Venus in the Snow
There was generally sound sense in Mabel's arguments, though Aldred's
impatience wanted at once to achieve great things. Skating, like
everything else, has no royal road, and neither of the girls advanced
much beyond the point of going alone. Aldred, rather to her chagrin,
found she certainly could not compete with Ursula, and an aspiring dream
of seeing herself queen of the rink vanished away. She was never without
resources, however and as she was determined always to keep to the fore,
she hit upon another means of making herself prominent. She remembered
hearing that in Brussels, when snow falls, the most eminent sculptors of
the city go to the Park and model snow statues, which are carefully
guarded afterwards by the park keepers, and shown to the streams of
visitors who flock to look at them. This was an idea worthy of being
copied, and one of which she was sure nobody else would be likely to
think. Abandoning her skates, therefore, one afternoon, she retired to
the now deserted lawn, and set to work. The snow was not such an easy
medium as clay, but it was in prime condition for her purpose, being
soft enough to model, yet stiff enough to hold together. Aldred's scheme
was decidedly ambitious, for she had decided to make a representation in
snow of the Venus of Milo. She had chosen that for her subject because
of its lack of arms and its flowing draperies, as she knew it would be
quite impossible to reproduce a Flying Mercury or the Dying Gladiator.
She had really a strong talent for sculpture, and contrived, with the
aid of a framework of broomsticks, to give her statue a wonderfully good
pose. She had brought out a photograph of the original, which she
constantly consulted; and she worked away with great enjoyment, shaping
the snow with deft hands, and using some flat pieces of wood and a
palette knife from the studio as her modelling tools. She felt it was
almost one of the most exciting things she had ever done in her life.
The keen joy of creation, that true heritage of all who possess artistic
ability thrilled her fingers, as she put dainty touches here and there,
and watched the resemblance to the Venus evolve itself by slow degrees
from her great mass of snow. She thought of Michelangelo, who saw the
angel in a rough block of marble, only waiting to be released by his
chisel, and felt as if she, too, were trying to free the goddess, and
give her human form. For the time all thought of what the girls would
say was forgotten, and she worked for the love of art alone, sighing
with satisfaction as she successfully put in a delicate fold of dress,
or a ripple of classic hair.
It was finished at last, even to the pedestal, and Aldred stepped back
and looked at it with mixed feelings. She had done her very best; she
dared not add another impress, from fear of spoiling it, yet she knew
how far it fell short of her ideal.
"I wonder if Phidias used to be contented with what he'd done?" she
thought. "I suppose he was the greatest sculptor that ever lived. I
remember reading that Millais once went to an exhibition of his own
pictures, and came away very dejected. Shall I ask them all to come and
see it now? I want so much to show it, but somehow I hardly dare. I
almost think I'll leave it for somebody to find out, and just go back to
the rink and say nothing."
She had not counted, however, on Mabel, who, missing her friend for an
unusual length of time, took off her skates and went to hunt for her,
tracking her in the end by her footsteps in the snow. Mabel's amazement
when she reached the lawn was only equalled by her admiration. She
rushed off instantly to fetch all the girls to look, even venturing to
knock at the study door and report her news at head-quarters.
Aldred's snow statue made quite a sensation at the Grange. Miss Drummond
thought so highly of it that she had it photographed, and invited many
of her friends from Chetbourne to come and see it. It was such a daring
and original project for a girl of only fifteen to have carried out
entirely alone that she felt it reflected credit on the school to
possess so clever a pupil. Aldred was praised to her heart's content,
and received so much attention from teachers and visitors that she could
certainly consider herself, for the time being, the most important
person at Birkwood. She was petted by the prefects, invited to skate by
members of the Sixth Form who had ignored her existence before, and
asked so often for her autograph that she grew almost tired of signing
her name.
"There's to be a picture of your statue in the School Magazine," said
Mabel rapturously. "That's a tremendous compliment, because Miss
Drummond generally says it's too expensive to have illustrations. I'm
going to ask her to have your photograph put in as well--just a tiny
head, from that splendid snapshot which Dora took when you came last
September. It would fit into a corner of the same page, and show the
'portrait of the artist'. I'll make up the extra money myself, if it
will cost more to print. I shall bespeak six copies: I want to send one
to Cousin Marion--she's gone to live in Germany for a year; she'll be so
interested, because, you know, it was she who was staying at Seaforth
last year, and who first told me anything about you."
