The Priory
As this story mostly concerns Patty, I should like to describe her
exactly as she looked when she made her first start into that new,
strange world where everything was going to be so different from the
quiet home where she had spent the thirteen years of her life. She was
not very tall nor very short, just an ordinary, healthy, well-grown
girl, with a round, rather childish face, plump rosy cheeks, a nose that
had not yet decided what shape it meant to be, a mouth that for beauty
might certainly have been smaller, a frank pair of blue eyes, and hair
that had been flaxen when she was younger, but now, to her mother's
regret, was fast turning as brown as it could. No one could really call
Patty pretty, but she had such a merry, pleasant, sunny, smiling look
about her, that she always somehow made people feel like smiling too,
and put them into a good temper in spite of themselves. She was neither
dull nor particularly clever, only possessed of average abilities, able
to remember lessons when she tried hard, and gifted with a certain
capacity for plodding, but not in the least brilliant over anything she
undertook. She was never likely to win fame, or set the Thames on fire,
but she was one of those cosy, thoughtful, cheery, lovable home girls,
who are often a great deal more pleasant to live with than some who have
greater talents; and she had a magic way of making things go smoothly in
the household, and dropping oil on all the little creaking hinges of
life, without anybody quite discovering how it was done. Patty's father
was a busy doctor in the small country town of Kirkstone. He was out
nearly the whole day long, driving about in his high gig to visit people
in distant farms and villages, and had very little time to give to his
own family, so they were obliged to make the most of the few delightful
half-hours he could manage to spare for them now and then. Patty, as his
eldest daughter, held a special place in his heart. She was already
quite a nice companion for him, and I think there was no greater treat
for both than on those occasions when she was able to tuck herself into
the gig by his side, ready to open gates, and hold the reins while he
paid his visits. Patty loved those long drives along the quiet roads.
She did not care whether the weather were wet or fine, hot or cold. It
did not matter in the least if it snowed or hailed, provided her father
was there to talk to, and they could indulge in those confidential chats
that seemed to bring them so near together, and made her feel quite a
little woman instead of only a girl of thirteen. It was not often,
however, that Patty could be absent for the many hours of a doctor's
country round. School and lessons claimed most of her time, and even on
Saturdays she was so useful at home that they found it difficult to
manage without her. Seven younger brothers and sisters all looked to
Patty to settle their quarrels, hem their boat sails, dress their dolls,
kiss their bumps and bruises better, sympathize with their small woes
and troubles, tell them stories, invent new games, and generally take
the lead in all the important matters of the nursery. She was her
mother's right hand, and from the time she was old enough to feel
herself a little older than the rest, she had helped to stitch on
buttons, wash chubby faces, fasten tiny shoes, comb curly heads, keep
small fingers out of mischief and small limbs from danger, and support
the cause of law and order by an emphatic "don't" or "mustn't" when
necessary. Patty often congratulated herself on the fact that she had
taught five babies to walk. She was very proud of the family, beginning
with Basil, who was only a year younger than herself, though not nearly
so capable and reliable, and ending with the fat baby who had not yet
found his feet, while in between came harum-scarum Milly, boisterous
Robin and Wilfred, coaxing, bewitching little Kitty, and round-faced,
stolid, three-year-old Rowland, whose name was generally corrupted to
Roly-Poly, because it seemed so exactly to suit him.
It had never occurred to Patty that life could ever be very much
different from what she was accustomed to. She had seldom been away from
Kirkstone, only for short visits to relations or a seaside holiday, and
all her horizon was bounded by her home. She went to a day school, where
she was one of the elder girls, and felt obliged, even in the midst of
her lessons, to keep an eye on Milly's behaviour, and to consider
herself responsible for the good conduct of Robin, Wilfred, and Kitty,
who were also Miss Dawson's pupils. It was quite anxious work for her to
get them off in time in the mornings; to ensure that they did not leave
their books at home, or forget their macintoshes on showery days, or
lose their slates and pencils; to help to lace their boots, and put on
their hats neatly; to make Milly and Kitty wear their gloves, and
prevent Robin and Wilfred from filling their pockets with nut shells,
stones, frogs, or other unsuitable articles which were apt to stray out
in class and call down the vials of the mistress's wrath upon their
heads. She saw that they learnt their home lessons, did their sums,
practised their due portions upon the piano: and it took up so much of
her own time, that she had to work hard to get in even the moderate
amount of preparation that was deemed necessary at Miss Dawson's. It had
meant a very great change, therefore, when her uncle had written
offering to send Patty to Morton Priory with her cousin Muriel. It would
have been quite impossible for Dr. Hirst, burdened as he was with a
large family and a not too ample income, to place any of his children at
expensive boarding schools. Basil, indeed, went by train daily to
Winborough, ten miles off, where there was an excellent boys' college;
but no better teaching than Miss Dawson could give seemed in store for
Patty, until this sudden good fortune had been thrust upon her. Mr.
