Patty's Pledge
November days found Patty thoroughly settled down at The Priory, and
quite accustomed to all the rules and regulations which obtained there.
On the whole she was happy, but there were still a few difficulties with
which she had to contend. Life in a large school, among so many
companions of various dispositions, was a totally different affair from
what it had been in her quiet home at Kirkstone. Though Miss Lincoln did
her uttermost to uphold an extremely high standard of conduct among the
girls, Patty found there were many who were capable of little
meannesses, slight lapses from the strictly straight path, and acts
which were not at all in accordance with her ideals of honour. It
sometimes needed a good deal of moral courage to keep to what she knew
was right. It was not pleasant to be laughed at and called
"straitlaced", because she would not evade rules or join in certain
doubtful undertakings. No one liked fun more than Patty, when it was
open and above-board, but she could not bear to be mixed up in anything
which seemed sly or underhand. In her bedroom particularly she found
cause of trouble. Her three companions, Ella Johnson, May Firth, and
Doris Kennedy would get up after Miss Rowe had made her evening rounds,
relight the gas, and read storybooks in bed, a proceeding which was, of
course, absolutely forbidden. They were quite angry with Patty when she
ventured to remonstrate.
"We're not going to have you interfering with us, Patty Hirst. If we
like to light the gas again we shall do so," said May.
"But if Miss Rowe catches you, you'll get into the most terrible
scrape," said Patty.
"She won't catch us; we're too careful. I can put the gas out in a
second if anyone's coming."
"You might find you had put it out a second too late, and what would you
do then?"
"It will be quite time enough to decide when it happens," said Doris.
"Don't bother! You can go to sleep yourself, if you want to, but we
three mean to enjoy ourselves."
Patty, however, found it impossible to go to sleep. She lay awake,
listening anxiously, afraid of hearing Miss Rowe's step in the passage,
and wondering what the consequences would be if it were discovered that
the occupants of No. 7 were astir after 9.30 p.m.
"Somebody might be walking through the garden and see a light in the
window," she suggested to the others. "Suppose it were Miss Lincoln
herself! How dreadfully angry she'd be!"
"Miss Lincoln's always safely in her study at this time," said May. "No
one's in the least likely to interrupt us, or to know anything about it,
unless you're mean enough to tell."
"You know quite well I'm no tell-tale," said Patty, indignantly. "You've
nothing to fear from me. I only wish you wouldn't do it. Why can't you
read the books downstairs? You've plenty of time after prep."
"Because Miss Rowe'd take them away. We're only allowed to have books
from the school library, and these are some that Doris brought with her
from home. They're most exciting. I simply must finish mine."
"Oh, May, that's worse than ever!" exclaimed Patty, "if they're books
you know you oughtn't to read."
"Please be quiet, and mind your own business, Patty Hirst!" cried May,
angrily. "We're not going to ask your leave for everything we do."
May, Ella, and Doris knew perfectly well that they were in the wrong,
but they tried to justify their conduct to each other by calling Patty
"priggish". They treated her in as cool a manner as possible, and
generally had some secrets to whisper about in a corner of the room,
making her feel how little they cared for her company, and how much they
would have preferred Beatrice Wynne in her place. Patty, who hated
quarrels, and would rather have been on friendly terms with everybody,
disliked these unpleasant bickerings with her room mates; but as she
would not yield her point, and they would not relinquish their practice,
she had perforce to remain on rather distant terms with them. In school,
too, she found that everything was not quite what might have been
desired. Several of the girls helped each other openly with their French
composition. They would meet together before class and compare
sentences, hastily correcting errors, and copying each other's work to
such an extent that one essay was simply a duplicate of the other,
faults and all. Mademoiselle was not a very observant person, and in
consequence never discovered what was taking place, though the
similarity in the mistakes might easily have aroused her suspicions. The
history exercises also gave wide scope to those who were not absolutely
scrupulous. Miss Harper left much to the girls' sense of honour,
trusting them completely, and never subjecting them to the strict
surveillance which was practised by Miss Rowe. As a rule her plan met
with excellent results, though unfortunately her confidence was
sometimes abused. At the end of each chapter in the history book were a
number of questions, which were given as a weekly exercise. The class
was supposed to prepare the chapter first, then, opening the book at the
page of questions, to write the answers entirely from memory. A few did
so, but I fear a large proportion of the girls yielded to the temptation
thus placed in their way, and would take surreptitious peeps to supply
missing dates or names. It seemed hard that the conscientious ones
should often be obliged to lose marks, while those whose standard of
right was lower won words of approval from Miss Harper for their correct
exercises. Patty's particular friends--Enid, Winnie, and Jean--were
among those to whom honour meant more than marks; but Avis, who was a
much weaker character, sometimes allowed herself to slip, condoning her
conduct by telling herself that everybody else did the same. Avis was
seated close to Patty one morning during the half-hour allowed for the
writing of the history exercise. She was not well prepared, and she was
just refreshing her memory from the forbidden chapter, when suddenly
she caught Patty's frank blue eyes fixed upon her with such a surprised
and reproachful gaze, that she flushed scarlet with shame, and turned
the pages of her book hastily back to the questions.