Aldred's face fell. In a moment all the zest seemed to have faded out of
her pleasure. This was indeed a grave danger. "Cousin Marion" had seen
her namesake at Seaforth, and would probably recognize that the two
faces were not the same; even a badly printed portrait might not conceal
the lack of likeness. Would Mabel ever forget that wretched episode? Why
must it always be raked up in this tiresome way? Whenever she thought it
was safely consigned to oblivion, it appeared to rise again like a
ghost, and threaten the destruction of her position. True, she had done
much since she came to Birkwood to strengthen her hold on Mabel's
affection, but she knew that her one deed of supposed heroism was the
basis of their friendship, and the groundwork of her general popularity;
and she trembled to think what the effect might be if this foundation
stone were removed.
"I don't want my photograph blazoned abroad," she said, almost crying.
"I'd rather Miss Drummond didn't put either me or the statue in the
Magazine. Promise me, Mabel, that you won't send a copy to anybody, if
she does."
"But why shouldn't I?" said Mabel, much surprised.
"Because I don't wish it. The statue was a stupid thing, after all; far
too much fuss has been made of it. I'm sorry I didn't knock it down as
soon as it was finished!"
"Aldred! how can you say so?"
"Well, I'm tired of hearing about it, anyway," returned Aldred, "and I
hope you won't mention it to your cousin; it makes me feel silly to have
such a tremendous 'cock-a-doodling' over all my stupid little
performances, which really aren't worth it."
"Well, I won't, if you so particularly ask me not to," said Mabel, in a
disappointed voice. "But you can't always hide everything; it's not fair
to the world if all the brave and clever things that are done must be
suppressed--they're such a help and encouragement to other people. I,
for instance, am ever so much better for having known you; you've been
quite an inspiration in my life. My mother had a friend like that (it
was Lady Betty Blakeney, who is now so famous) who had a tremendous
influence over her, and first made her want to help poor people, and
take up the work she does now; and she always hoped I should meet
somebody who would be as much to me as her friend was to her. But I
never did until you came to Birkwood."
It seemed useless to protest; the more Aldred tried to shuffle out of
her rôle of heroine the more Mabel admired her modesty and her other
imagined excellencies. Mabel was a girl who loved to idolize
celebrities; it was partly a necessity of her nature, and partly a habit
that had been cultivated at home by her mother, who had a kindred
weakness. Before the two girls knew each other, Mabel had been obliged
to confine her worship to book favourites; then, having met, as she
thought, the realization of her ideal, she could not resist the
temptation to endow her with the combined virtues of Portia, Rebecca,
Ellen Douglas, Grace Darling, Flora Macdonald, and the "Nut-brown Maid",
without stopping to put the various qualities to the test, and make sure
that they actually existed. It is always better to err on the right
side, and think too highly than too ill of people, but Mabel's mistake
was to take Aldred so utterly on trust, and to blind herself wilfully to
the many small indications of character that might easily have shown her
that her idol was very far from perfection.
Aldred could not feel easy until she had made sure that the snapshot
portrait was not to be included in the next number of the Magazine. She
was afraid Mabel might break her promise, and send a copy
surreptitiously to her cousin, and then the mischief would be done. She
did not dare to mention the matter at head-quarters; it would appear
conceited on her part to suggest that the idea had been broached, and
she would feel very humiliated if Miss Drummond were to say: "Oh, no, my
dear! I never dreamt of putting it in!"
A plan occurred to her, however, by which she could defeat her friend's
too enthusiastic project. She borrowed the negative from Dora on the
pretence of wanting to look at it, and in handing it back managed to
drop it and step on it, breaking it beyond all chance of repair. She
apologized profusely for the accident.
"It was most clumsy of me!" she declared. "Could we possibly patch it up
again, do you think?"
"No, we couldn't!" said the aggrieved Dora. "It would show a mark right
across the face, however carefully we joined it. I've tried piecing
negatives together before, and they're not worth the trouble of
printing."
"Well, it was only a picture of me, not the lovely one you took of Miss
Drummond and Mademoiselle."
"No; I'm glad it was not that. But I promised this to Mabel; she asked
me last night if I could find it, and I've had such a hunt through all
my negatives! She'll be quite cross that it's broken."
"You must put the blame on me, then, for it was my fault."
Secretly Aldred was exultant.
"I know Dora only took one print from it," she said to herself, "and
that was spoilt in the fixing bath. It's impossible to take snapshots in
midwinter, so I believe I'm safe for the present. I shall discourage
Mabel strongly from buying a camera. I hope she won't get one given to
her on her birthday! I'm glad her Cousin Marion has gone to Germany, so
that she won't meet Mabel for a year, at any rate. So far as I can tell,
she is the only person who has seen that Lawrence girl and knows what
she is like."
