A Spartan Maiden
THE Spring Term was passing rapidly, and Gipsy had now been nearly six
months at Briarcroft. It felt a very, very long time to her since the
first evening when she had introduced herself in so sprightly a fashion
to her fellow boarders, and had given them a graphic account of the
shipwreck. The old Gipsy of last October and the new Gipsy of the
present March seemed like two different people, with a whole world of
experience to divide them. The well-conducted regime of Briarcroft had
had its due effect, and had considerably toned down her unconventional
Colonial ways; while the trouble through which she was passing, like all
seasons of adversity, had made her older and more thoughtful than
before. There was still no news of any kind from her father, and no
answer had yet been received from the cousins in New Zealand. Miss
Poppleton's manner towards Gipsy hardened a little more each week that
mail day arrived and brought no solution of the problem where her school
fees were to come from. At present her attitude was that of grim
acceptance of a most unwelcome burden. She was not actively unkind, and
no doubt thought she was behaving very generously in keeping Gipsy at
Briarcroft at all, but in a variety of small ways she made the girl feel
the humiliation of her position.
To poor Gipsy the difficulties appeared to accumulate more and more. The
clothes which her father had bought for her in Liverpool were fast
wearing out, and there seemed not the slightest prospect of renewing any
of them. In a school where the girls were always well, if simply
dressed, it was not pleasant to be the only one in worn skirts,
washed-out blouses, patched boots, mended gloves, and faded hair
ribbons. Gipsy had never before been stinted in either clothing or
pocket-money, and it hurt her pride sorely. But in spite of her shabby
attire she looked a distinguished little figure, with her straight,
upright habit of carriage, and quick alertness of manner. The sadness in
her dark eyes gave her a new dignity, and though a few girls might pass
ill-natured remarks about her clothes, her general prestige in the
school remained the same. There was an individuality about Gipsy which
marked her out, and raised her above the ordinary level. She was full of
original ideas, and had a persuasive way of stating her views that
invariably won her a following. The girls were becoming accustomed to
consult her on any important topic, and tacitly if not openly regarded
her as the Captain of the Lower School. With some the fact that she was
"down on her luck" invested her with a flavour of romance, more
especially as she was very reserved on the subject.
"I never dare ask Gipsy a word about her father," said Hetty Hancock.
"She shuts up like an oyster if one throws out the faintest hint."
"Do you think she still believes in him?" queried Mary Parsons.
"Rather! And I admire her for it. She's shown splendid spirit all this
time, and never once given in. She's a real Spartan."
"Yes, Gipsy's as game as can be," commented Dilys. "She never looks
beaten, however hard Poppie snubs her, and Poppie's just abominable
sometimes."
"I'm often dying to help Gipsy," said Hetty. "But one can't help her.
She'd be desperately offended if one offered to lend her pocket-money,
or anything."
"You'd better not try! No, I believe Gipsy's pride wouldn't let her
borrow so much as a yard of hair ribbon, however badly she needed it."
"Rather different from Leonora, who borrows everything she can persuade
people to lend her."
"Don't speak to me of Leonora! I rue the day she came into our
dormitory. She snores at night till I have to get up and shake her. We
call her 'Snorer' now, instead of 'Leonora'. I wish Poppie'd put her in
the attic, instead of Gipsy."
"Trust Poppie not to banish the millionairess! She's ever so proud of
having her at the school."
"H'm! Her company's a doubtful privilege, in my opinion."
"Yet Poppie had the cheek to suggest that we ought to make her a Guild
officer."
"No! Did she?" exclaimed the girls. "It's not Poppie's business to
interfere in our affairs. We'll manage them for ourselves, thank you!
We've got rid of the Seniors, and we're not going to let her dictate
what we must do."
Under Gipsy's fostering care the various branches of the United Guild
had prospered exceedingly. She was a most zealous and enterprising
secretary, sparing no trouble to make things a success, and capable of
organizing all kinds of new departures. She had got up a photographic
exhibition, and collected quite a nice little show of snapshots, neatly
mounted on brown paper, and pinned round the play-room. She persuaded
Miss White to allow the Form to start a museum in an empty desk that
stood in a corner, and spurred on the day girls to bring specimens for
it of birds' eggs, stones, pressed flowers, and any curiosities with
which they would consent to part. She made a neat catalogue of the
exhibits, with the names of the donors, and then broached a scheme for a
series of museum lectures; but at that even her stanchest adherents
turned tail.
"Got too many irons in the fire already to find time to write learned
papers on Natural History, Yankee Doodle," objected Lennie. "One would
have to cram it all up out of the encyclopaedia, and that's too hard work
for this child!"
"Wait till we have a museum anniversary, then we'll appoint you curator,
and you shall spout for the occasion," suggested Hetty.
