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THE MADCAP OF THE SCHOOL
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO
[Illustration: "THE GIRLS PUT THEIR UNITED LUNG POWER INTO THE LOUDEST
HALLOO OF WHICH THEY WERE CAPABLE" (Page 198)]
THE
MADCAP OF THE SCHOOL
By
ANGELA BRAZIL
Author of "The Luckiest Girl in the School"
"The Jolliest Term on Record"
"For the Sake of the School"
&c. &c.
_Illustrated by Balliol Salmon_
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
London and Glasgow
By Angela Brazil
My Own Schooldays.
Ruth of St. Ronan's.
Joan's Best Chum.
Captain Peggie.
Schoolgirl Kitty.
The School in the South.
Monitress Merle.
Loyal to the School.
A Fortunate Term.
A Popular Schoolgirl.
The Princess of the School.
A Harum-Scarum Schoolgirl.
The Head Girl at the Gables.
A Patriotic Schoolgirl.
For the School Colours.
The Madcap of the School.
The Luckiest Girl in the School.
The Jolliest Term on Record.
The Girls of St. Cyprian's.
The Youngest Girl in the Fifth.
The New Girl at St. Chad's.
For the Sake of the School.
The School by the Sea.
The Leader of the Lower School.
A Pair of Schoolgirls.
A Fourth Form Friendship.
The Manor House School.
The Nicest Girl in the School.
The Third Form at Miss Kaye's.
The Fortunes of Philippa.
_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd. Glasgow_
CONTENTS
Chap. Page
I. The Moated Grange 9
II. The Mystic Seven 21
III. The Limberlost 38
IV. Raymonde Explores 51
V. Fifth-Form Tactics 59
VI. A Midnight Scare 67
VII. The Crystal Gazers 78
VIII. The Beano 91
IX. A Week on the Land 107
X. The Campers 115
XI. Canteen Assistants 124
XII. Amateur Detectives 137
XIII. Camp Hospitality 153
XIV. Concerns Cynthia 165
XV. On the River 173
XVI. Marooned 188
XVII. The Fossil Hunters 202
XVIII. Mademoiselle 216
XIX. A Mysterious Happening 227
XX. The Coon Concert 238
XXI. The Blinded Soldiers' Fund 253
XXII. An Accusation 264
XXIII. A Mystery Unravelled 275
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
"The girls put their united lung power into the loudest
halloo of which they were capable" Frontispiece
"The passage was very dark, but Morvyth had brought her
electric torch" 80
"Raymonde drew a long breath of intense relief, and
peeped out" 152
"'Gracious, girl! Turn off the waterworks!'" 176
"Fauvette in particular looked ravishingly pretty" 184
"The door opened with a forcible jerk, and a stranger
entered" 280
THE MADCAP OF THE SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
THE MOATED GRANGE
"Here they are!"
"Not really!"
"It is, I tell you!"
"Jubilate! You're right, old sport! Scooterons-nous this very sec!
Quick! Hurry! Stir your old bones, can't you?"
The two girls, who had been standing in the ruined watch-tower that
spanned the gateway, tore down the broken corkscrew staircase at a
speed calculated to imperil their necks seriously, and reached the
bottom at the identical moment that a motor char-a-banc rounded the
corner and drew up in front of the entrance. Sixteen jolly faces were
grinning under sixteen school hats, and at least a dozen excited
voices were pouring forth a perfect babel of exclamations.
"How ripping!"
"Oh, I say!"
"This is top-hole!"
"What a chubby place!"
"I'd no idea it would be like this!"
"Oh, hold me up! This child's knocked me over entirely!"
The opening day of a fresh term is always more or less of an event,
but this particular reunion was a thrillingly important occasion, for
during the Easter holidays the school had removed, and the girls were
now having their first peep at their new quarters.
The vision that greeted them through the old gateway was certainly
calculated to justify their ecstatic remarks. A grassy courtyard,
interspersed with box-edged flower beds and flagged footpaths, led to
a large, gray old Tudor house, whose mullioned diamond-paned windows,
twisted chimney stacks, irregular moss-grown roof, ivied bell-tower,
stone balls and carved porch offered the very utmost of the romantic
and picturesque. The change from the humdrum, ordinary surroundings of
their former school was supreme. Miss Beasley had promised them a
pleasant surprise, and she had undoubtedly kept her word. The sixteen
new arrivals grasped their handbags and small possessions, and set off
up the flagged pathway with delight written large on their
countenances. Raymonde Armitage and Aveline Kerby, in virtue of half
an hour's longer acquaintance with the premises, trotted alongside and
did the honours.
