THE LOWER FIFTH IS MUTE
The first lesson on Monday morning was with Miss Latham. The Lower
Fifth, by way of marking the contrast, or perhaps in order to soothe
their guilty consciences, had given extra attention to their
preparation for the English mistress, and matters progressed swimmingly
in consequence. Miss Latham dealt out good marks lavishly. Then, with
a word of praise for the careful manner in which the form had prepared
its work, she made way for Miss Burton.
It was the German lesson first.
"Let me see--I set an essay for your preparation, didn't I?" began the
new mistress briskly. "Hilda Burns, you are head of this form, kindly
collect the papers and bring them to me."
Hilda rose from her desk, then hesitated, while her eye swept round the
classroom. Every member of the form sat rigidly at attention, while
every desk was bare of essay papers. With a little gasp of
nervousness, Hilda endeavoured to break the news of the Lower Fifth's
unpreparedness for the lesson.
"If you please, Miss Burton, I don't think there are any essays to be
given in."
Miss Burton stared at her in undisguised amazement.
"No essays? What do you mean, child? Do you mean to tell me that
nobody in the whole form has had time to do their preparation?"
"I--I don't think there are any essays done," evaded Hilda.
Miss Burton continued to stare at the head of her form for a moment or
two. Then a grim expression came over her face and she turned to the
other girls.
"Hands up, please, those of you who have done the essay that I set,"
she commanded.
Not a hand was raised. The whole form sat in rigid stillness; and the
mistress put her question in a slightly different form.
"Hands up those of you who have not done it," she said.
With a promptness that would have done the form credit in a drill
display, a hand shot up from every girl, while a stifled giggle ran
round the room at the look of blank astonishment that spread over the
mistress's face.
"I shall be obliged if someone will enlighten me as to why this work
has not been done," Miss Burton said at length in her stiffest manner.
But although she waited for an answer, none came. Once more she turned
to Hilda.
"Hilda Burns, will you please explain why the form has not done the
preparation that I set?" she demanded. But there was no satisfactory
explanation to be got out of Hilda. The head of the form blushed and
stammered and fidgeted, but no coherent answer was forthcoming from
her, and at last the mistress gave up the attempt to elicit one.
"Since you refuse to give me any explanation, I can only put down your
omission to prepare the essay to rank laziness," she remarked icily.
"Possibly you thought that as I was a newcomer, you could do what you
liked in my classes. You will find that you have made a mistake, for I
assure you that I am going to stand no nonsense. Of course, there will
be no marks for this lesson, and you will write the essay for the next
German class in addition to the fresh work which I shall set you. I
had intended to read your essays aloud and criticise them in class, but
since they are not written I cannot, of course, do that."
"Thank the Lord they aren't written, then," muttered Jack in an aside
to Phyllis Tressider. Unfortunately for Jack, Miss Burton's quick ears
caught the remark and she pounced upon the offender in a trice.
"Joanna Pym, take a bad mark," she snapped. Then she resumed her
address to the rest of the form.
"Since I cannot carry out my original intention of criticising your
essays, I am going to ask you questions in German which I shall expect
you to answer in that language. Dorothy Pemberton, you are sitting at
the end of a row, I shall begin with you. Everybody pay attention,
please. Dorothy, 'Was hast du waehrend deinen Sommerferien getan?'"
It was a question to which Dorothy could have found any amount of
suitable answers, but, mindful of the compact with the form, she sat in
silence and the question passed to her next-door neighbour, Phyllis.
Phyllis also passed it, and thereafter Miss Burton went from one girl
to another without receiving any attempt at a reply. When the whole
form had passed the question in dead silence, the mistress, quivering
with anger, propounded another.
"'Warum halten die Dichter der Fruehling fuer die schoensten der
Jahreszeiten?'" she inquired, with a ferocity which was rather at
variance with the peaceful tenor of the question.
Once again it was Dorothy's turn to answer. Once again she passed the
question, and once again it travelled right round the form without
eliciting a response in German or in any other language.
"Does anybody know the meaning of this sentence?" asked Miss Burton
sarcastically, still struggling to preserve her self-control.
Everybody knew it, of course, but nobody would condescend to say so,
and the class retained its stubborn demeanour.
Then the mistress could contain her wrath no longer. The storm broke,
and for a quarter of an hour the Lower Fifth sat and listened to a
raging denunciation of its stupidity, its crass ignorance and
unbelievable insolence, poured out upon them in no measured terms. By
rights, the Lower Fifth should have writhed in its seats as it listened
to the fiery condemnation of its new form-mistress. But in reality it
did no such thing. It was delighted at having aroused the enemy to
such indignant anger, and the members of the form drank in with unholy
joy the richness of the abuse poured out upon them.
Towards the end of the lesson, however, Miss Burton suddenly calmed
down.
"It is evidently no use _my_ saying anything to you," she said. "We
will see what Miss Oakley has to say when she hears about it."
It was a threat for which the Lower Fifth were prepared, certainly, but
one which filled them with considerable uneasiness, nevertheless. The
German lesson was over at last, but it was followed immediately by an
algebra class which Miss Burton was also supposed to take. Absolutely
no attempt had been made to touch the preparation set for it, and as
soon as she had ascertained this fact, the mistress adopted a line of
action for which the Lower Fifth was totally unprepared.
"Kindly put all your books and papers away in your desks. Pencils and
indiarubbers, too, and rulers. Has everybody put everything away?
Then you will all of you kindly sit in silence during this next hour.
I do not intend to waste my time in trying to teach a class which
refuses to allow itself to be taught. Since you have all elected to do
nothing this morning, you can sit and _do_ it, while I correct
exercises for the Upper Fourth."
And to the form's dismay, the new mistress immediately set to work upon
a pile of exercise books, leaving the Lower Fifth to sit idle and
silent until the lesson should be over.
It is one thing to do nothing while an angry mistress is trying to make
you work! Quite another to sit doing it in deadly boredom for a whole
hour! The Lower Fifth had not known before how long an hour could be.
There were not even pencils to fidget about with, and the form felt
that it would almost rather have been marched at once to Miss Oakley
than have to endure this dreadful inaction any longer. But Miss
Burton, having made up her mind to the penance her form should do, was
adamant. She sat industriously correcting exercises, and addressed no
remark at all to the rebels, except to deal out order marks when people
fidgeted more than usual. By the time the hour was over quite a lot of
these distinctions had been gained.
"Well, we shall have some marks to give in, anyway," said Jack, when
the Lower Fifth was released at eleven o'clock recess to refresh itself
with cocoa and biscuits in the dining-hall. "Better have bad marks to
give in, I suppose, than none at all!"
