Daisy Forgets
THOUGH Gipsy was accustomed to try to enjoy herself in any place where
circumstances chanced to fling her, and though she had contrived to
settle down fairly happily at Briarcroft, she nevertheless thought often
of her father, far away on the opposite side of the Equator. He must
long ago have arrived at the Cape, and it was high time that she
received news from him, telling her of his whereabouts. Every morning
she looked out anxiously for the post, but day after day brought the
same disappointment. She was the only boarder who had no letters, and
she often felt her isolated position keenly when she saw her schoolmates
tearing open their welcome budgets. It would be nice, she thought, to
have a mother and brothers and sisters to write to her, and a home to go
to in the holidays. In her roving life she could not remember a real
home; a log hut for a few weeks in a mining camp had been the nearest
approach to it.
"But I've Dad, and he's better than a whole family; and it's fun to go
about the world with him, though I do live mostly at hotels when I'm not
at school," she said to herself. "I'm not going to worry my head. Dad
will send me a letter as soon as he possibly can, I know. He's not in
the least likely to forget me."
So she tried to comfort herself, but every day she looked out wistfully
for the postman--how wistfully nobody but Miss Edith ever noticed. It
was growing towards the end of November, and already the boarders were
beginning to talk of the holidays. The evening recreation time was
devoted to the making of Christmas presents; even the little girls were
busy embroidering traycloths and constructing pincushions. Gipsy began
to work a pair of slippers for her father, a rather lengthy proceeding,
for she was not clever at needlecraft, and was apt to pull her wool too
tightly, having to unpick her stitches in consequence. There was no
particular hurry in her case, though, for it was impossible for her to
dispatch the parcel in time for Christmas when she did not know where to
address it. If there was a forlorn look in the brown eyes sometimes when
others talked about home, they twinkled again so readily that her
schoolmates never realized she could feel lonely, and a stranger in a
strange land. To them she appeared the very epitome of fun and
happy-go-lucky carelessness, and they would have been surprised indeed
if they had known what a very sore heart she carried occasionally under
her outward assumption of jollity.
Daisy Scatcherd's birthday fell on the last day of November. Daisy,
though she merited her nickname of "Scatterbrains", was rather a
favourite among the boarders, so she came off very well indeed in the
matter of presents. Her home people had also remembered her, and many
interesting parcels arrived for her during the course of the morning.
Between four and half-past, in the afternoon, she was taking a run round
the garden in company with a few friends, when she spied the postman
walking briskly up the drive.
"I expect he's got something more for me," she exclaimed, and dived
under the laurels to take a short cut to the drive and intercept him.
"Give me the letters, please! It's my birthday!" she said breathlessly.
"Only three this afternoon, missy! Don't know whether any of 'em's for
you or not," said the man, laughing.
"Let me see! Yes! yes! I'll take them, please. It's all right."
Not sorry to save the extra walk to the house, the postman departed. He
was late, and had a long round before he could return home. Daisy was
looking eagerly at the letters. One, a thin foreign envelope, was
addressed to Miss Gipsy Latimer, and that she thrust hastily into her
coat pocket; the other two were for herself. They both contained postal
orders, which elevated her to such heights of satisfaction that she
never gave a thought to the letter she had stuffed in her pocket:
indeed, in her excitement she had put it away so automatically that the
incident faded from her memory almost as soon as it happened. She rushed
into the house in a state of great exultation, to ask Miss Edith to
take charge of her orders, and put them away safely.
"A whole pound! Isn't it lovely? I shall buy a new camera, or perhaps a
bookcase like Hetty Hancock's; or I want a bracelet watch most fearfully
badly, and I expect I'll get some more money at Christmas that I could
put to it. What would you advise, Miss Edith?" she chattered.
"Wait till you go home and consult your mother," said Miss Edith. "What
a cold you've got, child! You oughtn't to have been running about the
garden. And this coat is much too thin. You must wear your thick one
now. Put this away in your wardrobe, to take home at Christmas."
"Mother said I needn't take my autumn clothes back with me," objected
Daisy. "It only crams up my boxes. She said they might as well be left
here."
"Very well. I'll put it away in my big cupboard until the spring. Here
are some cough lozenges, and I shall rub your chest to-night with
camphorated oil. Go and sit by the fire, and mind you don't get into
draughts."
"I've got all my birthday letters to answer," replied Daisy, as she
tripped gaily away. "I don't particularly want to go out again."
Miss Edith folded the coat neatly, placed a packet of camphor balls with
it to keep away moths, and laid it with a pile of similar garments
inside a large cupboard in the linen room. It never struck her to look
in the pockets, so the letter so longed for and expected lay upstairs
in the dark, and Gipsy waited and hoped, and hoped and waited, all in
vain.
