PLANS FOR BEING BRAVE
Margot had felt very much subdued during her first days at the Cliff
School; there was no doubt about it. The events of the first evening and
her interview with Miss Read had had their effect, and the new idea that
had dawned upon her then--that it would be necessary to consider herself
one of many and a small one at that, instead of being the one and only
prime mover at home--had not been an easy one. The independent little
girl from Australia had felt shy and rather sensitive in her new
surroundings. Until her recital of the doings of Long Jake, Margot’s
voice had hardly been heard, even in the dormitory. On that occasion,
however, she had thrown all selfconsciousness to the winds, and had
burst into the conversation with her old fervour.
Gretta had understood Margot’s mood pretty well, and had refrained from
showing her sympathy, knowing that her cousin would “feel all right in
the end.” She herself was living more intensely than she had ever lived
before through every minute of this very new kind of life, and--but for
the home-sick feeling that voiced itself in her first letter to the
doctor, when she “wished he could be here too!”--there was no fly in the
ointment to spoil her enjoyment of school.
As for Sybil, _she_ had begun to settle in easily enough; already she
had made and broken and re-made various friendships with other small
girls; already she had been snubbed and smiled at alternately by the
older girls, and had sulked or smiled back engagingly in return. She had
already, although this was only the fourth day of term, experienced her
first “returned lesson,” and--after the thrill of pride in such a
distinction had passed into a feeling of self-pity at having to re-write
such a “perfectly-good” exercise--she had then forgotten all about the
matter; that is, until it was brought to her notice again somewhat
forcibly by the mistress who had set, but had not received, the said
imposition. She was adopting, however, along with the school slang, some
of the orderly manners and ways of the Cliff School girls; Gretta
wondered at this Sybil, so carefully pigtailed, so well brushed and neat
after a week of nurse’s stern regime, and felt that now only one thing
remained to come before her happiness should be complete; she had not
yet had the first of the promised violin lessons!
These would be, said Miss Slater--who had spoken to the child herself
about the music arrangements desired by Mrs. Fleming--on every Monday
evening, and the first of the course would be given in the following
week. “Your aunt says that she hopes much for your music, Gretta,”
explained the head mistress, “and so I am to see whether Monsieur
Villon, our French master, will think it worth his while to give lessons
to so young a girl as you are.” Miss Slater had heard a good deal from
Mrs. Fleming about the home life of the little Greys, and she felt a
particular interest in the children for that reason. “Are you fond of
playing?” she asked kindly.
Gretta’s “Yes,” spoken eagerly, while her heart beat high, and her eyes
glowed like stars, showed the head mistress how keenly the girl felt on
the subject; Miss Slater was, for that reason, not so surprised as
otherwise she might have been when, on meeting Monsieur Villon, after
the first lesson, he gave utterance to volumes of praise. “Mais, it ees
magnificent! Such playing I ’ave never heard at zee Cliff School!”
“Oh, Monsieur Villon, this child is only fourteen! Don’t you remember
Maud Adams who left a year ago?”
“Mees Adams! But not to compare with little Mees Grey.” The professor
held his hands expressively.
“But she has had so few lessons, Monsieur Villon,” pursued Miss Slater.
“That does not signify. Bien, I can give ’er lessons. Mais oui,
but--music, eet ees in ’er.”
The professor departed, still chattering volubly; Miss Slater wrote
rather more guardedly to Mrs. Fleming, and Gretta, knowing nothing but
that her first lesson had been like the realization of her most happy
dreams, and already longing impatiently for the next one, went about her
work like a girl transformed, her eyes bright and joyous.
“There’s something in Margaret Grey, after all,” announced her form
mistress, who had been more than a little distressed at the appearance
of such a very backward fourteen-year-old on the first day of term. “I
thought she was stupid, but I don’t think she’s exactly that.”
“If you’d been listening to that child’s practising,” remarked Miss
Read, the house-mistress, who “understood music,” as the other
mistresses said, “you’d use a very different word; there’s going to be a
surprise for Gretta’s people over her violin-playing; of that I’m quite
sure.”
