Gipsy turns Champion
EACH Form at Briarcroft had its own teacher, but in addition there were
a certain number of visiting masters and mistresses who came out from
Greyfield to give lessons at the school. A few were popular, some were
tolerated, and one or two were cordially disliked. Among those who had
the ill fortune to encounter strong opposition was Fraeulein Hochmeyer,
the singing mistress. She was a most conscientious teacher and a clever
musician, but so intensely German in both accent and methods that she
offended the British susceptibilities of her pupils, and inspired more
ridicule than respect. Poor Fraeulein meant so well, it was really very
hard that her efforts did not meet with better results. She treated her
classes exactly as she would have dealt with similar ones in Germany;
but what might have pleased apple-cheeked, pig-tailed Gretchens did not
at all suit the taste of the Briarcroft-ites, particularly the members
of the Lower School. They refused even to smile at her heavy Teutonic
jokes, mocked her accent, rebelled at the numerous German songs they
were expected to learn, whispered, giggled, and talked during the
lesson, and generally made it extremely difficult for her to keep
order. In vain she alternately pleaded, conciliated, flustered, fumed,
and even threatened. The girls would not behave seriously, and though
they did not deign to laugh at her attempts at humour, they treated her
as a joke. As she was decidedly stout and rosy they nicknamed her
"German Sausage", and made fun of her almost to her face.
A part of Fraeulein Hochmeyer's system of voice production which her
pupils much detested was learning the proper position of the mouth. It
was of course a most important and necessary part of the lesson, but
owing to the way it was enforced the silly girls turned it all into
ridicule. Fraeulein would stand upon the platform giving a practical
demonstration to show how the lips must be well drawn back, revealing
the teeth parted about the third of an inch, so as to offer no
obstruction to the free passage of the voice; and she would require her
pupils to stand at attention with their mouths thus fixed before
beginning the preliminary exercises.
"We look like a set of grinning imbeciles!" complained Lennie Chapman,
"with Sausage for the arch-lunatic of us all. I wish to goodness we had
a decent English teacher! I don't like these foreign ways."
"You'd like it still less if you were turned into a pattern pupil like
me!" grumbled Gipsy. "I hate making an exhibition of myself."
Gipsy, being an apt copyist, was able to set her mouth at exactly the
right angle, and in consequence her approving teacher would frequently
beckon her on to the platform with the invitation:
"Dear friendt, com here and show ze ozers how you do open ze mouz."
The letters "th" were an impossibility to Fraeulein's German tongue, and
the girls giggled continually at the "z's" that replaced them. Gipsy was
not at all proud of being forced to set an example to the class, and
would ascend the platform with an ill grace, and look the reverse of
flattered at the encouraging pats that were bestowed upon her shoulders.
Really Fraeulein had the kindest heart in the world, and tried, in her
heavy fashion, to be on excellent terms with her pupils, but she did not
in the least comprehend the mind of the British schoolgirl.
"She treats us exactly as if we were kindergarten babies!" sneered Hetty
Hancock. "I don't know how German girls of our age would enjoy her silly
jokes, but I think she's a rotter!"
"And she's so sentimental!" hinnied Daisy Scatcherd. "I nearly had a fit
when she began to troll out that love song, with her hand laid
touchingly on her heart."
"That sort of rubbish may go down in the Fatherland, but it doesn't
here."
The girls had waxed restive at many of the _Lieder_ which they were
obliged to learn, but when Fraeulein turned up one morning with a volume
of songs of her own composition, their discontent verged towards mutiny.
"Ze original vords are, of course, in German," explained Fraeulein, "but
I have had a translation made for you by a friendt of mine, and it is
sehr gut. Ze first it is a cradle song. Now, I ask has any girl in ze
class got at home a leetle, leetle brozer or sister?"
"I have," volunteered Mary Parsons bluntly. "A brother."
"And how old?"
"Six months."
"Ach! Zat is beautiful! You shall sing zis song to ze leetle baby in ze
cradle, vile you rock him gently, gently, till he sleep!" and Fraeulein
gazed ecstatically at Mary, as if calling up a mental picture of her
sisterly attention.
"He'd soon squall if I did!" grunted Mary to her neighbour, who exploded
audibly.
"You, who are not so all-fortunate as to have a baby in ze home, must
sing it to ze child of a neighbour," went on Fraeulein, evidently
determined that the value of the lullaby should receive a practical
trial.
"And what are we boarders to do?" enquired Lennie Chapman ironically.
"Sing it to the cat!" whispered Hetty, whereat the bystanders tittered.
"You've stumped her there!" murmured Fiona.
Fraeulein certainly for a moment looked a little at a loss, but she soon
recovered her presence of mind.
"Vait till ze holidays, zen you sall see!" she returned with an engaging
smile. "I shall now sing von or two of ze lieder to you, to show you vat
zey are like."
