A LESSON IN HOCKEY
But the comforted feeling did not last very long. There was no
monitress on duty in the Pink Dormitory when Gerry reached it, both
Muriel and Monica, who sometimes acted as the head girl's understudy,
having been detained downstairs, and Dorothy Pemberton was taking
advantage of that fact to change from her hockey things to her ordinary
school attire in Phyllis Tressider's cubicle. Through the half-drawn
curtains the two saw Gerry go by, and immediately brought their
conversation round to the new girl's display of cowardice upon the
playing-field.
"Wasn't it a shame we didn't win the match?" lamented Phyllis. "If it
hadn't been for German Gerry's funking that ball we must have won."
"Sickening, isn't it?" agreed Dorothy, raising her voice so that there
could be no possible doubt about the occupant of the next cubicle
hearing the remark. "I can't _think_ what made Muriel play her! I
shouldn't think she ever would again!"
"Fancy being afraid of a hockey ball!" said Phyllis scornfully.
"Perhaps it was the sight of Jack that frightened her," suggested
Dorothy. "Jack owes her something for the way German Gerry stopped her
playing in that hockey trial. Perhaps she thought Jack was going to
take it out of her then with a hockey stick!"
A little choked sound from next door assured the two that their shots
were going home, and encouraged them to further efforts.
"I bet Muriel felt pretty ratty when the German turned tail," Phyllis
went on maliciously. "Even Monica looked fed up--I guess she won't
take German Gerry's part any more! And as for Muriel--I shouldn't
think she'd ever speak to Gerry again! Muriel simply _hates_ cowards."
Dorothy racked her brains for another hurting remark. But before she
could think of one, rapid steps came down the corridor, and the next
minute the cubicle curtain was thrust aside, and the head girl, flushed
with indignation, appeared before the two conspirators' horrified eyes.
"There's one thing I hate even worse than cowards," said Muriel, with
mingled contempt and anger, "and that is _sneaks_! It's one of the
meanest, sneakiest things I ever heard of to go saying things like that
about a person when you _know_ they can overhear you! I'm not the
least bit ratty with Gerry. She didn't do it on purpose, and she's
sorry enough about it, anyway, without you two little worms rubbing it
in like that. You just shut up and leave Gerry alone. If I hear you
talking like that again I shall deal with you pretty severely."
For a moment the two girls were too thunderstruck at the Nemesis that
had descended upon them to make any excuse for themselves. Then
Dorothy rallied her failing powers.
"We're _awfully_ sorry, Muriel," she murmured in a deprecating tone.
"We didn't know Gerry was in her cubicle and could hear us."
Muriel gave a contemptuous sniff.
"Don't tell such lies! If you had said that you didn't know _I_ could
hear, I might have believed you. Go back to your cubicle at once,
Dorothy, and finish changing there. You know quite well that you are
not allowed to change in another girl's cubicle or talk in the
dormitory unless you've got permission. You can both of you take a
conduct mark for this little affair."
Then, having seen the abashed Dorothy depart to her own cubicle, the
head girl turned to Cubicle Thirteen.
"Ready yet, Gerry?" she asked kindly.
"N--not quite," came in muffled accents from behind the drawn curtain.
"Buck up, then--I'm waiting to walk down to tea with you," said Muriel
cheerily. And when, a few moments later, a subdued and rather red-eyed
person emerged from Number Thirteen, she slipped her hand through the
new girl's arm again, and marched her through the dormitory and down
the stairs and into the dining-hall, chatting gaily to her all the way,
as though she had been some important fellow-prefect instead of merely
a humble, insignificant member of the Lower Fifth who had just made a
disastrous exhibition of herself on the hockey field.
Arrived in the dining-hall where the girls were assembling for tea,
Muriel gave Gerry's arm a parting squeeze, and with a cheerful "Buck
up, kid, and never mind what those little beasts say," she sent her off
to her place at the bottom of Table Five, while she herself went to her
station at the head of Table Two.
But not even the head girl's championship could save Gerry from the bad
times that awaited her now. Indeed, in some ways, it rather made
matters worse. Phyllis was furiously jealous of the favour Muriel had
shown to the new girl, and Dorothy--although she was not so "gone" on
the monitress of the Pink Dormitory as her friend was--was yet very
indignant that their victim should have any favour shown to her at all.
Both girls bitterly resented the way Muriel had spoken to them after
the fateful hockey match; and the rowing they had received, and the
ensuing conduct marks bestowed upon them, they had, quite unjustly, put
down to Gerry's account. They took care that Muriel should not hear
any more of their persecution of the new girl; but that did not deter
them from carrying it on with an added zeal whenever they were quite
sure that the prefect was not within hearing. They tormented Gerry by
every means in their power; and though Gerry did her best to conceal
from her torturers how much their jeers and gibes had power to hurt,
yet she was so unskilled at hiding her feelings and felt their
unkindness so keenly that the two were perfectly well aware of how
surely their thrusts went home.
The persecution was not by any means confined to her own form, either.
