Books were put away, the lady teachers rose, and, with the exception of
Miss Burge, moved towards the door, the latter lady glancing at the new
mistress, and, apparently pitying her strangeness, seeming disposed to
hang back and walk with her; but Hazel Thorne's attention was too much
taken up by her task, and getting her little force of about
eight-and-thirty or forty girls two-and-two, she started them for
church, herself taking the smallest morsel--to wit, little Jenny
Straggalls--under her wing.
Now, the only ways to march forty girls two-and-two to church with
anything like order are either to put the two smallest pupils in the
front, and then go on rising in years till you have the two eldest in
the rear, or to pair off the largest and smallest children together.
If neither of these plans is adopted, discipline is liable to fail. One
black sheep will corrupt a flock, and though not a black sheep but a
very red-haired frisky lamb, there were qualities in Ophelia, or more
commonly "Feelier," Potts sufficiently mischievous to corrupt any flock
of girls.
The experiences she had picked up at Whitelands were forgotten by Hazel
Thorne in the flurry and excitement of this her first morning with her
school. The stern looks of the lady teachers had made her feel nervous.
It was tiresome, too, just at starting that Mr Chute should be holding
his boys in hand at the door, with a politeness of which he had never
before been guilty, to allow the girls to go on first to church; and Mr
William Forth Burge was standing by him, smiling all over his round,
closely-shaven face, which was so smooth that it shone in the sun, and
preparing himself for the incense of forty bobs, that he would receive
from the girls as they went by.
This was Feelier's opportunity. As one of the biggest girls, she had
been placed first with Ann Straggalls, the fair, round eyed, and fat;
and as Feelier went marching on with head erect, she turned the said
head slowly round towards the boys, and squinted so horribly that her
eyes half disappeared beneath the bridge of her nose, and Tommy Sullins,
a very wild, excitable little boy, forgot his awe of Mr Samuel Chute,
and burst into a loud "Ha, ha, ha!"
"Sullins!" shouted Mr Chute; and Feelier was gazing wonderingly at the
boy with her eyes in their normal, position, as the little fellow became
perfectly snail-like in his action, and crept back into the very stiff
long pinafore he was wearing.
Then bob, bob, bob, bob went the girls as they passed Mr William Forth
Burge, who came out of the gate as the last pair passed and smiled his
way up to his sister, who was toddling along beside Hazel Thorne, and
making Mr Samuel Chute feel annoyed, for he was obliged to leave some
little space before starting his boys; and then as he had always been in
the habit of walking last, it would have looked peculiar to walk in
front. Besides which there would have been the risk of little boys
straggling behind, and perhaps not appearing in church at all; so, in
spite of an intense desire, freshly developed, to keep near the new
schoolmistress, he was compelled to walk at a distance of twenty-two
doubled boys behind, and this made him metaphorically gnash his teeth.
Mr Chute's way of gnashing his teeth was, paradoxical as it may sound,
with his hands, upon which he wore a pair of brand new kid gloves,
bought late on Saturday night expressly to impress the new mistress.
These hands seemed to have been suddenly seized with an angry itching to
seize little boys' arms and shoulders, to give them nips and shakes and
pushes for not walking better than they did; and the severe drilling he
gave them as he walked backwards and forwards along the semi-military
column made the boys stare. But it was upon Master Sullins that the
vials of his wrath threatened to be emptied. He could not forgive that
laugh. What, he asked himself, would Miss Thorne think? It was
terrible, and seemed to him like the first step towards blasting the
hopes that had already begun to bud after seeing the new mistress only
twice. The consequence was, that whenever he told himself never had the
boys walked to church so badly before, he glanced at Tommy Sullins, and
when he glanced at Tommy Sullins, he thought of a certain length of that
thin rattan or _rotan_ cane that grows so beautifully in the Malay
Peninsula, running up and down trees in festoons for two or three
hundred feet. Utterly ignorant as he was of the beauty of rotan cane in
its native state, Tommy had so lively a recollection of it in its cut-up
or commercial form, that reading threats in Mr Chute's eyes, the boy's
face began to work, and had not the master gone right to the rear, and
rigidly abstained from further demonstrations, the procession would have
been enlivened by a most tremendous howl.
Quite disposed to be friendly. Miss Burge, then, while her fellow
Sunday-school teachers sailed gracefully on to church, toddled and
prattled beside the new-comer to Plumton, feeling pleased and attracted
by her gentle ways.
Toddled is the only word that will express Miss Burge's way of
progression, for it seemed as if there were no joints to her legs, and
consequently, as she walked she rolled sharply first to right and then
to left, but got over the ground pretty smartly all the same.
