"Swing your body well forward when we begin to move and I'll give you a
good push-off."
Gerry hated this particular form of merry-go-round. It made her feel
sick and giddy, and she was unable to work her body backwards and
forwards rhythmically enough to keep her place in the magic circle.
She gasped for breath and held on tightly while Muriel ran her two or
three times round the ring, and endeavoured to work her body as the
other girls were doing. But the result was a hopeless failure, and
when the head girl, having given her pupil what she thought was a
super-excellent start, left go her hold, Gerry swung helplessly at the
end of her rope, getting into the way of the girl who was swinging
behind her, and finally bringing them both to an ignominious finish in
the middle of the ring.
"What a donkey you are!" said Margaret Taylor angrily. She stooped
down to rub her ankle, which Gerry had kicked rather hard in her
efforts to keep herself going. "I was having a perfectly lovely swing,
and now you've made me lose my turn." And she continued to glare
angrily at the unfortunate new girl until the other striders dropped
out one by one and the ring finally stopped.
Muriel made Gerry have one more try, but with no better results than
before. After that, the new girl was handed on to Monica Deane, who
was superintending the vaulting-horse. Gerry fared no better at this,
and although each prefect in turn tried their hand upon her, none of
them could find anything in the nature of apparatus upon which the new
girl could perform with any measure of success.
Muriel Paget had been keeping her eye upon Gerry, and saw the hopeless
exhibition the Lower Fifth girl was making of herself. But the prefect
was determined to conquer the nervousness which was such a handicap to
her protegee; and acting upon the plan which had succeeded so well with
Gerry at hockey, she cast about in her mind for something to set her to
do which would help her to make a start.
Finally she thought of the rope ladders.
"Nobody, not even the most hopeless duffer at gym, could make an utter
mess of them, surely," she thought to herself, and ordered the ladders
to be let down. But even here she had reckoned without Gerry's nerves!
The girl was in a desperately overwrought state by this time. The
troubles of the last few days culminating in her disgrace in class that
morning, added to the hopeless exhibition she had been making of
herself all through the afternoon, had rendered her unfit for even the
simplest thing. When ordered to climb the rope ladder she obeyed
dumbly, much in the way a condemned man might obey the order to walk to
the scaffold; and, spurred on by Muriel's urging from below, she did
succeed in mounting to a fair height. But rope ladders are not such
easy things to climb as a novice might suppose. They have a nasty
knack of doubling up and slipping away from you when you least expect
them to, and when she was some thirty feet up this was what happened to
the one Gerry was endeavouring to mount. And instead of trying to
regain her balance, the girl gave way to the panic that had possessed
her more or less all the afternoon.
She clutched desperately to the rope with her hands, and pushed hard
with her feet, which, of course, only had the effect of turning her
still more upside down.
"Let your body hang limp until you are in a proper position again,"
called Muriel. But Gerry was far too terrified and unnerved to act
upon her directions, even if she had been able to take in exactly what
they meant.
"Muriel! I--I can't get right way up," she gasped, struggling to keep
her self-control. But Muriel did not realise quite how frightened
Gerry really was. She spoke impatiently as she answered her, while a
gale of laughter at the unsightly figure poor Gerry made as she clung
to the rope like a drowning man, went through the gymnasium.
"Don't be such a little goat, Gerry!" cried the head girl. "Come down
again if you can't go any farther, but for goodness' sake make an
effort of some sort!"
Making an effort of any sort was quite beyond poor Gerry's power at the
moment. It seemed to her that she would soon be hanging quite upside
down, and when that happened she was sure that she would have to
release her hold. Already everything was swimming around her; black
specks danced before her eyes, and at last she gave vent to her terror
in an anguished cry for help.
"Oh, Muriel! Muriel! I'm going to fall!" she cried, with a piteous
note in her voice. And seeing that she really was in extremities, the
head girl was obliged to run up the ladder herself and bring her down.
"Well, you _are_ a little funk!" she said in some disgust, as she set
Gerry on her feet again, and stood surveying her white face and
trembling figure; while the Middle School, amused and interested
spectators of the scene, pressed about the two at a respectful
distance. She might have said more, but at that moment someone in the
background exclaimed audibly:
"Why, of course! Isn't it German Gerry? What else do you expect her
to do but funk!"
The head girl swung round sharply, but she could not identify the
speaker.
"Who said that?" she demanded angrily. But nobody would give the
culprit away. However, the remark had the effect of cutting short her
reproof to Gerry, and with a dry: "Well, you'd better ask Miss Caton to
let you have extra gym practice until you get into it a bit, I should
think," she let the matter drop.
"That's enough for this afternoon. Fall in, please, order of forms,"
she said, addressing the assembled girls. Monica Deane went to the
piano and struck up a lively march. And to the tune of "The Coster's
Wedding" the Middle School marched out of the gymnasium and repaired to
its various dormitories to get ready for tea.
CHAPTER XXI
HECTOR OR PARIS?
That evening the lists for the dormitory hockey finals were posted up
on the notice-board. Muriel Paget and Monica Deane pinned them up on
their way out from supper, and after the two prefects had departed a
curious crowd quickly gathered round to see who had been selected.
Much to everybody's astonishment, Geraldine Wilmott's name figured
again in the Pink Dormitory list.
"_Surely_ Muriel isn't to let _her_ play again?" exclaimed Elsie
Lipscombe, the Green Dormitory's centre forward. "Why, it was only
through her that the Pink Dorm didn't win last time! It must be a
mistake!"
"Play who?" asked Dorothy Pemberton, who came up just then arm in arm
with Phyllis Tressider.
"Gerry Wilmott. She's down for left outside!"
"Not German Gerry?" cried Phyllis.
"Muriel must be cracked!" said Dorothy in disgusted amazement, as her
eyes verified the truth of Elsie's statement. "What on earth Muriel
can see in that little donkey I can't think! I don't think the head
girl ought to show such favouritism. It was all very well putting her
in last time when there was nobody else to play. But now there's Pam
Henderson, and Dora Wainscott, and Bee Tyrell, and heaps of others. It
isn't fair to go putting in a rotten little German coward who can't
play hockey for nuts, and who even funks climbing a rope ladder!"
"Oh, well, I suppose Muriel knows what she's about," said Gwen Carter,
an Upper Fifth girl, in rather a languid tone. "After all, neither Pam
nor Bee are exactly geniuses at hockey, you know. I shouldn't think
that even Gerry Wilmott was much worse. And Dora Wainscott's hand is
still awfully bad. She was wearing it in a sling in form to-day."
"All the same, I think it's too bad that German Gerry should be
playing," declared Phyllis loudly. She had caught sight of Gerry
coming along the corridor, and had raised her voice purposely in order
that she might hear. "I think it's a shame that we should be asked to
play in the same team with her again, when everybody knows that the
Pink Dorm would have won last time if she hadn't funked."