"I really never thought about it," she explained to Patty afterwards;
"at least I suppose I did think, but I knew all the others were looking
up what they had forgotten, so I supposed it didn't matter."
"Enid never looks," said Patty, gravely.
"Well, I won't do it again; I won't indeed."
"I was wondering," said Patty, "if we couldn't get up a little society,
and ask the members to take a pledge to be absolutely honest about our
lessons. Would you join?"
"Of course I would," said Avis, heartily. "I'd be very glad to. So would
many of the girls, I'm sure. We all hate being unfair, only it seems too
bad when two or three take an advantage and get the best marks."
Patty set to work without further delay, and managed to enrol thirteen
names on her list of honour. Enid, Winnie, and Jean were naturally
willing recruits, as were also Cissie Gardiner, Maggie Woodhall, and
five of the lower division, including Ethel Maitland. Beatrice Wynne,
after a little hesitation, added her signature, but May Firth, Doris
Kennedy, and Ella Johnson refused point-blank.
"It's just another of your absurd fads, Patty Hirst," said Ella. "You're
quite a new girl, it's only your first term here, and I think it's very
conceited of you to be always trying to make out you're so much better
than anyone else."
"Oh, Ella, you know I don't!" said poor Patty.
"Yes, you do," snapped Ella.
"You're not a monitress, Patty Hirst," said May Firth, "so I can't see
why you should concern yourself with our affairs."
"Do your own exercises, and leave us to do ours," said Doris Kennedy.
"We don't want to belong to your silly society."
After meeting with such a rebuff, Patty felt very diffident about
mentioning the matter to the remaining members of the class. She had no
wish to be considered self-righteous and interfering, but, all the same,
she thought she was bound to try and use her influence to set straight
what was certainly a doubtful practice, and she meant to persist even at
the risk of being called hard names. She found Muriel and her three
friends alone in the recreation room one afternoon, and screwed up her
courage sufficiently to broach the subject to them.
"I wasn't aware that anybody cheated," said Muriel coldly, pausing for a
moment in the letter she was writing. "If they do, by all means get
them to take your pledge. It doesn't concern me."
"Nor me either," said Vera. "I go my own way, and don't trouble about
other people."
"We thought perhaps you'd join, as so many of the girls have done so,"
said Patty, timidly.
"It's quite unnecessary," said Vera, "and for Maud and Kitty too. You'd
better take it to the Fifth Class."
Kitty Harrison said nothing, but she came to Patty afterwards and asked
that her name might be placed on the list.
"I think I can persuade Maud too," she said; "only you must promise
faithfully not to let Vera or Muriel know anything about it. I'm glad
you've got it up, Patty, because we all did really look back at the
chapter in the history exercises, even Vera, though she won't confess
it. Nobody will dare to cheat now that so much notice has been taken of
it, and we'd all rather not, if everyone else will keep square. I always
felt dreadfully mean, only I didn't like losing marks."
It was a great triumph for Patty to have won both Kitty and Maud to her
side, and she had the added satisfaction of afterwards securing the two
members of the lower division who had at first refused. Thanks to her
exertions, the standard of the class seemed undoubtedly raised, and the
Fifth Form girls, who shared the recreation room, and heard most of what
was going on, took up the idea, and formed a society of their own. It
was as if Patty had cast a stone into a smooth pond, and the ripples
were spreading in an ever-widening circle. Without in the least
realizing it, her school-fellows were influenced by her pleasant, sunny,
unselfish ways. She had set a fashion of doing little kind, considerate,
helpful things, which many of the rest began unconsciously to follow.