Pearson, her uncle, was a wealthy man, who had only one daughter. It had
occurred to him that it would be nice for the two girls to spend their
schooldays together, and he had generously undertaken the full charges
of his niece's education, declaring she should have exactly the same
advantages as her cousin. He had been fond of his sister in their
childhood, and thought how suitable it seemed for Muriel, who was three
months younger than Patty, to have the latter for a companion during the
years he wished her to remain at The Priory.
"Patty is such a good, conscientious child," he wrote to Mrs. Hirst, "I
know she will look after her cousin, and stand by her in any trouble. I
can trust her to be a true and loyal friend, and it will be a comfort to
me to think that Muriel has anyone so stanch and steady on whom to
depend. If Patty will consider my girl her special charge while she is
at The Priory, she will amply repay me for anything I may expend on her
behalf. It is a bargain to which I am sure she will agree, and which I
feel certain she will be ready to keep."
Such a tremendous occasion as being sent away to school naturally marked
an epoch in Patty's life, though she looked upon the event with mixed
feelings. Sometimes it seemed terrible to her to have to leave her dear
ones at home, and she shrank from the parting with an almost morbid fear
lest she should never see them all again; then a more sensible mood
would prevail, and she would be so glad to think she was going, and so
excited about it, that she could scarcely wait until the summer holidays
were over, and the autumn term should begin. The one thing which
troubled her most was the charge which had been laid upon her to look
after her cousin. The latter was such a totally different girl from
herself, that unfortunately she felt they had little in common; and
though she was anxious to do her utmost to prove the stanch friend in
need that her uncle required, she was sure that Muriel would greatly
resent all interference, and she did not anticipate an easy task. She
did not like to discuss the question much with her father and mother.
They seemed so pained at the thought that the two girls should not
agree, and so wishful that their schooldays should bring them nearer
together, that she determined not to mention the subject again, and
could only hope that her fears might not be fulfilled. What the future
held in store for her, and what experiences she was to encounter in her
new life at Morton Priory, it is the object of this story to relate.
A neatly printed notice had been forwarded to Dr. Hirst, reminding him
that the autumn term reopened on September 20th, and that it was
requested that all pupils should return on that day, arriving not later
than five o'clock in the afternoon. Patty wondered how anybody could be
in danger of forgetting such an important date, and from counting the
days had come to counting the hours and even the minutes up to that
particular moment when she must set out on her travels. To her great
delight, her father and mother had decided to take a little holiday and
escort her safely to school. They were anxious to see The Priory for
themselves, and to make the acquaintance of Miss Lincoln, the
headmistress, with whom they had already held some correspondence; and
they both felt they would be much better satisfied if they could picture
Patty in her new surroundings, and leave her looking tolerably cheerful
and happy there. After a terrible parting from the children, Patty tore
herself away at last from their hugs and kisses, and sat blinking back
tears until the cab reached the station, in spite of Dr. Hirst's efforts
to distract her attention. She brightened up, however, in the train. It
seemed so important to be sitting there with a new brown leather bag in
the rack over her head, and a new box in the luggage van, both marked
with her own initials, and to feel she was bound for such a particularly
interesting destination. It was a rather tedious cross-country journey.