Gerry heard, as it was intended that she should. But she took no
notice, only hurried by the group around the notice-board with flushed
cheeks and averted eyes. The girls stopped talking for the moment and
watched her curiously. Just as she passed somebody gave a slight hiss,
which was immediately taken up by three parts of the girls present.
"German Gerry!" called out someone, and the hissing grew louder as the
girl fled by. Gerry's steps quickened into a run until she had turned
a corner of the corridor and was out of sight of her tormentors. She
had been on her way to the Lower Fifth sitting-room, but her reception
in the passage made her change her mind, and she hurried on to the
classroom instead, which was empty and deserted at this hour. It was
against the rules to be there except in lesson hours, as Gerry knew
well. But she had no other place of refuge, and once or twice lately
this had served her in good stead. It was less risky than going to the
dormitory, which was also out of bounds at this time, and there was no
other place in the school where she could hope to find privacy.
She slipped into her desk and buried her burning face in her hands,
grateful for the darkness and the silence. Although she did not
realise it, Gerry was certainly getting braver. When she first came to
school she would not have ventured alone into a dark room for anything
in the world, in spite of her fifteen years. But now she was so
absorbed in her greater trouble that she forgot to be afraid.
"Why do they hate me so?" she asked herself, and puzzled, as she had
puzzled so many times before, over her unpopularity. It was not really
so puzzling as she imagined. She was too quiet and shy to have won
popularity easily in any case, even without her nerves, in such a big
school as Wakehurst Priory; and, unfortunately for her, she had made
two very bad enemies on the first day of term in Dorothy Pemberton and
Phyllis Tressider.
Without being altogether bad-hearted, these two girls were responsible
for a great deal of trouble in the school. They both possessed what so
many of the girls lacked--personality; and they had a large following
amongst their own set of girls who admired them for their ingenuity in
mischief and the spirit of dare-deviltry which seemed at times to
possess them. They had been "up against" Gerry from the very
beginning, owing to the fact that Gerry had innocently usurped
Dorothy's cubicle; and a series of unlucky accidents, occasioned by
Gerry's newness to school ways and her rather unfortunate disposition,
had simply played into their hands.
For some while Gerry was left in peace in the solitude of the
classroom. But luck was against her that night, as it had seemed to be
so often during the term. As a rule nobody ever dreamt of going near
the classrooms after supper, but to-night Miss Burton must needs
require a book from her desk and come to fetch it. And suddenly poor
Gerry was startled by the abrupt opening of the schoolroom door and the
switching on of the light.
She rose to her feet in a panic to find Miss Burton regarding her in
surprised disapproval.
"Geraldine Wilmott! What are you doing here? Of course you know that
it is strictly against the rules?"
"Yes, I know," said Gerry lamely, unable to think of any excuse for her
presence in the classroom at this unauthorised hour. Dorothy or
Phyllis or Jack would have thought of dozens in a moment! Indeed, it
did not occur to her that there was any excuse to make. She was too
fundamentally honest to try and wriggle out of the scrape as
ninety-nine out of a hundred schoolgirls might have done. Miss Burton,
however, with her lack of understanding, interpreted her reply as bald
defiance, and was correspondingly severe.
"Then that means another bad mark for you. Really, you are
incorrigible! I shall be obliged to report you to Miss Oakley if you
don't soon make a decided improvement in your conduct. Go back to your
sitting-room at once. And don't forget to give in your bad mark
to-morrow morning."
Gerry wandered disconsolately back through the corridors. There seemed
to be nobody about, and as she did not want to go to the sitting-room
sooner than she could help, she went on to look at the notice-board, to
see if Muriel really had put her name down for Saturday's match. From
Phyllis Tressider's speech she gathered that she had done so. Somehow,
after the incident in the gymnasium that afternoon, Gerry had quite
expected Muriel to change her mind about putting her into the team.
But, no! There was her name down, in black and white--Gerry Wilmott,
left outside.
Gerry stood for a few moments gazing at the list, uncertain whether to
be pleased that Muriel still intended to give her another chance, or to
be frightened at the ordeal that lay before her. And as she stood
there, doubtfully regarding the notice-board, the head girl herself
came along, and stopped to speak to her.
"Well, Gerry, I'm giving you your chance, you see," she said kindly.
"Yes--I see," said Gerry, turning round to face the prefect. "But,
Muriel, are you--are you sure you think it's best?
Supposing--supposing I funk again?"
"Now, look here, Gerry, I shall really get cross with you if you go on
like this," said the head girl impatiently. And indeed, there was some
reason for her impatience. She seemed always to be having to spur
Gerry Wilmott on to the simplest acts of courage. "I keep telling you
and telling you that you must have more confidence in yourself! You
needn't funk if you'll only make up your mind not to. You've put up
one or two quite good games since you've been playing forward, Alice
says, and there's no earthly reason why you should not do the same on
Saturday. If Dora Wainscott's hand was well enough for her to play, I
should put her in. But it isn't, and you're just as good as any of the
other girls in the dorm who are left--rather better than most of them.
Now, are you going to buck up and do yourself and the dorm credit, or
are you going to let me down?"
"I'm--I'm going to do my best," said Gerry, lifting earnest eyes to the
head girl's face. "It's jolly good of you, Muriel, to give me the
chance after the way I went on over gym this afternoon."
"Did you think I should cut you out because of that?" said Muriel.
"You certainly did make rather an ass of yourself. But there's no
earthly reason why you should do the same on Saturday. I should like
to fit you up with a new backbone, Gerry Wilmott," she added
laughingly. "You'd be quite a decent kid if you'd _only_ buck up and
be a bit more daring! You ought to take for your own the motto that
the Red Cross Knight found written up over the door of the castle--'Be
bold, be bold, be bold!'"
"It wasn't the Red Cross Knight; it was Britomarte," said Gerry, and
Muriel smiled approvingly at her for the correction. It was something
for Gerry even to dare to correct a quotation.
"Good for you, kiddie! So it was. Well, you get that thoroughly into
your head by next Saturday and act upon it, and you'll do all right."
And she hurried on her way, leaving a much inspirited Gerry behind her.
"She is a brick!" thought the girl enthusiastically, as she walked
slowly towards the Lower Fifth sitting-room. "I don't wonder all the
girls are so keen about her. I _will_ get that motto into my head, and
I _will_ play up and justify her choice of me for next Saturday, and I
won't let anything the other girls may say or do affect me! I'll just
keep saying the words over and over to myself whenever I feel inclined
to funk, and see if that won't make me braver. Be bold, be bold, be
bold!"
And then some lines of Longfellow's she had once heard came into her
head in the inconsequent way such lines do occur to lovers of poetry:
"Write on your doors the saying wise and old,
'Be bold! be bold!' and everywhere--'Be bold!'
