TOM IS DISAPPOINTING
The rest of the week passed in a whirl of getting used to things and of
settling into place. Dorothy had to find that however good she might be
at memory work, she did not shine in very many things which were
regarded as essentials at the Compton Schools. She was a very duffer in
all matters connected with the gym. She was downright scared at many
things which even the little girls did not shirk. She could not swing by
her hands from the bar, she looked upon punching as a shocking waste of
strength, and even drill had no charm for her.
Miss Mordaunt, the games-mistress, was not disposed to be very patient
with her. Miss Mordaunt was not to be beaten in her encouragement of
little girls and weakly girls; she would work away at them until they
became both fearless and happy in the gym. But a girl in the Sixth ought
to be able to take a creditable place in sports, according to her ideas.
She was really angry with Dorothy for her clumsiness and her ignorance,
which she chose to call downright cowardice and laziness. She was not
even appeased by being told that for the last five years Dorothy had
walked two miles to school every day, and the same distance home again.
In consideration of this daily four miles she had been excused from all
gym work.
“One is never too old to learn, and you do not have to walk four miles
every day now,” Miss Mordaunt spoke crisply. She tossed her head, and
her bobbed hair fluffed up in the sunshine. She was the very best
looking of all the staff, and realizing the unconscious influence of
good looks, she made the most of her attractive appearance, because of
the power it gave her with the girls.
“Oh, I know I am rotten at this sort of thing,” Dorothy admitted with an
air of great humility, as she stood watching little Muriel Adams
somersaulting in a way that looked simply terrifying.
Miss Mordaunt suddenly softened. She had little patience with ignorance,
and none at all with indolence, but a girl who humbly admitted she was
nothing, and less than nothing, had at least a chance of improvement.
“If you are willing to work hard, to start at the beginning, and do what
the little girls do, I shall be able to make something of you in time.”
The air of the games-mistress was distinctly kindly now; she even went
out of her way to pay Dorothy a compliment which all the rest of the
girls could hear. “The amount of walking you have had to do has had the
effect of giving you a free, erect carriage, and you have an alert,
springy step that is a joy to behold. I shall have long and regular
walks as part of our course this term, just for the sake of improving
the girls in this respect; the manner in which some of them slouch along
is awful to behold.”
* * * * *
“I wish you had kept quiet about your long walks to school,” grumbled
Daisy Goatby on Friday afternoon, when the long crocodile of the Compton
Girls’ School swung along through Sowergate, and, mounting the hill to
the Ilkestone promenade, went a long mile across the scorched grass of
the lawns on the top of the cliffs, and then turned back inland, to
reach the deep little valley of the Sowerbrook.
“Why? Don’t you like walking?” asked Dorothy, who had been revelling in
the sea and the sky, and all the unexpectedness of Ilkestone generally.
“I loathe it!” Daisy said with almost vicious energy. She was so fat
that the exercise made her hot and uncomfortable; she had a blowsed
appearance, and was rather cross.
“That is because you are so fat,” Dorothy laughed, her eyes shining with
merriment. “Why don’t you put in half an hour every morning punching in
the gym, then do those bar exercises that Hazel and Rhoda were doing
yesterday? You would soon find walking easier.”
“Why, I take no end of exercise,” grumbled Daisy. “What with tennis, and
hockey, and bowls, and swimming, one is on all the time. My fat is not
the result of self-indulgence; it is disease.”
“And chocolates,” laughed Dorothy, who had seen the way in which her
companion had been stuffing with sweets ever since they had started out.
“I am obliged to take a little of something to keep my strength up,”
Daisy said in a plaintive tone; then she burst out with quite
disconcerting suddenness, “What makes Rhoda Fleming have such a grouch
against you, seeing that you were strangers until the other day?”
Dorothy felt her colour rise in spite of herself, but she only said
quietly, “You had better ask her.”
“Bless you, I did that directly I found out how she did not love you,”
answered Daisy, breathing hard—they were mounting a rise now, and the
pace tried her.
“Well, and what did she say?” asked Dorothy, whose heart was beating in
a very lumpy fashion.
“She said that you were the most untruthful person she had ever met, and
it was not safe to believe a word you said,” blurted out Daisy, with a
sidelong look at Dorothy just to see how she would take it.
Dorothy flushed, and her eyes were angry, but she answered in a serene
tone, “If I said I was not untruthful, it would not help much; it would
only be my word against Rhoda’s. The only thing to do is to let the
matter rest; time will show whether she is right or wrong.”
“Are you going to sit down under it like that?” cried Daisy, aghast.
“Why, it will look as if she was right.”
“What can I do but sit down under it?” asked Dorothy with an impatient
ring in her tone. “If I were a boy I might fight her, of course.”
“Talking of fighting,” burst out Daisy eagerly, “Blanche Felmore, who is
in the Lower Fifth, told me this morning that your brother Tom has had a
scrap with her brother Bobby, and Bobby is so badly knocked out that he
has been moved to the san. There is a bit of news for you!”