After they had changed twice, and found themselves on the main line at a
busy junction, the long corridor carriage was suddenly filled up with so
many girls of various ages, that Patty began to think she must be face
to face with some of her school-fellows, who no doubt were arriving by
the same train as herself. Two mistresses, who were waiting on the
platform, marshalled the excited, chattering young people to their
places, and saw to the safe bestowal of their luggage--evidently no
light task, for there were many outcries after bags and parcels of wraps
and umbrellas, forgotten in the bustle of changing, and porters were
sent hurrying hither and thither to recover the lost property. Everybody
was at length on board the train, including three girls who made a great
sensation at the last moment by racing down the platform to get
chocolates from the automatic machine, and were nearly left behind, to
the equal indignation of the guard and the two teachers. The Hirsts'
compartment was crammed as tightly as it could be: five girls managed to
screw themselves into the space of four, and one, who could find no seat
at all, sat in turns on the others' knees. Two amongst them at once
attracted Patty's notice. One, a fair-haired girl of about the same age
as herself, cried persistently and unrestrainedly, burying her face in
the window curtain, and refusing all comfort, though her companions
pressed chocolates, caramels, mint rock, jujubes, and walnut toffee upon
her with well-meant sympathy.
"Oh, do stop, Avis! You make the place quite damp. No one would think it
was your fourth term. I hope you've brought a macintosh pillow, if
you're going to turn on the waterworks like this. Wipe your eyes, and
have a peppermint cream. I always take them when I feel homesick.
There's nothing does one so much good."
The speaker was a merry, bonny-looking girl of perhaps fifteen, with
bright brown eyes, a clear complexion, a freckled nose, very white
teeth, and curly brown hair tied with a red ribbon. Patty thought she
must surely have spent all her pocket money at the confectioner's before
she came away--such endless packets of sweets came out of the Gladstone
bag which she held on her knee, and disappeared with such startling
rapidity that Dr. Hirst looked on in horror.
"I got hold of my eldest brother," she explained to a companion. "I told
him I shouldn't be allowed a solitary chocolate drop at The Priory, and
how I should be simply yearning even for treacle toffee. He laughed, and
said I should have a good time before I got there, at any rate, so we
went into town, and he bought me absolutely anything I wanted. Have
another caramel, Winnie? It's no use keeping them. Miss Rowe'll
confiscate them all if she finds them in my bag. You won't have the
chance of any more sweets for thirteen weeks, remember!"
"Not unless she can manage to get up a cough," said a girl whom the
others addressed as Ida, "and it depends whether you like Miss Lincoln's
cough drops or not. I think they're hateful myself, and taste like
medicine, but Dorothy Dawson loves them. She made her throat quite sore
one day last term with trying to cough all through the history class,
and Miss Lincoln didn't give her any after all. She only told her to go
and take a glass of water. Dolly was so disgusted! No, thanks, Enid! I
really can't manage another. There are limits, you know, even for me."
"But we simply must finish them up."
"Then finish them yourself."
"She'll be ill if she does," said the short, rosy-faced girl called
Winnie. "I don't believe you've stopped eating sweets, Enid, since you
got into the train. You'll have a horrible headache to-morrow, see if
you don't!"
"I'll call it homesickness if I do," laughed Enid, "and then everybody
will sympathize with me. Look here, Avis, if you insist on crying over
the window curtains you'll take the colour out of them, and the company
will bring an action for damages. They're so dusty, too. Your face is
all in streaks of black. Let me rub it off for you. Winnie, lend me your
bottle of eau de Cologne, that's a dear. I have a clean handkerchief
here. That's better. Now do cheer up, and put your hat straight; we
shall be there in about five minutes."
Patty sat surveying these new girl comrades with deep interest. Avis and
Enid particularly claimed her attention. She had a kindred feeling for
the grief of the one, and the lively manner and bright chat of the other
were attractive, while a look in the merry brown eyes, when they
happened to glance her way, made her think their owner would be willing
to make friends. There was no opportunity, however, to speak, and the
train having reached Morton, everyone turned out in a hurry. In the
bustle of collecting handbags and umbrellas and identifying her own box
from the huge pile of similar luggage on the platform, she lost sight of
her fellow-travellers, and only thought she noticed Enid's blue dress
disappearing inside a station omnibus, and Winnie's black hat whisk past
her in a closely packed landau.
"Muriel was to arrive by the earlier train," said Dr. Hirst, as he put
Patty's belongings into a cab. "No doubt we shall find her waiting for
us at The Priory. What a number of girls! And everyone seems to have
brought a hockey stick. We shall have to ask Miss Lincoln to get one for
you, Patty. If the pretty, dark girl who was in our compartment isn't
ill to-morrow, I shall be much surprised. I'm sure she deserves to be.