Auntie wrote telling her older niece that Miss Slater thought it wise
for her to continue the lessons with Monsieur Villon, and adding that on
her visit to Redgate she had found the doctor very busy and looking
well, and that although, of course, he missed the two little girls, he
seemed to be managing as well as could be expected under the care of
Ann, who was turning out “quite capable!”
“If she’ll only _keep on_ being like that,” said Gretta with a sigh at
the remembrance of the varying moods of the maid, “then I shall be the
happiest person in the whole world.”
This was to Margot, who, being form-companion as well as room-mate of
her cousin, had easily slipped into being prime confidante as well; and
who proved quite as companionable and understanding in her ways as any
girl of Gretta’s own age could have been.
“Oh, she’s sure to,” she now broke in. “Mother’ll manage it. She can
manage everyone.”
“I should just think she can,” agreed Gretta whole-heartedly. “I think
she’s just the most wonderful person in the world.”
“That’s just what Long Jake used to say,” remarked Margot, nodding
sagely. “She did a lot for him, you know.”
“What! That brave man!” questioned Gretta. “What could she do for
_him_?”
“Well, he wasn’t brave before he met her; that’s what he used to say. I
couldn’t understand it quite, but he used to say it.”
“I wonder what he meant?” said her cousin.
“Well, he came out to Australia from England, you know. He had been to
college, and he’d been ‘sent down’ from Oxford. I don’t exactly
understand, but I know he was in some kind of disgrace. And then his
people wouldn’t speak to him, or something, for some reason that mother
didn’t tell me about, and he didn’t either. Of course, he’d been
travelling round some time before he struck us; but the _first_ time I
saw him he was just a sundowner, in quite torn clothes, and he hadn’t
had anything to eat for ages, and----”
“Oh, poor thing!” exclaimed Gretta sympathetically.
“You wouldn’t call him that now,” laughed Margot. “We wanted a new hand
then, though, and dad was away selling sheep, and mother took him on. He
looked _dreadful_, but mother says she always knows about people.
Anyhow, he grew to be dad’s great chum, and when dad went to the
diggings he stayed behind and worked the farm with mother and me, and
the rest of the men. He _loves_ mother, and he says she made a man of
him again. Oh, _what_ a height he is, and _so_ broad!”
“Is he in Australia still?” inquired Gretta, with interest.
“Oh, yes, but he’s coming home when he’s got a certain sum of money. I
forget how much, but he said he wouldn’t come home with less. He’s got
something he has to do in England, he said. I’ll show him to you,
Gretta, for, of _course_, he’ll come to see me. It’s really because of
him that I’m up in your form, isn’t it? He taught me Latin and
arithmetic very well; though I must say he wasn’t much good at history
and geography. Miss Tate says I’m awfully bad at those. When he comes
perhaps he’ll tell us some stories of the things he’s done, and we might
get ideas for the bravery prize. Have you thought of anything yet?”
It was Friday afternoon and the usual walk was in progress; Gretta
thought for a minute before she answered. “I _know_ I haven’t any chance
of it, Margot; I’m not like you. You were born brave, I believe, and
Josy’s the same kind. Now, I’m almost afraid of anything happening that
people have to be brave about, like mad bulls and rescuing, and things
of that kind. If they came along I’d have to _try_ to do them, of
course, but it somehow seems to me that if I look out for big brave
things to do all the time, then I shan’t do my music properly, and I
shall forget the rules, and I shall make a muddle of everything. I’m not
clever, you see. So I’m just going to go on and do my best at lessons;
it’s my first term and I’m so backward, and I’m not going to think much
about winning the prize, because I _know_ I couldn’t.”
“Well, _I_ don’t know,” said Margot, who had listened patiently through
the long speech; “I’d just love to capture burglars, or discover---- Oh,
Gretta,” she broke off, “I meant to tell you. Has Sybil been telling you
what she means to do?”
“Sybil! No. What?” inquired Gretta uneasily.
“Well, it’s the prize, I think, that she’s after, and I believe we
ought to stop her. She wants to do something brave, and she said----”
“Well?” inquired Gretta apprehensively.
“Well, I suppose it’s not telling tales to tell you! She was talking
quite loud to Adela about it, and she said that I had said--and I _did_,
you know--that it would be a brave thing to go and find out about that
little house with no windows on the cliff, and she said that she meant
to go.”