Mademoiselle
"Parlez-vous francais, Mademoiselle?
She opened the window, and out she fell.
And what happened next I've never heard tell,
Parlez-vous francais, Mademoiselle?"
chanted Raymonde, dancing into the dormitory and plumping down on
Fauvette's bed amid a pile of chiffons, muslins, and other flimsy
articles of wearing apparel. "Why, what's the matter, child? Whence
this spread-out? You look weepy! Packing to go home? Mother ill? Or
are you expelled?"
"Neither," gulped Fauvette with a watery smile. "It's only
her--Mademoiselle! She's turned all my drawers out on to the floor,
and says I've got to tidy them. She lectured me hard in French. I
couldn't understand half of what she said, but I knew she was
scolding. And I've to sort all these things out, and put them neatly
away, and mend up everything that needs mending before this evening,
or else she'll tell the Bumble to come and look at them, and I shall
get 'sadly lacking in order' down in my report again. It's too bad!"
"It's positively brutal of Mademoiselle!" said Raymonde reflectively.
"If it had been Gibbie, now, it would have been no surprise to me.
Don't cry, you little silly! You look like a weeping cherub on a
monument! Shovel your clothes back again into your drawers, and put a
tidy top layer. That's what I always do!"
"So do I," wailed Fauvette. "But it won't work this time. Mademoiselle
was really cross, and I could see she means to come to-night, and hold
what she calls 'une inspection'. She said something about making me an
example. Why, if she wants an example, need she choose me?"
"It's certainly breaking a butterfly," agreed Raymonde. "I'm afraid
there's something seriously wrong with Mademoiselle. She's completely
altered this last week. She never used to worry about things, and
she's suddenly turned as fussy as Gibbie."
Raymonde was not the only one who had noticed the change in the French
mistress. It was apparent to everybody. Her entire character seemed
suddenly to have altered. Whereas beforetime she had been easygoing,
slack, and ready to shut eyes and ears to school-girl failings, she
was now keenly vigilant and highly exacting. In classes and at music
lessons she demanded the utmost attention, and no longer passed over
mistakes, or allowed a bad accent. She prohibited the use of the
English tongue altogether during meals, and insisted upon her pupils
conversing in French, requiring each one to come to table primed with
a suitable remark in that language. The number of fines which she
inflicted was so heavy that the missionary box filled with a rapidity
more gratifying to the local secretary of the society than to the
contributors. The girls were considerably puzzled at this change of
face on the part of Mademoiselle, but Morvyth and Katherine gave it as
their opinion that Miss Beasley lay at the back of it.
"The Bumble's probably had a talk with her, and told her she must buck
up or go!" suggested the former. "I'm sure she always thought
Mademoiselle a slacker--which she certainly was! Possibly she's given
her till the end of the term to show what she's capable of, and if she
doesn't come up to the mark, we shall start next term with a new
French governess."
"I shouldn't care!" said Raymonde easily. "I never liked her much. We
used to call her 'the butterfly', but she's 'the mosquito' now. She's
developing a very unpleasant sting."
Whatever might be the truth of Morvyth's surmises as to the reason of
Mademoiselle's new attitude, the fact loomed large. Having determined
to demonstrate her powers of discipline, she overdid it. She was one
of those persons who cannot keep order and enforce rules without
losing their tempers, and she stormed at the girls continually. She
developed a mania for what she called "surveillance." She was
continually paying surprise visits to dormitory or schoolroom, and
pouncing upon offenders who were talking, or otherwise neglecting
their duties. It was even suspected that she listened behind doors.
Fauvette, whose babyish characteristics led her into many pitfalls,
seemed suddenly to become the scapegoat of Mademoiselle's freshly
acquired vigilance. Fauvette lacked spirit, and went down like a
ninepin before the least word of reproof. Her feelings were easily
hurt, and her tears always close to the surface. She sat now and
sobbed pathetically upon her pillow, without making the least effort
to tidy up her belongings. Raymonde shook her head over her.
"You're the sort of girl who ought to go through life with a nurse or
a maid to look after you; you're not fit to take care of yourself,"
she decided. "Look here, how much wants doing to your clothes before
the Mosquito comes buzzing round to inspect?"
"Shoals!" sighed Fauvette wearily. "I'm afraid I've left my mending.
There are stockings, and gloves, and--all kinds of things."
"Can you get it done in time?"
"Impossible!" and the tears dripped again on to a dainty muslin
collar.
"Then there's nothing for it but to get up a Mending Bee, and help
you! We seven are sworn to stick together."
"There'll be squalls if you're caught in the dormitory during
recreation. I was told to stay here," cautioned Fauvette.
"We've got to risk something," returned Raymonde cheerily, scurrying
off in search of the remaining five of the Mystics.
"You've all got to fetch work-baskets and come this instant," she
commanded. "It's an urgency call, like last term when we made T
bandages for Roumania, and nose-bags for the horses, only it's even
more important and urgent."