"I wonder what she'll do when it comes to literature and she finds we
haven't prepared for that, either," said Hilda, with rather a tragic
expression on her face. Hilda's conscience was troubling her a good
deal. She had very lively visions of what the headmistress would
probably say about her responsibility as head of the form, when the
matter should get to her ears.
"Treat us the same way as she did in algebra class, I expect," said
Jack, with a grimace. "Wasn't it a rotten thing to go and do? I'd
much rather she had raved at us like she did over the German--that
really was rather fun!"
"It was rather cute of her, all the same," said Dorothy, with a sort of
grudging admiration. "It made me feel rather mean when she settled
down to correcting those papers like that. If she hadn't been quite so
lavish with her bad marks all the time, I almost believe I might have
repented a bit then."
"Oh, you'll repent all right, later on. Don't you worry about that,"
said Jack philosophically. "You just wait until Miss Oakley has given
us a jawing. She'll make you feel an utter worm; you just see if she
doesn't!"
"I know she will!" said Hilda, with a groan. "I say, don't you think
we'd better give in and tell Miss Burton that we're sorry? There's a
perfectly awful time waiting for us if we go on with the strike."
"We've gone too far to draw back now," said Dorothy. "So we may as
well go on a little longer and see if we can't accomplish something.
We've set out to show Miss Burton that she's come to an up-to-date
public school, and that her old-fashioned kindergarten methods won't go
down here. Don't let's give in before the campaign's properly begun!"
"Courage, _mes amis_," cried Jack gaily, waving a biscuit over her
head. "The worst is still to come, I admit, but we are martyrs in a
good cause. We'll teach Miss Burton a lesson before we've done! And
if we burn our own fingers in the doing of it--well, we knew we
shouldn't get off scot-free before we began, didn't we?"
"Anyway, we shall have a bit of a run for our money," observed Nita
Fleming, who had only just joined the group. "Miss Oakley's gone away
till Wednesday--I was in the hall just now and saw her drive off. That
means Thursday before the row can come off, at the very earliest."
"Hurrah!" shouted Jack. "If we all hold together till then we shall
have broken Miss Burton's spirit, and shown her that she can't treat us
as though we were just a parcel of kids. Thursday--why, who knows, we
may have brought her to terms by then!"
"There's the bell!" said Hilda. "Buck up! it's Mademoiselle first, and
we don't want to be late for her."
The French lesson passed off most successfully, full marks being gained
by the whole form. Then came a breathless moment while the form waited
for the reappearance of Miss Burton. But to everybody's astonishment
it was the head girl, Muriel Paget, who walked into the classroom at
the conclusion of the French lesson.
"Miss Burton isn't coming to this class," announced the head girl in
cold tones. "Miss Latham has asked me to come and sit here during the
lesson. Get out your _Henry the Fifths_, please. You are to copy out
Act I. Scene ii. from the beginning, putting in all the
stage-directions and footnotes. Those are Miss Latham's orders, and
what you don't have time to do now, you are to finish in prep to-night."
"My hat! The whole of the second scene!" groaned Phyllis in a whisper.
"Why, there's pages and pages of it!"
"Silence, please! There is to be no talking in class," rapped out
Muriel, frowning. Phyllis, catching the frown, relapsed into instant
silence, and meekly found the place in her copy of _Henry V_. Defying
the new mistress was one thing, but to defy the head girl was quite
another. And soon the whole of the Lower Fifth was struggling with
ink-stained fingers and much inward groaning of spirit to accomplish
the irksome and monotonous task allotted to it.
Miss Burton did not return to the classroom at all that morning, and at
the end of school, Muriel set the preparation for the evening and
prepared to take the marks. Miss Latham's awards for English came
first and were duly noted down. Then came the marks for the German
class.
"German, now," said Muriel. "Hilda Burns, how many?"
"None," came from Hilda.
"Dorothy Pemberton?"
"None."
"Phyllis Tressider?"
"None."
And so on throughout the whole form, right down to Gerry Wilmott, whose
name as the last comer was placed last upon the list. Muriel made no
comment upon the scandalous result, but called for the marks for
algebra. Once again the same comedy was enacted. Then came the good
marks obtained from Mademoiselle, and then the last class for
literature. Muriel did not ask any questions respecting these.
"You have none of you any marks for literature," she said. "Any bad
marks to give in?"
There were several, and the head girl's eyebrows went up as she put
them down.
"Is that _all_?" she asked sarcastically, when at last she had disposed
of all the upraised hands. Then she closed the mark-book and prepared
to descend from the high desk.
"I hope you are pleased with your morning's work," she said, and went
out of the room, leaving a somewhat discomfited Lower Fifth behind her.
"I say! The fat _is_ in the fire if all the Sixth know about it!" said
Dorothy uncomfortably.
"What a perfectly, beastly mean sneak that Miss Burton is!" exclaimed
Phyllis.
"Well, all I can say is, we shall have to make things so beastly
uncomfortable for her that she'll just _have_ to go!" said Jack
vindictively. Then she relapsed into a rather sheepish grin. "At any
rate, it is to be hoped that we shall," she said. "For we've certainly
succeeded in making things beastly uncomfortable for ourselves."
A remark with which the whole form mournfully agreed.
CHAPTER XVI
A GREAT DECISION
"Done your lines yet?" inquired Jack, catching Gerry up just as the
latter was going into the Lower Fifth classroom for preparation that
evening.
"Very nearly," said Gerry. "I've only got about another ten to do, I
think. I've come in early so as to finish them and take them up to
Miss Burton before the prep bell goes. How are you getting on with
yours?"
"Oh, about half-way through, I think," said Jack carelessly. "But it
doesn't matter. I shall do them in prep to-night instead of any of
Miss Burton's work. I shouldn't bother about them at all if it wasn't
Miss Oakley who had set them. As it is, I shall have to do them, I
suppose. It doesn't pay to disobey the Head, I can tell you," she
added, with emphasis.
Jack and Gerry were not the only two members of the Lower Fifth who had
come in early for preparation that night. When they entered the
classroom, they found several of the girls there already. Most of them
were gathered around Hilda Burns's desk, apparently endeavouring to
persuade her to some course of action.
"Here's Jack!" exclaimed Dorothy Pemberton in a tone of relief as the
two newcomers came into the room. "I say, Jack, _do_ come here and
talk to Hilda! She wants to cave in and do Miss Burton's prep. I tell
her that she'll be a traitor to the form if she does."
"Of course, she will be!" cried Jack. "And, besides, it won't be the
slightest use caving in now. Miss Burton's got her knife into us like
blazes. She's sure to take the matter up to the Head, anyway, so we
may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb!"
"That's what I say," said Dorothy. "But Hilda's got an attack of
nerves or conscience or something. Pull yourself together, old girl,
and stick to it. As Jack says, we're bound to get into a beastly row
anyhow, so we might as well try and accomplish our purpose before we
cave in."