'Be not too bold'--yet better the excess
Than the defect; better the more than less;
Better like Hector in the field to die,
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly."
Gerry's face took on an expression of rigid determination as she
repeated the lines to herself. And, throwing up her head with a little
gesture of defiance, she said aloud:
"Well, I just _won't_ be a 'perfumed Paris' this time, whatever
happens!"
And with this bold resolve she walked into the sitting-room, and
settled herself down in her usual corner with a book, until the bell
should ring for prayers and bed.
CHAPTER XXII
THE DORMITORY FINAL
Saturday morning dawned at last. It was a splendid day for hockey,
fine and bright, with a touch of frost in the air, not enough to make
the ground hard, but just sufficient to dry up some of the worst of the
mud and to make it exhilarating to run about.
There was great excitement over the match throughout the school. Even
the girls who were not directly concerned in the results of the game,
either as members of the teams or occupants of the rival dormitories,
were keenly interested, while the agitation of the two dormitories
actively engaged was raised to fever-pitch. Some of the smaller girls
in the Pink Dormitory had been occupied during the past week in
manufacturing rosettes of pink ribbon, which they sold for twopence
apiece to the members of the team and the partisans of the dormitory--a
proceeding which promised considerable profit at first to the
enterprising trio who originated it. Unfortunately for them, however,
Muriel Paget descended upon them on the morning of the match with
searching inquiries as to the monetary part of the transaction.
"But, Muriel, the ribbon cost us an awful lot of money," protested one
of the small profiteers in distress, when the head girl ordered that
all proceeds from the sale of the favours should be deposited in the
dormitory missionary-box. "It was very good ribbon, penny-halfpenny a
yard, and we've used yards and yards of it!"
"Well, you may keep back enough money to pay expenses," conceded the
head girl. "Reckon out exactly how many yards of ribbon you've bought
and how many favours you've sold, and then bring the balance of the
money to me to be put into the missionary-box. And please remember for
the future that you're English schoolgirls--not beastly little Jews."
With which parting remark she stalked off with much magisterial
dignity, leaving three very crushed small girls behind her.
However, the three had the consolation of regaining the money they had
outlaid upon their project, and also of having started a very popular
scheme. The idea of the favours caught on. The members of the Green
Dormitory were immediately bitten with the desire to sport green
rosettes, and drawers were ransacked, and finally permission obtained
for a messenger to be sent into the town to purchase a sufficiency of
green ribbon to manufacture favours for the rival team and its
supporters. Before the morning was over nearly every girl in the
school sported a favour of one colour or the other. Pink favours
predominated, partly because of the start obtained by the early
venders, and partly because the Pink Dormitory was Muriel's dormitory.
The head girl was far and away the most popular person in the school,
far out-rivalling Alice Metcalfe, the Green Dormitory's captain, in the
girls' affections. Still, the Greens had quite a fair show of
ribbons--enough at any rate to make a good "shout" for their side when
the match should begin.
Gerry Wilmott, alone of her team, did not wear a pink rosette. She
wanted one badly, but she had not quite liked to ask for one, and the
three little girls who were selling them carefully refrained from
coming near the girl who was known as a coward and a sneak throughout
the school. Gerry looked at them very wistfully once or twice when
they were in her vicinity, but in spite of her desire to be decorated
with the colours of the dormitory for which she was to play, she did
not dare to risk a rebuff by going up to them. She would have gone
favourless up to the field itself if it had not been for Monica Deane,
her next-door neighbour in the dormitory. Monica had purchased a
favour quite early in the day, much to the distress of little Vera
Davies, her devoted admirer, who presented her with one just before the
match began, which she had made herself.
"Please, Monica, wear mine!" pleaded the little girl, coming into
Monica's cubicle where the senior was changing into the gym dress which
was the regulation hockey kit at Wakehurst Priory. "I begged a bit of
the ribbon from Gladys and Betty and Marjorie, and made it for you all
myself, to bring you luck! Please take your other one off and wear
mine!"
"All right, kiddie, of course I'll have to wear it since you made it
for me yourself," said Monica good-naturedly. "I'll give the other one
away to somebody else, if there's anybody left in the school who hasn't
got one."
Then a sudden thought struck her.
"Gerry, have you got one, or would you like mine?" she called over the
cubicle wall, remembering that she had seen the Lower Fifth girl
undecorated earlier in the day.
"No; I haven't got one. I'd like it very much," answered Gerry, in
rather a low voice. The next moment the small pink favour came
fluttering over the partition that divided her cubicle from Monica's.
"There you are, then," said the senior girl.
Gerry caught the precious bit of ribbon and pinned it on to the tunic
of her gym dress with an odd feeling of pleasure in her heart. It
seemed to her a happy omen that she should be able to wear her
dormitory colours after all.
"Thanks awfully, Monica," she said gratefully. "I'll pay you the
twopence for it sometime."
"You just won't, then!" said Monica gaily. "It's a present to bring
you luck. Vera says it's much more lucky to have your favours given to
you than it is to buy them for yourself. So, with two of us wearing
lucky ribbons, the Pink Dorm really ought to win!"
"I hope we shall," said Gerry fervently. Then she added under her
breath, "I'm going to try and do my share to-day, anyway, and justify
Muriel for having chosen me."
This little episode of the pink favour quite cheered Gerry up. Perhaps
the luck of the pink ribbon would counteract for once the unlucky
influence of Cubicle Thirteen. Gerry was really almost beginning to
believe that the ill-omened number of her cubicle must have something
to do with the persistent misfortune which dogged her footsteps!
Fortified by her precious talisman, she took her place up on the hockey
field as left outside without nearly such quakings of heart as she had
feared. And when once the whistle had gone and the play begun she
didn't have time to think about being frightened. Muriel saw to it
that her nervous left outer should have plenty of work quite early in
the game; and by the time the match had been in progress for ten
minutes or so, Gerry had lost all her gloomy fears in the excitement
and interest of the struggle.
It was obvious from the beginning that it was going to be a hard-fought
fight. Both teams were out to win. As before, the Pink Dormitory
forwards were far superior to the forwards from the Green Dormitory,
but the splendid defence of the latter team quite balanced this.
Backwards and forwards the battle raged, neither side getting a chance
to shoot for goal until the first half was nearly over. Then, much to
everybody's astonishment, Elsie Lipscombe succeeded in getting through
for the Greens.
"I say! That's serious!" said Dorothy Pemberton to Phyllis Tressider
as the two girls stood arm in arm sucking lemons at half-time. "Fancy
the Green Dorm getting a goal in like that, before we've scored one!
We shall have to buck up like anything this half if we're not going to
let the Pink Dorm down."
During the interval Muriel Paget went up to Gerry, who was standing a
little forlornly on the outskirts of the group of players, with a
reassuring word.
