AN INTERVIEW WITH THE HEAD GIRL
And it stuck! From that day forward Geraldine was invariably known
throughout the school as "German Gerry." "Gerry" alone the girl would
not have minded so much. As a shortening for Geraldine, it compared
quite favourably with most nicknames. But with the prefix of "German"
the title became abhorrent to the unfortunate new girl, a fact which
was very soon discovered by the Lower Fifth. And although Geraldine,
or Gerry, as she now became, except to the mistresses and one or two of
the older girls, did her best to disguise how much she minded, yet she
could not help wincing sometimes when the objectionable name was
uttered.
Once she tried the effect of a mild remonstrance.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," she said one evening during
preparation, when Phyllis Tressider addressed her by the title with a
request for the loan of a book. "I'm _not_ German--and I _do_ so hate
being called it!"
There was dead silence in the classroom. The Lower Fifth had been
expecting Gerry to remonstrate for some time past, and her failure to
do so had been put down as another sign of her weak spirit. The Lower
Fifth was quite unable to comprehend the mentality of a girl who, from
a sheer nervous dread of "rows," would submit to almost any treatment
rather than protest. The form waited now with some interest to see how
the situation would develop, leaving Phyllis to deal with it as she
thought fit.
Phyllis thought fit to say nothing for the moment. And after a brief
pause, Gerry spoke again.
"I'm _not_ German, you know," she said pleadingly. "Not the very least
little bit."
"Aren't you?" said Phyllis politely, but with the utmost indifference
in her tone. "I say, has anybody done this beastly number eleven sum
yet? Is 33-1/4 the right answer?"
"I'm not German, Phyllis! Truly I'm not!" repeated poor Gerry, her
eyes filling with tears.
"Oh, aren't you?" said Phyllis again. "Of course if you _tell_ us
so----" with an ironic emphasis on the "tell." Then she broke off with
an air of having done with the subject for ever. "But I'm really not
interested, one way or the other," she concluded. "I say, Dorothy, you
might tell me what your answer is to number eleven?"
"Then, _please_, don't call me that any longer," pleaded Gerry; but
Phyllis ignored her altogether and turned to Jack Pym, who sat on one
side of her.
"Extraordinary the number of Germans who're getting naturalised these
days," she remarked conversationally. "Shows what a fat lot of
patriotism they've got, doesn't it? As soon as their country's down
and out they all desert her and refuse to acknowledge her any longer.
Oh, well--I suppose it's all one can expect from a lot of German
Gerries!"
"Oh, shut up, for goodness' sake, and let me get on with my prep!"
growled Jack, planting her elbows firmly on her desk and bending over
her papers. Jack had caught sight of tears in Gerry's eyes, and the
sight had disconcerted her strangely. After all, Gerry was almost a
new girl. It had really been quite an accident that she had got her
into trouble on that first day of term; and even though she did speak
German so well it need not necessarily mean that she had German
tendencies. Did not Miss Parrot speak it equally fluently? Nobody
would ever dream of accusing Miss Parrot of having German sympathies.
Gerry really was having rather a rotten time of it, and it was a shame
that Dorothy and Phyllis should be always at her like that. But
unfortunately Jack was not strong enough in character to stand up on
behalf of the new girl. She was always far too easily swayed by
popular opinion, and since popular opinion appeared to be dead against
Gerry, Jack dared not show her any sympathy. So she stifled her
feelings of compunction and returned to work, endeavouring to banish
all thought of Gerry Wilmott from her mind.
After this one attempt, Gerry abandoned all efforts to rid herself of
the objectionable nickname. It never occurred to her to take the form
into her confidence respecting the reason for her nerves. Indeed, she
did not connect them herself with the air-raid night. Also, in the
present state of affairs, there was really no one in whom she could
confide, and in any case she would have found it difficult to speak of
that terrible evening. She became more and more solitary, hardly
attempting to speak to her companions, and a more miserable and
lonelier girl than the one who inhabited Cubicle Thirteen, in the Pink
Dormitory at Wakehurst Priory, it would have been hard to find. It
really seemed as though some of the ill-luck proverbially attaching to
the mystic number was hanging over her head. Lessons were almost her
only solace. Having no other interest in life, Gerry set to work to
excel in class, and did so well that she very soon rose to the top of
the form, a place which had been divided pretty evenly hitherto between
Hilda Burns and Dorothy Pemberton. The new girl's success in form work
aroused more jealousy on Dorothy's part, and on Phyllis's, too.
Phyllis's championship of her chum did not need much spurring, more
especially when it concerned Gerry Wilmott.
But success in lessons cannot make up for unpopularity away from them.
