A Maiden all Forlorn
Patty awoke next morning with a vague, drowsy, comfortable impression
that she was in her own room at home, with Milly in the other bed, and
she was just going to turn over and fall happily asleep again, when she
suddenly remembered where she was, and felt as if her heart, instead of
being light and cheerful as usual, had changed into lead or some
substance of an equally weighty description. She realized that it was
the sound of voices that had disturbed her. Two girls in the opposite
cubicles were talking together, in low tones, certainly, but loud enough
to be most distinctly audible.
"It is a shame, Doris," said the first, "when you and I and Beatrice and
May had all put our names down for a bedroom together, and Miss Graveson
had almost promised we should have this one! And she won't say why not,
either, only that Miss Lincoln had arranged it this way."
"It's perfectly disgusting," replied the other. "Miss Lincoln's
absolutely mean. And Beatrice is as disappointed about it as we are.
She's in No. 12, with Ada and Carrie Hardman. Think of having to share
your room with the Hardmans! Beatrice says she doesn't intend even to
speak to them."
"It's just as bad for us. We don't want this new girl. Why couldn't Miss
Lincoln put her with the Hardmans, and let Beatrice come to No. 7?"
"Oh, I don't know, except that she knew we were so anxious about it. We
shan't have any fun now. I expect she'll be dreadfully priggish and
proper."
"Have you seen her?"
"Only for a moment. Ida Haslam pointed her out to me in the recreation
room. I thought she seemed rather prim. At any rate, she doesn't look
nearly as nice as Beatrice."
"She certainly couldn't be that."
"I wish she hadn't come, and I vote we don't make any fuss over her."
"I'm not going to, I assure you!"
"Well, I shan't either. She can take care of herself, and make friends
with anybody she likes. Only it's a horrible nuisance to be obliged to
have her in our room. Look here, Ella, suppose we----"
But here it suddenly dawned upon Patty that she was listening to what
was not intended for her ears, so she gave such a very wide-awake cough
that the speaker stopped, and after a suppressed giggle, apparently drew
aside the curtain of her cubicle, leaned out of bed, and continued her
remarks in a subdued whisper. It certainly was not particularly
encouraging for Patty to find she was so unwelcome in No. 7. It seemed
too bad that her room mates should be prejudiced against her before they
had really made her acquaintance. It was not her fault that she had been
put in the place of the companion they preferred, and it was unfair and
unkind to have a grudge against her on that account. She wondered if
Jean Bannerman would be accorded as cold a reception in No. 10. Jean, at
any rate, had seemed friendly, and their little walk round the
quadrangle had been so far the only bright spot since her arrival. She
had not much time, however, for further reflections; a loud bell in the
passage gave the signal for rising, and, afraid of being late, she got
up at once. Judging from the sounds in the other cubicles, Doris and
Ella appeared to have some difficulty in waking May, who was evidently a
heavy sleeper, and all three indulged in many yawns and groans before
they finally tore themselves out of bed, and hurried rapidly through
their toilets, chatting meanwhile about various affairs which were
quite unintelligible to anyone who had not yet learnt to take part in
the life at The Priory.
Patty was able to say good morning to Jean, and to sit next to her at
prayers, but they were obliged to separate in the refectory, and
breakfast was as silent a meal as supper of the night before. Lessons
began at nine o'clock, and Patty found herself escorted by Miss Rowe to
a small empty classroom, where she was to undergo an entrance
examination. All the other new girls, including Jean, had already taken
this examination at home, the papers having been sent to them by post;
but owing to a mistake, this preliminary had been omitted in Patty's
case, and she must now give some proof of her attainments before she
could be placed in any form. It was an anxious morning for her. She
wrote on steadily, but it was difficult to do herself justice, as the
history paper was on a period she had not studied specially, and the
geography also covered new ground. She was allowed an hour for each, and
gave a sigh of relief when the clock at last struck eleven, and Miss
Rowe took her to the pantry for lunch. This was a very informal affair;
the girls ran in as they liked, and helped themselves to glasses of milk
and slices of thick bread and butter, which were placed in readiness for
them. Patty looked eagerly among the chattering throng for any face
that she knew, but though girls were hurrying in and out the whole time
she was there, she saw neither Jean, Avis, nor Muriel. All seemed
occupied in discussing school topics, and far too busy to notice her,
and when the great bell rang, everyone fled hastily to lecture or
classroom, and left her still standing with her empty glass in her hand.