"But what is our purpose?" argued Hilda, still unconvinced, but
manifestly wavering.
"To teach Miss Burton a lesson, of course. To show her that she can't
go sticking the Lower Fifth in corners as though we were a parcel of
babies from the First Form! To make her see how jolly unpopular she's
made herself, and to induce her to treat us better for the future if
she stays on--which I jolly well hope Miss Oakley won't let her do!"
said Jack, with a fine flourish of eloquence.
"Good old Jack!" said Dorothy approvingly. "That's put it in a
nutshell. Now, Hilda, say you'll stick to it and refuse to work for
Miss Burton, or--or we'll send you to Coventry or something!"
The threat was made laughingly. Dorothy knew well enough that Hilda's
strength of purpose was not sufficient for her to stand out against the
whole of her form when it actually came to the point. This was not the
first time she had had to deal with the conscience of the head of the
form. Hilda was apt to get these belated attacks of panic when
nefarious schemes were afoot in the Lower Fifth, but never yet had she
been known to make a stand for her convictions. And this occasion
proved no exception to the general rule. Seeing that public opinion
was all in favour of continuing the strike, she yielded, with one last
feeble protest.
"Well, don't blame me when Miss Oakley comes down upon us like a ton of
bricks!" she said, as she got out the books and papers for the
preparation set by Miss Latham and Mademoiselle.
"We won't, old thing," promised Jack. "And if there's anything left of
us after the Head's done with us, we'll let you say, 'I told you so,'
as many times as you like! I'm sure it will be no end of a consolation
to you!"
While this argument was in progress, Gerry had been quietly finishing
her lines. She had now completed writing out "Chestnuts are bad for
the digestion" one hundred times, and, fastening her papers neatly
together with a paper-fastener, she glanced up at the clock. It still
wanted four minutes to five o'clock. If she was quick she would just
about have time to hand over her lines to Miss Burton before the prep
bell sounded, and, getting up from her desk, she left the classroom and
hurried along to the mistress's private study.
The bell rang just as she reached it, but, having come so far, Gerry
did not mean to turn back now. She tapped at the door. Then, as no
answer came, she tapped again, a little louder this time.
"Bother! She isn't there," she said to herself. "Never mind, though,"
she added. "I'll put them on the table where she'll be sure to see
them." And turning the handle of the door, she pushed it open to go
inside.
Then she stopped suddenly with her hand upon the door knob. Miss
Burton was there, sitting in an easy-chair drawn up beside the cheerful
little fire which was blazing away on the hearth. She was sitting in a
very dejected attitude, leaning forward with her head bowed upon her
hands--Gerry caught a momentary glimpse of her as the door opened. But
before the girl could make any apology, the mistress was sitting bolt
upright in her usual rigid position and glaring at the intruder with
all her accustomed sternness.
"What do you mean by bursting into my sitting-room in this manner?" she
inquired severely.
"I--I'm very sorry," faltered Gerry. "I did knock, twice--but nobody
answered, so I thought you must be out."
"So you came in to spy round my room in my absence, I suppose?" said
the mistress bitterly.
Gerry flushed hotly with indignation.
"No, indeed I didn't, Miss Burton!" she exclaimed. "I was bringing you
my lines, and as you weren't here I thought I'd just put them somewhere
on your table where you would be sure to see them when you came back."
"Lines. What lines?" asked the mistress as she held out her hand for
the papers. Then, as Gerry gave them to her and she caught sight of
the sentence written out so many times, the recollection of the
chestnut episode came back to her.
"Ah yes, I remember," she said. "So you _have_ condescended to do
these for me, have you? What about the other two girls, Joanna and
Nita? Are they writing theirs also?"
"Yes, but they had more to do than I had. They'll bring theirs along
as soon as they've finished them," said Gerry, feeling suddenly more
embarrassed and uncomfortable than ever. A bright flame from the fire
had sprung up, and by its light Gerry saw something which filled her
with dismay.
Miss Burton's eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles were unmistakably
red and wet with tears! She had been crying! Gerry, who had cried so
often during this unhappy term, knew the signs too well to be deceived.
"I suppose you felt you had to do them since Miss Oakley set them,"
said the mistress, still with that bitter note in her voice. "I have
not time to examine them now. I'll look through them presently and let
you know if they are tidy enough for me to accept." And she made a
gesture of dismissal.
But Gerry still lingered. She did not quite know what she could do,
but somehow it seemed impossible to go away and leave the new mistress
in trouble behind her. Gerry was a tender-hearted person and she could
not bear to see others in distress. She longed to be able to say
something comforting, but no words suitable to the occasion came to
her, and at last Miss Burton, seeing her still standing near the door,
spoke to her in angry exasperation.
"What are you waiting for, child! Didn't you hear me say that I could
not look at them until later? Go back to your classroom at once. The
bell for preparation rang long ago."
Thus admonished, Gerry was obliged to leave the room, but she went very
reluctantly, and her progress back to the Lower Fifth classroom was
very slow indeed. A tumult of conflicting emotions was raging within
her. All along she had been uneasily aware that the strike against the
new mistress was wrong, and now the unmistakable traces of tears on
Miss Burton's plain face had borne in upon her how very wrong and mean
it was. Something must be done at once to stop it--that was
evident--but yet what could she do? What could one girl do against
many?--and an insignificant, unpopular new girl at that!
Just as she reached the top of the Upper School corridor she
encountered the head girl, who stopped with a friendly smile as she
recognised her.
"What are you doing here, kiddie?" said Muriel. "Oughtn't you to be in
prep?"
"I'm just going," said Gerry. "I had some lines to take to Miss
Burton, and I'm just on my way back."
"What have you been doing to get lines?" said Muriel. Then, without
waiting for an answer to her question, she asked another:
"How did you get on at hockey to-day? Did Alice play you forward?"
"Oh yes, thank you. She put me outside right. And I think I got on
much better," said Gerry eagerly. "I--I am beginning to think I shall
like hockey when I've got a little more used to it," she added shyly.
"That's right!" said Muriel heartily. "I knew you would when once
you'd found your feet a bit. Half the trouble was that you were put to
play in the wrong place. Don't forget that you are playing for the
dormitory again on Saturday."
"It's awfully good of you to give me another chance, Muriel," Gerry
said gratefully. "I _do_ hope I shan't funk again."
"Funk? Of course you won't," came the brisk reply. "Make up your mind
that there's nothing to be frightened of, and funking will be the last
thing you'll want to do. Nobody need ever be afraid of funking if
they'll forget about themselves and just play the game."
"Muriel----" began Gerry suddenly, and then stopped abruptly.