"Well, I don't think you need be afraid of funking now, Gerry; you're
doing quite well," she said.
"No; I don't think I shall funk now!" said Gerry. "It's all thanks to
you, though, Muriel. If I'd been playing back I know I should have
felt just the same as I did last time."
"Oh, well, but you're not playing back now," responded the head girl.
"So there's no need to worry over that! We've got to buck up like
anything this half, though, for we're a goal behind. Mind you keep up
if I do get away with the ball. And if it comes out to you when you're
anywhere near their goal, pass it straight in, and then you'll be all
right."
Muriel succeeded in scoring for the Pink Dormitory soon after the
second half started, and the Pink team and their partisans breathed
again. The score was now one all, and for some time it seemed likely
that it would remain so. Nearly every girl in the school was up on the
ground, watching the struggle, and as time passed on and still the
goals stood at one all, the most intense excitement prevailed.
"Oh, they're going to tie again! They're going to tie again!" wailed
Vera Davies, some seven minutes before time was up. "And I made the
favour for Monica myself, on purpose to bring her luck! And now the
Pinks aren't going to win after all!"
"It isn't over yet," said Marjorie Brown, the small girl from the Pink
Dormitory whom Muriel had so nearly to put in to play instead of Gerry
on the previous occasion. "Oh, look, look! Muriel's got the ball and
she's got a clear run! No; she's lost it! Jack Pym's got it. No;
she's passed. Oh, Vera, look! Dorothy Pemberton's got it now, and
she's taking it up. Play up, Pink Dorm! Play up! Play up!"
Her cry was taken up by the whole school.
"Play up, Pink!"
"Play up, Green!"
"Stick to it, Dorothy!"
"Alice! Alice! Into her, Alice!"
"Play up, Muriel! Play up, Muriel!"
"Pink Dorm! Pink Dorm!"
"Green! Green! Green!"
A confused medley of shouts rose on the air, and the noise grew in
volume as one by one the spectators, girls and mistresses alike, joined
in. So great was the pandemonium that the referee's whistle could
hardly be heard when it blew a moment later.
"What's that for? Is it a goal? Is it? Is it?" cried Vera, in an
agony of excitement.
"No! It's off-side! Dorothy passed it forward. Oh, bother! That
means a free hit for them. And Alice will take it and send it miles
down the field, and time's nearly up! There can't be more than three
minutes left now!" cried Marjorie, dancing about the ground in her
impatience.
Alice Metcalfe came forward to take the free hit. Her forwards ranged
themselves far down the field, while the Pink forwards also were
obliged to retrace their steps to the limit imposed upon them by the
penalty. Dorothy made a penitent apology to her captain.
"I'm most fearfully sorry, Muriel," she said. "It was quite an
accident, but I'm afraid it's done for us, all the same. We'll never
have time to score again now."
"Never mind. We'll make one last desperate effort before the whistle
goes," said Muriel encouragingly. "Look out for Alice's hit and try
and stop it if you possibly can, if it comes your way. It's our only
chance!"
Whack! Alice sent the ball flying out to her right wing with a mighty
"swipe," and a groan went up from the partisans of the Pink Dormitory.
That hit surely had done it! Nobody could be expected to get in the
way of such a terrific slog--Alice had excelled herself this time. The
ball would inevitably go flying out of bounds, and by the time it could
be recovered and thrown in again, the last three precious minutes would
have sped by. Already the referee had her whistle to her lips. Once
again the dormitory final would end in a draw!
But wait a moment! The Pink Dormitory's left outside, with a ribbon
favour flaunting gaily on her breast, was standing right in the way of
the coming ball. Gerry had watched Alice hitting it, and she knew that
her chance had come. If she could stop the ball just right and centre
it, there was just a chance that Muriel and Dorothy might be able to do
something with it.
But could she ever stop it? The ball was coming with all the force of
Alice Metcalfe's leather-bound hockey stick behind it. It needed some
courage to get in the way of one of Alice's slogs! Gerry wanted to
slip aside and let the ball go by. How badly she wanted to do it
nobody but herself could ever know. Surely it wouldn't be cowardice to
get out of the way of a ball like that! But her determination not to
let Muriel down this time was strong within her, and she fought down
the panic which urged her to step aside, and remained grimly waiting
the advent of that flying ball.
The next moment a great shout went up from the spectators, friends and
foes alike.
"Stopped! Oh, well stopped! Stopped, indeed!"
"My hat! That must have hurt! Did you see? It ran right up her stick
and caught her on the nose. Why--_if it isn't German Gerry_!" cried
Vera Davies in amazement.
It was an amazement which was shared by the rest of the school. The
girls were so dumbfounded that the cheer suddenly died down, and nobody
applauded at all when Gerry, recovering from the first stunning shock
of the blow, passed the ball to her inside wing, Dorothy Pemberton,
before the Green half-backs could tackle her.
Then events moved quickly.
"Centre it, Dorothy," called Muriel, and flew to intercept the ball,
which Dorothy passed to her. Dodging, tackling, dribbling, and
passing, the head girl and her inside left carried the ball into the
enemy's goal circle. And before the Green defence could recover from
the unexpected onslaught, the ball was safely through their goalposts,
put there by Muriel's stick. The whistle blew for goal and time
simultaneously, and a perfect storm of cheering broke from the watching
school. It had indeed been an exciting finish to the dormitory hockey
final!
There were certain formalities to be gone through before the teams
could leave the field. Alice Metcalfe, as captain of the defeated
team, called for three cheers for the victors, to which Muriel had to
respond by calling for three cheers for the runners-up for the Cup.
Then the rival captains had to shake hands and thank each other for the
good game--a little ceremony which had existed at Wakehurst Priory
since hockey matches first began, and which was never omitted.
But directly these formalities were over, and the girls who had been
watching the match came flocking around the dispersing teams, cheering
and asking questions and pouring out congratulations, Muriel looked
about for Gerry Wilmott and hastened to her side.
"Well done, Gerry! You were splendid!" the head girl exclaimed. "It
was all through you that we scored that last goal. If you hadn't
stopped that free hit so pluckily, we could never have done it. I'm
jolly glad I put you in to play."
Gerry's nose was bleeding badly, and it was cut and swollen from the
blow she had received. Her head was aching too, and she was feeling
dreadfully dazed and tired. But in spite of her injuries, the face she
raised to Muriel's was a very happy one.
"I'm _awfully_ glad I managed to stop it," she said.
"I say! You did get a bang, kiddie!" said Muriel concernedly, looking
down at her junior's injured nose. "You'd better come at once and let
me take you to Sister. She's got some ripping stuff for bringing down
bruises. If we get it seen to directly, perhaps it will save you from
being quite black in the face to-morrow."