She put it down leisurely, and was just wondering what to do next, when
Miss Rowe came bustling up.
"Come along at once, Patty!" she said, in a rather peremptory tone.
"Didn't you hear the bell?"
"Yes," replied Patty, wondering what she had done amiss.
"Then why are you not back at your desk in the classroom?"
"I didn't know----" began Patty, but Miss Rowe broke in as if she had
not the patience to listen to explanations.
"You will have to learn punctuality here," she said. "Any girl who is
late for a class loses an order mark. Now be quick and get on with this
arithmetic paper. I can only allow you till twelve o'clock for it, and
then you must begin the grammar."
Patty obeyed in silence, feeling much subdued. It was rather hard, she
thought, that when she was still so new and strange she must be scolded
for not keeping the rules of the school. She had not really known that
she was expected to hasten back to her examination at the sound of the
bell, and had, in fact, been waiting for Miss Rowe to come and fetch
her. The latter seemed annoyed. She hurried Patty to her place, and
handed her a fresh supply of manuscript paper with very scant ceremony,
then, taking up a book, appeared to be preparing some lesson. Patty
remembered how Avis had hinted that Miss Rowe was not popular, and she
thought she began to understand why. In spite of the urgent necessity of
getting on quickly with her sums, she could not help stealing occasional
glances at the mistress, whose clear-cut profile, firm mouth, calm grey
eyes, and abundant braids of fair hair half attracted and half repelled
her. Miss Rowe was barely out of her teens; indeed, it was only a year
since she had left school herself to come as assistant governess at The
Priory, and she tried to make up for her lack of years by exacting the
utmost in the way of discipline, and asserting her dignity upon all
occasions. Miss Lincoln, who saw that there was sometimes friction
between Miss Rowe and her pupils, interfered as little as she could,
thinking the young teacher would soon learn by experience, and it was
better to leave her to fight her own battles, and hoping that time and
prudence would conquer many difficulties. Patty, of course, did not
know all this, but she realized that Miss Rowe was inclined to be
impatient and dictatorial, and in consequence began to think that she
should not like her. Morning school at The Priory was from nine till
one, and the hours from two to four were devoted to outdoor exercise.
To-day, however, owing to her examination, Patty was obliged to return
after dinner to the classroom, and she was not free until three o'clock,
when she handed in her last paper, and was told by Miss Rowe that she
might go and join the other girls in the grounds. Very much relieved
that her ordeal was over at last, she put on her hat and strolled across
the quadrangle under an archway into the garden beyond. She felt tired
out and languid. It was a warm September day, and the unwonted exertion
of answering so many questions had made her head ache. She wandered
aimlessly along the paths, pausing for a few moments at the tennis
courts, where a little crowd of spectators stood watching an exciting
set, then on towards the playing fields, where more girls appeared to be
practising hockey. Everybody seemed to be friends and to be occupied
with some game or amusement except herself, and the loneliness of her
position struck poor Patty again with full force. Muriel had entirely
deserted her, and evidently did not intend to take the slightest
notice of her. There had not yet been any opportunity of renewing the
acquaintance with either Jean Bannerman or Avis, and nobody else had
proffered even a remark.
[Illustration: "EVERYBODY SEEMED TO BE FRIENDS AND TO BE OCCUPIED WITH
SOME GAME OR AMUSEMENT EXCEPT HERSELF"]
"Do they always boycott new girls like this?" thought Patty. "It was
very different at Miss Dawson's. If a fresh girl came we used to be so
nice to her, and show her everything. If this is a big school, I'd much
rather have a little one. Oh! what can I say to Mother when I write? I
can't possibly pretend I'm happy, and I'm sure she'll expect me to
mention Muriel. I shall just have to tell her about the exams., and what
class I'm in--and I don't even know that myself yet. I must send a
letter to-morrow, I promised they should hear by Friday; but I wish I
could have told them some better news."