"Well, what's the matter?" asked Muriel.
"Nothing. I--I was going to ask you something, but I don't think--yes,
I will, though!" Gerry added, with sudden determination. "What would
_you_ do, Muriel, if you were doing something that you knew wasn't
right, and yet you'd _promised_ to do it?"
Muriel looked at the younger girl in some perplexity.
"What would I do if I'd promised to do something which I knew wasn't
right?" she repeated slowly. "Well, the best thing would be not to
promise, wouldn't it?"
"I know that," said Gerry. "But if you _had_ promised, what then?
It's wrong to break a promise, isn't it?"
"Yes, but--well, I don't quite know what to say," said the head girl.
"It's rather a difficult question to answer off-hand. So much would
depend upon the circumstances. Couldn't you tell me the whole story?
Then perhaps I'd be able to advise you better."
"I'm sorry--I'm afraid I can't do that," said Gerry desperately,
wondering what on earth had induced her to confide in the head girl at
all. What _would_ Muriel be thinking of her, she wondered. "It would
be sneaking if I did. Can't you possibly tell me what you'd do if it
was you, without my telling you everything?"
"It's rather difficult," said Muriel, frowning. "I don't want you to
tell me things that you ought not. But, at the same time, I really
don't see how I can answer your question until I know a little more."
"I can't tell you any more," said Gerry, a little wistfully. "But it
doesn't matter. I daresay I shall be able to think of the answer for
myself."
"Wait a minute," said Muriel, as Gerry was moving away. "I can't tell
you just what I should do without knowing all the circumstances; but
I'll tell you something my father told me when I first came to school,
and perhaps that will help you a bit. It's helped me several times.
He said, 'If ever you are in a difficulty, and don't know what is the
right thing to do under any special circumstances, just think which
would be the hardest--and it's ten to one you'll find that the
_hardest_ way is right.'"
Gerry's eyes were bent upon the ground for a moment. Then she lifted
them to meet the head girl's gaze with a look of determination in them
which touched Muriel strangely.
"Thank you," she said soberly. "That has helped--I guess I know now
which is the right thing to do." And with that queer look of decision
still upon her face, she turned away in the direction of the Lower
Fifth classroom.
"Queer kid, that," thought Muriel, as she made her way towards her
study, whither she was bound. "I like her, though, all the same.
There's something in her, which is more than one can say for the
majority of the kids here. It's a pity she's such an awful funk.
She'd really be quite a decent sort of girl if she could only get over
her nerves a bit."
If Muriel had only known it, the "awful funk" was on her way at that
moment to perform a braver action than the head girl, with all her
prowess at hockey and gym, had ever performed in her life.
CHAPTER XVII
INTO THE LION'S MOUTH
The Lower Fifth was deep in its preparation when Gerry entered the
classroom. One or two heads were raised at her entrance, but nobody
paid much regard to her as she walked across the room to her desk,
which was in the front row. The Lower Fifth was trusted to do its
preparation without a mistress's supervision, and, as a rule, this plan
worked well enough. There was a certain amount of talking at times, it
is true, but not a very great deal, and the little there was did not
take place in general until all the more serious work of preparation
had been accomplished. To-night the class was in the throes of a stiff
bit of translation for Mademoiselle, and nobody felt inclined to break
the silence.
Gerry reached her desk, but she did not sit down in it. She hesitated,
then opened the desk and took out some books. Still she did not sit
down, and once or twice she glanced nervously around the room, as
though she were about to speak. But each time her courage failed her.
Her uneasiness communicated itself at length to her next-door
neighbour, Margaret Taylor, who, finding the translation more difficult
than she had expected, was inclined to be grumpy.
"I wish to goodness you'd sit down, Gerry Wilmott, and not keep
fidgeting about like that. You're in my light, and goodness knows this
beastly translation is hard enough without having to do it in the dark
into the bargain," she snapped.
"I'm sorry," said Gerry. Then, having found her tongue at last, she
plunged at once into what she had to say, fearing lest she would never
find courage to say it at all if she let this opportunity slip.
"I want to say," she began, "that I'm--I'm awfully sorry, but I'm not
going on with the strike any longer."
It was out at last! And Gerry waited in trembling expectation for the
storm to burst. It was some while in coming, for the Lower Fifth did
not take in quite what she was saying at first.
"What on earth do you mean?" asked Dorothy Pemberton, looking up from
her exercise with knitted brows.
"I--I mean the strike about not doing Miss Burton's work," stammered
Gerry.
"Well--what about it?" asked Phyllis Tressider menacingly.
"Only that--that I can't go on with it. I--I don't think it's quite
fair to Miss Burton," said Gerry, finding the task even harder than she
had imagined it would be.
"Do you mean to say that you're not going to stick in with the rest of
us--that you are going to back out and do her work? Surely you're not
going to be a traitor to the form like that?" cried Dorothy.
Poor Gerry looked acutely miserable. She felt Jack's reproachful eyes
upon her, and she knew that if she persisted in her present attitude
the friendship which was so precious to her, and which seemed at last
to be within her grasp, would be dreadfully endangered. For a moment
she felt that she could not go on. Why should she give up
everything--Jack's friendship, the good opinion of the girls, the
happiness of the last few days, and allow herself to be branded as a
hopeless prig--all for the sake of a mistress who had shown her nothing
but injustice? Then the memory of the red eyes behind Miss Burton's
spectacles, the abject misery of the mistress's attitude when she had
opened the door of the room, came back to Gerry's mind. Perhaps one
girl couldn't do very much towards making things better for the
unpopular mistress, but she could at least refrain from making things
worse. The words Muriel had said to her in the passage about the
hardest way being nearly always the right one, rang in Gerry's ears.
There was no doubt in Gerry's mind as to which was the hardest way!
For all her timidity Gerry had a curious moral courage of her own, and
it seemed to her now that it would be the height of cowardice to give
in just to gain the good opinion of her form-mates. A moment more she
hesitated while she met Jack's astonished, reproachful gaze. Then
conscience triumphed over even that unutterable longing for Jack's
friendship.
"I don't want to be a traitor to the form," she said in a low voice,
yet clear and distinct enough for all to hear. "But all the same, I
can't go on with the strike. I was in Miss Burton's room just now and
she had been crying, and I'm sure it was all about us. Whatever the
rest of you are going to do, I, for one, shall do Miss Burton's
preparation."
"But why, why, _why_?" cried Jack, starting up impetuously and coming
over to Gerry's side. "Don't be a priggish little donkey, Gerry," she
added, not unkindly. "You can't stick out when all the rest of us are
in it. Hang on a little bit longer. We'll come out top of this
struggle, you just see if we don't!"