To forget her troubles she threw herself with enthusiasm into the
working of the Dramatic Section of the Lower School Guild. The Juniors
intended to act _The Sleeping Beauty_, and she had been chosen as the
wicked fairy, a part which she rehearsed with much spirit. She was
unwearied in her efforts at arranging costumes, constructing scenery,
and coaching her fellow performers in their speeches. She soon had the
whole play by heart, and could act prompter without the help of the
book--a decided convenience to those whose memories were liable to fail
them at critical moments.
Though the Guild comprised a number of separate societies, it lacked one
feature which Gipsy considered it certainly ought to possess. Briarcroft
had no school magazine, and not even among the Seniors had one ever been
suggested.
"Yet it's really a most necessary thing," urged Gipsy. "How else can one
give notice of coming events, and reports of what has taken place? It's
such fun, too! Why shouldn't we steal a march on the Upper School and
start one of our own?"
"There's the expense, my child, for one thing," replied Mary Parsons,
who was treasurer of the United Guild. "The subscriptions don't go very
far when we want to buy so many things with them. I'm sure they wouldn't
run to printing."
"I never intended having it printed. I know that would be beyond us."
"Perhaps we could have it typed," suggested Fiona Campbell, whose father
was a journalist. "Dad always sends his articles to a typing office, and
it looks just as good as printing when it's done."
"I don't think the Guild could afford even that," said Mary. "The
costumes for the play will about clear out the funds for this term, and
next term, you know, we voted to buy a developing machine."
"It was mean of the Seniors to stick to all the properties of the other
Guilds! They might have given us something," put in Norah Bell.
"Trust them! They wouldn't part with so much as a twopenny music sheet!"
said Gipsy. "But about the Magazine; it needn't cost us anything. My
idea was to ask Miss White to lend us the duplicator, and we'd make a
copy for each Form. They could be lent round and round. If we liked we
might put in a few illustrations. You're good at drawing, Fiona."
"That certainly sounds more simple," said Dilys. "And the Mag. would be
ripping fun. We'd have articles and poetry and stories and reviews and
all sorts of things."
"Would it be a monthly?" enquired Hetty.
"I should say about twice a term would be enough," said Gipsy. "It would
be difficult to get contributions if you had it too often."
"We couldn't duplicate the illustrations," objected Fiona, whose mind
was already turned to things artistic.
"No; each Form would have to provide its own pictures for its own copy.
That would make it all the more interesting. There'd be no two quite
alike."
"And we could even have advertisements, and a kind of Exchange and
Mart!" exclaimed Dilys, who was immensely taken with the idea. "It would
just suit the First and Second; they're always trading white mice or
silkworms with one another."
"We'll add a Beauty Bureau, with hints about the complexion, if you
like," suggested Gipsy demurely.
The others laughed, for Dilys was rather vain of her appearance, and
kept many bottles of toilet requisites upon her portion of the
dressing-table.
"Best call a general meeting of the Guild; then we can propose the
thing, and have it carried through in proper order," said Hetty. "I
believe it will catch on. Gipsy, you write out some notices and pin them
up in the classrooms."
"A GENERAL MEETING
of the
UNITED GUILD
Will be held on THURSDAY at 4 p.m. in the
Dressing-Room.
Business:--To discuss the proposal of starting
a Lower School Magazine.
All members are particularly requested to attend."
So ran the Secretary's notice, and the girls who read it were only too
eager to respond to the invitation. They felt that Gipsy stirred things
up at Briarcroft, and were ready to listen to anything fresh she might
have to suggest. As Hetty had expected, the idea was received with
enthusiasm, and when Gipsy propounded her scheme in detail, everybody
cordially agreed, and the motion was carried unanimously.
"There's one principal matter to be settled," said Dilys, who, as
President, occupied the post of chairman. "We've got to choose an
editor."
"Then I beg to propose Gipsy Latimer," said Meg Gordon, rising hastily.
"And I beg to second the proposal," said Hetty Hancock.
"Gipsy! Yes, Gipsy!" exclaimed the girls, and a forest of hands went up.
"You'll have to take it, Gipsy," urged Hetty. "You're the most suitable
of anybody. It's a new thing in the school, so it's best managed by a
new girl. We should none of us understand how to do it. Besides, you
suggested it. The whole plan of it is yours."
"Right-o, if you think I'm 'the man for the job'," agreed Gipsy.
Though she had not canvassed for the post, Gipsy was delighted to get
the editorship. Running a magazine was work that exactly suited her. She
was sure she could make it a success, and she looked forward with
immense satisfaction to issuing her first number. A name had yet to be
chosen, and after much debate it was decided to call the new venture the
_Briarcroft Juniors' Journal_.
"That'll quite cut the Seniors out of it," said Meg Gordon. "We don't
want them to get any of the credit."
"And 'Juniors' Journal' has a nice juicy kind of sound," said Daisy
Scatcherd.
"A juicy journal would be a new departure--it suggests oily words and
honeyed speeches!" laughed Hetty.