And putting her arm round Gerry's shoulder, the head girl led her off
the field.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PLUCK OF GERMAN GERRY
The head girl and her companion were joined by Monica Deane and Alice
Metcalfe as they left the hockey ground. Both the seniors said nice
things to Gerry about her great achievement and condoled with her upon
the injury to her nose.
"I say! I am sorry," said Alice in contrition. "I suppose I ought not
to have hit so hard, really. Miss Caton's always telling me that
hockey isn't just a matter of hard hitting, and that I overdo the
slogging part. But I never thought of anyone getting into the way of
that ball. As a rule, people run for yards to get out of the way of my
free hits."
"It was jolly lucky for us that Gerry _did_ get in the way," laughed
Muriel. "If the ball had gone out then, we should never have had time
to score that final goal."
"I ought to bear you a grudge, Gerry, for losing the Cup for my dorm,"
said Alice. "I'm afraid you've got to pay for it, though. Your nose
will be black and blue to-morrow."
"Oh no, it won't," said Muriel reassuringly. "I'm going to take her
straight up to Sister when we get in, and get some of that wonderful
lotion of hers to bathe it with. I got an awful whack on my forehead
the end of last season, but when I put Sister's stuff on it the
swelling went down almost at once, and it was hardly coloured at all."
"Gerry's nose will be awfully stiff and uncomfortable, though, for a
day or two, however wonderful Sister's stuff may be," observed Monica.
"I don't mind," said Gerry happily. And indeed she was so relieved at
having redeemed herself in the eyes of the head girl in the matter of
hockey-playing, that she really would not have cared very much if her
nose had been broken instead of merely bruised. She walked on down the
field amongst the seniors, feeling that she would not at the moment
have changed places with any other girl in the whole of Wakehurst
Priory.
It was some ten minutes' walk across the hockey field back to the
school. The three prefects and Gerry were well in the van of the
returning girls. A few Fourth Form children were some distance ahead,
but the majority of the school were descending more leisurely in the
rear. Just at this moment, however, the half-dozen girls in front
turned, and began running back, waving their arms and shouting as they
ran.
"What on earth's the matter with those kids?" said Alice in surprise.
"Have they gone quite mad?"
"They are shouting out something," said Muriel. "Can you hear what it
is? Why! There's Bennett running, too. And some other men! One of
them's got a stick--no, it's a gun! They're chasing Bruno, surely.
What in the world can be the matter?"
There was an iron railing to the left of the hockey field which
enclosed the hockey ground itself from the neighbouring meadows. The
girls in front were running hard towards this railing, still shouting
their words of warning to the approaching girls. This time they were
near enough for Muriel to catch what they were saying.
"Mad dog! They're shouting out 'Mad dog!' Quick, make for the
railings! Bruno's gone mad!" she cried to her companions.
She turned round and ran back towards the oncoming school, shouting out
her warning. Alice and Monica followed her, and, seizing a bunch of
small girls just behind, urged them towards the railings. The rest of
the school had taken alarm by this time, and were making a wild dash
for safety, but of the two or three hundred girls who were pouring down
from the field, it was obvious that many of them could not be got out
of the way in time. Besides, there was nothing to prevent Bruno from
altering his course and making for the railings too. The men chasing
the dog were too far behind to risk a shot with so many children about.
If they should miss the dog, they could not fail to hit one of the
girls when so many of them were in the direct line of fire.
All these thoughts rushed through Muriel's mind as she tried to hurry
the girls towards the railings, assisted by such of the mistresses and
prefects as were near at hand. There had been many reports in the
papers lately of dogs that had gone mad and bitten people, and the head
girl was well aware of the terrible results that might follow a bite
from an animal suffering from rabies. She knew that a mad dog bites
and snaps at everything that comes in his way--and how could they hope
to get all these children out of the way in time!
Very much the same thoughts had come into the mind of somebody else,
too! Gerry had been seized with panic when the cry of "Mad dog!" had
reached her ears, and her first instinct had been to dash towards the
railings out of Bruno's way. It was not until she was nearly half-way
to safety that it had dawned upon her that none of her three companions
were with her, and she stopped for a moment to look round and see what
they were doing.
She saw Alice and Monica hurrying some of the smaller children into
safety, she saw Muriel running to warn the girls behind. Then she
looked at Bruno, who was near enough for her to see him plainly now.
His mouth was wide open, his tongue was hanging out, and foam was
dripping from his jaws. He looked very terrible, not in the least like
the good-natured dog with whom Gerry had made friends on her first day
at school.
For a moment, Gerry turned away, with a sick shiver of fear and
repulsion. Then all at once something came into her heart, making her
braver and stronger than she had ever been in her life before. Muriel
was being brave. Muriel had not run like a coward towards the fence.
Why, couldn't she be brave like Muriel, too? With a sudden desperate
resolve, Gerry swung round and flew straight towards the oncoming dog.
Nearly every girl and mistress in the school saw the deed by which
Gerry Wilmott established herself for ever in the annals of Wakehurst
Priory. The few who were absent could find plenty of eager
eye-witnesses to describe it to them. It was a picture which stamped
itself indelibly upon the minds of a good many of the people
present--the old grey school buildings in the background, framed by the
black boughs of the November trees, the wide stretch of meadowland, and
in the forefront the big black dog, pursued by the shouting men, making
straight for the crowd of terrified children.
Then into the very centre of the picture dashed the blue-tunicked
figure of Gerry Wilmott! German Gerry! The girl who was afraid of
dogs and mice and hockey balls, and everything and everyone under the
sun, apparently--dashing right in the pathway of the mad dog!
Exactly how she did it, Gerry never afterwards quite knew. In some way
she managed to get behind the dog and fling herself upon him as he
rushed past. She seized him by his collar and the long curly hair
about his throat, throwing herself upon her knees on the ground as she
did so. So powerful was he in his mad frenzy, that she was dragged
along the grass for a considerable distance before she could bring him
to a standstill. Then came a few moments that seemed like a lifetime
of desperate struggling, while she gripped the snapping, growling dog
round his throat with fingers that grew numb beneath the strain, and
with stiff, taut arms held him away so that he could not spring upon
her.
The struggle only lasted a few moments in reality, but to Gerry it
seemed an eternity before she heard Bennett's breathless cry of "Hold
on, missie I keep him still an instant longer," and knew that if it was
more than an instant, she would have to let the dog go. Then came a
sudden blinding flash over her shoulder, a deafening report in her ear.
Bruno broke from her grasp with a frenzied leap, then came another
report. And then----
And then the next thing she knew was that she was lying on the grass
with Muriel and Miss Caton and Miss Latham bending over her, and with
what appeared to Gerry to be the whole of Wakehurst Priory peering over
their shoulders.
"For Heaven's sake, keep back, you kids!" cried Muriel in an irate
voice, thrusting back the nearest of the eager throng. "Can't you see
that Gerry's nearly fainting, and you will keep crowding round so that
she can't get a breath of air."