"I'm sorry," repeated Gerry miserably, "but I can't, Jack. It--it
isn't fair to Miss Burton."
"But who wants to be fair to her?" cried Jack impatiently. "Was she
fair to you the other morning when she accused you of whispering in
class and stuck you in the corner like a baby? Was she fair over
taking that chestnut business up to the Head? Don't be a silly little
fool, Gerry. Chuck your lot in with the rest of us, and let's get rid
of this rotten mistress if we can."
"I'm sorry, Jack, but--but I can't," said Gerry again.
"Oh, Gerry, you can----" began Jack remonstratingly. But Dorothy
Pemberton broke in upon her persuasions with an impatient exclamation.
"Oh, let German Gerry alone!" she said cuttingly. "Of _course_ she
won't stick in with us! She's far too much of a sneak, and far too
much of a coward to risk a row with Miss Oakley. What's the good of
arguing with a coward!"
"Look here, if we're not all going to be in it, I'm coming out too,"
exclaimed Hilda Burns suddenly. "It was all very well striking when we
were all hanging together, but it's quite a different thing if some of
them are going to back out. You can take me off the list of strikers
too."
"Are you going to be a coward as well?" said Dorothy sneeringly. But
it was too late. The defection started by Gerry spread rapidly. Since
the morning, the strike, which had at first seemed to be merely a more
or less harmless rag, had begun to appear in its right light, and the
hearts of the Lower Fifth were no longer in the business. Several
members of the form were glad to find an excuse for backing out of
their contract, and soon some nine or ten of the girls had retracted
their vows of defiance.
"Oh, well, of course, if you're _all_ going to funk it, it's no good
going on with it at all," said Dorothy sulkily. "We've all got to hang
together or, of course, it's no use. I should have thought you'd have
been ashamed to follow the example of a German Gerry, though!" she
added, with biting sarcasm, as she cast a look of malevolence at Gerry.
Then her eyes fell upon Jack, who was still lingering hesitatingly by
Gerry's desk, and the sight spurred her on to make one more spiteful
thrust at Gerry.
"There's _one_ thing, Gerry Wilmott, you may as well understand right
away. _You're_ not going to gain anything by what you've done
to-night. You may have broken our strike,--no strike can stand out
against a blackleg,--but all the same, you'll wish you'd stayed in with
us before you've finished. I don't know what those _rabbits_ are going
to do," with a contemptuous glance towards Hilda and the other girls
who had seceded, "but I think I can answer for the rest of the form all
right. No decent girl in the Lower Fifth will ever speak to you again,
if they can help it."
She turned to Jack.
"Surely _you_ won't have anything more to do with such a rotten coward,
Jack?" she said contemptuously.
Jack looked down at Gerry. But Gerry's eyes were fixed miserably upon
her desk, and she did not see the questioning look upon the face of the
girl with whom she most longed to be friends. And while Jack still
lingered, Phyllis Tressider clinched matters.
"She's not only a coward--she's a sneak as well!" she said, glad to see
her enemy in such disgrace again. "I bet she let those chestnuts drop
out of her pocket yesterday on purpose to get you and Nita into a row."
"Oh, Phyllis, I didn't! Jack, it isn't true; I didn't do it on
purpose!" cried Gerry, dismayed at such a motive being attributed to
her.
But the shaft had gone home. Against her own better judgment, Jack had
felt all along that Gerry had been unnecessarily careless over that
chestnut affair. In her heart of hearts she had not been able to help
blaming her a little for the row that had followed. And now Phyllis's
unjust accusation went home to roost. Jack's better moment, in which
she had been half-inclined to stand by Gerry, passed. Dorothy's taunts
and jeers and Phyllis's malicious suggestions achieved their end. No,
of course she couldn't be friends with a girl who was a coward and a
sneak! And all unaware of the tremendous courage it had needed for
Gerry to make her stand, Jack turned away and went back to her own desk.
And so the momentary break in Gerry's sky was over. The clouds were
back again, as thick as they were before--thicker this time, if
possible!
Truly, some ill-luck seemed to dog the steps of the unfortunate
occupant of Cubicle Thirteen!
CHAPTER XVIII
THE END OF THE STRIKE
One thing Gerry's defection certainly had done--it had quite broken the
strike. Phyllis and Dorothy tried their best to spur up the courage of
the form again, but it was of no use. There were waverers, but the
unity of the Lower Fifth was destroyed. Unless the greater part of the
form would consent to down books, the strike was bound to fail. It
would be no good for just a few of the girls to refuse to do their
preparation.
"Then I suppose we'd better set to work and try and rub up some of Miss
Burton's stuff," said Dorothy at last, with sulky resignation. "I've
got Muriel's directions for literature down, but nothing for German or
algebra. Anybody remember what she set us this morning?"
Nobody had actually taken down the preparation for the new
form-mistress, but one or two people had vague recollections of what it
ought to have been, and during the short time that remained that
evening, a real effort was made by the class to prepare a little for
the next day's lessons. Contrary to general expectation, Miss Burton
turned up to take her refractory form the next morning,--the prevailing
opinion in the Lower Fifth had been that she would "funk" it,--and she
was so agreeably surprised at her pupils' change of attitude that she
made considerable allowance for deficiencies.
At the end of the morning's work, when lesson after lesson had passed
and the Lower Fifth still remained dutifully attentive and amenable to
discipline, the mistress's relief was so great that she was emboldened
to make a short speech upon the subject.
"I am very glad to see that you have repented of your rebellious
behaviour of yesterday," she said primly, blinking at her form a little
nervously, nevertheless, over her spectacles. "Since you have made up
your minds to submit to my authority, we will let bygones be bygones,
and I will refrain from reporting your disobedience to Miss Oakley.
You have had a very narrow escape, though. If Miss Oakley had not been
away yesterday, I should most certainly have reported your conduct to
her at once."
Then, as though repenting of her leniency, she went on in a more severe
tone.
"But because I have let you off this time, you must not imagine that I
shall do so again. I shall expect very much better work from you for
the future. Your preparation for this morning's lessons was very far
from perfect, and you will need to work very much harder to attain the
standard I shall expect from you. Your algebra examples, Geraldine
Wilmott, were especially badly prepared."
That, upon the whole, was hardly surprising! Gerry had been so
miserable the previous evening, that it was a wonder that she had been
able to do any preparation at all. The Lower Fifth smiled in broad
amusement as the mistress made this pointed remark. It struck them as
screamingly funny that Miss Burton should have picked out Gerry's work
for special condemnation, when it was really entirely through Gerry
that the form had done any work at all. They had yet to learn how fond
life is of playing such practical jokes.
