Lotus Blooms
Paul's bursts of temper were always short-lived and soon repented, and
Minnie had a remarkably gentle disposition. After Friday night's storm
they were both particularly sweet to Lesbia. They even suggested that
she might ask a few of her school chums to tea and included Marion
Morwood in the invitation.
"We want you to have plenty of young friends, dear!" said Minnie
earnestly.
"Yes, of course. You must have friends of your own age," endorsed Paul.
So half a dozen of the elect of VA were bidden for tea and games, and
spent a hilarious Saturday afternoon in the Hiltons' drawing-room.
Minnie made a gracious hostess at the tea-table, but had the tact to
leave the girls to themselves afterwards. The children, in their
prettiest clothes, were duly paraded, but not allowed to stay too long
among the visitors. There were chocolates in little bon-bon dishes, and
there were two competitions for prizes.
"I _have_ enjoyed myself," said Calla, in the bedroom where the party
was putting on hats and coats to go home. "It's been ripping--absolutely
top-hole."
"Scrumptious!" agreed Kathleen, hugging a first prize.
"You're a lucker, Lesbia!" proclaimed Phillis.
"Those kids are priceless, and I like Mrs. Hilton awfully," commented
Aldora.
"Relations generally play up for parties. I wonder what they're like in
private?" whispered Marion to Etta, as the two sat on the floor changing
their shoes.
She whispered it very softly, and she really did not intend Lesbia to
overhear, but her chum chanced to move forward at that very moment and
caught the unpleasant words. It made the only disagreeable note in her
party. Marion shook hands warmly with Mrs. Hilton and thanked her for
her hospitality as she said good-bye, but Lesbia, standing near, thought
her politeness lacked a genuine ring. She could not forget the chance
whisper she had overheard in the bedroom.
At the High School matters were going briskly this new term. Miss
Tatham's scheme for self-expression found favour with the girls. It was
so delightful to be able to choose your own lessons, if only for two
afternoons during the week. There were tremendous debates about the
various subjects on the list.
"It's a grizzly nuisance we mayn't do a bit of everything," mourned
Marjorie Johns. "I want to paint and sing and act and learn
wood-carving as well. Why can't we fit it all in?"
"Because the powers that be say there isn't time, my child. With your
voice there's absolutely nothing for it but song-drama. It's Kismet."
"But I want to make my Christmas presents. Carving would be _so_
useful."
"You'll have to make them at home. You're booked for song-drama, I tell
you. Miss Bates has her eye on you."
"Oh, indeed! What about free choice then?"
"I think I shall go in for song-drama, it sounds ripping," lisped Ermie
Hall, a short fat girl, whose speech, in spite of the persistent efforts
of the elocution mistress, still clung to the "lal" of her childhood.
"_You!_ Are we to have a chorus of corn-crakes?" hinnied Cissie Hales,
who never spared her comments.
"We can choose what we like I suppose?" flared Ermie.
"No we can't altogether. There's to be a selection for song-drama.
Theodora told me so. Miss Bates is to weed out the bad voices and pick a
decent caste."
"A good thing too--for those who'll have to listen at Christmas,"
commented Aldora. "The audience ought to have _some_ consideration shown
to it."
"It would be hateful to choose song-drama and then be turned down,"
ventured Bernadine Molyneaux.
"Unthinkable," agreed Lesbia. "I know my voice is nothing, and I've not
much ear for music (though I love it), so it's no use my playing out of
tune in the orchestra. I'm going in hot and strong for Art on Tuesday
afternoons. I shall put my name down for it. Here goes!"
"Are you absolutely sure?" warned Cissie, mock-tragically, as Lesbia,
pencil in hand, approached the list. "Remember it's like getting
married, and you can't change your mind. It's a case of 'say it now or
hereafter for ever hold your peace!' When once you're wedded to the Arts
class you may find you're 'mated to a clown' as Tennyson puts it. 'Be
wise in time, O Lesbia mine!' Don't sacrifice your beautiful youth upon
the Altar of Arts. Music woos you round the corner!"
"And would soon throw me overboard," laughed Lesbia. "Be thankful you'll
have me as audience at Christmas. You want somebody, I suppose, to come
and clap the performance. There now! My name's the first on the 'Altar
of Arts' as you call it. Who else is going to have a good time on
Tuesday afternoons in the studio?"
Lizzie Logan, Connie Blakeley, Aldora Dodson, and Laura Berkshaw at once
followed Lesbia's lead, and Ermie Hall after a lingering look at the
music list also signed her name under the heading of Art.
There still remained the choice of the intellectual hobby for Friday
afternoons. Here Miss Tatham had allowed two subjects to be linked
together, and from among them Lesbia selected 'Nature Study' and
'Antiquities'. She liked old houses and old customs, and the prospect of
collecting the City's legends interested her.