"Go back, girls, at once," commanded Miss Latham, rising to her feet
and waving the school away with a peremptory gesture. "Hurry up and
get back to school, all of you. Whoever gets there first can tell
Sister that she's wanted." An ingenious suggestion that almost
instantly cleared a space round Gerry. If you can't get a front place
as a spectator when there's an accident, the next best thing is to be
the first to carry the news of it to somebody else. And with a feeling
that they were really doing something of importance, some fifty or
sixty girls set out at once to race down to the school to summon Sister.
Having thus procured breathing-space for Gerry, Miss Latham turned to
the games' mistress, who was kneeling beside the girl.
"Is she bitten?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know," said Miss Caton uncertainly. But Gerry, who was fast
recovering from her momentary faintness, made an effort to sit up,
saying in a weak voice which she had some difficulty in recognising as
her own:
"No, I'm not bitten--anywhere. It's only that I'm so giddy--and out of
breath."
"All right, dear; lie down again and don't try to talk. You'll be
better directly," said Miss Caton gently.
"I'm better now," said Gerry, resolutely putting aside the protesting
hands that attempted to hold her down, and sitting upright. The
movement nearly made her turn faint again, but she conquered the
feeling by a great effort and smiled into Muriel's anxious face.
"I'm all right. Really, I'm all right! He didn't hurt me a bit. Look
at my hands, they're not even scratched."
Nor were they. And after much anxious questioning and examination the
mistresses came to the conclusion that in some marvellous way the girl
had escaped all injury.
"I can't think how he didn't bite you!" Miss Latham said. "But now, if
you feel well enough, I think we'd try and get you down to the
sickroom."
"Monica and I will make a carrying-chair of our hands for her," said
Muriel eagerly.
But Gerry disdained all such assistance.
"I'm quite all right. I can walk by myself, thank you very much," she
said, and demonstrated the truth of her words by rising to her feet. A
little sick tremor ran through her as she caught sight of the men
bearing away an inert black mass that had once been Bruno, and she
swayed a little uncertainly. But Miss Caton caught her by one arm, and
Muriel slipped her hand under her other shoulder, and she soon steadied
herself; and the little procession began to make its slow way down the
field.
With the exception of Monica and Muriel, all the other girls had gone
by this time, hurried away by prefects and mistresses--all, that is,
but one, who had somehow managed to elude the vigilance of those in
authority. That one was Jack Pym, and her face was almost as white as
Gerry's own as she came forward and joined the little party. In her
hand she carried a couple of hockey sticks.
"I've got your stick, Gerry," she said rather awkwardly. "I saw it on
the ground and I've brought it along for you."
Miss Caton dropped behind for a moment to speak to Miss Latham and
Monica, and Jack slipped into her vacant place. Gerry's eyes sought
Jack's with a wistful eagerness which was not lost upon the head girl.
"Give Gerry an arm, Jack," Muriel suggested. "She's a bit unsteady on
her pins still."
Transferring both sticks to one hand, Jack hurried to obey. She drew
Gerry's hand through her arm, giving it a squeeze which sent a sudden
thrill of happiness through Gerry's heart.
"Thank you," said Gerry gratefully, as she returned the pressure.
"It's decent of you to have brought my stick along. I'd forgotten all
about it."
That was in effect their reconciliation and the beginning of a
friendship which would long outlast schooldays. But though it was such
a momentous happening to both girls, neither of them said anything in
the least appropriate to the occasion. In fact, the only remark made
by either of them at the moment was passed by Jack, as she glanced at
Gerry's wounded nose.
"My eye, Gerry! You won't half have a lovely countenance to-morrow
morning!" was all she said.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LOWER FIFTH MAKES AMENDS
Gerry was escorted in safety to the sickroom, where Sister's magical
lotion eased the pain of her swollen nose and considerably improved her
appearance. A strong dose of sal volatile brought back a little colour
to her pale cheeks and a feeling of strength to her sadly wobbling
legs. Then she was established upon a comfortable sofa in front of the
sick-room fire and left to the enjoyment of a first-class sick-room
tea--the sort kept for special convalescents, Sister informed her. As
it consisted of hot buttered toast, superfinely thin bread and butter,
apricot jam, shortbread biscuits, and sponge-cakes, Gerry agreed with
her that it was certainly a great improvement upon ordinary schoolroom
fare.
Downstairs in the dining-hall little else was discussed that tea-time
but the subject of Gerry's pluck. A great change of feeling towards
the Lower Fifth girl was taking place. Everybody realised that if it
had not been for Gerry's presence of mind and extraordinary courage,
many of the girls might have been bitten by poor Bruno. Whether the
dog was really suffering from madness or only from some minor distemper
remained to be proved. But those who had seen him that afternoon had
little doubt upon the subject. He had been unaccountably moody and
irritable for some days past--his surly behaviour in the gymnasium a
couple of days previously had only been one incident out of many--and
the way he had suddenly run amok when the headmistress was about to
take him for a walk that afternoon pointed to the supposition that he
was really suffering from rabies.
"Mad? In course he was mad! Think I don't know a mad dog when I see
one?" said Bennett, when questioned upon the subject by Dorothy and
Phyllis, as he was taking away the muddy boots from the lobby just
before tea. "If it hadn't been for that there young lady, there'd have
been some humans mad as well--and serve some of them right!" he added,
with a sour glance. For although the servants did not know the full
ins and outs of Gerry's ostracism, yet they were well aware that
"little Miss Wilmott" had been having anything but a happy time during
her first term at Wakehurst Priory.
But Wakehurst Priory had thoroughly repented of its ways now! Gerry
was the heroine of the hour, and there was considerable danger of the
school losing its head in the other direction and making a popular idol
of her. Even Dorothy and Phyllis were penitent, and openly
acknowledged their remorse in the Lower Fifth sitting-room after tea
that evening. As it was a Saturday evening there was, of course, no
school work to be prepared, and the form was at liberty to discuss to
its heart's content the subject which was occupying its mind so
entirely.
It was Hilda Burns who made the suggestion that appealed most strongly
to the form.
"I think we ought to make her a public apology," she announced
dramatically, "to let the whole school know what beasts we have been."
And her idea was taken up with much acclamation by the other members of
the Lower Fifth.
"Yes, let's!" said Dorothy eagerly. "Let's go now and ask Muriel to
call a school meeting, and then we'll ask for Gerry to come down to it,
and we'll all step out in turn and tell her how frightfully sorry we
are for having been such rotters, and ask her to make it up!"
"Come on," said Phyllis. "We'll go to Muriel now." And the form
trooped off to the head girl's study.