"Oh, this is my brother, Miss Thorne," she prattled pleasantly. "My
brother, Mr William Forth Burge, who presented the town with the site
for the new schools. Bill, dear, this is our new mistress. Miss Hazel
Thorne, and a very pretty name, too, isn't it?"
"A very nice name indeed," said "Bill," taking off his hat and perfuming
the morning air with a whiff of pomatum scent; after which he replaced
his hat and smiled, and breathed very hard, but took his place, to Mr
Chute's great annoyance, on Hazel's other side, evidently with the
intention of walking with her and his sister right up to church.
Hazel felt more nervous than before. It was very kind and friendly of
these people, but they divided her attention, and the schoolgirls wanted
it all. For, having succeeded so well over the squinting, and thereby
won the admiration of her fellow-pupils, girl-like, Miss Feelier must
attempt something new, and this novelty was the giving vent to little
mouse-like squeaks, just loud enough to be heard by Ann Straggalls, who
began to titter, and of course this was communicated to others near.
The long notes became so marked at last that Hazel had to apologise to
her new friends, and hurry to the front and admonish, painfully
conscious the while that plenty of the inhabitants were at their windows
and doors, watching and commenting upon the appearance of the new
mistress, some remarks being loud enough for her to hear.
Order being restored, Hazel resumed her place, and Mr William Forth
Burge took up his parable and said:--
"Plumton's a deal altered. Miss Thorne, since I knowed it first."
"Is it?" said Hazel.
"Oh, a deal. Why, when I left Plumton thirty year ago, after being two
year with old Marks the butcher, and went up to London to seek my
fortune--and I think I found it eh, Betsey?"
"That you did indeed, dear," said little Miss Burge proudly.
"Ah, I did, Miss Thorne," he continued. "Why, at that time--"
"I beg your pardon," said Hazel; "the girls are not yet used to me."
She had become aware just then that something else was wrong in the van
of her little army, and hurrying to the front, she found fat Ann
Straggalls furiously red, and choking with laughter.
"For shame!" began Hazel severely. "I don't yet know your name."
"Straggalls, teacher," burst out a chorus of voices. "Annie
Straggalls."
"Straggalls, I shall have to punish you if you do not walk properly. A
great girl like you, and setting so bad an example."
"Please, teacher, it wasn't me," began fat Ann Straggalls.
"It was you," retorted Hazel; "I saw you laughing and behaving very
badly."
"But please, teacher, it was Feelier Potts kept tiddling of me--"
"Oh, what a wicked story, teacher."
"Silence!" cried Hazel.
"Inside of my 'and, where there's a 'ole in my glove, teacher."
"'Strue as goodness I didn't, teacher," cried Feelier.
"Not another word. Walk quietly on to church. I will talk about it
to-morrow."
This was, of course, as the progression went on, and just at that
moment, as she was resuming her place. Hazel Thorne felt as if she had
been attacked by a severe spasm. Her heart seemed to stand still, and
she turned pale; then it began to beat furiously, and there was a
crimson flush in her face and temples as she became aware of the fact
that a tall, well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking young man was walking on
the other side of the long street leading into the town, and she saw him
change his thin, closely-folded umbrella from one hand to the other,
ready to raise his hat to her if she would have looked across the road
again. But she let her eyes fall, and this time returned to her place
between Mr and Miss Burge, feeling glad that they were there, and
almost glorying in the vulgarity of their appearance as a safeguard to
her from recollections of the past, and the possibility of troubles in
the future.
"Ah, as I was a-saying," resumed Mr William Forth Burge, "Plumton's
wonderfully changed since I went to London. Do you know London, Miss
Thorne?"
"Oh, yes, I know London," she replied. "I used to live at Kensington."
"Did you now!" cried her companion, looking at her with admiration.
"Well now, that is strange!"
Hazel could not see the strangeness of the fact, but she said nothing.
"Why, my carts used to go all round Kensington, right to Notting Hill,
and take in Chelsea and Pimlico as well."
"I really must beg of you to excuse me once more," said Hazel.
"Naughty child. Sh--sh--sh!" said little Miss Burge, shaking her
parasol at the two first girls of the rank, as Hazel went off again.
For, highly indignant at having been charged with "tiddling" her fellow
pupil. Miss Ophelia Potts had snatched herself together very tightly,
and keeping hold of Ann Straggalls' hand--the one that had a hole in the
glove--she had begun to walk as fast as she could with so much heavy
ballast as Miss Straggalls proved. The consequence was, that the girls
behind followed suit not quite so fast, the next couple caught the
infection, and then there was a hiatus, six girls straggling a long way
ahead, and after a great gap of twenty or thirty yards there was the
rest of the school. Hazel hurried after her disordered forces, and
checked the advance guard till they were joined by the rest, after which
she allowed the brother and sister to come up to her, when she once more
took her place, looking terribly conscious of the fact that Archibald
Graves was on the other side, keeping pace with them, and looking across
as if begging for a glance.