A sketching club among the artistically disposed members of the Lower
School met with some response, especially as it developed into a
monthly competition. Gipsy boldly begged some attractive prints from
the drawing mistress to serve as prizes, and, having chosen a subject to
be illustrated, pinned up the various attempts, signed with pseudonyms,
and took the voting of the whole of the Juniors to decide the awards--an
exciting occasion which everybody considered worthy of repetition.
Gipsy's restless, energetic temperament was her salvation at this
particular crisis of her career. If she had allowed herself to brood
over her troubles, she would have been wretched indeed; but by throwing
herself heartily into schemes for the general good of the community she
succeeded in being, if not exactly happy, at any rate a useful and
cheerful addition to the school.
The Sale of Work took place in March, and though she had not a single
penny to spend on it, she contributed excellent service in other ways.
She was indefatigable in assisting to arrange stalls, write programmes,
or do any of the necessary drudgery that a bazaar always entails. Even
the Seniors acknowledged her helpfulness, and Helen Roper admitted that
"if one wanted a thing done quickly, Gipsy Latimer was worth a dozen of
those other kids". In the matter of the Sale of Work the hatchet had
been buried between the Upper and the Lower Schools, and both
co-operated to make the affair a success. Now that the rights of the
Juniors were fully established, and their claims to consideration
recognized, Gipsy was only too pleased to help the older girls, and ran
about holding step-ladders, handing tacks, fetching articles wanted, and
generally doing odd jobs. Encouraged by the conciliatory attitude of
the Seniors, she ventured to propose a scheme suggested by her foreign
experience.
"Why shouldn't we turn the tea-room into a cafe chantant?" she said. "We
should get far more money in that way than if people only went in for
refreshments. Charge them an admission, and then tea extra. They'll stay
far longer, and take more things, if music and singing are going on all
the time. It's really better than a separate concert, too, because you
can't always get people to go to the concerts, but hardly anyone can
resist tea at four o'clock."
After talking it over, the Seniors were graciously pleased to adopt
Gipsy's idea, and began to draw up a programme for the cafe chantant.
Their struggle of the past had taught them a lesson in fair play, and
they therefore proposed to admit a certain number of Juniors as
performers, instead of, as formerly, keeping the whole thing in their
own hands.
"I've put you down for two solos, Gipsy Latimer," said Helen Roper
magnanimously. "What would you like to sing?"
Gipsy thought for a moment before she replied:
"I wonder if it would be possible to borrow a banjo? I used to play one
out in America, and I know some very pretty Creole songs, and one or two
Spanish ones."
"My brother has a banjo that he'd lend, I'm sure," said Lena Morris.
"Good! We'll rig you out as a Spanish gipsy," agreed Helen. "There are
lots of things in our dramatic property box that would come in. You'd
look the part no end!"
"I'll send the banjo this evening, so that you can practise it,"
volunteered Lena.
Naturally the afternoon of the bazaar was a great event at Briarcroft.
Stalls had been put up in the lecture hall, and were prettily draped
with muslin, while the walls of the room were decorated with flags,
festoons of laurel leaves, and Chinese lanterns hung from wires
stretched across the platform. The flower stall was a particular
success, with its great bunches of daffodils, narcissus, violets, and
other spring blossoms, and pots of tulips, lily of the valley, and
hyacinths. Leonora had for once risen to the occasion. She had written
home to her mother for contributions, and Mrs. Parker had responded
generously, sending a quantity of beautiful flowers and pot plants to be
sold, and lending some of the finest palms in her conservatory to help
to deck the room.
By three o'clock everything was in order for patrons, and really the
arrangements reflected great credit upon the Committee. All the stalls
were well laden with articles. Some of the Seniors had been busy making
beautiful things. Doreen Tristram, who was taking lessons in china
painting, brought some charming little teacups and saucers, painted with
sprays of flowers. Helen Roper sent some excellent woodcarving, and
there was every description of needlecraft--traycloths in fine drawn
threadwork, doilys, cushions, tea cosies, nightdress cases, table
centres, and other dainty bits of embroidery. By the appointed hour,
groups of parents and friends began to arrive, and the hall was soon
full. The Lady Mayoress of Greyfield had consented to open the sale, and
made an excellent speech, explaining the object for which the money was
being raised, and urging the claims of the home for waifs and strays.
She herself set a good example by purchasing a number of articles at
various stalls, and the visitors followed suit liberally.
The girls hovered about, picking and choosing what they should buy,
according to the state of their purses or their individual tastes. A
novel feature, much patronized by the Juniors, was a Surprise Packet
table. All kinds of tempting little articles were wrapped up in gay
tissue paper, and purchased somewhat on the system of "buying a pig in a
poke", an arrangement that at any rate afforded great amusement when the
parcels were untied. The stalls soon began to exhibit a welcome
bareness, and the stall-holders felt the fullness of their bags with
satisfaction. Towards four o'clock everybody showed a tendency to
migrate in the direction of the cafe chantant. This had been arranged in
the largest of the classrooms. Tea was served at small tables while a
concert proceeded, the guests being expected to retire after about ten
minutes, so as to make room for others.