Tuesday and Friday afternoons were now held to be the landmarks of the
week. The school orchestra, which before had languished and almost
winked out, took on a fresh lease of life. Violin cases and even
violoncello cases appeared in the cloak-room, and from the sanctuary of
VB, turned into a temporary practice room, came weird sounds, somewhat
rasping and scraping at first, but improving in quality as the term wore
on. Those outside the locked door, though really rather thrilled,
affected to mock at the music, and would ask facetiously if the wolves
were howling, or where all the cats came from. The instrumentalists
however, proud of their revived Society, took no notice of scoffing
remarks and would reply loftily:
"Ah! Just you wait till Christmas and then you'll see."
"And in the meantime we _hear_, worse luck!" retorted their impudent
critics. "Pity there isn't a sound-proof room for practising in this
school."
Lesbia was immensely happy in the studio, where there were facilities
for carrying out all sorts of fads. She had always longed to try
stencilling and velvet painting, but could never before get on the right
track of the processes. The new art teacher, Miss Joyce, was ready to
give any explanations, and though the girls worked away "on their own"
they could come to her as often as they liked with their difficulties.
Lesbia complacently stencilled everything upon which it was possible to
lay a pattern, work-bags, boxes, book-covers, and even a pinafore for
Julie, though she knew to her sorrow that the first wash would remove
the fruits of her labours, and Julie's pinafores never lasted clean more
than a few hours. She longed for more scope, and had visions of covering
the nursery walls at Denham Terrace with designs of Noah's Ark animals,
insects, and butterflies.
"The children would _love_ it," she explained to Minnie, "and if you'd
only have a dado colourwashed over the wallpaper, I could stencil a row
of creatures along the top, just on a level with the children's eyes. It
would look as nice as one of those model nurseries we saw at the
exhibition. _Do_ let me, won't you?"
To her surprise Minnie hesitated, seemed to think the offer over, and
refused it.
"The room was decorated only last spring, and I don't want to have the
men in the house again," she declared.
"It doesn't need a man just to colourwash a dado," persisted Lesbia.
"Why I believe Nurse could manage it."
"Nurse has plenty to do without colourwashing the nursery. Besides it's
not worth while now, when----"
Minnie stopped abruptly, looking rather conscious.
"Not worth while? Not when the children would adore it?"
"I didn't mean that. I daresay they'd like it well enough."
"Then what did you mean?"
"Something I can't tell you. Don't bother, Lesbia, you can't know
everything in this house. It's no use your putting a dado here. Perhaps
some day, who knows?--your stencils may come in useful on some other
walls."
Minnie spoke with a shade of embarrassment. Her young stepsister-in-law
was gazing at her critically.
"How you love mysteries," remarked Lesbia. "All I can say is that, if
you're thinking of removing, you'll find it a business to get another
house unless you buy it, and Paul said this morning that nothing would
induce him to buy property at the top tide of the market. The Morwoods
have been trying to remove for two years, and can't hear of a house
anywhere."
"The Morwoods' affairs have nothing to do with ours," remarked Minnie,
closing the conversation firmly.
It was a blow to Lesbia not to be allowed to try her skill at decorating
the nursery. She thought it highly unreasonable of Minnie. She
stencilled some of the animals on pieces of paper and fastened them
with drawing-pins on to the walls in a corner of the room, to show how
nice the effect would be, but the children's inquisitive little fingers
pulled at the edges of the paper and soon tore them down. In her
annoyance she confided the whole of the affair to Marion, who was
breezily sympathetic.
"How stupid and unenlightened!" raged her chum. "They ought to have been
only too pleased to have the nursery so improved. Your stencil work's
lovely. There isn't a girl in the school who can do it half so well.
I'll tell you what. I've got an idea! An absolute brain wave. The walls
of VA are colourwashed. Why don't you go to Miss Tatham and ask her to
let you stencil them? It would be a boon to the form."
"O-o-o-h! I daren't!"
"Why not? She's rubbed in self-expression and here you are wanting to
express yourself."
"So I am--in stencil work."
"I'll go with you to the study if you like."
"I wish you would. I'd never have the courage to march in alone. Suppose
she thinks it cool cheek and absolutely withers me?"
"Then you'll be a faded flower, a broken butterfly, a crushed worm,"
laughed Marion. "Come along. Nothing venture nothing win. I'll guarantee
Tatie won't eat you."
Miss Tatham, sitting in the sanctum of her study with a pile of exercise
books on the desk before her, gasped a little when Lesbia advanced her
idea. This was self-expression with a vengeance. Rather a startling
proposal certainly, yet it seemed to show such initiative that it was a
hopeful sign of progress under the new regime.
"I'll consider it, Lesbia," she said thoughtfully. "I must see some of
your stencil work first, and have a talk with Miss Joyce. I'm always
glad when girls wish to do anything for the school, but, of course, the
quality of the work must be very high before it's worthy of a place in a
form room."
"Lesbia's the oldest pupil at the school," ventured Marion rather
inconsequently.
"That unfortunately doesn't guarantee proficiency in Art," twinkled Miss
Tatham; "if everything went by seniority there would be no prizes."