If I were her medical man, I should order her a dose of rhubarb and sal
volatile. She's going to call it homesickness, the young rascal, is she?
She looks as if she could be ready to play pranks. If they would consult
me, I'd soon find a cure!" And the doctor chuckled with amusement at the
idea.
The Priory was about a mile away from the railway station, and it was
with a beating heart and a queer lump in her throat that Patty found
herself stepping from the cab and alighting at a great doorway
ornamented with ecclesiastical carvings, and, giving a hasty glance
round a courtyard where girls of various ages seemed already to be
collected, realized that she had at length reached school. In the
fourteenth century Morton Priory had been a monastery of the Franciscan
order, and it now seemed a strange irony of fate that feminine
petticoats should reign supreme within the very walls where the grey
brothers had lived in such seclusion. The old refectory where they had
dined, and the cloister where they had been wont to meditate, were now
given up to a lively, laughing crew of girls, whose serge skirts and
white blouses among the quaint surroundings made a curious blending of
ancient and modern. What remained of the monastic building occupied one
side of a large quadrangle, while the other three sides were taken up
with modern additions, erected, however, in such excellent taste, and so
closely in accordance with the architecture of the older portion, that
the whole had a strictly mediaeval appearance. In the centre of the
courtyard was a pretty Italian garden, with neat box edgings, where
stood the sundial which had marked the hours for the monks who once
paced there, and still remained an old-world protest against the big
clock in the tower over the gymnasium that set the time for the clanging
school bell. Situated in the midst of beautiful scenery, the large
grounds formed a little self-contained kingdom, shut off from the rest
of the world: the numerous tennis courts and the playing fields provided
ample space for outdoor sports; the home farm supplied milk, butter, and
eggs; the kitchen garden grew the fruit and vegetables; while a small
sanatorium in a breezy corner ensured a safe retreat for anyone who
happened to be placed upon the sick list.
Parents were received in the library by Miss Lincoln, who spoke a few
pleasant words to Dr. and Mrs. Hirst about Patty's education and
attainments, and then, as other visitors arrived, passed them on to an
under-mistress, who took them to have tea in the drawing-room, and
afterwards showed them round the school. To Patty, fresh from Miss
Dawson's modest arrangements, it seemed indeed a new world, and she
looked with eager eyes at the classrooms with their Girton desks, their
maps and their blackboards, the studio with its array of casts, models,
and easels, the row of little practising rooms, each with piano, music
stool, and a chair for the teacher; and she gazed almost with awe at the
laboratory with its mysterious bottles and retorts, and the gymnasium
fitted with ropes, bars, and other appliances as yet unknown to her. Her
bag was already placed on the chair in her neat cubicle, though her box
had not been carried upstairs, and her mother was able to note with
approval the excellent arrangements of the bedroom, curtained off as it
was into four parts.
"I'm sorry you will not be with your cousin," said Mrs. Hirst, "but no
doubt you'll soon get to know your room mates. I should like to see
Muriel before we go. I wonder where she is! We must be quick, as we have
only ten minutes left before we must start again to the station."
Miss Graveson, the mistress, volunteered to send in search of her, and a
girl started on an urgent hunt through the school; but evidently it was
a difficult task, for it was only when the Hirsts' cab was at the door
that she returned with the object of her quest.
Muriel was a remarkably pretty girl, slight and graceful, with eyes as
blue as forget-me-nots, and long, silky, golden hair; she was generally
very artistically dressed, and always looked like a picture, a fact of
which she was extremely well aware. She greeted her uncle and aunt
without much enthusiasm, gave Patty her cheek to kiss, and did not seem
particularly delighted at having been called to speak to them.
"I expected we should have seen you before, dear," said Mrs. Hirst. "I
felt quite unhappy at the idea of leaving Patty alone, but now you are
here to show her the ways of The Priory, I'm sure she'll be all right.
Muriel will be able to tell you everything, Patty, so I give you into
her hands. Now good-bye, my darling child! Don't fret, and write to us
as soon as you can. We shall be looking forward to your first letter,
and please let it be a cheerful one."