Patty's circumstances were certainly a little exceptional. Miss Lincoln,
as a rule, took care that every newcomer was given in charge of some
classmate, who was instructed to show her the ways of the school, and
make her feel at home there; but knowing that Patty was Muriel's cousin,
the headmistress had naturally thought it unnecessary to specially
introduce her, expecting she would at once find herself in the midst of
a pleasant set of companions. If she had had the slightest suspicion of
the true state of the case, she would have been much distressed, as she
took great pains to cultivate nice feeling among her girls, and
especially to allow no one to be neglected or unkindly treated. Miss
Rowe, the only teacher who so far had had anything to do with Patty, had
been too busy and occupied to notice whether she appeared to be mixing
with the rest of the school, and having dismissed her to the garden, did
not give her another thought. Several girls, so Patty learnt afterwards,
watched her strolling down the paths, and had half thought of speaking
to her: but thinking she was perhaps only looking for some friend, they
had not carried out their good intentions, and for the present she was
left alone. Tea was at four o'clock, and was followed by preparation
until a quarter to seven.
"Miss Lincoln has not yet been able to correct your papers, Patty," said
Miss Graveson, "so I cannot set you any definite work; but you can come
with me to the Fifth Form room, and I will find something for you to
do."
Patty followed obediently to the classroom in question. The ten girls
who occupied the desks were all strangers to her, and as strict silence
was the rule, there would certainly have been no opportunity for
conversation. Everybody seemed working as hard as possible. Some sat
with elbows on desks, and their fingers in their ears, evidently
committing rules to memory; some were biting their pens in the agonies
of composition, and others counting on their fingers as they added up
sums. I think Patty will not be blamed very much if she did not pay
great attention to the passage which Miss Graveson told her to analyse
and parse. She was growing so terribly homesick and dispirited, that she
longed to put her head down on the desk and indulge in a good fit of
crying, and only her habit of self-control saved her from showing her
feelings before her companions. After supper all the members of the
lower school were expected to bring their work-bags to the recreation
room, and to sit sewing while one of the mistresses read aloud. Patty
retired quietly to the sofa, and opening the piece of linen embroidery
which she had brought with her, began to stitch in a rather
unenthusiastic manner. She felt too shy and dejected to offer any
advances to the other girls, and nobody came and sat by her, or made any
attempt at friendship. She noticed Muriel enter, and for one second
their eyes met, but Muriel deliberately looked the other way, and with
heightened colour crossed to the opposite side of the room, cutting her
so coolly and decidedly that Patty could not possibly mistake her
intention. Jean Bannerman was seated not very far off, talking to Avis,
but as their backs were turned to Patty they did not see her, though
Jean looked round the room once or twice as if in quest of somebody. I
think Patty might perhaps have summoned up sufficient courage to go and
speak to them had not Miss Rowe entered, and after an enquiry as to
whether all the girls were provided with work, took the armchair which
had been reserved for her, and commenced to read aloud. The book was
Dickens's _Great Expectations_, and ever afterwards Patty associated the
first chapters with an indescribable feeling of misery and wretchedness.
Pip's distresses seemed quite in harmony with her state of mind, and she
thought she would almost have preferred his adventure with the escaped
convict to her own present unhappiness. Troubles always seem at their
worst at bedtime, and the memory of home rose up so strongly, that she
began to come to the conclusion it would be an absolute impossibility
ever to like The Priory in the least. A new difficulty which Patty
mastered that evening was the art of crying in bed without making the
slightest sound so as to betray her grief to the occupants of the other
cubicles--a hard and rather choky achievement, for tears are far more
bitter when they must needs be suppressed, and the sorrow that causes
them be hidden away.
She rose next day and went to breakfast, feeling still an alien and an
outsider. The three girls who shared her bedroom appeared determined to
show by their manner how much they resented her presence. They did not
even say good morning, though they were passing through the door at
exactly the same moment as herself, and they hurried on as fast as they
could to avoid walking downstairs with her. In all the large school
there seemed nobody to whom she could turn for sympathy or advice. When
the first bell rang for lessons, she lingered in the hall wondering
where she was expected to go, and was much relieved after a minute or
two to see Miss Rowe coming evidently in search of her.