Muriel was having a private tea-party in her own room with Monica and
Jack Pym. The latter had disappeared since the hockey match, although
the other members of the Lower Fifth had been too excited to notice it
before. Tea in their private studies was a privilege the Sixth Form
girls were entitled to on Saturdays and other holidays if they liked;
and to-day Muriel had asked Jack to join in the cosy little party. The
head girl was not an unobservant individual, and she had noticed Jack's
unhappy face and remorseful manner during that walk down from the
hockey field. And after they had seen Gerry safely into Sister's care
she had invited the younger girl to come and have tea with Monica and
herself. The three had been having a very serious discussion
respecting Gerry Wilmott and her troubles as they sat round the study
fire.
"Good gracious! How many more of you are there?" exclaimed Muriel, as
one by one the Lower Fifth squeezed themselves into the small room.
"Is that all? Margaret Taylor, you're nearest; do you think you can
manage to shut the door? Now, then, what have you all come about?"
Dorothy acted as spokeswoman.
"About Gerry Wilmott, please, Muriel," she began. "We've come to tell
you what utter beasts and rotters we've been to her all the term----"
"I think I know something about that already," interrupted Muriel.
"Jack's been telling me."
This abrupt announcement rather upset Dorothy's elaborate explanation.
It is disconcerting when you have buoyed yourself up to confession to
find that someone else has done all the confessing for you. At any
other time the Lower Fifth would have been seriously annoyed with Jack
for having thus forestalled the dramatic little scene it had planned
with the head girl. But to-night the whole form was so genuinely upset
and penitent about its treatment of Gerry Wilmott that--although they
did not know quite what to say for a moment or two--they bore no grudge
against the informer.
"There's something Miss Oakley wants me to tell you about Gerry," went
on Muriel, surveying the discomfited faces before her. "It's not to go
any further, though. Only Gerry's own form are to know about it, and
Miss Oakley trusts to your honour never to mention it to Gerry herself
unless she confides in you of her own free will. I didn't know it
until to-day, when Miss Oakley sent for me to go to her after we'd
taken Gerry to the sick-room. If I had known it, I should have behaved
very differently towards her myself! It seems that she was in a bad
air-raid three years ago, when she was almost a kid. The house she was
in was wrecked and a nurse she was awfully fond of was killed in front
of her eyes, while she herself was pinned down underneath some wreckage
for hours and hours before they could get her out. She wasn't hurt,
but it upset her nerves completely. And it's mostly that that has made
her so shy and nervous and funky of things. Her people sent her here
to see what school would do for her. Nothing was said about her awful
experience, because she can't bear to talk about it, for one thing, and
for another the doctors didn't want her to be treated any differently
from the other girls. And they thought she would have been if people
knew. But Miss Oakley says I'm to tell you now, so that you may treat
Gerry with more consideration in the future."
There was a dead silence in the room. If anything had been wanting to
complete the Lower Fifth's humiliation it was this! The one excuse the
form had had for its conduct had been Gerry's cowardice, and it put the
finishing touch to its repentance to discover that even this was not
entirely her own fault. The Lower Fifth's remorse, which had been
acute enough before, was almost unbearable now!
"Well," said Muriel at length, as the silence still continued--"well?
What are you going to do about it?"
"We thought that--that perhaps we'd better make Gerry a public
apology," faltered Dorothy, her usual sang-froid deserting her for once
under Muriel's coldly critical eye. "We thought if you would call a
meeting of the whole school that we'd ask Gerry to come down, and then
we'd tell her how frightfully sorry we are about having been so mean,
and each of us would apologise to her in front of everybody."
"And jolly pleasant that would be for poor Gerry!" said Muriel. "Do
you think she wants a public apology! To be made to feel an utter ass
in front of the whole school just to ease your rotten little
consciences! We'll give her a public ovation if you like, but not a
public apology--at least, not one anything in the least like the scheme
you've planned. If you want to make amends, I think it would be much
more to the purpose if you went and told Miss Burton the truth about
that strike of yours, and how it was Gerry who broke it down by her
plucky action in refusing to go on with it."
The Lower Fifth gasped a little. Jack had certainly confessed with a
vengeance! Somehow it had never before struck the Lower Fifth that
Gerry's action on that particular occasion had been plucky.
"But of course, when you come to think about it in the right light, it
was plucky of her," Hilda Burns said afterwards, when the matter came
up for discussion in the Lower Fifth sitting-room. "It must have
needed quite a lot of courage for Gerry to say what she did that
evening."
"Yes. It was moral courage," said Jack. "She wanted most awfully
badly to stick in with us and be friendly. But she just felt she had
to stay out because she felt so sorry for Miss Burton, although she
knew how beastly we should all be to her."
But that was afterwards. At the moment the Lower Fifth was scarcely
able to view the courage of Gerry Wilmott in any light at all; it was
so flabbergasted at having its past delinquencies cast up at it in this
manner, and so dismayed at Muriel's suggestion that it should go and
acquaint Miss Burton with the full details of the matter.
There was a moment's hesitation, then suddenly Dorothy Pemberton made a
movement of acquiescence.
"All right, we will!" she announced. Then, turning round to the rest
of the form, she asked briefly:
"Are you all game?"
"Yes," came unanimously from the ranks of the Lower Fifth.
Muriel Paget rose to her feet and faced her visitors with a pleased
smile.
"Good kids!" she said approvingly. "Cut along at once and get it over.
And then come back to me afterwards, and we'll see if we can't arrange
some sort of public reception to show Gerry that we're sorry for all
the things she's had to put up with this term. I think you'll find
Miss Burton in her study if you go now."
Then the Lower Fifth, subdued, but resolute in its determination, filed
out in a body and wended its way towards Miss Burton's room.
CHAPTER XXV
CLOUDS ARE ROLLED AWAY
It took some time to make Miss Burton acquainted with the true facts of
the case. But when at last the mistress realised how very unjust she
had been to the girl whose plucky conduct was the talk of the whole
school, mistresses and girls alike, she was filled with remorse, and
almost as penitent as the Lower Fifth. She hurried off then and there
to the sick-room, and made ample amends to Gerry, remitting all the bad
marks she had piled upon her unfortunate pupil during that black week,
and expressing her regret over and over again.
Sister had to intervene at last and send her away.
"You'll have my patient in a fever between you all before you've done,"
the nurse said impatiently. "There's Miss Oakley been talking to her
for a good hour, and Miss Caton and Miss Latham! There isn't anybody
going to come in here now for the rest of the evening! And I'm not
going to talk to you either, Gerry. You must just read your book and
lie quiet."
Gerry was nothing loath to do that. The strain of the past week,
indeed of the whole term, culminating in the excitement of the
afternoon, had told upon her considerably. She looked so white and
tired that it was no wonder Sister had been moved into forbidding any
more visitors. But in spite of her tiredness, and her natural sorrow
at poor Bruno's untimely fate, the girl was very happy. She curled
herself up under the rug, and lay gazing into the fire with her book in
her hand and a little smile on her lips. She had made good now in the
eyes of the school. Nobody would ever be able to call her a coward
again. And--best of everything, perhaps--Jack was to be her friend.