"Yes, it's topping! Regular old country mansion sort of a place. Might
have come straight, slap-bang out of a novel! You should see the
Bumble Bee! I can tell you she's pleased with life! Buzzing about no
end! Even the Wasp's got a smile on! Fact! You needn't look so
incredulous. I'm not ragging."
"It's true," confirmed Raymonde. "The Wasp's quite jinky to-day.
Actually said 'my dear' to me when I arrived. Of course, Mother was
there, but even then it gave me spasms. Gibbie, of all people in this
wide world, to call me 'my dear'! I nearly collapsed! 'Goodness! what
next?' I thought. 'Wonders will never cease!'"
"Gibbie's certainly not given to trotting out pet names, even before
parents," chirruped Morvyth Holmes. "Perhaps she's striking out a new
line, and we shall all be 'Darling' and 'Sweetest' now!"
"Don't you alarm yourself! She couldn't twist her tongue round them.
I'd think she was pining away to an early death if she did! You'll
hear plenty of plain, straight, wholesome talking-to before you're
half an hour older, my child, or else I'm entirely mistaken."
"_You_ will, old sport, unless you've mended your ways," chuckled
Morvyth. "Are you a reformed character this term, may I ask? Come back
with a certificate for good behaviour--no vice, gentle in harness, a
child can drive her, etcetera?"
"Help! The school would die of dullness if I did! You'd be positively
bored to tears. No, we all have our talents, and I consider my mission
in life is to keep things humming and cheer you all up. I may do it at
some personal sacrifice, but----"
"Personal thingumjig!" interrupted Valentine Gorton.
"But it is!" persisted Raymonde, her dark eyes dancing. "You don't
know how disinterested I am. Gibbie can't row us all at once, and when
I draw fire on myself I save you. See? I'm a kind of scapegoat for the
school. Everybody's sins are stuck on to me. Gibbie lets forth the
vials of her wrath, the storm's over, she feels better, and nobody
else is much the worse."
"Not even you--you heroic victim?"
"Bless you, child, I'm as used to scolding as eels to skinning.
Neither the Bumble Bee nor the Wasp worry me. I let them both buzz. It
seems to please them! Indeed, I think they expect it. When one's got a
reputation, one's bound to live up to it."
Raymonde Armitage would certainly not have won a medal for exemplary
behaviour, had any such prize been offered at the school. There was no
harm in her, but her irrepressible spirits were continually at
effervescing point, and in fizzing over were liable to burst into
outbreaks of a nature highly scandalizing to the authorities. As
regarded Miss Beasley, the Principal, though she upheld discipline
firmly, it was an open secret that she had a sneaking weakness for
Raymonde. "The Bumble Bee rows Ray, but she likes her," was the
general verdict. With Miss Gibbs, however, it was a different matter.
The humour of a situation never appealed to her. She frankly
considered her troublesome pupil as a thorn in the flesh, and perhaps
gave her credit for more than she really deserved in the way of blame.
It was whispered in the school that several enterprising spirits had
managed to shift on to Raymonde's shoulders the consequences of their
own crimes, with results more satisfactory to themselves than to their
lively classmate. In spite of the fact that she had passed her
fifteenth birthday, Raymonde was the most irresponsible creature in
the world. She looked it. Her face was as round and smooth as an
infant's, with an absurd little dab of a nose, a mouth with baby
dimples at the corners, and small white teeth that seemed more like
first than second ones, and dark eyes which, when they did not happen
to be twinkling, were capable of putting on a bewitching innocence of
expression calculated to deceive almost any teacher, however
experienced, save the case-hardened Miss Gibbs.
At the beginning of this term there were twenty-six girls in the
little community assembled at Marlowe Grange. The old house provided
ample accommodation, and had been easily adapted to meet the wants of
a school. Built originally in Elizabethan days, it had been added to
at various times, and its medley of architecture, while hopelessly
confusing styles, had resulted in a very picturesque and charming
whole. Perhaps the most ancient part was the fortified gateway,
ruinous and covered with ivy, but still preserving its winding stair
leading to an upper story that spanned the entrance. With its tiny
loophole windows and its great solid oak gate with the little door cut
through, it had the aspect of a mediaeval fortress, and was a fitting
introduction to what was to follow. High walls on both sides enclosed
the courtyard, and farther on, to the right of the house, was another
quaint garden, where shaved yew trees and clipped hollies presented
distorted imitations of peacocks, umbrellas, pagodas, or other
ambitious examples of topiary art. Here, in the late April weather,
spring bulbs were blooming, wallflowers made a sheet of gold, and the
pear trees were opening pure white blossoms. Little clumps of pansies,
pink daisies, and forget-me-nots were struggling up, rather mixed
amongst the box edging, and a bank of white alyssum on the rockery
near the hives provided a feast of nectar for the bees, whose drowsy
hum seemed to hold all the promise of the coming summer.