Nearly the whole school had been witnesses of her failure up on the
hockey field, and those who had not been actually present had heard
highly-coloured versions of the episode from those who had. The
obnoxious nickname became more used than ever. Even the small girls
from the First and Second Forms would shout "German Gerry!" after the
new girl; and not even the little marks of favour Muriel sometimes
showed her had power to turn the tide of popular opinion in Gerry's
favour.
Even Monica, who had at first showed Gerry so much kindness, appeared
to have given her up. She no longer smiled at her when they met in the
corridors, as they frequently did. And as for Jack,--for whose
friendship Gerry yearned more than for anyone else's,--she might not
have existed so far as Jack was concerned. That episode up on the
hockey field had put the finishing touch to Jack's wavering attraction
for the new girl. She could not be friends with a girl who
funked--that settled the matter. And Jack returned to her old
companionship with Nita Fleming and three or four other members of the
Lower Fifth, and tried not to see the wistful expression in Gerry's
eyes when they sometimes happened to meet her own.
Gerry's next hockey practice promised to be rather a terrible ordeal
for the girl. She began to dread it directly after the dormitory
match, and was thankful for the brief respite afforded by the
intervening Sunday. Monday, the day on which she should have played
again, turned out so wet that hockey or anything else of an out-of-door
nature was quite impossible. Tuesday was a walk-day for Gerry's team.
But on the following Wednesday the practice could be avoided no longer,
and after dinner Gerry went up to her dormitory to change into her
hockey things, feeling very much as though she was on her way to be
martyred at the stake.
Gerry was far and away the biggest girl in the very low team in which
she had been placed. K.1. and K.2. were mostly filled with quite
little girls from the First and Second Forms, with one or two backward
individuals from the Third, and one spectacled person, Sally Jones,
from the Middle Fourth. Sally was rather an aggressive young lady
altogether. Although she was not good at hockey she was certainly
improving, and was usually put to play centre forward in the practice
games. She was inclined to presume upon this position and her superior
age to order the other children about. When Gerry slowly approached
the ground on which the two K teams were supposed to practise, Sally
regarded her with keenly-inquiring eyes, and noticing her obvious
dejection prepared to improve the occasion.
"Here comes German Gerry," she observed. And with a quick turn of her
wrist she flicked the ball she was idly knocking about full at the
approaching girl, hitting her smartly on the shin.
Gerry, who had not seen the ball coming, gave an involuntary cry of
pain, which occasioned a shriek of laughter from the small girls around.
"German Gerry! German Gerry! German Gerry's hurt again!" chanted one
small damsel. The catchword was taken up by the others, and the air
was filled with the clamour from some twenty lusty voices as the
taunting cry rose on the wind. But it died down somewhat abruptly, as
Sally, who, for all her spectacles, was by no means shortsighted,
caught sight of Muriel Paget in the distance.
"Shut up! Here's Muriel!" she said in an awestruck voice. And the
chanting stopped suddenly as the head girl came up.
Muriel looked rather sharply from Gerry's flushed face to the abashed
countenances of the other children. But if she guessed something of
what had been happening she did not betray her surmise.
"Places, please," she said briskly. "I'm going to take your practice
to-day instead of Kathleen. So mind you all play up jolly well."
The team scurried to their places with alacrity. It was something very
new and unusual for the head girl to come and take their hockey
afternoon. When not playing herself, Muriel generally superintended
the practices of the B or C teams. It was an unheard-of event that she
should condescend to coach the K teams, who were usually taken in hand
by some senior who knew very little more about the game than they did
themselves. When Kathleen Milne took the practice, she generally
contented herself by taking the time and leaving Sally Jones, or some
other obtrusive person, to do all the rest. A practice under Muriel
Paget would be something very different from the ordinary round of
things; and although highly flattered by the honour, the teams looked
forward with some apprehension to the next hour.
Muriel allowed the game to go on for about ten minutes. Then she blew
her whistle sharply.
"I'm going to try you in different places," she said, as the play
stopped. "You're none of you much good where you are. Now let's have
a complete shift round." And she proceeded to change the players about
until the whole field almost was transposed.
Up to now, Gerry had always played full back--or rather, she had stood
in that position. It would be incorrect to say that she had "played"
anywhere. But now Muriel signalled to her to come forward.
"You're no good at all as back, Gerry. Come and try centre forward for
a bit. And, Sally, you take Gerry's place at full back. Now are you
all arranged? Come along, Gerry, and take your place."
"But, _Muriel_--I can't play centre forward. Why, I don't even know
how to bully!" expostulated Gerry, aghast at the greatness thus
suddenly thrust upon her.
"Don't you? Well, that can soon be remedied. Here, where's the ball?
Lend me your stick a moment, Betty. Now, Gerry, stand square. No, not
like that--feet apart. So. That's better. Now--one, two, three--now
hit the ball. See? Do it again until you've quite got it." And she
made the younger girl repeat the performance again and again until
Gerry really seemed to know the correct movements.
