, of course,” laughed Margot. “He is
called Mr. Courtney in England, and he was at Oxford University before
he came to Australia. He came out and did farming, you know; and he was
champion sheep-shearer afterwards. Oh, I can tell you it was wonderful
to watch him. In three minutes he could shear a sheep all over, and he
never made a single slip with his shears. People came from all parts to
watch him.”
“But how did _you_ know him?” asked Gretta.
“Oh, he was one of father’s men at first, and they were great friends
too. He taught me in the evenings, just for fun. He was awfully clever.
When dad went to the diggings he looked after mother and me.”
“I’d like to see Long Jake,” said Sybil “What’s he like?”
“He’s very big; that was why they gave him his name, of course; and he’s
coming to England soon, I know. He’ll be sure to come and see me when he
does, so perhaps you’ll see him, too. When we lived in the Bush he and I
used to ride together for miles. He taught me lots of things.”
“What kind of things?” Gretta was beginning, but Sybil broke in
animatedly: “Oh, look! There’s the sea and the cliffs! Is it Cliffland?
And what a funny, tiny house! Can it be the school?”
The other children followed her pointing finger with their eyes. There,
in the distance, stood a little one-storied bungalow-like habitation in
the shadow of the cliffs.
“What a strange place!” said Gretta. “Why, Margot, look! It hasn’t any
windows, has it?”
“Not that I can see,” began her cousin, peering out, but even while they
watched the house was lost to view as the train took a sudden curve.
“There! It’s gone!” said Sybil petulantly. “How stupid!”
“It couldn’t have been the school, anyway,” laughed Margot, “it’s too
small. Never mind, we’ll go and have a look at it some day. Here, the
train’s stopping. I believe this _is_ Cliffland!”
The appearance of a lady at the door of the carriage, who looked in and
nodded at them and then proceeded, as the train drew up, to open the
door, confirmed their suspicions. “You’re for the Cliff School, aren’t
you?” she said cheerfully. “Jump out, and be quick! The porter will see
to all your things, so leave them behind--the pony will be waiting!”
Gretta obediently advanced to the stranger’s side, leaving all but her
beloved fiddle. Sybil followed her sister, feeling friendly disposed,
but shy. Margot, with alacrity, jumped on to the seat, and began
pulling down her leather suit-cases from the rack.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” remarked the new-comer pleasantly. “Leave
your bags. The porter has his orders, and this is a terminus.” She
looked up and down the platform as she spoke and then, with a parting
“Wait a minute, girls!” made her way to the other end of the train.
“Whatever did she mean?” said Margot, standing by her bags on the
platform and addressing Gretta in mystified tones. “I’d far rather see
after these myself.”
“Oh, it’s just school ways,” said Gretta comfortingly. She turned her
eyes as she spoke in the direction of the cheery lady, and watched her
as she received into her keeping a small girl about Sybil’s size, who
was being handed over by an anxious mother, evidently obliged to catch
the next train back.
“It must be another new girl,” said Sybil excitedly. “I like that lady.
I suppose she’s a teacher; and she smiled at me!”
“I’m Miss Read,” said that capable person, returning with the small girl
in tow. “Come along, girls, the trap is outside. We have an hour’s
drive to the Cliff. This is Adela Greaves; you will soon know each other
quite well.”
Sybil, bent on making friends with all and sundry, advanced to the side
of the child. “I like the name of Adela,” she said. “I had a doll called
that once. I named her after a queen in history,” she added, with a side
glance at Miss Read, vaguely hoping that she might gain favour by such a
display of learning.
She was doomed to disappointment, however. “Come along quickly,” said
the lady, who, if she heard the speech, was evidently quite unimpressed
by it. “I don’t want to keep the pony standing.”
It was a very tight squeeze in the trap. Margot, who, loaded with her
suit-cases, was the last to try to climb in, found entrance difficult.
“I believe I see what you meant,” she said, after a few struggles, as
Miss Read took the reins from a boy at the pony’s head. “_That_ was why
you told us to leave the bags.”
“Yes, and you’ve given yourself two journeys, I’m afraid,” said the lady
with a smile, “for you’ll have to take them back, now, won’t you? The
porter always brings all luggage to the school, for everything’s
labelled, you know.”
Without a word, Margot, the independent, did as she was told--there
wasn’t anything else to do--but, as she made her way back to the waiting
trap, after handing over her goods to the station-master, she wondered
to herself whether she liked Miss Read or whether she didn’t.
Sybil, very much on the alert, was certainly conscious that here was a
power that must be conciliated. She tried her most ingratiating smiles,
and even ventured on a congratulatory speech. “_How_ nicely you drive!”
she said. “_We’ve_ never had the chance of learning, but Margot----”
Here her well-meant effort was balked by Miss Read herself, who pointed
energetically with her whip.
“Look, girls! There’s the sea. You can just catch a glimpse of it
through that break in the cliff!”
“And, why, there’s that little house we saw from the train!” exclaimed
Margot, brightening considerably. “Look, Gretta!”
Yes, there it was, right on the cliff, not a quarter of a mile away.
“Oh, yes, you’d see that from the train, of course,” said Miss Read.
“But we shall lose sight of it again almost at once. It’s a lonely
little place.”
“I wonder who lives there,” said Margot. “It seems very strange. For one
thing, we couldn’t see any windows. I thought when we passed it in the
train that I would go there one day.”
“I’m afraid you won’t do _that_!” said Miss Read briskly. “It’s
altogether too far for the school walks, but it’s an interesting little
place--very!”
“Have _you_ ever been inside, Miss Read?” inquired Sybil, in a friendly
tone.
“No, indeed,” said that lady, “and I know very little about the house.
It was built by an eccentric old man who lives there still, or so I
believe. It wouldn’t do at all to call upon him. To say the least of it,
it would be a most unwise proceeding.”
The pony had carried them out of sight of the little house, and they
were soon on the high road. “We’re not far from the school now,” said
Miss Read. “In five minutes we shall be there. You will all be glad of
your tea.”
Gretta experienced an uncomfortable feeling as she realized how soon
they were to be ushered into the new and unknown world. She looked
first at Sybil and then at Margot, and wondered. And, _as_ she wondered,
the road took a turn. A huge red house, standing on the cliff in the
midst of a large garden, came into view. Here, at last, was the Cliff
School!