During the next three weeks the Saxons settled slowly into the routine
of life as it would in future be spent at the Manor. To begin with, the
house itself was greatly improved in appearance by the addition of extra
furniture and draperies sent down from the lavishly equipped house in
town. The cold austerity of the entrance-hall was turned into something
positively approaching cheerfulness by the presence of crimson
portieres, a huge tapestry screen shutting off the staircase, and, best
of all, by a brass brazier which, piled high with blazing coals,
diffused both light and heat, and seemed to speak a cheery welcome to
each new-comer. The Bechstein grand piano was not only a gain from a
musical point of view, but made a decided improvement in the sparsely
furnished drawing-room, while a few good pictures and ornaments gave a
homelike air which had hitherto been conspicuous by its absence.
Rowena regarded these improvements with the numb unconcern which a
prisoner might manifest over an unimportant alteration in his cell; but
Dreda, as usual, was afire with enthusiasm, and spent a radiantly happy
day playing the part of a charwoman, in apron and rolled-up sleeves.
She washed all the ornaments, exulting in the inky colour of the water
after the operation, and insisting that each member of the household
should ascend to regain the same.
"Isn't it beautifully dirty?" she cried in triumph. "I scrubbed them
with the nail brush. You should have seen the dust come out of the
chinks! I simply dote upon seeing the water turn black. It's no fun
washing things unless they are _really_ dirty!"
When the additions were viewed as a whole, however, Dreda was not so
content. She even frowned with displeasure at sight of the luxury in
the hall.
"It's not consistent!" she pronounced, judicially. "We are _rejuiced_,
and it doesn't look rejuiced! People in the neighbourhood coming to
call will think we are richer instead of poorer. You will have to
explain, mother. It wouldn't be honest if you didn't."
Mrs Saxon's smile was a somewhat painful effort.
"I imagine there will be little need of explanation, Dreda. News flies
fast in a country place, and our neighbours probably know our affairs as
well as we know them ourselves."
"And are gossiping about us behind our backs, and longing to call and
see how we bear it!" continued Rowena, with that new edge of bitterness
in her voice, which sounded so sadly in her mother's ears. It needed a
hard struggle with herself before Mrs Saxon could command herself to
reply gently:
"Curiosity is natural, perhaps, but I don't think we need fear anything
unfriendly. If there should be any exhibition of the sort, it's a
comfort to feel that I can depend upon my grown-up daughter to set an
example of dignity and self-restraint. My nature is like Dreda's, so
much more impulsive, that you will be a great strength to me, dear."
Oh, that soft answer that turneth away wrath, how omnipotent it is! The
sneer was wiped off Rowena's face as by a sponge, her blue eyes
glistened, and she stooped her tall young head to press an impetuous
kiss upon her mother's cheek. For the rest of the day she was her old,
sweet loving self, and the mother was rewarded a thousandfold for the
effort which it had cost her to repress a hasty retort, and replace it
by a word of tenderness and appreciation.
At the end of a fortnight the three boys returned to school, placidly
resigned to a change of circumstances which left their own lives
untouched; and no sooner had they departed than the Spider in her turn
began to pack her boxes, in preparation for her own exit. For the past
ten years she had been regarded as a member of the family, spending the
greater number of her holidays with her pupils, and being included in
all the household festivities and rejoicings. It was inevitable that
her absence would cause a blank, and the young people experienced sundry
pangs of conscience as they recalled the want of appreciation with which
they had received their efforts on their behalf. How they had teased
and lazed, and plotted and schemed, to escape the tasks which she had so
laboriously enforced! How they had laughed behind her back, imitating
her little mannerisms, and exhorting each other after her invariable
formulae: "Impertinence, my love, is _not_ wit!"
"A young lady should be composed and dignified in demeanour."
"Concentration, my dear, concentration! That is what you require."