By general vote, the first number was to be issued a week before the end
of the term, so Gipsy had to set to work in earnest in her capacity of
editress, inviting contributions from likely members, and settling the
various departments of her magazine. She intended to conduct it on the
lines of a real publication, and to keep separate pages for Sports and
Pastimes, Reviews of Books, Nature Notes, How to Make Things, Handy
Recipes, Puzzles, Competitions, and Letters from Correspondents, as well
as matter of a more original literary character. It was rather a big
order, but Gipsy's ambitions soared high; she felt it was a chance for
the Lower School to shine, and she spared no trouble to make her scheme
a success.
There was very little time for all this, but she worked systematically,
apportioning the departments among different girls, and making them
promise to write certain things. Joyce Adamson, who was "great" on
hockey, was told off for "Sports and Pastimes"; Ethel Newton, a day
girl, who lived a few miles away quite in the heart of the country,
undertook the "Nature Notes"; Meg Gordon's fertile brain could be
trusted to invent puzzles and competitions; neat-fingered Norah Bell
contributed an article on "How to make Paper Boxes"; and Gipsy herself
undertook the "Library Shelf" and "Answers to Correspondents". Fiona
Campbell provided some dainty illustrations, and her example was
emulated by members of other Forms, who were also invited to submit
articles, stories, nature notes, and puzzles. Gipsy, with the oligarchy
of the Seniors fresh in her memory as a warning, did not wish the Upper
Fourth to monopolize the Magazine by any means, and the younger girls
were strongly urged to try their 'prentice hands at the art of
composition. She herself was busy with the opening chapter of a serial,
in which she intended to set forth all her adventures in the Colonies,
embroidered by the aid of her imagination. Fortunately Miss White was
kind, and, sympathizing with the idea of a magazine, allowed the
duplicator to be used in its production, so that Gipsy was able to
strike off six copies, for the First, Second, Lower Third, Upper Third,
Lower Fourth, and Upper Fourth respectively. Each Form undertook to
produce its own cover, the younger children being helped by the drawing
mistress, who was much interested, and allowed a special afternoon to be
devoted to the purpose. The designs were painted on brown paper, and
varied from sprays of flowers to conventional patterns, according to the
taste of the Form, though each bore in large letters the same
inscription: _Briarcroft Juniors' Journal_.
It was a proud day for Gipsy when she completed her arrangements, and
all the six copies were ready in their artistic covers. The contributors
had really done their best in the brief time at their disposal. There
were two or three short stories, an article on pet dogs, some recipes
for sweets and toffee, including Gipsy's favourite American Fudge, and
quite a long page of nature notes, the latter being contributed mostly
by the day girls. Gipsy had not had time to write any book reviews, but
she had enjoyed herself over the answers to correspondents. She had
posted up a notice inviting letters when first the scheme for the
Magazine was accepted, and quite a budget had been delivered at the
"editorial office"--otherwise her school desk. Some were couched in
rather a facetious vein, but she answered them as if they were intended
to be serious, sometimes with a comic result. A correspondent who signed
herself "Honeysuckle" had enquired: "Can you tell me how to stop my feet
from growing any bigger? I take fives in shoes and I am only eleven." To
which Gipsy replied: "You are evidently eating too much, Honeysuckle!
Limit your diet to water and crusts, and abstain from sweets, cakes, and
toffee in any form. You will then probably stop growing at all in any
direction, either up or down."
Gertie Butler, of the Lower Third, had blossomed into poetry, and had
composed an "Ode to the Magazine", the opening lines of which ran:
"Hail, literary gem of Briarcroft Hall!
Thou com'st to be a blessing to us all".
The exchange column was voted "ripping", and resulted in the transfer of
several families of white mice, some foreign stamps, a variety of
picture post-cards, and other treasures. The first instalment of Gipsy's
serial, "The Girl Pioneer of Wild Cat Creek", was so thrillingly
exciting that its readers could hardly wait for the second chapter, and
pressed the authoress for details of "what was coming next"; but as
Gipsy had not made up any more, they were obliged to curb their
impatience. Altogether the Magazine was a brilliant success; and if it
lacked anything in composition and grammar, it made that up in other
ways. Miss Poppleton, who examined a copy, expressed her entire
approval, and the teachers greatly encouraged the girls to persevere and
continue this new branch of the Guild. The Seniors affected to ignore
the whole affair.
"But that's just put on," said Hetty Hancock. "They know all about it. I
saw Helen Roper and Doreen Tristram sneak into our classroom yesterday
when no one was there, at dinner-time. The Mag. was lying on Miss
White's desk, and they took it up and began to read it. They simply
shrieked with laughing."
"What cheek! Let them write one of their own then!" exclaimed the
indignant editress. "I'll undertake to say it wouldn't be half as
interesting as ours!"
"Not one ten-millionth part as nice. Ours is just too scrumptiously
ripping!" agreed Hetty.