Armed with their sewing materials, the girls slipped one by one
upstairs, and, settling themselves upon the beds in the immediate
vicinity of Fauvette's, set to work. It was a formidable task. Their
comrade had brought a large assortment of garments to school with
her, and had happily left them unmended, trusting to take them home to
be repaired. At present they were mixed in a hopeless jumble on the
floor and on her bed, just where Mademoiselle had tipped out the
drawers. Stockings, underclothes, gloves, handkerchiefs, photos, old
letters, ribbons, ties, beads, lockets, books, and an assortment of
odd treasures were lying together in utter confusion.
Fauvette brightened at the sight of her friends, mopped her eyes, and
pushed back her fluffy hair from her hot forehead.
"Brace up!" Raymonde encouraged her. "We're not going to help unless
you'll do your own share. Sort those things out, and be putting them
in your drawers while we do your mending. Morvyth, take these
stockings; Katherine, you're artistic, so I'll give you baby ribbon to
thread through these bodices. Ardiune, you may mend gloves. Ave,
collect those hair ribbons, and put them neatly inside that box, and
stack those photos together. Why they're not in an album I can't
imagine!"
"Because I generally sleep with one or two of them under my pillow,"
confessed Fauvette. "Why shouldn't I, if I like? There's no harm in
it. Oh! please be careful with those beads, you'll break the
strings!"
"I can't think why you need so many empty chocolate boxes," commented
Aveline, sweeping up treasures with a ruthless hand. "Your drawers
will be so full they won't shut. Throw half of them away!"
"No, no! I always keep them to remind me of the people who gave them
to me. You mustn't throw any of them away. They're chock-full of
memories."
"Rather have them chock-full of chocs, myself!" remarked Morvyth
dryly. "Fauvette, you're interesting and pretty--when you don't cry
(for goodness' sake look at your red eyes in the glass!); but you're
as sentimental as an Early Victorian heroine. You ought to wear a
bonnet and a crinoline, and carry a little fringed parasol, and talk
about your 'papa'! If you don't get safely engaged to an officer
before you're out of your teens, you'll turn into one of those faded
females who bore one with sickly reminiscences of their past, and
spend the remainder of your life pampering a pet poodle. Here, I've
mended two pairs of stockings for you."
"And I've done three pairs," said Raymonde, folding up the articles in
question and putting them in her friend's second long drawer. "We're
getting on. Kathy, have you finished the bodices? We'll soon have you
straightened up, Baby, and if Mademoiselle----Oh!"
Raymonde's sudden ejaculation was caused by a vision of no less a
person than Miss Gibbs, who was standing in the doorway of the
dormitory regarding the sewing party in some astonishment.
"What are you girls doing here?" she demanded, making a bee-line for
them among the beds.
Nobody answered, and for a moment or two blank dismay spread itself
over the countenances of the Mystics. Then Raymonde's lucky star came
to the rescue, and popped an inspiration into her head.
"You were telling us in Social History class yesterday, Miss Gibbs,
about the necessity of women co-operating in their work if they are
ever to command a higher scale of pay," she explained glibly; "so we
thought we'd better begin to put our principles into practice.
Fauvette had fallen into arrears, and was in danger of--er--trouble,
so we all came just to boost her up to standard, and let her
get a fair start again. It's on the basis of a Women's Union
or--or--Freemasons. We thought we were bound to help one another."
Miss Gibbs was not a remarkably humorous person, but on this occasion
the corners of her mouth were distinctly observed to twitch. She
mastered the weakness instantly, however, and remarked:
"I'm glad to hear that you are interested in co-operation. This is
certainly a practical demonstration of the theory, and Fauvette ought
to be grateful to you. Be quick and finish straightening the things,
and, if anybody asks questions, you may say that you have my
permission to remain here until tea-time."
The girls sat at attention till the door closed upon their mistress,
then their mingled amazement and gratitude burst forth.
"Good old Gibbie!"
"She's an absolute sport to-day!"
"Never known her in such a jinky mood before!"
"The fact of the matter is," observed Raymonde sagely, "I believe
Gibbie absolutely loathes Mademoiselle, and that for once in a way
she's not above taking a legitimate chance of paying her out."
When the French mistress came round that evening on her tour of
inspection, she found Fauvette's drawers in apple-pie order right to
the very bottoms--beads, ties, and collars carefully arranged in
boxes, and nicely mended stockings placed in a row.
"It only show vat you can do ven you try!" she commented. "In a woman
to be untidy is--ah! I have not your English idiom?"
"The limit!" wickedly suggested Raymonde, who was standing close by.
But Mademoiselle, who had been warned against the acquisition of
slang, glared at her till she beat a hasty retreat.
It was growing near to the end of the term, and examinations loomed
imminently on the horizon. They were to be conducted this year by Miss
Beasley's brother, a clergyman, and a former lecturer at Oxford. He
had made a special study of modern languages, so that his standard of
requirement in regard to French grammar was likely to be a high one.