The music of the songs was beautiful, that was allowed by even the most
unappreciative of the girls. There was a joyous lilt and a true melody
about them that put them high in the rank of composition, and the
accompaniments played with Fraeulein's delicate touch were harmonious and
suitable. The words, unfortunately, were childish in the extreme, and
more fit for youngsters of five than girls of eleven to fourteen. Even
the members of the Lower Third turned up supercilious noses. They were
further marred by Fraeulein's accent, and when she unctuously rendered
"Hush, my baby, sweetest, best,
Little mousie's gone to rest",
as
"Hosh, my baby, sveetest, best,
Leetle moozie's gone to rest",
a ripple of mirth passed round the class.
Having gone through one or two as specimens, Fraeulein selected the
lullaby and set the girls to work at it. I am afraid that, instead of
doing their best, they only sang in mockery. Fiona Campbell made a
pretence cradle of her arm, and rocked it for Mary Parsons' benefit; and
Gipsy put an amount of sham sentiment into her execution calculated to
convulse the others. At the end of the lesson the class trooped away in
a state of frank rebellion.
"Really, this is too much!" protested Dilys Fenton. "We can't be
expected to sing her silly songs."
"It's just baby nonsense!" exclaimed Norah Bell.
"The music's pretty," said Joyce Adamson.
"Oh, yes, the music--but look at the words!" scoffed Gipsy, turning over
the pages of the new copies. "Did you ever see anything so absolutely
idiotic in all your life as this?
"'Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun,
And skipping and prancing
He's bent upon dancing.
Just see how he spins
On his dear little pins!'"
"It's an affront to ask us to learn such rubbish!" declared the outraged
girls. "We shall really have to speak to Poppie about it."
"Yes, a good idea! Let's complain to Poppie."
"If she'll listen."
"She's not generally so ready to hear our grievances."
"Well, something will have to be done, for we can't go on week after
week with this baby stuff. It's like turning back to one's ABC. I
declare we'd more sensible songs when I was in the Kindergarten."
"I'll take my book home, and perhaps I can get my mother to write a
letter to Poppie about it," suggested Mary Parsons.
"You! Why, you're the one who's to sit serenading over your infant
brother's cradle!"
"Perhaps Sausage will bring a doll to school next week and make us
practise with it in turns! She'd be quite capable of it," sniggered
Maude Helm.
Nobody plucked up sufficient courage to interview Miss Poppleton on the
subject. It is one thing for schoolgirls to growl, and quite another to
venture to remonstrate with the Principal about the lessons. Miss
Poppleton was not an approachable person, and except in extreme cases
her pupils did not venture to get up deputations. Gipsy voiced the
opinions of the class, however, in airing their grievances to Miss
Edith, and gave her an animated account of their special bug-bear, the
new song book.
"Oh, dear me, Gipsy! I'm very sorry!" said Miss Edith, puckering up her
forehead anxiously. "I'm afraid you girls behave very badly in the
singing class. You ought to have more respect for Fraeulein Hochmeyer. I
hope Mary Parsons' mother won't write about it. It puts Miss Poppleton
in a most awkward position when parents make complaints. We don't want
to change our singing mistress, Fraeulein's system of voice production is
so very good. She was a pupil of Randegger, I believe. There's no other
first-class teacher in Greyfield either except Mr. Johnson, and he
doesn't take half the trouble with his pupils that Fraeulein does. I wish
you girls would try to appreciate her more."
Gipsy screwed up her mouth and looked humorous in reply.
"But she's a beautiful character, if you only knew!" urged Miss Edith.
"She's so simple and kind-hearted; and she works so hard! She has an
invalid father to keep. He's quite dependent on her, I believe. They
live in lodgings in Greyfield. I'm sure I'm often sorry for her, going
about to her pupils in all weathers. It's too bad of you girls to make
such fun of her! She's a stranger in a strange land, poor thing, with no
friends here, and her living to make. Girls are a thoughtless set, as
I've found out long ago. You might try to have a little more
consideration for her, Gipsy. Just imagine yourself in her place, and
fancy you were teaching a class of German girls! Yes, as I said before,
I'm sorry for Fraeulein Hochmeyer. She has a hard time of it."
Gipsy said nothing, but she retired with ample food for thought. It had
never struck her before to take the view of Fraeulein that Miss Edith had
just presented. The little foreign peculiarities and eccentricities had
excited her mirth, but she had quite missed the sterling good qualities
that lay underneath them. "'A stranger in a strange land, with no
friends here'--I know what that means!" muttered Gipsy to herself. "It's
brave of her to work to keep her father! Don't I just wish I--" but here
she sighed, for the unuttered wish seemed so entirely hopeless and
futile.
After revolving the matter carefully, Gipsy made up her mind that
Fraeulein Hochmeyer deserved to be helped instead of hindered.
"Though how I'm to do it when she insists on forcing those absurd baby
songs upon us, I can't tell. Stop! I've an idea. Oh, I don't know
whether I can, but I mean to have a jolly good try! No time like the
present. I've half an hour before tea." And furnishing herself with
pencil and paper, she ran up to her attic, and was soon puckering her
brows in the agonies of composition. As the result of that and several
other half-hours of work, she covered two pages of foolscap; then,
seeking out Miss Edith, she unfolded her scheme and begged for help.