"Now, then, come along and begin. Here's your stick, Betty--thanks
very much."
But Gerry still hung back.
"Oh, Muriel--I can't!" she breathed unhappily. But Muriel only smiled
down into her face, kindly but very firmly.
"Now, Gerry, don't be silly. This isn't a match, and it doesn't matter
a hang if you do make a mess of it. You can't live at Wakehurst Priory
and not play hockey. We're all hockey mad here, you know, and I've
made up my mind that you're going to learn to play. It was mostly for
your sake that I came down to coach the K teams to-day. Buck up, now,
and try. You can do it, you know, if you'll only think you can."
Thus adjured, Gerry made an effort. She took her place reluctantly on
the centre-line and began to bully. Much to her own surprise she got
the ball away from her opponent, and on following up her advantage
succeeded in getting it by the centre half also. She lost it then, but
much encouraged by Muriel's approving "Well done, Gerry!" she made
another great effort and retrieved it again. And thenceforward,
although she did not distinguish herself very specially, she took quite
an active part in the game, finding it a good deal easier and much less
painful--even when she did inadvertently stop a ball on her ankle--than
she had expected.
In making her play centre forward, Muriel had hit upon the one plan
which could help her to overcome her nerves. Right in the thick of the
battle there was no time for overmuch thinking, and the sick feeling of
nervousness which had always crept over her hitherto when she stood at
full back, waiting, waiting, waiting for the ball to come, was banished
altogether. Towards the end of the afternoon, Gerry even succeeded in
hitting a goal, much to her own surprise and the surprise of her
fellow-players. It was more by good luck than judgment, but all the
same it served to hearten her spirits immensely, and Muriel's smile of
approval more than compensated for the pain her bruised ankle was
causing her.
"You see you can play all right when you like," said the head girl when
the practice was over. "Are you walking down with anybody? No? Good;
then come and walk down with me. Let's see, now, when's your next
practice? Friday, isn't it?"
"Yes, Friday," answered Gerry, rather hot and breathless from her
exertions, but so pleased at her late performance that she did not mind
that.
"Well, I shall come and coach you again then, and if you do as well as
you did to-day, I shall move you up into J.2. It will be much better
for you than playing amongst all those little kids. But you'll have to
play forward always, never back. I always think you need to be rather
a stolid individual altogether to make a successful back. I can't
think why Kathleen ever put you to play there. Besides, you're cut out
for a forward with those great long legs of yours. And you can run,
too--I watched you particularly to-day."
Gerry's heart glowed within her, but Muriel's next words filled her
with alarm.
"Now, do you know what I want you to do? We're playing the return
match against the Green Dorm on Saturday week, and if you keep on
improving, as I think you will, I'm going to put you down to play again
for the Pink. No--wait a minute," as Gerry gave a little exclamation
of protest. "It won't be back this time. I shall put you on the wing
somewhere, or else half-back--I'm not quite sure myself yet. But I
specially want you to play, and to play well. I want to give you an
opportunity of wiping out last Saturday in the eyes of the school. And
if you've got the grit I think you have, you're going to take it."
There was silence for a moment or two. Then Gerry spoke uncertainly:
"But--but suppose I funk again?"
"You won't funk," said Muriel, with a quiet conviction that did more to
reassure the nervous girl at her side than any amount of arguing would
have done. To some natures the greatest incentive to do well is the
knowledge that somebody believes in them implicitly. Gerry, whose
first impulse had been to refuse the offer in a panic and beg Muriel at
all costs to leave her name out of the team, seemed to catch some of
the elder girl's confidence. If _only_ she could--if only she could
overcome her nerves sufficiently to do well! If she could distinguish
herself in the coming match and show the girls that though she was
funky at some things she wasn't a coward all through, how splendid it
would be! Oh, she would, she would! She would play and justify
Muriel's confidence in her. She wouldn't funk again.
"Are you quite sure you're not _afraid_ to play a coward?" she said, in
such a low tone that Muriel could only just catch the obnoxious word.
But she did catch it, and stopping suddenly, she laid her hands firmly
on the younger girl's shoulders.
"Now, look here, Gerry, don't be absurd!" she said. "Even if some of
the girls _have_ called you that, there's no earthly reason why you
should imagine that it's true. Just buck up and make up your mind that
you won't be a coward. You _needn't_ be, you know. Being brave isn't
just a matter of not fearing things. The very bravest people of all
are often those who are the most afraid and yet who conquer their
fears. You conquered your fear quite a lot this afternoon. You got
one quite nasty bang on your ankle--I was watching you and I saw--and
you didn't make the least little bit of fuss about it. Well, if you've
done that once you can do it again. Now, if I ask you to play in my
team for the next dormitory match, will you do it?"
"Yes," said Gerry simply, raising her eyes to the head girl's face.
And after a deep look into them, Muriel dropped her hands from her
junior's shoulders with a satisfied smile.
"That's all right, then," she said. "And now we'd better both buck up,
or we'll be frantically late for tea."