The ice lasted for a whole fortnight, a totally unprecedented record in
the annals of Birkwood, which, on account of its position near the sea,
did not often come in for so severe an experience of frost. The rink
proved the greatest success; the ice was apt to get cut up and rough by
the afternoon, but when everyone had left, the gardener would turn the
hose over it, so that by next morning there was once more a splendid,
smooth surface.
January 29th happened to be Miss Drummond's birthday. The girls were
accustomed to prepare some little surprise for her on such occasions,
and generally acted a play in honour of the event; and the evening was
always considered a holiday. This time, however, Miss Drummond announced
that, instead of being entertained by her pupils, she wished to provide
a treat for the whole school.
"It is full moon," she said, "and we shall have a carnival on the ice.
The rink will be illuminated, and I expect we shall all find it quite a
novel experience to skate by torchlight. Mind you don't catch colds
beforehand! Anyone who is heard sneezing will have to stay indoors."
"It is a lovely idea!" said Phoebe, as the Fourth Form discussed the
project afterwards. "We shall have the most glorious fun! I'll ask Miss
Drummond if we may hang up the Chinese lanterns round the rink; it would
be quite safe to light them out-of-doors, and they'd look so nice!"
"I hope I shan't have toothache again," said Dora. "Do you think Miss
Drummond would let me go out if I muffled my head in a big shawl?"
"No, I'm sure she won't, nor Lorna either, if she persists in that noisy
coughing. If you can't smother it, Lorna, you and Dora will have to keep
each other company in the classroom, and miss all the fun."
"Oh, that would be too bad! I'll manage somehow to get well enough, if I
swallow every nostrum under the sun. Will you lend me your carbolic
smoke ball? and I'll try it to-night."
In spite of many remedies suggested by sympathetic friends, Lorna was,
however, obliged to forego the festivities. Miss Drummond was inexorable
where health was concerned, and would not allow colds to be trifled
with.
"Perhaps if I'd tried all the different recipes I might have cured it,"
said Lorna dolefully. "I've been recommended hot buttermilk and treacle,
and honey with lemon, and black-currant tea, and elder syrup, and
spirits of nitre, and ammoniated quinine, and to tie a wet handkerchief
and a stocking round my throat, and sit with my feet in mustard and
water!"
"I think the cures sound worse than the cold," said Dora, who was
nursing a swollen face. "I've resigned myself to staying indoors. We
shan't be the only ones, for there are at least eight others on the sick
list. I don't much care; I'd rather sit near the fire and keep warm than
skate with a raging toothache. No, I'm afraid I can't eat any
chocolates, though it's kind of Miss Drummond to have sent us a box
full."
"If you look out at the landing window, you can just catch a peep of
what is going on," said Mabel. "We'll tell you all about it afterwards.
And if you're wise you'll let Miss Bardsley take you to the dentist
to-morrow, and have that tooth out."
At half-past seven those members of the school who could show a clean
bill of health wrapped themselves up warmly, and sallied forth to the
carnival. The garden was really a beautiful sight. The full moon shone
down upon the snow, glinting on the frosty branches of the trees, and
showing cold and pale in contrast to the line of flaming torches that
encircled the rink. All Phoebe's Chinese lanterns had been put up, and
a number of others, which belonged to the Fifth and Sixth Forms; so that
the scene resembled Aladdin's palace, with its rows of red, blue,
yellow, and green lamps. It seemed very romantic to skate amid such
surroundings, and the girls felt as if they were stepping into a picture
or a scene from a play, as they took their first strokes, over the ice.
Two friends of Miss Drummond had brought a mandoline and a guitar, and
played lively selections, sometimes giving a song with a chorus, in
which all could join, when the whole school swung round to the tune of
"Oh! dem golden slippers" or "The old folks at home". The oil stove from
the cottage had been requisitioned, and stood in a snug corner, keeping
warm a large can of beef-tea, from which steaming cupfuls could be
ladled from time to time by anyone who wanted refreshment; and a tray
full of hot turnovers, which one of the maids carried from the house,
was highly appreciated.