"I've been looking for you, Patty," she said. "You've been placed in the
Upper Fourth Form. Come with me at once to the classroom, and I'll show
you your desk. Have you brought your pencil box? No; there isn't time to
go and fetch it now; you must manage without for this morning. I can
lend you this pencil, but be sure you don't forget to return it to me at
one o'clock."
The classroom proved large and airy, with four big windows, the lower
sashes of which were painted white to prevent wandering eyes straying
from lesson books to the view outside. It was fitted with desks arranged
to face a low platform on which stood the blackboard, a chair, and a
large desk for the teacher. The walls were hung with maps and views of
foreign places, and there was a cupboard in the corner, where chalk,
new books, ink bottles, and stationery were kept. The vacant desk
reserved for Patty proved to be in the middle of the back row, and as
she took her seat she looked anxiously to see who were her classmates.
All the girls of both the upper and lower divisions were already in
their places, and the view of twenty-one dark or fair heads, and
twenty-one various coloured hair ribbons was rather bewildering. Muriel
was two rows in front, and Jean a little to her left, and in the hasty
glance she was able to bestow she noticed Avis and two of the other
companions with whom she had travelled to Morton on the day of her
arrival. Miss Rowe took the call-over, and entered Patty's name on the
register in a neat, firm handwriting; then, mustering the seven members
of the lower division, she marched them out of the room for a separate
lesson, leaving the platform to Miss Harper, who arrived punctually at
the stroke of nine. The mistress of the Fourth Form had a striking
personality which could not fail to influence those with whom she came
into contact--tall, dark, and handsome, she gave the impression of much
strength of will, keen wits, and great abilities. She was a very clever
teacher, who liked to push on quick pupils, but was a little ruthless
towards stupid girls. She knew how to make the dullest subject
entertaining, and expected a high average of work, having no toleration
for laziness, and a contempt for incompetence. No girl ever dreamt of
whispering or idling during Miss Harper's classes. As a rule, a word or
even a look was sufficient to maintain order. She rarely if ever
inflicted a punishment for a breach of discipline; to do so, she
considered, would be an acknowledgment of her lack of authority, and
indeed the girls dreaded one of her scathing reproofs far more than an
imposition or the loss of a mark. Her bright, vivacious, interesting
style, her fund of appropriate stories for every occasion, and her many
amusing remarks and comments, made her extremely popular with her class
in spite of her strictness, and the moment she took her place on the
platform all eyes were fixed on her clever, intellectual face. The
subject of her lecture this morning was the reign of James I, and to
Patty, accustomed to Miss Dawson's mild explanations, it was a
revelation in the way of teaching. As she had not prepared the chapter,
she could, of course, not answer any of the questions asked; but in
spite of that she felt she had never grasped any lesson so thoroughly
before: every little detail seemed impressed upon her memory, and she
was quite sorry when the class came to an end, and Mademoiselle arrived
to take French translation. Eleven o'clock was the signal for ten
minutes' interval for lunch, and most of the girls began at once to
leave the room. Patty was on the point of following, when a hand was
laid on her arm, and turning round she saw Enid, the pretty dark-eyed
girl who had eaten so many sweets in the train.
"I've been looking out for you ever since we got to school," said the
latter. "What became of you yesterday? I didn't see even the end of your
hair ribbon."
"I was having exams. nearly all day," answered Patty, "but I was in the
recreation room in the evening. Didn't you see me?"
"No, of course I didn't, or I'd have come and spoken to you."
"I wish you had, then, for nobody spoke to me at all, and no one's said
a word to me at meals, or in my bedroom either."
In spite of herself, Patty could not help her voice sounding rather
aggrieved.
"What a shame! Then you don't know anybody at The Priory yet?"
"Only my cousin Muriel."
"Muriel Pearson? Is she your cousin?"
"Yes."