"It's all very well for her to talk like that," said Hilda Burns when
the subject came up for discussion in the Lower Fifth sitting-room
after tea that evening. The form was waiting for the bell to ring to
summons it to preparation. "But she's jolly pleased not to have to
report us to the Head! I happen to know that Miss Burton was most
frightfully upset about us on Monday morning. It seems that Miss
Oakley gave Burtie a pretty broad hint about not sneaking about us all
the time--after that chestnut affair of yours on Sunday evening, Jack.
Burtie was downright scared at the thought of having to go to her again
so soon."
"How on earth do you know that?" said Jack grumpily. Jack had been
grumpy all day. In fact, Nita declared that for some unknown reason
she had been in a perfect wax ever since preparation the night before.
"Why, I was in the library just before tea, changing a book, and Monica
was library monitress, and while I was hunting round the shelves
Kathleen Milne came in to look up something for Miss Latham. And they
began to talk about our little affair, and Kathleen said that Muriel
had told her that Miss Latham had told _her_ that it was no end of a
relief to Miss Burton when we caved in. For Burtie was afraid that if
there was another row Miss Oakley would have given her the sack."
"Doesn't sound much like Miss Latham to talk like _that_," said Jack
scathingly.
"Oh, well, of course you don't suppose _she_ said it like that, do you,
donkey?" said Hilda impatiently. "That was what Kathleen said Muriel
said, at least something like. I didn't hear any more, because Monica
saw me listening and shut Kathleen up. Monica's always so awfully
virtuous about not discussing the mistresses."
"It's jolly sickening to think how near we were to getting rid of that
Burton beast," commented Dorothy, with a malicious look at Gerry, who
was sitting forlornly at the table, attempting to engross herself in a
book. "If it hadn't been for German sneaks we should have got her
turned out in a week!"
"Yes--and got ourselves into a jolly fine row into the bargain," said
Jack fiercely. "You're forgetting that part of it, Dorothy Pemberton."
Dorothy opened wide eyes at what she considered was an entirely
unprovoked attack.
"All right, Jack Pym. Keep your hair on!" she retorted, with dignity.
"You seem to forget that you were one of the ones who was keenest on
the strike before that rotten German kid muffed the whole business for
us."
A stifled exclamation came from the table where Gerry was sitting, and
the new girl rose to her feet and hurried out of the room.
A spiteful chuckle came from Phyllis Tressider.
"You seem to have upset German Gerry, Dolly," she remarked to her chum.
Jack sprang to her feet in a sudden flare of temper. The abruptness of
her movement upset the chair she was sitting upon, and she kicked at it
viciously.
"Oh, you two! You are the meanest, caddiest girls in the whole school!
Why can't you leave Gerry in peace?" she stormed angrily.
"My hat! Listen to the preacher!" jeered Dorothy, unperturbed. "I
didn't know you'd turned into such a protector of the helpless, Jack.
You'd better go after your precious friend and console her, if you're
so jolly fond of her as all that."
"I've a jolly good mind to," said Jack, still furious. "I think the
way we're all treating her is a beastly mean shame."
"What! Do you mean to say you'd be friends with a kid who got you and
Nita into such a row over those chestnuts?" cried Phyllis.
Jack hesitated. Those chestnuts rankled in her mind badly. It was
very careless of Gerry! Still, it _might_ have been an accident, and,
anyway, Gerry had been punished for it too, even if not quite so
heavily as she and Nita. Dorothy saw her hesitation and quickly
interposed. She had no wish to see Jack Pym friends again with Gerry.
Dorothy had a shrewd suspicion of what Jack's friendship meant to the
lonely new girl, and she was determined to prevent any sort of
reconciliation if she possibly could.
"Did _you_ think it could possibly have been an accident?" she asked,
addressing Nita Fleming, the other unfortunate victim of Gerry's
carelessness.
"I don't know," said Nita doubtfully. "At the time I thought it was,
but afterwards--well, I really don't see how it _could_ have been quite
accidental," she ended up.
"Of course it wasn't an accident!" broke in Phyllis scornfully. "It
was just what you would expect of a German sneak. Hasn't she been
getting us into trouble all through the term? Have you forgotten the
way she stopped your trial for the hockey eleven in the beginning of
term, so that Muriel put Gertie Page in, instead? You can't say we
haven't given her a chance. We were all quite decent to her after Miss
Burton dropped down upon her in class the other day--and now look how
she's paid us out! It was principally for her sake that we decided to
strike at all, and then, when we're all deep into it, she goes and
backs out! It's just what you'd expect of a German Gerry, though," she
wound up contemptuously.
This was a way of twisting things round with a vengeance! Jack could
not help feeling that it was more than unjust to Gerry. But Phyllis's
ability of proving black was white was too much for Jack, who felt
quite unable to argue with her. And a remark made by Dorothy clinched
matters for the time being.
"If you _do_ make friends with her again, we won't have anything to do
with you either," she declared spitefully.
And this was more than Jack was brave enough to stand.
All through her school life Jack had been extraordinarily popular, and
the bare thought of being out of favour with her schoolfellows was
sufficient to deter her from taking Gerry's part any longer. Not that
there was any real danger of her getting into their bad books. In her
heart of hearts she knew very well that her standing in the school was
strong enough to withstand any attempts Dorothy and Phyllis might make
to stir up feeling against her. But Jack could not bear the thought of
being unpopular with anybody. And when Nita got up and slipped her arm
affectionately round her neck, with a caressing:
"You're surely not going to be such an ass as to try and take up with
Gerry Wilmott again, are you, old thing?" she succumbed entirely.
"Of course I'm not going to take her up again," she said, with dignity.
"She's such a little coward that I couldn't be _friends_ with her,
however much I might like her otherwise. But I do hate to hear Dorothy
ragging her so. She and Phyllis are perpetually nagging at her and
making beastly remarks in her hearing. It's so jolly mean to be always
doing things like that!"
"I agree with you, there," said Nita. "I think we all do, except
Dorothy and Phyllis. I vote we just let her alone now. As Jack says,
it's beastly mean to keep on saying rotten things about her being
German and a sneak, however much she may be one really."
"Who wants to keep on saying rotten things to her?" Dorothy said
testily, realising that for once popular opinion was against her. "I'm
sure I don't. I never want to see or speak to her again! I wish to
goodness she'd never come to the school! Nearly every row we've had
this term has been through her or about her in some way."
"There's the bell for prep," said Jack suddenly, glad of the
opportunity of breaking off the conversation. "Come on, Nita, let's
buck up and go in."
And the Lower Fifth ceased its wrangling over poor Gerry and hastened
into the class-room.