Feeling half-crushed and half-encouraged Lesbia beat a retreat,
expecting to hear nothing more about the matter, and doubting whether
she had done herself any good at head-quarters. Miss Tatham, however,
examined her work privately, and after a long talk with Miss Joyce
summoned Lesbia to the study and announced that she would be allowed to
stencil a border in VA under the close superintendence of the Art
Mistress. This was indeed a triumph for Lesbia. Her disappointment about
the dado for the nursery faded into nothingness now that she might
actually decorate her own form room. Fortunately for her peace of mind
she had no rivals in her own particular field. The only other girls in
VA who took stencilling were Lizzie Logan and Laura Birkshaw, and both
were such hopeless amateurs at it that they realized their own lack of
skill, and would never have ventured to touch the schoolroom walls.
Grace Stirling of the Sixth, however, and Alice Orton in VB, were so
fired with enthusiasm that they later asked and received permission to
perform the same artistic service for their own forms. Lesbia was the
pioneer, however, and won considerable credit for the idea, though she
had the honesty to tell everybody that the original suggestion was
Marion's.
Of course, the first and most thrilling step was to choose a good
design. Both Lesbia and Miss Joyce decided that it ought to be original,
and that they would evolve it between them.
"I have all sorts of sketches at my studio that would be helpful," said
Miss Joyce. "Suppose you come back with me one day after school, and
we'll look them over."
"Oh, may I?" said Lesbia, delighted. "Thanks immensely."
So on the following Thursday at four o'clock, instead of walking home to
Denham Terrace, she turned into the town instead. Miss Joyce had a
studio in Pilgrims' Inn Chambers, a collection of rooms let as offices
and flats in a big old house near the river. In pre-Reformation times it
had been a hostelry for the use of pilgrims, who came to visit the
miraculous shrine at the little chapel on the bridge, and since then it
had passed through many vicissitudes and had fallen on evil days, till a
public-spirited citizen had taken compassion on its dilapidated
condition and had bought it, caused it to be carefully restored, and had
let it to various tenants. It was a beautiful example of mediaeval
architecture, and its quaint gables and timbered walls were built round
a courtyard of cobbled stones. Lesbia, passing under a carved doorway
and up a black oak staircase, felt as if she stepped into an atmosphere
of five or six hundred years ago. Miss Joyce's studio was a large,
quaint room with a raftered roof of ancient beams, and had latticed
windows at either end, looking out upon the courtyard and upon the
river. She held classes here for several kinds of art work, and tables
were covered with specimens of her own or her pupils' paintings and
handicrafts. Lesbia stared, fascinated by the display, and Miss Joyce
left her to look round while she lighted a gas ring, put on a kettle and
took some cups and saucers from a cupboard.
"We must have studio tea before we do anything," she decreed. "I always
need tea horribly at this hour of the day, and I'm very cross if I can't
get it. Take that comfy chair, Lesbia. We'll go through the designs
afterwards."
"What a heavenly room!" said Lesbia, leaning back in a picturesque
wicker armchair and holding a pale-yellow teacup in her hand, and a
plate with a slice of walnut-cake on her knee. "It's too delightful and
quaint for words. Are you here most of the day? Lucky you!"
"I have my classes at the High School, of course, but I give most of my
lessons here, and do my own work too. Sometimes when I'm very busy and
want to stay late I even sleep here. I have a little bedroom through
that doorway."
"Sleep here! All alone! Aren't you frightened?"
"Not a bit."
"I should be scared to death. The whole place feels haunted. At midnight
I'm sure it would be full of ghosts."
"I've never seen or heard any of them yet," smiled Miss Joyce. "If
they're here they don't disturb me at any rate. I'm a sound sleeper and
I never think about them. Now, I'm afraid we must hurry and look over
our designs, for I have a class coming at half-past five."
"And I'm wasting your precious time," said Lesbia, springing up.
"Not at all. I should have had tea in any case. I told you I can't get
on without it."
Miss Joyce had studied design, and had a big portfolio of drawings put
away in a corner. She lifted it on to a table, and she and Lesbia went
through its contents carefully. They were lost in choice between
poppyheads, almond blossom, vine leaves, ivy, brier rose and irises, but
finally decided to adapt a painting of water-lilies for their purpose.
"Lotus blooms were a great feature of decorative art in ancient
Egypt," said Miss Joyce, hunting through a book on "Egyptian ornament"
to demonstrate her point. "Look at this delicious little bit! With the
long stems and the leaves and the seed vessels we ought to be able to
manage something satisfactory. I'll bring the painting and the book to
school, then we must evolve a simple design that we can cut in stencil.
Done in dull green on the pale green colourwash I flatter ourselves it
ought to look rather artistic."
"It'll be simply topping. _How_ I shall enjoy dabbing it on! Thanks a
million times for helping. Is this a pupil coming?" (as a suggestive tap
sounded on the door). "Then I must take my books and scoot off.
Good-bye--and again thank you _awfully_!"