Up till now the Fifth Form had plodded through Dejardin's exercises in
an easy fashion, without worrying greatly about the multitude of their
mistakes, over which their mistress had indeed shaken her head, but
had made no special crusade to amend. Now, in view of the
awe-inspiring visit of the Reverend T. W. Beasley, M.A., Mademoiselle
had instituted an eleventh-hour spurt of diligence, and kept her
pupils with reluctant noses pressed hard to the grindstone. Irregular
verbs and exceptions of gender seemed much worse when taken in such
large doses. The girls began to wish either that the Tower of Babel
had never been attempted, or that the world had reached a sufficient
stage of civilization to adopt a universal language. Over one point in
particular they considered that they had a just and pressing
grievance. The French classes of Form V came on the time-table from 12
to 12.30, being the last subjects of morning school. Dinner was at one
o'clock, and in the intervening half-hour the girls put away their
books, washed their hands and tidied their hair, and refreshed their
flagging spirits by a run round the garden. Mademoiselle had been wont
to close her book at the exact minute of the half-hour, but now she
utterly ignored the clock, and would go on with the lesson till a
quarter or even ten minutes to one. The wrath of the Form knew no
bounds. They valued their short exercise before dinner extremely. To
have it thus cut off was an infringement of their rights.
Mademoiselle, who was perfectly aware that she was exceeding the limit
of the time-table, sheltered herself behind excuses.
"Ven I take your verbs I forget it is so late," she would remark. "Ze
lesson slip avay, and ve not yet done all ve should."
The girls held an indignation meeting to discuss the subject. Even
Maudie Heywood's appetite for knowledge was glutted by this extra diet
of French syntax, and Muriel Fuller and Magsie Mawson, amiable
nonentities who rarely ruffled the surface of the school waters, for
once verified the proverb that the worm will turn.
"It's not fair!" raged Ardiune.
"Ma'm'selle knows she ought to stop at half-past!" urged Magsie in
injured tones.
"It's taking a mean advantage!" echoed Muriel.
"And we can't really work properly when she goes on so long!" wailed
Maudie.
"I vote we strike!" suggested Morvyth fiercely. "Let's tell her we
won't go in for the exam. at all, if she goes on lengthening out the
lessons."
Several of the Form brightened up at the suggestion, but Aveline, a
shade more practical, shook her head discouragingly.
"If we do, there'll be a fine old row! The Mosquito'll appeal to the
Bumble, who'd have her back up directly. I think we'd better not try
that on. We don't want to take home 'conduct disgraceful' in our
reports."
"Ave's right," agreed Raymonde. "We know the Bumble! This is a matter
for tact, not brute force. We must manage Mademoiselle. She pretends
she forgets the time--very well, then, we must take steps to bring it
palpably to her notice. Will you leave the matter in my hands? I've
got an idea."
Raymonde's inspirations were so well known in the Form, that the rest
willingly consented to appoint her as a sub-committee of one to
undertake the full management of the affair. Before the next French
class she made a tour of the monitresses' bedrooms. They had
instituted an early-rising society among themselves this term, and
almost everyone was provided with an alarum-clock. Raymonde boldly
borrowed five of these, without asking leave of their owners, and set
them all carefully for 12.30, winding them up to their fullest extent.
She then placed them inside the book cupboard in the class-room, and
covered them with some sheets of exercise paper.
The lesson proceeded even more painfully than usual. Ardiune got
hopelessly mixed between indefinite pronouns and indefinite
pronominal adjectives, and Fauvette floundered over the negations,
while Muriel found the proper placing of the _p_'s and _l_'s in the
conjugation of _appeler_ an impossible problem. As 12.30 drew near,
there was much glancing at wrist-watches. Mademoiselle kept her eyes
persistently turned away from the clock, with the evident intention of
once more ignoring the time. This morning, however, Fate, in the
person of Raymonde, had been against her. Exactly at the half-hour
five alarums started punctually inside the cupboard, raising such a
din that it was impossible to hear a word. Mademoiselle flew to
investigate, took them out, shook them, and laid them on their backs,
but they were wound up to their fullest extent, and nothing short of a
hammer would have stopped them. The noise was terrific.
The baffled French governess, clapping her hands over her ears, raised
her eyebrows in a signal of dismissal, and the girls availed
themselves of the permission with record speed. The alarums burred
cheerily on for about twenty minutes, after which, by Mademoiselle's
instructions, they were replaced in the monitresses' bedrooms by
Hermie. The Fifth were prepared for trouble, but to their surprise no
notice was taken of the incident at head-quarters. Possibly
Mademoiselle was aware that her late efforts at discipline were
regarded by Miss Beasley with as little favour as her former
slackness, and considered it useless to appeal to her Principal. She
took the hint, however, and in future terminated the lesson punctually
at the half-hour, so on this occasion the girls considered that they
had most decidedly scored.