Helen Roper had got together quite a good programme. Irma Dalton, a
Second Form day girl, a dainty, fairy-like child, gave a graceful
performance of step dancing, Doreen Tristram played the violin, and
there were piano solos and songs from other members. Everyone
acknowledged, however, that Gipsy was the star of the occasion. She was
dressed specially for her part in a kind of half-Spanish costume, with a
red skirt, a black velvet bodice over white sleeves, and a muslin fichu
trimmed with lace. Her rich dark hair was allowed to hang loose, and a
gold-embroidered gauze scarf was twisted lightly round the top of her
head, the long ends falling below her waist. She wore sequin ornaments
and a quantity of Oriental bangles, which enhanced the fantastic effect,
and gave her the appearance of a true Romany. She was not at all
afflicted with shyness, and performed her share of the entertainment
with a zest that charmed her audience. Her southern songs, with their
crooning refrains, seemed to bring visions of moonlit lagoons and the
luscious scent of tropical flowers. She accompanied herself quite
prettily on the banjo, and had a stock of encores ready to meet the
demands for a further exhibition of her skill. She was such a success
that her fame spread over the bazaar. People came into the cafe chantant
specially to hear her, and everyone was asking who that bonny,
gipsy-looking girl was that sang the charming Creole melodies.
"We've taken exactly three times the money by the refreshment room that
we did last year," said Helen Roper, counting up the gains afterwards.
"It was a ripping idea of Gipsy's to add the music!" said Hetty Hancock,
always anxious to put in a good word for her friend.
"Yes, I'll give Gipsy the credit that's due to her," allowed Helen.
"She's worked hard over this affair, and behaved more decently than I
expected. I think she's improved. She's not nearly so perky and cheeky
as when she first came. She may turn out quite a nice girl yet."
"Wonders will never cease! Praise for Gipsy from Helen Roper!" gasped
Hetty to Lennie Chapman.
Gipsy, in her editorial capacity, wrote a most vivid report of the
bazaar for the _Juniors' Journal_, putting in a variety of grand words
and flowery turns of speech calculated to impress her readers. She had
taken special pains with this number of the Magazine. The chapter of her
serial story was longer and more exciting than ever; under the heading
of "Our Library Shelf" she had reviewed several books; she had written a
leading article on the tennis and cricket prospects for the forthcoming
season; and by ceaseless urging had kept her contributors, who were apt
to slack off, up to the mark in respect of literary matter. Fiona
Campbell had been persuaded to illustrate Norah Bell's storyette;
Blanche Russell had sent an account of a winter holiday ski-ing in
Norway; the Exchange and Mart had been fuller than ever of offers of
silkworms, garden plants, and miscellaneous possessions; and Gipsy had
appended a catalogue of the Museum, with an appeal for more donations of
specimens.
"Our journal now seems a going concern, and a well-established feature
of the Lower School; it is earnestly to be hoped that everyone will make
a supreme effort to ensure its success, and that more members will take
their share in swelling its pages. Criticisms and suggestions are freely
invited, and will be discussed at the General Meeting to be held next
Friday, 21 March, at 4 p.m., in the dressing-room."
So wrote Gipsy, and thought no more about the matter. This portion of
her editorial address, however, was seized upon by several of the girls,
and led to results which she had certainly not expected.
"Wants criticisms, does she?" said Maude Helm. "Well, I'll guarantee
she'll get them for once."
"And suggestions too!" giggled Gladys Merriman. "She's had it her own
way too long. The fuss people made about her at the bazaar was absurd."
"You weren't even asked to sing at the cafe chantant, Gladys!" commented
Alice O'Connor.
"There's been far too much of this favouritism lately. It's time
somebody took the thing up, and others had their fair turn. I was
speaking to Leonora about it, and she quite agreed with me."
"Yes; Poppie gave a strong hint she'd like Leonora pushed to the front
rather than Gipsy."
"Poppie barely tolerates Gipsy."
"I agree with you there. She'd rejoice to see her shelved."
"Well, look here, we've no time to stand gossiping. If anything's to be
done, we'd best go and canvass among the kids."
It was exactly at this crisis that Meg Gordon returned to school. She
had been absent since the week before Christmas, when her brother had
developed measles. She herself had caught the infection, and one after
another various brothers and sisters had sickened with it, so that for
about three months the whole family had been in quarantine. In her case
the old adage "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was undoubtedly
true. She came back more devoted to Gipsy than ever, ready to hang upon
her words, and yield her somewhat the same fealty as a squire of the
Middle Ages rendered to the knight to whom, by the laws of chivalry, he
was bound. It was well for Gipsy to have so firm an adherent, for her
present position in the school caused her to be greatly in need of
stanch friends.