“Oh, I am sorry!” exclaimed Dorothy, looking acutely distressed. “I hate
for Tom to get into such scraps, and it is horrid to think of him
hurting some one so badly.”
“Oh, as to that, if he had not hurt Bobby, he would have been pretty
considerably bashed up himself,” replied Daisy calmly. “Bobby Felmore is
ever so much bigger than your brother—he is in the Sixth, and captain
of the football team, a regular big lump of a boy, and downright beefy
as to muscle and all that. The wonder to me is that Tom was able to lick
him; it must have been that he had more science than Bobby, and in a
fight like that, science counts for more than mere weight.”
“What made them fight?” asked Dorothy, a shiver going the length of her
spine. It seemed to her little short of disastrous that Tom should get
into trouble thus early in the term.
Daisy gave a delighted giggle, and her tone was downright sentimental
when she went on to explain. “Tom is most fearfully crushed on Rhoda
Fleming; did you know it? We used to make no end of fun of them last
term. Tom is such a kid, and Rhoda is nearly two years older than he is;
all the same he was really soft about her. They usually danced together
on social evenings, they shared cakes and sweets and all that sort of
thing, and they were so all-round silly that we got no end of fun out of
the affair. Of course we thought it was all off when Rhoda was leaving;
but now that she has come back for another year it appears to have
started again stronger than ever.”
“But how can it have started?” asked Dorothy in surprise. “We only came
on Tuesday—this is Friday; we have not met any of the boys yet.”
Daisy sniggered. “You haven’t, perhaps, but Rhoda has, and Blanche too.
It seems that the evening before last, Blanche, who had no money for
tuck, ran down into the shrubbery beyond the green courts to see if the
boys were at cricket; she meant to signal Bobby, and ask him to send her
some money through his matron, don’t you see. Rhoda saw the kid loping
off, and wanting some amusement, thought she would go along too. Bobby
saw the signalling, and knowing it was Blanche, came to see what she
wanted. It seems that Tom also saw a handkerchief fluttering from the
end of the shrubbery, and thinking it was Rhoda waving to him, came
sprinting along after. He caught Bobby up, too, and passed him. Rhoda
was at the fence, and so they had a talk, while Blanche told Bobby about
having no money, and got him to promise that he would send five
shillings by his matron that same evening. Things were pleasant enough
until the girls were coming away; they expected the bell to go in a
minute, and knew that they would have to scoot for all they were worth.
Then Tom said something about thinking that Bobby was coming across to
see Rhoda, and he was just jolly well not going to put up with it.”
“Yes, what then?” said Dorothy sharply.
It was not pleasant to her to find out how little she really knew about
the inside of Tom’s mind. He was a year younger than herself; she
regarded him as very much of a boy, and it was rather hateful to think
that he was making a stupid of himself with a girl like Rhoda Fleming.
Poor old Tom!
“Bobby Felmore said something rude,” replied Daisy. “The Felmores are
rather big in their way, and their pride is a by-word. Bobby remarked
that he would not trouble to go the length of a cricket pitch at the
call of a girl like Rhoda. Tom went for him then and spat in his face,
or something equally unpleasant. After that it had to be a fight, of
course, and they planned it for yesterday. When the boys’ matron brought
Blanche the five shillings she told her that Bobby was licked, and in
bed in the san.”
“Will Tom be very badly punished?” asked Dorothy with dilating eyes; her
lively fancy was painting a picture of dire penalties which might
result, and she was thinking how distressed her father and mother would
be.
Daisy laughed merrily. “When you see Bobby Felmore you will understand
what a most astonishing thing it is that Tom should have whacked him. Oh
no, Tom won’t get many beans over that. He may have an impot, of course;
but he would get that for any breaking of rules. I should think that
unofficially the masters would pat him on the back for his courage. He
must be a well-plucked one to have stood up to Bobby, and to beat him. I
wish I had been there to see.”
“I don’t; and I think it is just horrid for boys to fight!” cried
Dorothy, and was badly ashamed of the tears that smarted under her
eyelids.
“You are young yet; you will be wiser as you get older,” commented Daisy
sagely; and at that moment the crocodile turned in at the lodge gates,
and the talk was over.
Dorothy had furious matter for thought. She had been looking forward to
Sunday because she knew that she would have a chance to talk to Tom for
an hour then; and she had meant to tell him that the girl who did the
shoplifting at Messrs. Sharman and Song’s place was at the Compton
Schools in her form.
If Tom was so fond of Rhoda Fleming as to be willing to fight on her
behalf, he would not be very ready to believe what his sister had to
tell him.
“He might even want to fight me,” Dorothy whispered to herself, with a
rather pathetic little smile hovering round her lips.
She went into the house feeling low-spirited and miserable; but there
was so much to claim her attention, she had so many things to think
about, and next day’s work to get ready for, that her courage bounced
up, her cheerfulness returned, and she was as lively as the rest of
them. After all, Tom would have to fight his own way through life, and
it was of no use to make herself miserable because he had proved
disappointing so early in the term.