"I'm afraid you'll think it fearful cheek of me," she began, "but you
see the trouble at present in the singing class is that we all abominate
those silly little songs. They really sound foolish for girls of our
age. Of course Fraeulein's composed them herself, and the tunes are very
nice. Do you think she'd mind changing the words? It wouldn't matter to
her what we were singing so long as the music was the same, would it?
But it would make all the difference to us. I made up a few verses that
go with the tunes just as well. They're here, if you don't mind looking
at them," and Gipsy modestly unfolded her manuscript. "This one's
instead of
"'Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun.'
I've called it 'The End of the Term'
"'Now classes are done
And vacation's begun,
Of fun and of leisure
We'll have our full measure.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!
"'So to lessons goodbye,
While to pleasure we fly.
No rules now need bind us,
All care's cast behind us.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!'"
Then there's one instead of that dreadful
"'Little Freddie had run to his nurse,
Because his poor headache was worse,'"
continued Gipsy. "I've called it 'Briarcroft'.
"'There's a school near the edge of the fell,
That all of us girls know full well,
For at Briarcroft Hall
There's a place for us all,
And the tale of its fame we would tell.
_Chorus_
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!
We'll make it a general rule
That we Briarcroft-ites
Shall stand up for its rights,
And be true to the dear old School!
"'There are teachers we love and revere,
And customs and ways we hold dear.
Give a clap for each one,
And a cheer when you've done,
For all who have worked with us here.
_Chorus_
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!
We'll make it a general rule
That we Briarcroft-ites
Shall stand up for its rights,
And be true to the dear old School!'"
"Very creditable, Gipsy. Really not at all bad," commented Miss Edith.
"I know they're not up to much," said Gipsy apologetically, "but oh!
Miss Edith, I believe the girls would much rather sing them than the
other words. They're about the school, you see. I daren't ask Fraeulein
myself; do you think you could?" and Gipsy turned quite red at the
boldness of her own suggestion.
"It might be a good idea. Give me the paper, and I'll see what I can
do."
"Oh, thanks so much! I hope Fraeulein won't be offended."
Miss Edith's gentle tact could often accomplish things where other
measures might have failed. Nobody ever heard how she explained the
situation and persuaded Fraeulein Hochmeyer to adopt the alterations, but
before the next singing lesson all the obnoxious song books were
collected and Gipsy's versions, neatly printed by hand on slips of
paper, were pasted over the old words of the two songs in question.
"I hear you not like to sing about hares and babies?" commented
Fraeulein. "So! It must be all about school? Yes. You have among you von
who can write in verse" (nodding cheerily to the abashed Gipsy). "My
friendt, you shall make for us some more verses to suit ze ozer songs!"
Having determined to act as Fraeulein's champion, Gipsy tried her utmost
to sway popular opinion in favour of the luckless singing mistress. It
was a far harder task, though, than she had anticipated, and put her
powers of leadership to a severe test. It had been easy enough to induce
the Juniors to stand up for their own rights, but it was considerably
more difficult to make them realize anybody else's claims to
consideration.
"Do let's be nice to her!" pleaded Gipsy. "She's really a very decent
sort on the whole. She can't help being a foreigner and talking with a
queer accent."
"Why, you were the first to make fun of her last week," objected some of
the girls.
"I know, but it was rather horrid. Her story's quite romantic, don't you
think?"
"Can't see much romance about our homely German Sausage!" giggled Daisy
Scatcherd.
"Put a bunch of forget-me-nots in her hair, and she'll look a heroine!"
tittered Norah Bell.
"Yankee Doodle, when you ride a hobby you ride it to death! What's
induced you to take such a sudden and violent affection for the
Sausage?"
"You'll be standing perennially on the platform now, holding your teeth
like a dentist's advertisement, to show us how to 'open ze mouz'!"
"I wish you'd revise the schoolbooks and cut out the difficult parts!"
"Go on! Rag me as much as you like. I don't care!" retorted Gipsy
sturdily.
"I've brought this picture of a sausage," piped one of the smaller
girls. "I'm going to pin it on to the piano. She knows we call her
'Sausage'! She'll be in such a rage!"
"You little horror!" said Gipsy, seizing the picture and tearing it into
shreds before the eyes of its enraged owner.
On the whole, though her championship was treated as a joke, Gipsy's
influence had a beneficial effect, and the general behaviour in the
singing class began steadily to improve. Her Briarcroft songs were
appreciated, and the girls sang them lustily and trolled out the chorus
with vigour. The tunes were very catchy and bright, and everybody seemed
constantly to be humming them, in season or out of season.
"Your 'Hurrah! for the dear old School!' has got in my brain, Yankee
Doodle," said Mary Parsons. "It haunts me all day long, and I can't get
rid of it."
"We'll sing it in the lecture hall on the last day of the term. Poppie'd
be quite flattered," said Hetty Hancock.
"With a special cheer for Fraeulein Hochmeyer, then!" added Gipsy.