CHAPTER XIX
THE LITTLE BLACK DOG
The next few days were very miserable ones for Gerry. It is true that,
following Jack's example, the majority of the Lower Fifth did refrain
from hurting her feelings by making unkind remarks. But the girls left
her very severely alone, and after the happier conditions of the
week-end, Gerry found her renewed solitude very hard to bear. The news
that she was in trouble with her form for "sneaking" spread through the
school, and although they had no part in the Lower Fifth's grievances,
the rest of the girls refrained from speaking to the culprit as well.
Nobody troubled to inquire just what shape her "sneakiness" had
taken--that was the unjust part of it! Without hearing Gerry's side of
the case, the whole school--with the exception of the Sixth Form, to
whose august ears the rumour had not as yet penetrated--joined with the
Lower Fifth in leaving poor Gerry out in the cold.
Not that anybody had ever held much converse with the hopelessly shy,
silent girl, who, it was said, was an out-and-out German on one side of
her parentage, and who had done many sneaky and cowardly things. But
even such little formalities as passing the salt at meal-times, saying
"After you" when washing hands in the cloakroom, or "Sorry" when banged
into at hockey practice, were dispensed with now! Until you have tried
it personally it is impossible to know how very, very lonely and
uncomfortable being unpopular at school can be!
Added to all Gerry's other troubles, Miss Burton seemed to make a "dead
set at her," as the form expressed it, during that unhappy week.
Certainly Gerry's work was far from being well done. She was so
utterly cast-down and wretched that it seemed almost impossible to do
any work at all. It was really rather marvellous that she managed as
well as she did. But to Miss Burton the work seemed atrociously
performed, and she took no pains to hide her opinion of it from Gerry
or from the form at large. Hardly a day passed without Gerry's being
publicly scolded for her poor attempts at preparation, and returned
lessons became a regular rule. The Lower Fifth listened to Miss
Burton's tirades against the newest member of the form in unveiled
amusement--with the exception of Jack! Jack's conscience was hurting
her very badly during that week. If the truth had only been known, she
was not very much happier than Gerry herself.
The Thursday following Gerry's plucky stand for law and order was an
especially black day for the new girl. Miss Burton had been very
irritable and captious in class, more so even than usual, and most of
her anger was vented upon Gerry. At the close of the morning, Gerry
found herself with two returned lessons, three bad marks, and a total
of twelve good ones out of a possible fifty!
"Really, Geraldine," said the mistress as she closed her mark-book,
"these results are disgraceful! One of the children from the First
Form could have done better than that. Have you any explanation at all
to offer of the slack way you are working?"
Yes, Gerry had an explanation! Quite an adequate one too! But it was
not one that she could tell to Miss Burton. So she said nothing at
all, merely clenching her hands tighter under the desk in the endeavour
to keep back the tears that were not so very far away at the moment.
Her silence appeared to exasperate the mistress.
"Answer me when I speak to you, Geraldine. Have you any explanation to
give of the disgraceful way you have done your work this morning?"
"No, Miss Burton," muttered Geraldine, hanging her head.
"Sit up properly in your desk, then, and don't sulk," rapped out Miss
Burton. "I cannot bear a girl to sulk when she is scolded. It seems
to me that you have got what was known in my nursery days as the Little
Black Dog on your shoulders this morning."
A titter ran round the classroom and Gerry got fiery red. She had not
been sulking--she had only been trying to hide how very near the tears
were. But it was impossible to make Miss Burton understand this, and
Gerry did not attempt it. If she had tried to speak she must assuredly
have burst into tears. So she sat upright in her desk and tried not to
mind, while Miss Burton continued to make sarcastic remarks at her
expense, until at last, having somewhat relieved her ill-humour, the
mistress left the classroom.
Gerry felt very depressed as she put her books listlessly away. Most
of the form had departed soon after Miss Burton had left the room, only
Gerry, and Phyllis and Dorothy, who were comparing notes on their
morning's marks, remaining in the classroom. Gerry's eyes were so full
of unshed tears that she did not notice that only her two special
enemies were left in the room. If she had, she would probably have
hurried over her desk-tidying and got out of their way. She always
tried to avoid being left alone with these two, if she could possibly
manage it. But it was not until Phyllis spoke to her suddenly that she
awoke to the fact that none of the other members of the form were
present.
"Well, sneak," said Phyllis, in a jeering tone. "Your precious Miss
Burton, whom you stuck up for so bravely the other night, doesn't seem
to thank you much for your championship, does she?"
Gerry said nothing. There really did not seem to be anything to say.
With a great effort she choked back her gathering tears, and hastily
finished putting away the books in her desk. But Phyllis was not to be
baulked of this splendid opportunity of baiting her enemy.
"She's sulky," she said to Dorothy, and the latter rose from her seat
and came over to Gerry's desk.
"Perhaps she's forgotten how to talk," she suggested, with an air of
mock anxiety. "She's hardly spoken to anyone for three whole days now,
you know. They say when people never speak they forget how to use
their tongues."
"Oh, do you think she's really forgotten?" giggled Phyllis, entering
into the game.
It was all very silly and very absurd, but it seemed to the
perpetrators of the unkind humour that it was deliciously funny, while
to poor Gerry it was almost unendurable. She shut her desk and rose to
her feet.
"Why can't you let me alone?" she pleaded, with quivering lips. "Why
must you always keep on at me like this?"
"Oh, she hasn't forgotten--she still knows how to say a few words,"
said Phyllis, with an air of mock surprise.
Gerry made towards the door, but Phyllis was blocking the nearest path,
and to escape she had to make a detour round the desks. Before she
could reach the door, Dorothy gave a little shriek.
"Oh, look, look, Phil!" she cried, in pretended alarm. "Just look at
that thing on her shoulders!"
"Where? What?" asked Phyllis; and Gerry, startled for the moment,
turned half round, while her hand involuntarily went up to her
shoulders. Dorothy broke into a scream of laughter.
"It's no good, German Gerry! It's the Little Black Dog, I meant.
You'll not be able to shake that off by flicking at it."
Phyllis joined in her friend's laughter, and poor Gerry, with an angry
glare at her tormentors, bolted out of the classroom, her skirt
catching the door as she ran and slamming it to behind her.
"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said Phyllis reprovingly. But her victim could
not hear. And there being no further amusement to be got out of Gerry
for the moment, the two girls sauntered off to get ready for dinner,
still laughing over Gerry's futile anger.
CHAPTER XX
AN AFTERNOON AT GYM
It happened to be wet that Thursday afternoon, and as all hockey
practice was scratched in consequence, a gymnastic class was hastily
arranged for the Middle School, to take the place of the outdoor
exercise.
This quite met with the approval of the girls, the majority of whom
were as keen on gymnastics as they were on hockey. An extra practice
such as this, too, was specially enjoyable, for drill would be reduced
to a minimum, and exercises upon the various apparatus would be the
order of the day. The Middle School included the Lower Fifth, the
Fifth Remove, and the Upper, Middle, and Lower Fourth Forms; and
directly after dinner the girls concerned hurried to their cubicles to
change into their gymnastic dresses.