To a girl at boarding-school the social life is by far the most
important part as a rule, much more important than the hours passed in
the classroom. And Gerry, who was no exception to the general run of
girls in this respect, found her position in form a very poor
consolation indeed for all the other troubles that she had to bear.
Unfortunately, too, she was a hopeless duffer at games, never having
played any before coming to school. Hockey was the principal pastime
during the two winter terms at Wakehurst, and practice two or three
times a week was compulsory for all except for a few girls who were
exempt on account of some physical defect. Gerry, who, although
delicate, had nothing really organically wrong with her, was obliged to
take her turn with the rest; but she disliked the muddy pastime
immensely, and took no interest in trying to improve her play. She was
put down in the very lowest team of all, along with quite small
children and a few other beginners like herself; and although the
prefect who took charge of the hockey practice tried occasionally to
"buck up" the slack girl from the Lower Fifth, she, herself, was not
very interested in the game and met with no success.
Just before half-term, a series of dormitory matches was arranged by
the head girl, who was captain of the first team and immensely keen on
the game. Muriel was naturally anxious that her own dormitory should
distinguish itself, and she selected her team with great care and much
anxious thought. Several of the matches had been played, and so far
the Pink Dormitory had been victorious against all the opponents they
had met. Now they were down to play against the Green Dormitory, a
very powerful rival, which also possessed, so far, an unbroken record.
It was pretty certain that the Dormitory Hockey Cup, which was the
prize of these inter-school matches, would go to one or the other of
these two teams, and excitement in the school ran high as the day
approached on which the final match was to be played.
There were thirty inhabitants of the Pink Dormitory, so it ought to
have been possible to have chosen eleven players from amongst them
without having to fall back upon one who had only begun to play that
term, and who hated hockey into the bargain. Nevertheless, by a series
of unlucky accidents, the number of possible players was gradually
reduced, until on the very morning of the day fixed for the match
against the Green Dormitory, Muriel found herself confronted with the
problem of choosing between Geraldine Wilmott and a small girl from the
Middle Third for her eleventh player. In her perplexity she consulted
Monica, who, although she was not in the first school eleven, was quite
a useful player and Muriel's principal reliance in the Pink team.
"There's literally no one else," the head girl said in despair.
"Gladys and Bee are away for the week-end. Dora Wainscott's got a
gathered hand, so she's out of the question; Ena Philpotts mayn't play
at all this term; Sister's taking Pam to the dentist's this afternoon;
and Ursula Hanson is going out with her aunt. All the others are
either down with 'flu or just recovering from it, and Sister won't let
any of them play until they've been up a week. That only leaves us
Marjorie Brown or this new girl--Geraldine what's-her-name. 'German
Gerry' the girls call her, don't they? Have you seen her play--have
you any idea what she's like?"
"No, I've never seen her play, but I shouldn't think she's much good.
Who superintends her team practice? Do you know?"
"Yes, Kathleen Milne. She's right down in the bottom team, you see.
But so's Marjorie, too, for the matter of that. I've asked Kathleen
which is the best, but she doesn't seem to know much about either of
them. Says they are both so rotten that she really doesn't know which
is the worse."
"Kathleen's rather a slacker at hockey herself," commented Monica.
"You can't really wonder her team doesn't do better when they've got
such a slack coach. Can't you get that changed, Muriel? I don't see
why it must always be a prefect who takes charge of the hockey
practices for the lower teams. It would be much better to have
somebody who knew something about hockey--even if it wasn't a prefect.
Don't you think so?"
"Yes, it is rather a bad practice, and I mean to get it altered in
time," agreed Muriel. "Only there's so much to be done, and I've only
been head two terms, you know. Still, I really will see about it as
soon as I can. But that doesn't help me out of my fix over the
dormitory match. Which of those two shall I play? Gerry or Marjorie?"
"I think I should give Gerry the chance," replied Monica thoughtfully.
"Marjorie is such a mite of a thing, and from what Kathleen told you
she doesn't appear to be any better in her play. After all, one player
won't make such a huge lot of difference since you've got ten of the
original team left. You're really rather lucky, Muriel, only to have
one of the eleven down with 'flu."
"Yes, I suppose I am," said the head girl. "Very well, then, it shall
be Gerry. Where do the Lower Fifth hang out this time of the morning?"
"In their sitting-room, I expect, since it's Saturday and there isn't
any prep," said Monica.
Muriel opened the door of her study and hailed a small girl who
happened to be passing.
"Here, Babs, run round to the Lower Fifth sitting-room and tell Gerry
Wilmott I want her in my study. If she isn't there, just hunt about
until you find her. There's a good kid."