Gerry knew well enough what that impulsive squeeze of her hand had
meant without any explanations. Her first term at Wakehurst Priory was
nearly over. It had been rather a terrible term--Gerry gave a little
shudder as she looked back over some of its incidents. But many more
terms lay in front of her, and though they might bring troubles and
trials, yet somehow Gerry felt quite sure that none of them would be
quite so bad as the one she had just come through.
She stayed up in the sick-room all the evening, and was served by
Sister with a dainty little supper, sent from Miss Oakley's own
table--soup and chicken and jelly and cream, with a cup of delicious
coffee to finish with. Sister had intended that her patient should go
straight to the Pink Dormitory when bed-time came, and not descend to
the lower regions again that night.
"I'd send you there at once, but it isn't much good my letting you go
until the others are up," she said. "They'll only go waking you up
with their noise just as you've got to sleep, and you'd be better lying
quietly here. I've a good mind to fetch your things along and let you
sleep in the sick-ward to-night. Only you'll probably be all right in
the morning, and it hardly seems worth while."
"Oh, no! Please let me go back to the dormitory to-night!" pleaded
Gerry in alarm. In spite of her newborn courage, the prospect of
spending a night alone in the sick-ward was anything but pleasant.
Gerry was not to outgrow all her old terrors just at once. That
perhaps could hardly be expected.
"Very well," agreed Sister. "If you'll promise to lie quiet and not
talk to the others, you shall go. There's the Chapel bell just
ringing. We'll wait until we hear them come out from prayers, then
we'll get you along to the dormitory and into your bed by the time
they've done saying good-night to Miss Oakley."
It was the custom at Wakehurst Priory for the headmistress to stand by
the doorway of the Great Hall, whither the girls were marshalled when
they came out from Chapel, and smile a quiet good-night to them, as
they filed by her on their way to bed.
Sister's programme, however, was slightly disarranged after all. She
had just got Gerry to her feet, and was preparing to whisk her off to
the Pink Dormitory, when Jack Pym burst into the sick-room, a little
breathless with haste, and apparently labouring under some intense
excitement, with a request from the headmistress that Gerry might be
allowed to go down into the Great Hall and say good-night. Sister
demurred at first, but a request from Miss Oakley was almost equivalent
to a command. And as Gerry had really recovered, except for the
tiredness which was a natural reaction from her excitement, she at last
agreed to let her go.
"Mind you be quick up though when she's finished with you," she said.
"I shall be waiting for you, to see that you get quickly into bed, so
mind you don't dawdle once you've said good-night."
"What does Miss Oakley want me for, Jack?" Gerry inquired, as Jack
hurried her through the passages. But Jack only mumbled something
indistinctly under her breath, and Gerry was obliged to control her
curiosity until the Great Hall was reached.
The girls were drawn up in the Hall as usual, but, rather to Gerry's
surprise, Miss Oakley was not there. Instead, Muriel Paget occupied
the post of honour by the door. Muriel had been making a speech, it
seemed, though it was not until some time afterwards that Gerry learned
what it was all about. Then it was Jack who told her.
"She'd got permission, you see, from Miss Oakley to tell the girls that
you weren't the least little bit of a German, that your father had been
an ambassador or something, and that you'd lived in Germany when you
were small, and that was how you learned to speak their beastly lingo
so well, and that you hadn't done any of the sneaky things we thought
you had--that they were all accidents the whole way through," Jack
informed her friend some days later during one of their _tete-a-tete_
walks, which soon became a regular proceeding.
When the two girls entered the Great Hall, Muriel intercepted Gerry and
retained her beside her, while Jack slipped away to her own place
amongst the rest of the Lower Fifth.
"Gerry," said the head girl, raising her voice so that every word she
spoke could be heard at the farthest end of the Hall, "we've been
talking about you, and I've been explaining some things about you to
the girls. And Miss Oakley said we might ask you to come down so that
we could tell you a little of what we think of you--not only for your
courage in stopping poor old Bruno this afternoon, and probably saving
any amount of people from being bitten--but also for all the pluck
you've shown this term under very trying circumstances."
Then, as Gerry turned suddenly crimson with embarrassment, the head
girl turned to the expectant school.
"Now, then!" she called. "Three cheers for Geraldine Wilmott! 'German
Gerry' no longer! Hip--hip--hip----"
"Hurrah!" shouted the school, and the cheering went on for so long that
Muriel had to intervene at last.
"That's enough," she said, holding up her hand for silence. "There's
something else I want to say. I want to tell Gerry--Geraldine, I
mean," she added, correcting herself, "that nobody is going to use her
horrid nickname any longer. We're all agreed upon that, aren't we,
girls? Geraldine is Geraldine from this time forward."
But there came an exclamation of dismay from Gerry at that.
"Oh, Muriel!" she cried, gazing at the head girl with piteous eyes, and
forgetting for the moment her confusion at finding herself the centre
of interest like this. "But I'd _like_ to keep the nickname, if you
don't mind! Every body calls me Gerry now, and I don't want to be
Geraldine again at all. I'd ever so much rather go on being just
Gerry."
A ripple of laughter ran round the room at this spontaneous outburst
from the shy new girl. Gerry coloured up in still greater
embarrassment as she heard it, but Muriel put her hand very kindly on
the younger girl's shoulder.
"Gerry it shall be, then, if you want it so," she said, with a smile.
"But we'll drop the prefix, shall we! You don't want _that_. Girls,
you've just given three cheers for Geraldine Wilmott. Suppose we give
three more for--Just Gerry."
"Gerry, Gerry! Just Gerry!" cried the girls. And the cheers which
rang out, accompanied by musical honours this time, confused Gerry so
much that she ran out of the room to hide her emotion, and was
discovered later by an irate Sister sobbing her heart out for joy on
her bed in Cubicle Thirteen--the luck of which had surely changed at
last!
"What on earth Miss Oakley meant by letting you send for the child to
upset her like this, I don't know!" exclaimed that scandalised official
severely, when Muriel and Monica came seeking the runaway with eager
penitence. "It's enough to make her light-headed on the top of the
shock she's had. Oh, don't talk to me about not meaning it! You just
go and let me get her into bed. And for goodness' sake keep the
dormitory quiet to-night, if you don't want her in the sick-room with a
nervous breakdown in the morning!"
* * * * *
But it isn't tears of joy that hurt people! And after a night of
unbroken slumber, the occupant of Cubicle Thirteen awoke refreshed in
mind and body--unless you count a slightly swollen nose--to begin a new
and happier career at Wakehurst Priory as--Just Gerry.
THE END
[Illustration: Back end paper]