Gerry was not looking forward to the afternoon with quite the same
enjoyment as the rest of the Middle School. She was not at all keen
upon gym. In fact, she would much rather have played hockey, which,
now that she had grown used to it a little, she was really beginning to
enjoy. Gym to her was still a very formidable affair, and the giant's
stride, rings, vaulting horse, and parallel bars filled her with
terror. So far she had escaped very lightly. Miss Caton, the gym
mistress, had seen how nervous and frightened the new girl was of all
the feats the other girls performed so gaily upon the different
apparatus, and she had contented herself with initiating Gerry very
slowly into their mysteries. But this afternoon Miss Caton was not
taking gym practice. Muriel Paget and three other athletic members of
the Sixth were officiating in her place, as Gerry found when she
wandered into the gymnasium rather earlier than most people, because
her changing had not been delayed by all the talking and excitement
prevalent amongst the other girls. There was nobody to come into Gerry
Wilmott's cubicle in search of a mislaid hair-ribbon, or to borrow a
darning-needle to cobble up holes in a stocking which the scantiness of
the gymnastic costume might display to the eyes of authority.
The four seniors were gathered at one end of the gym, discussing what
exercises they should give the school. Gerry made her way down to the
other end, where, curled up against one of the radiators by which the
room was warmed, lay Bruno, whom Gerry had not seen for some days past.
She stooped down to pat and caress him, pleased at seeing him again.
Much to her surprise, however, he growled and showed his teeth for a
moment, a very unusual thing for Bruno to do. She had never known him
anything but good-tempered hitherto, and from the very beginning he had
always shown a marked affection for her.
"Why, Bruno, what's the matter? Don't you know me?" Gerry said,
keeping, nevertheless, at a safe distance from him. At the sound of
her voice the dog rose to his feet, wagging his tail in a deprecating
manner and thrusting his nose into her hand as though apologising for
his irritability.
"Poor old fellow," said Gerry, cautiously stroking his head. "Wasn't
he feeling well then, and did it make him cross?"
A group of girls drew near the radiator, Phyllis Tressider and Dorothy
Pemberton amongst them. Gerry, in her absorption in Bruno, did not
notice them at first, but Dorothy's sharp eyes soon discovered Gerry.
"Hullo! Look at German Gerry--she's found the black dog!" she said
teasingly.
Gerry looked up with a start and flushed scarlet, but she made no
reply, and Myra Davies, a girl from the Upper Fourth, inquired
curiously:
"What on earth do you mean, Dorothy?"
"Why, German Gerry's found her black dog!" came the jeering answer.
"It was sitting on her shoulders all the morning and she couldn't get
it off. I knew it was a pretty big one, didn't you, Phil?" she added,
seeing from Gerry's rising colour how surely her remarks were going
home, "but I'm hanged if I knew it was such a big one as that."
Gerry closed her lips firmly and braced herself to bear the teasing in
stoical silence. She knew it would do no good to say anything. Both
Dorothy and Phyllis were far too quick-witted and too ready with their
tongues for her to hope to compete with them in repartee. Besides, she
knew quite well that if she were to venture to say a word, she would be
greeted with a cool and astonished stare, while somebody would murmur
something about "Germans," and so effectually silence any remonstrance
she might try to make.
Fortunately for her self-control, Muriel turned round at this moment
and called out orders for the forms to take up their places; and in the
hurry of obeying the head girl's command, Gerry and her black dog were
forgotten for the time being. Just before beginning the drilling,
however, Muriel caught sight of Bruno, and sharply demanded to know who
had let him into the gymnasium.
"Please, Muriel, I think he belongs to Gerry Wilmott," said Phyllis
maliciously.
Muriel frowned severely at the girl.
"Don't talk rot, Phyllis," she said squashingly. "I don't know if you
think that's funny--but if you do I'm sorry for your sense of humour.
Gerry, did you bring Bruno into the gym?"
"No. He was here when I came in," answered Gerry, still hot and
flushed, but very grateful to Muriel for so promptly crushing Phyllis's
witticisms. She had been very much afraid that her enemy might have
gone on to disclose Miss Burton's remarks in form that morning about
the little black dog.
Muriel accepted her explanation without comment.
"Somebody had better turn him out," was all she said. "Phyllis
Tressider, you seem to know a good deal about him--you can do it."
Phyllis cast a resentful glance at Gerry. Whenever Phyllis or Dorothy
got into trouble with the head girl, they appeared to put it all down
to Gerry's account, however unreasonably. There was nothing to be done
in the present instance, however, but to obey the order, and Phyllis,
leaving her place in the ranks, laid her hand rather roughly on Bruno's
collar.
"Come along!" she said impatiently, attempting to drag the dog to his
feet.
Bruno resisted her efforts to move him, and gave an ominous growl and
snap which caused Phyllis to remove her hand from his collar with
alacrity.
"I don't know what's the matter with him, Muriel, but he looks as
though he was going to bite!" she exclaimed.
The head girl came over to her side.
"Nonsense!" she said. "Bruno bite? Why, he's the best-tempered dog I
ever came across!" and she held out her hand coaxingly to the big black
fellow.
But Bruno resisted all her blandishments, retreating farther into his
corner, and at last Muriel thought it wiser to let him alone.
"Oh, well, perhaps he'd better stay," she said. "He seems very
bad-tempered and unlike himself to-day. He won't be much in the way if
he stays where he is now. Everybody will have to take care not to
tread on him while marching round, that's all. Now, are you ready?
Right turn! Lower Fifth, lead off in single file. Go!"
After some ten minutes or so of marching and arm and body exercises,
Muriel ordered the girls to stand aside while the various apparatus
were made ready. This was the time for which the girls were longing.
Soon they were divided into four sections and sent to different parts
of the room to practise on the apparatus under the supervision of the
four prefects. The giant's stride was perhaps the most popular. This
was a form of gymnastics in which the whole school delighted, and many
envious glances were cast at the Lower Fifth, to which, as the most
senior form in the Middle School, the giant's stride had fallen first
of all.
"Come on, Gerry, here's a rope for you!" called Muriel to the new girl.
Muriel had undertaken to direct the operations on the stride. But
Gerry hung back.
"Please, Muriel, need I? I can't do it, really I can't. Miss Caton
always lets me off it."
"Nonsense! Come along at once!" said Muriel impatiently. "I'll help
you for the first round or two. You'll soon get used to it." And
without heeding Gerry's remonstrances, she insisted upon the girl
coming into the ring and taking her place at a rope.