"All right, Muriel," said the small girl, and darted off on her
errand--fagging for Muriel Paget was esteemed a great honour amongst
the smaller fry at Wakehurst Priory. And so Gerry, sitting half-hidden
in a corner of the sitting-room, buried in a book, was presently
aroused by a violent jog at her elbow, and looked up to find Babs
Hethwaite standing beside her.
"Muriel Paget wants you in her study. She says you're to go to her _at
once_," burst out the messenger.
Several of the members of the form looked up interestedly at this
announcement, and many curious eyes followed Gerry as she made her way
across the room.
"Hullo, what's up? I wonder what German Gerry's been doing for Muriel
to want her in such a hurry?" commented Nita Fleming as the door closed
behind the new girl.
"Oh, nothing! Perhaps Sister's been complaining about her drawers or
something," said Jack, rather resenting the tone in which Nita spoke.
It was noticeable--or rather would have been noticeable if anybody had
been interested enough to notice it--that Jack never spoke of Gerry by
the objectionable nickname herself, although she made no comment when
others used it. Always, whenever Gerry was unkindly spoken of by
anybody, Jack felt an unaccountable desire to stick up for her and take
her part. If Jack had only been a little braver, she probably would
have done so. It was curious how drawn she had been to Gerry during
that first evening of the term when Monica had handed the new girl over
to her care. If only things had been different, she might have made a
real chum OF Gerry Wilmott--Jack reflected rather wistfully. But
though Jack was plucky enough where mice and hockey and material things
of that sort were concerned, when it came to braving the good opinion
of her fellows, her courage failed her altogether.
Gerry found Muriel sitting at her writing-desk, making out a revised
list for the afternoon's match.
"Oh, there you are!" the head girl said, as Gerry entered the room in
response to her "Come in." "Look here, you've got to play in the match
this afternoon for the Pink Dorm. Gladys Williams is down with 'flu
and you've got to take her place--right back. Do you think you can
manage it?"
Gerry gave a gasp of dismay.
"Me! Oh, but, Muriel, I'm rotten at hockey!"
"I know you are," said Muriel candidly. "But there literally isn't
anybody else--all the other girls in the Pink Dorm are away or down
with 'flu, or something. I never came across such a lot in my life! I
wouldn't put you in if there was anybody else--but there isn't. So
you'll just have to play."
"But, Muriel----" protested Gerry desperately. But Muriel waved her
protest aside.
"Not another word! You've got to play. It's for the honour of the
dorm, you know. I shan't expect anything very great of you--just do
your best and I shall be satisfied. It's 2.30 sharp up on the hockey
ground, and mind you're ready in time."
Then, as Gerry still lingered, a look of distress on her face, the head
girl rose from her seat and laid her hand kindly on her junior's
shoulder.
"Look here, kiddie--you must try and get a better opinion of yourself.
Having confidence in oneself is half the battle in everything, you
know. Just make up your mind that you're going to play A1 in the match
this afternoon, and you'll come through all right! You're such a
quiet, shy person that you make the girls shy of you too, and you'll
never make friends with them while you're like that. You just try and
come out of the background a little and do things, and you'll find
you'll get on much better all round."
Muriel smiled down very kindly at the younger girl as she said these
words, and Gerry felt her heart go out to the head girl of the school.
Almost it was on the tip of her tongue to confide some of her troubles
to Muriel about that horrible nickname and the caricature that first
day in class, and how the rest of the Lower Fifth suspected her of
having German sympathies, if nothing worse! It was evident that Muriel
knew that things were not quite right with her, or she would not have
said as much as she had done.
But just as she was going to speak, the words died away on her lips.
No! She wouldn't say! She wasn't a sneak, whatever the Lower Fifth
might think, and since she had kept her own counsel so far, she would
keep it to the end. After all, she didn't want to be friends with such
a mean set of pigs as the Lower Fifth had proved themselves to be!
Even Jack, whom she had liked so much that first day of term--but, no!
Jack would not bear thinking about just then! And Gerry turned to
leave the head girl's study with a murmur of thanks for Muriel's
encouragement.
"I'll do my very best," she said earnestly. And Muriel gave her
another friendly smile as she dismissed her, so that Gerry retraced her
steps to the Lower Fifth classroom with a new feeling of happiness in
her heart. Muriel was nice--whatever the girls in the Lower Fifth
might be. And so was Monica, and possibly some of the girls in the
Middle and Upper Fifth were not quite so beastly--yes, that was the
only word for it--as her present companions. Gerry decided that she
would work harder than ever at her lessons and try and get moved up
next term, and then possibly, amongst new companions, she could make a
new start, and find school life a much happier affair than it had been
hitherto.
With which resolve she turned the handle of the sitting-room door and
walked inside.