Behind this garden, and sheltered by the outbuildings from the north
and east winds, lay the orchard, neglected and unpruned, but very
beautiful with its moss-grown apple trees, its straggling plums, and
budding walnuts, and cherries just bursting into an ethereal fairy
network of delicate palest pink bloom. Primroses grew here amongst the
grass, and clumps of dog violets and little tufts of bluebells were
pushing their way up to take the place of the fading daffodils, while
a blackthorn bush was a mass of pure white stars. At the far end,
instead of a hedge, lay the moat, a shallow stagnant pool, bordered
with drooping willows, tall reeds, and rushes that reared their
spear-like stems from the dark oozy water. Originally this moat had
encircled the mansion as a means of defence, but now, like the ruined
gateway, its mission was long past, and it survived, a sleepy witness
to the warfare of our forefathers, and a picturesque adjunct to the
general beauty of the place that could scarcely be surpassed. From the
farther side of the moat peaceful meadows led to the river, where
between high wooded banks a stately silver stream glided slowly and
tranquilly on in its path towards the ocean, rippling over weirs, and
bearing on its calm bosom an occasional pleasure boat, punt, or fussy
little motor yacht.
The interior of the old Grange was quaint as its exterior. The large
rooms lent themselves admirably to school uses. The big hall, with its
oak-panelled walls, stained-glass windows, and huge fireplace, made an
excellent lecture-room, or, when the forms were moved to one end,
provided plenty of space for drilling or dancing. It seemed strange
certainly to turn an Elizabethan bedroom into a twentieth-century
class-room, and standard desks looked decidedly at variance with the
carved chimney-pieces or the stags' antlers that still ornamented the
walls; but the modern element only seemed to enhance the old, and the
girls agreed that nothing could be more suitable than to learn history
in such a setting.
"It'll give us a loophole for lots of our lessons," remarked Raymonde
hopefully, as she personally conducted a party of new arrivals over
the establishment. "For instance, if I get muddled over circulating
decimals, I'll explain that my brains fall naturally into a mediaeval
groove in these surroundings, and decimals weren't invented then, so
that of course it's impossible for me to grasp them; and the same with
geography--the map of Africa then had about three names on it, so it's
quite superfluous to try to remember any more. I'm going to cultivate
the mental atmosphere of the place and focus my mind accordingly. I'll
concentrate on the Elizabethan period of history, and the rest I'll
just ignore."
"Don't know how you'll convince Gibbie!" chuckled Muriel Fuller.
"You leave Gibbie to me! My mind's seething with ideas. It's
absolutely chock full. I see possibilities that I never even dreamt of
at the old school. I believe this term's going to be the time of my
life. Bless the dear old Bumble Bee! She's buzzed to some purpose in
bringing us here!"
Perhaps what struck the girls most of all was the large dormitory. In
the days of the French Revolution Marlowe Grange had been the refuge
of an order of nuns, who had escaped from Limoges and founded a
temporary convent in the old house. It was owing to the excellence of
their arrangements, and the structural improvements which they had
left behind them, that the Grange had been so eminently suitable for a
school. Seven little bedrooms placed side by side served exactly to
accommodate the members of the Sixth Form, while the great chamber,
running from end to end of the house, with its nineteen snow-white
beds, provided quarters for the rank and file. Just for a moment the
girls had stared rather aghast at their vast dormitory, contrasting it
with the numerous small rooms of their former school; but the
possibilities of fun presented by this congregation of beds outweighed
the disadvantages, and they had decided that the arrangement was
"topping." It had, however, one serious drawback. At the far end was a
small extra chamber, intended originally for the use of the Mother
Superior of the convent, and here, to the girls' infinite dismay, Miss
Gibbs had taken up her abode. There was no mistake about it. Her box
blocked the doorway; her bag, labelled "M. Gibbs. Passenger to Great
Marlowe via Littleton Junction," reposed upon a chair, her hat and
coat lay on the bed, and a neat time-table of classes was already
pinned upon the wall.
"We didn't bargain to have the Wasp at such close quarters!" whispered
Ardiune Coleman-Smith ruefully. "She'll sleep with both ears open, and
if we stir a finger or breathe a word she'll hear!"
"Cheero! There are ways of making people deaf," remarked Raymonde
sanguinely. "How? Ah, my child, that's a surprise for the future!