There are always a large number of girls in a school who drift along
without any special aim, yet are ready enough to respond to anyone who
draws out the best that is in them. If one companion succeeds in
avoiding little evils and inconsistencies, keeping her temper, and
showing forbearance and self-restraint in all the small daily acts, her
character will begin to invade other lives, and uplift them in spite of
themselves. Patty was not aware that she had made any difference at The
Priory, and certainly never for a moment intended to set herself up as
an example; but without knowing it she had given a helping hand to
several who, but for her, might never have made any endeavour to mount
to a higher level. Avis in particular was far more conscientious than
before, and Enid, who had hitherto been content if her half-learnt
lessons did not win a scolding from Miss Harper, began to put more zeal
into her work. She was a bright girl, and could easily win class laurels
if she wished, though she disliked any continuous efforts. Her essays
were full of originality, and she was quick at understanding anything
which required reasoning, but she had little patience for remembering
dates and facts, and was not capable of Patty's steady plodding. Though
both Maud Greening and Kitty Harrison had become more friendly, Vera
Clifford and Muriel still held aloof from Patty, and it was owing to
them that an unpleasant incident occurred one day which caused the
latter much distress. Patty's talent for drawing was well known in the
school; she was clever at portraits, and with a few rapid lines could
make excellent likenesses. The girls were fond of asking her to do
sketches for them on scraps of paper, which they would afterwards keep
inside their lesson books as great treasures. Among others, Patty had
drawn a capital picture of Miss Rowe, showing her classical features and
her coils of smooth, fair hair. It was regarded as her masterpiece, and
Cissie Gardiner, its lucky owner, was quite envied by the rest of the
class. Cissie placed it inside her _Merchant of Venice_, and for several
days rejoiced in its possession. One morning, however, the Upper Fourth
was reading Shakespeare with Miss Rowe. This lesson was always held in
the lecture-room instead of in the classroom, where Miss Harper was
teaching the lower division, and the girls sat on chairs arranged in a
semicircle round their mistress. Cissie could not resist taking a peep
at her portrait, and handed it to her neighbour to admire, who passed it
on to the next girl, so that in course of time it found its way down the
class to Vera Clifford. Now Miss Rowe was rather handsome, but she
happened to have a scar down the side of her forehead, which slightly
spoilt her good looks. Patty had naturally left this out in her sketch,
but Vera, who had not the same nice feeling, took a pencil and, nudging
Muriel, who sat next to her, put in the mark, which showed only too
plainly across the brow.
"What are you doing? Pass it back at once!" whispered Cissie anxiously.
Her ill-judged concern, however, had the unfortunate effect of calling
Miss Rowe's attention to the piece of paper.
"What have you there, Vera?" she asked.
Vera tried to hand the sketch back quickly to Maud Greening, and Maud
made a valiant effort to slip it inside her Shakespeare; but as Maggie
Woodhall happened at that instant to jog her elbow, she dropped the
book, and the paper fluttered on to the floor, almost at the teacher's
feet. Miss Rowe picked it up and looked at it critically.
"To whom does this belong?" she enquired sharply.
"It's mine, Miss Rowe, please," said Cissie.
"Did you draw it?"
"No, Miss Rowe."
"Then who did?"
"Patty Hirst," said Cissie, who had not seen Vera's alteration, and
thought the portrait so flattering and talented that she saw no reason
for withholding the artist's name, and, indeed, considered Patty might
well be proud of such an achievement.
"Then I think Patty Hirst might employ her time more profitably," said
Miss Rowe, and, turning very pink, she tore the picture across, and
threw it into the waste-paper basket.
Cissie rescued the fragments afterwards, and pieced them together, and
when she discovered the addition which had been made, her wrath and
indignation knew no bounds. As for Patty, she was nearly heart-broken at
the affair. She genuinely liked Miss Rowe, and could not bear her to
think that she would have been so cruel and indelicate as to call
attention to her one blemish. Even Vera was penitent, for though she had
had the bad taste to alter the drawing, she certainly had not intended
it to fall into the hands of the mistress herself. The hard part of it
was that no one liked to explain, because to refer to it at all would
only have seemed to make matters worse; so the girls consoled Patty as
best they could, but it was a long time before she could get over it.
Perhaps on the whole the occurrence made Vera a little less nasty to
Patty. She was a proud, but not altogether an ungenerous girl, and she
was genuinely sorry to have thus thrown blame on undeserving shoulders.
But for Muriel's influence she would have been almost ready to follow
the example of Kitty and Maud, and if not to make friends, at least to
treat with tolerance a companion who was so particularly inoffensive,
and so willing to meet an apology halfway.
The war which Patty waged in her bedroom still went on as before. Every
night one of her companions would relight the gas, in spite of all
entreaties. Sometimes Patty would get up and turn it out, greatly to the
wrath of the others, who would retaliate next day by hiding her brush
and comb, or dropping her cake of soap into her water jug. It was a most
unpleasant state of affairs, and seemed likely to continue indefinitely,
when an incident fortunately happened which led to a truce.
One November afternoon, when the girls were returning from hockey,
Patty, in strolling through the shrubbery, noticed that the gardener,
who had probably been unstopping one of the gutters, had left his ladder
leaning against a wall, thus giving access to the flat roof of the
lecture hall. Patty at home had sometimes been called a tomboy, and she
could not resist climbing up to see what the world looked like from the
top. She had reached the leads, and was on the point of stepping over a
large spout, when she heard the sound of laughter on the roof, and
stopped to listen. Someone was evidently already there, and, recognizing
the voices of Doris, May, and Ella, she decided not to follow them. An
idea had suddenly occurred to her, and acting upon it at once she
descended to the ground, then, very gently removing the ladder, she laid
it at the foot of the wall. The gardener's wheelbarrow, full of dead
leaves, stood conveniently near, under the shelter of a large
rhododendron, so she sat down on it, and waited for what she knew was
bound to happen. I believe there was a little mischief in her eyes, for
Patty liked a joke as well as anybody, and she thought the occasion
offered considerable opportunities for fun. She had not to wait long. In
a few minutes her three room mates, who had explored the roof as far as
they dared to venture, returned to the spot where they had left the
ladder, and were much astonished to find it gone.