"Quite a stranger, Betsey. No; I never see him afore."
"Why, how hot and flustered you do look, my dear!" said little Miss
Burge. "The girls _is_ tiresome this morning. If that Feelier Potts
don't behave herself, she sha'n't come up to the garden to tea."
"You haven't seen my garden, Miss Thorne," said the ex-butcher.
"No."
"Ah, you'll have to come up and see my garden. My sister here will ask
you to bring up some of the best girls to take them on the lawn, and eat
cake."
"But not a bit for that naughty Feelier Potts," cried Miss Burge,
shaking her parasol at the delinquent. "Look at that now, Bill. Well,
of all the aggravating hussies."
Hazel was already on in front, to where Miss Feelier had turned what her
mother termed "stunt;" that is to say, she behaved as a horse does that
has a character for jibbing--she was not allowed to go her own pace, so
she began to walk as slowly as possible, and almost stopped.
It needs neither blackboard nor chalk to demonstrate the problem that
follows:
A, B, and C, are divisions of a column of troops on the march. Portion
A forms the advance guard; B the centre; C the rear. If A marched one
mile per hour, B two miles per hour, and C three miles per hour, what
would be the result?
Setting aside miles per hour. Hazel Thorne's column behaved as above;
and in two minutes, to Feelier Potts' great delight of which, however,
she did not display an inkling in her stolid face, the little column was
all in confusion, while the young lady called out loudly:
"Please, teacher, they're a-scrouging of us behind."
There was nothing for it but for Hazel Thorne to lead the van, leaving
little Miss Burge in charge of the rear, seeing which state of affairs,
Mr William Forth Burge was about to leave his sister and go up to the
front and continue his egotistical discourse; but here he was checked by
Miss Burge.
"No, no, Bill; you mus'n't," she whispered.
"Mus'n't what?"
"Mustn't go after her and walk like that."
"Why not?"
"Well, because--because she's--well, because she's so nice, and young,
and pretty," whispered Miss Burge, who was at a loss for a reason.
"But that's why I like to go and talk to her, Betsey," exclaimed the man
of fortune heartily. "She's about the nicest young lady I think I ever
did see."
"But you mus'n't, Bill," said his sister in alarm, "people would talk."
"Let 'em," said the ex-butcher proudly. "I can afford it. Let 'em
talk."
"But it might be unpleasant for Miss Thorne, dear."
"Oh! Hah! I didn't think of that," said the gentleman slowly; and,
taking off his hat he drew his orange silk handkerchief from his pocket,
and blew such a sonorous blast that little Jenny Straggalls, who was
last in the rank, started in alarm.
After this Mr William Forth Burge held his hat in one hand, his orange
handkerchief in the other, and looked at both in turn, scenting the
morning air the while with "mill flowers," and the essential oil in the
pomade he used.
Custom caused this hesitation. For years past he had been in the habit
of placing his handkerchief in his hat--the proper place for it, he
said--but Miss Burge said that gentlemen did not carry their
handkerchiefs in their 'ats. "And you are a gentleman, you know, now,
Bill."
So, with a sigh, Mr William Forth Burge refrained from burying the
flaming orange silk in the hollow of his hat, thrust it into his pocket,
and replaced his glossy head-piece, uttering another sigh the while, and
looking very thoughtful the rest of the way.
Oh! the relief of reaching the church door, and following the children
into the cool shadows of the empty building. Not quite empty though,
for the Misses Lambent were in their places in the pew near the chancel,
and the Reverend Henry Lambent, cold, calm, handsome, and stern of mien,
was raising his head with a reproving frown at the girls who clattered
so loudly up the stairs, in spite of Hazel's efforts to keep them still.
"Why, Betsey," said Mr William Forth Burge, "that chap seems to know
our new mistress."
"Ye-es, dear, perhaps he's her brother," whispered back Miss Burge, as
they entered their richly-cushioned pew--one which used to belong to the
old manor-house that was pulled down.
"Beatrice, did you see a strange gentleman go up to Miss Thorne and
speak to her as she came into church?" said the Reverend Henry Lambent,
as he and his sisters were going back to the vicarage after the morning
service.
"Yes, brother Henry; we both saw it," said Miss Beatrice, "and were
going to mention it to you."