"Well!" exclaimed Enid, throwing such a depth of expression into the
brief monosyllable, that it seemed to convey a whole volume of indignant
comment.
"Do you actually mean to say," put in Avis, who had joined them, "that
Muriel Pearson's your cousin, and yet she's never taken any notice of
you, nor introduced you to anybody?"
Patty nodded. She did not want to accuse Muriel, but she certainly could
not deny the fact.
"Then she's the meanest, nastiest girl in the whole school, and I shall
just tell her so," said Enid, flushing quite scarlet with righteous
wrath. "I never thought much of her, but I didn't believe she'd have
done such a horrid thing as this. She deserves to be sent to Coventry
for it."
"Didn't Miss Lincoln ask anybody to be friends with you?" enquired Avis.
"No; I only saw Miss Lincoln for a few minutes in the library when I
came."
"That's queer, because she always sees that new girls are made to feel
at home. But I expect she'd think your cousin would be sure to look
after you. Oh, it's too bad! I can't forgive Muriel."
"Come with us to lunch, and we'll try and make up for it, at any rate,"
said Enid, seizing Patty by the arm, and dragging her down the passage
to the pantry. "My name's Enid Walker, and this is Avis Wentworth.
That's Winnie Robinson over there. Come here, Winnie, I want to tell you
something. Do you know, this new girl is Muriel Pearson's cousin, and
Muriel never introduced her to anybody, and she's not had a soul to talk
to since she came. Isn't Muriel mean?"
"Disgusting!" cried Winnie; "but it's just like her. She and Maud
Greening and Vera Clifford and Kitty Harrison have made a little set all
to themselves, and they won't let anyone else come into it. Not that one
wants to, I'm sure. I don't care to be friends with them in the least.
You'd better drink your milk, Avis, if you want it. Be quick! The bell
will ring in a moment. The bread and butter's all gone, I'm afraid."
"Never mind, I don't care for any. Why, talk of people and they're sure
to turn up! Here she is!" replied Avis, as Muriel entered the pantry to
replace her empty glass on the table.
"Muriel Pearson, there's something we want to say," began Enid. "The way
you've treated your cousin is simply horrid. You ought to be thoroughly
ashamed of yourself, and I hope you are."
Muriel raised her eyebrows and looked at Enid with an expression of
supercilious surprise.
"Really, Enid Walker," she replied, "who asked you to interfere in my
affairs?"
"Nobody, but I mean to, all the same. You deserve to be cut by the whole
class, and I shan't be friends with you again."
"That's no great loss," said Muriel; "I wasn't aware that we ever were
friends."
Her tone was disdainful, and the coolness of her manner contrasted
strongly with Enid's excited indignation.
"But you were mean, Muriel," said Avis. "Why couldn't you introduce
Patty to some of us?"
"It doesn't seem to have been necessary," replied Muriel; "you've
evidently taken her up on your own account. I suppose Patty can make her
friends, and I can have mine?"
"But you left her quite alone at first, with nobody to speak to," said
Winnie; "it was most unkind. You weren't treated like that when you were
a new girl. I remember taking you round the school myself."
"You've a better memory than I have, then," said Muriel. "I wish you'd
all mind your own business. When I want to know your opinions, I'll ask
for them." And she stalked out of the pantry with a very haughty look on
her face, and without bestowing a glance on Patty.
"She needn't ask me to paint anything in her album, for I shan't do her
even a pencil sketch!" declared Winnie.
"I wish I hadn't given her the rest of my chocolates! I wouldn't have
done so if I'd known," said Avis.
"I'm glad she's not my cousin," said Enid; then, suddenly realizing that
her remark was scarcely tactful, and that Patty was looking
uncomfortable, she continued: "Never mind, Patty, we like you, you know.
You shan't be able to say now that you haven't a friend in the school.
I'm going to ask Miss Lincoln to let us each move up a little, so that
you can sit next to me at dinner. I know Cissie Gardiner won't mind
giving you her seat when I tell her the reason. There's the bell! I wish
we could have our desks near each other, but Miss Harper won't let us
change when once we've chosen places for the term. Be quick! We must
fly, or we shall all lose order marks."