As a wind-up to the festivities, everyone made an attempt to dance Sir
Roger de Coverley--a very funny proceeding indeed on the ice, where
strokes had to be substituted for _chassés_, and the ranks were apt to
be abruptly broken by someone sitting down suddenly, with more
swiftness than grace. Miss Reade and Miss Bardsley were heading the
line, and passing under the upraised hands of Maude Farnham and Rose
Turner, two of the prefects, when unluckily Rose tipped a little too far
forward and lost her balance. Down she came with a crash, and in her
fall she clutched wildly at Miss Bardsley, and not only brought both the
teachers to their knees, but upset six couples who were following close
behind and could not stop. There was quite a tangle of prostrate figures
upon the ice, and much laughter as the girls picked themselves up, and
tried to re-form the lines. Amidst the general scramble, nobody noticed
for a moment that Miss Bardsley was really hurt; when she attempted to
rise, however, her foot was so painful that she sank back with a groan.
"I'm afraid I must have sprained my ankle!" she exclaimed.
It was a case for "first aid", and the members of the ambulance class
had very soon shown the advantage of their training by taking off the
teacher's skates and boots, improvising a stretcher, and carrying her
into the house, where Miss Drummond set to work at once with hot
fomentations and bandages. Unfortunately, the mischief was greater than
anyone supposed, for when the doctor from Chetbourne arrived next
morning he declared that a bone was broken, and that the ankle must be
put into splints.
Naturally, this was a very awkward occurrence just at the beginning of
the term. Miss Bardsley would be disabled for some weeks, and in the
meantime, who would take her Form? For a few days one of the prefects
did duty, while Miss Drummond wrote post-haste to a scholastic agency,
to secure a teacher as locum tenens.
It was difficult to find anyone who was disengaged and could come at so
short a notice, and Miss Webb, the mistress who finally arrived, was
hardly to the taste of the Fourth Form. She had been a private governess
in a family, and was not accustomed to class teaching; and the girls
discovered in the first half-hour that she had not the slightest notion
of how to enforce discipline.
"She told me to stop talking, and when I didn't, she simply took no
notice!" chuckled Dora Maxwell.
"And she said: 'Ursula, dear, please do not fidget with your pencil,' in
such a mild, apologetic little voice!" laughed Ursula. "Miss Bardsley
would have glared, and said: 'Ursula, take a forfeit!'"
"She doesn't know anything, really, about the lessons," said Aldred
scornfully. "She kept looking at the book all the time, to follow what
we were saying."
"And you remember that sum that came out so funnily? I'm sure the answer
was wrong in the book, and I wanted her to work it on the blackboard,
but she wouldn't," put in Dora.
"Because she couldn't!" sneered Aldred. "She's evidently no good at
arithmetic. We know more ourselves than she does!"
"And when we were having physical geography, and I asked her why the
moon really had phases, she said it depended on the tide!"
"Well, she had got rather flustered, and put it the wrong way,"
interposed Mabel. "Of course, she meant that the tide depended on the
moon."
"Then why didn't she say so?"
"You muddle her by asking so many questions."
"Miss Bardsley never gets muddled; she always explains things so that
one can understand exactly. As for Miss Webb, at the end of her physical
geography, I feel as if I weren't sure whether the sun goes round the
earth, or the earth round the sun."
"Well, it must be difficult for her, poor thing! to come here at a few
hours' notice and have to take up another mistress's work," said Mabel.
"I expect she's taught from quite different books, and doesn't know how
far we are on in anything."
"It's not exactly that," said Phoebe. "I'm sure Miss Bardsley could
set to work on someone else's Form, and manage their lessons in five
minutes. The real trouble is that Miss Webb hasn't been used to teach in
the way we learn things at Birkwood. She's old-fashioned, and expects
you just to repeat what's in the book, and never minds whether you
really understand it or not."
"That's fearfully out-of-date!" said Ursula. "She must have been
educated a very long time ago. I wonder how old she is?"
"Quite fifty, I should think. Her hair is very grey," said Aldred.
"She's older than Miss Drummond, I'm certain, and oh! what a vast
difference there is between them! Miss Drummond is the cleverest person
I know, and Miss Webb is a perfect noodle!"
"I don't see what's the use of troubling to learn her stupid lessons;
they can't do us any good."
"Well, we must be able to reel off something, or she'd give us bad
marks, and Miss Drummond would scold."
"Yes, that's the worst of it."
"Freda Martin made a far better teacher; I wish she could have gone on
taking us!"
"So do I; but, you see, she has her own work. She is going in for the
Matric. next summer."
"Well, I vote we give ourselves an easy time with Miss Webb. We'll learn
just enough to satisfy her and no more; and if we feel inclined to talk
in school we'll talk!"