D'you suppose" (with a cryptic shake of the head) "I'm going to give
away my professional secrets? I've told you already it's my mission to
enliven this school, and if you don't have a jinky term I'll consider
myself a failure. Haven't I started well? I arrived half an hour
before everyone else, and booked up all the beds on the far side for
our set. Here you are! A label's pinned to each pillow!"
The six kindred spirits who revolved as satellites in Raymonde's orbit
turned to her with a gush of admiration. It was a brilliant thought to
have labelled the beds, and so secured the most eligible portion of
the dormitory for themselves.
"You're the limit, Ray!" gurgled Aveline.
Aveline was generally regarded as Raymonde's under-study. She was not
so clever, so daring, or so altogether reckless, but she came in a
very good second-best in most of the harum-scarum escapades. She could
always be relied upon for support, could keep a secret, and had a
peculiarly convenient knack of baffling awkward questions by putting
on an attitude of utter stolidity. When her eyes were half-closed
under their heavy lids, and her mouth wore what the girls called its
"John Bull" expression, not even Miss Beasley herself could drag
information out of Aveline. The Sphinx, as she was sometimes
nicknamed, prided herself on her accomplishment, and took particular
care to maintain her character. Raymonde had apportioned the bed on
her right to Aveline, and that on her left to Fauvette Robinson, who
occupied about an equal place in her affections.
Fauvette was a little, blue-eyed, fluffy-haired, clinging, cuddly,
ultra-feminine specimen who hung on to Raymonde like a limpet.
Raymonde twisted her flaxen locks for her in curl rags, helped to
thread baby ribbon through her under-bodices, hauled her out of bed in
the mornings, drummed her lessons into her, formed her opinions, and
generally dominated her school career. Fauvette was one of those girls
who all their lives lean upon somebody, and at present she had twined
herself, an ornamental piece of honeysuckle, round the stout oak prop
of Raymonde's stronger personality. She was a dear, amiable,
sweet-tempered little soul, highly romantic and sentimental, with a
pretty soprano voice, and just a sufficient talent for acting to make
her absolutely invaluable in scenes from Dickens or Jane Austen, where
a heroine of the innocent, pleading, pathetic, babyish, Early
Victorian type was required.
A more spicy character was Morvyth Holmes, otherwise "The Kipper." Her
pale face and shining hazel eyes showed cleverness. When she cared to
work she could astonish her Form and her teacher, but her energy came
in such odd bursts, and with such long lapses between, that it did not
in the aggregate amount to much. It was rumoured in the school that
Miss Beasley had her eye on Morvyth as a possible candidate for public
examinations, and, in fear lest such an honour might be thrust upon
her, Morvyth was careful to avoid the display of too deep erudition.
"It wouldn't do," she assured her chums. "Catch me swatting for the
Senior Oxford like poor old Meta and Daphne. I tell you those girls
will hardly enjoy a decent game of tennis this term. The Bumble Bee's
got their wretched noses on the grindstone, and they'll have a
blighting time till the affair's over. No, I'm a wary bird, and I'm
not going to be decoyed into an intellectual trap and dished up for
examination. Not even the Essay Prize shall tempt me! You may win it
yourself, Ray, if you like!"
"Poor old Kipper!" murmured Raymonde. "It's a little rough on you that
you daren't exhibit your talents. Can't you show a doctor's
certificate prohibiting you from entering for public exams. and
limiting your prep.? The kind of thing one brings back to school after
scarlet fever, you know."
Morvyth shook her head dolefully.
"It's no go! The Bumble would be capable of sending for the doctor and
thrashing the matter out with him. My only safety lies in modesty. No
school laurels for me. They cost too dear."
Valentine Gorton and Ardiune Coleman-Smith, known familiarly as "Salt"
and "Pepper," were inseparable friends in spite of the fact that they
quarrelled on an average at least three times a day. Their tiffs were
very easily made up, however, and they always supported each other in
upsets with anyone else, merging what might be termed tribal disputes
in national warfare. Being well supplied from home with chocolates,
and liberal in their dispensation, they were favourites in their Form,
and indeed throughout the school wore the hallmark of popularity.
Raymonde's particular set of chums was completed by Katherine Harding,
a damsel whose demure looks belied her character. Katherine's innocent
grey eyes and doll-like complexion were the vineyards that hide the
volcano. She could always be relied upon to support any enterprising
project or interesting hoax that was presented for her approval. These
seven comrades, close chums in the past, banded themselves together
anew to enjoy life to the best of their ability, and to obtain the
maximum of fun and diversion out of the forthcoming term. It is with
their immediate adventures that this book is largely concerned.