"What a nuisance!" said May. "Ward must have taken it without our
hearing him. I wonder where he is?"
"We shall have to call," said Ella; "perhaps he hasn't gone very far."
None of the three noticed Patty, who was hidden by the rhododendron,
though by peeping through the leaves she was able to see them perfectly
well.
"Coo--e--e!" cried Doris, as loudly as she could.
"Cuckoo!" shouted May, hoping some passing companion might be within
earshot.
"What are we to do?" said Ella, when their calls had been repeated
several times without rousing the faintest reply.
It was rather a lonely part of the garden; most of the girls had run
from the hockey field straight into the house, and the gardener was at
that moment partaking of tea in the kitchen. Patty, who had counted on
all these points, remained quietly under cover, and suppressed her
laughter as best she could.
"I don't know; we can't possibly jump it," said May, peeping over the
edge to judge the distance between herself and the ground, and drawing
back with a shudder.
"We shall have to wait till Ward comes back," said Doris.
"Suppose he's put the ladder away, and doesn't intend to come back?"
suggested Ella.
"Then we'll have to stay here all night," said May.
"Oh, rubbish!" cried Doris. "Let us give one more good call; somebody's
sure to come."
The combined efforts of three pairs of lungs raised a lusty shout, but
beyond a slight echo there was no response.
"It's getting so dark. It must be almost tea-time, I'm sure," groaned
Ella.
"They'll miss us at tea, I expect," said Doris.
"Yes, but they won't know where to look for us. They'll hunt in every
place except the right one. No one would ever dream we were on the
roof," said May dismally.
"Call again," said Ella, who was waxing tearful.
"Cuckoo!" tried May once more, with a tinge of despair in her voice.
This time Patty judged it discreet to come to the rescue, and emerging
quietly from the shade of the rhododendron on the far side, she strolled
up in a casual manner.
"Why, what are you three doing there?" she exclaimed, with well-feigned
surprise.
"Oh, Patty! is that you?" cried Doris, with great relief. "Ward has
taken away the ladder and we can't come down. I wish you'd go and fetch
him."
"He hasn't taken the ladder away; it's lying on the ground under the
wall," replied Patty.
"Then put it up for us, that's a sweet girl," said Ella, in a far more
civil tone than she generally used.
"I don't know, on the whole, that I will," answered Patty.
Her three companions gasped.
"Why not?" asked Doris.
"Don't tease, Patty! It's getting dark and cold," said May.
"Do be quick, Patty!" said Ella.
"It would be colder still if you spent the night there," said Patty.
"Think how nice it would be for me, though, to have the bedroom all to
myself!"
"Patty, you can't really mean to leave us here!"
"If I put the ladder up, I shall expect something in return," declared
Patty.
"All right. Go on. What do you want?"
"You'll all three have to promise never to light the gas again after
Miss Rowe's turned it out, and not to read books that aren't allowed."
"Don't be stupid, Patty; we've argued that point so often."
[Illustration: "YOU'LL ALL THREE HAVE TO PROMISE NEVER TO LIGHT THE GAS
AGAIN AFTER MISS ROWE'S TURNED IT OUT"]
"Very well," said Patty, briefly, pretending to walk away.
A despairing wail from the girls, however, brought her back.
"Don't go! Won't you take anything else?" entreated Doris.
"Not a single thing," said Patty, firmly.
"How mean you are!"
"There's the tea bell," said Patty. "You'd better decide quickly,
because I can't wait."
"Suppose we promise only to read books out of the library," began Ella,
"and light the gas sometimes?"
"Good-night!" replied Patty, turning this time as if she really meant to
go.
"We'll promise! We'll promise!" cried the three shivering figures on the
roof.
"Everything?"
"Yes, if you like."
"On your honour?"
"On our honour."
"Never again?"
"Never."
"It's a bargain, then. Now you may all come down."
Patty reared the ladder against the wall, and held it steady while her
companions descended. She felt in good spirits, for she had enjoyed the
fun of keeping them imprisoned, and had been able by guile to extort a
promise which her strongest protests had hitherto failed to gain from
them.
"They don't know I hid the ladder," she said to herself as they all
hurried in to tea, "and I don't mean to tell them. It's a grand victory
for me. I shall hold them strictly to their word, and now at last we
shall have a little peace in No. 7, and I shan't have to lie awake every
night listening in fear and trembling for Miss Rowe."