Poor, dear, good Spider; her methods were somewhat behind the times; but
she was the kindest, most faithful of souls. Everyone was thankful to
know that owing to the recent receipt of a legacy she was able to retire
comfortably from active work, and to look forward to a peaceful
contented home in the family of a beloved niece. Neither was it a very
serious parting, since nothing was so certain as that so true a friend
must return again and again to the scene of her labours; to see Hereward
in his first uniform; to attend Rowena's marriage; Dreda's coming out;
and inspect the progress of her youngest pupils. A few tears were shed
when the hour of parting actually arrived, but there was no bitterness
in them on either side, nor were they of any long duration.
And now for Etheldreda's turn! When the morning dawned on which she was
to depart for school, she felt it fitting that her toilette should
express the melancholy of her mood. Dreda had a great idea of fitness,
and a costume composed of an old shepherd plaid skirt, a grey flannel
blouse and a black tie seemed admirably symbolic of what she herself
described as "the mourning of her soul." When it was donned, however,
the result was found to be so extremely unbecoming that resolution
wavered, and collapsed. After all, the most important matter was to
impress her new companions, and there was no denying that that could be
done most effectively in blue--in just such a blue as was at that moment
hanging in the wardrobe ready for use. With light-like speed Dreda shed
her dun-coloured garments on to the floor, and in a trice was arrayed in
her prettiest, most becoming costume.
This time the reflection was so pleasing that it was quite an effort to
pull down her chin, and drop her eyelids, with the air of melancholy
resignation which she was determined at all costs to preserve during
breakfast. Mrs Saxon's face brightened at sight of the pretty blue
dress, but neither she nor any other member of the family mentioned the
fatal word "school." Rather did each one try to give a cheerful turn to
the conversation, and to lead it towards a discussion of those topics in
which the heroine of the day was the most interested. "Sops!" murmured
Dreda dramatically to herself. "Sops!" She struggled hard to restrain
her longing for a second helping of bacon; but her courage gave out at
the thought of the motor drive across the cold open country.
"I must strengthen myself with plenty of nourishment," she decided, as
she handed over her plate, and accepted the offer of a third cup of
coffee. Like all pleasant things, however, the meal came to an end at
last, and then the great event of the day could no longer be ignored.
Maud caught the glance exchanged between her parents, and felt herself
freed from her promise of silence.
"_Now_!" she exclaimed, with a gusty sigh of relief. "Now for the Buns!
_Now_ you'll see which knows most, them or you. Them, I should think,
'cause they're clever, and you forget. Miss Bruce said your head was
like a sieve. Do you remember the day she said it? She had on her jet
chain, and jingled with the beads. You'll have to remember not to
forget, or you'll be the bottom of the class. Fancy three Currant Buns
on top!"
She stopped short, with her characteristic throaty little laugh, and
Dreda glared at her with flashing eyes. It was really extraordinary
that anyone so stupid as Maud should so often succeed in hitting upon
just the most aggravating thing to say under the circumstances. Three
Currant Buns on top indeed! Life would only be endurable if she herself
could seize the leading place, and hold it relentlessly to the end. She
would not condescend to reply, and Maud was hurriedly nudged, and poked,
and "shoved" into silence by Rowena, who was in an unusually sympathetic
mood, realising how she herself would have felt had fate cast her own
scholastic lot with that of the Misses Webster.
"Never mind her," she whispered, consolingly, as she followed Dreda
upstairs to put on hat and jacket before her departure. "It's not worth
while troubling yourself about Maud's remarks. It's impossible to think
that any of those girls will get the better of _you_! It's hateful, of
course; but perhaps it may not be quite so hateful as we think--"
"Oh, I don't mind. I'm resigned! One can only be as miserable as one
can. Perhaps I'll have an accident some day, riding over those rough
roads, and then it will all be finished. I don't mind how soon my life
is over!" declared Dreda, harpooning her hat viciously with a pin of
murderous length, ornamented at the head by a life-size imitation of a
tomato. "But while I _do_ live, I tell you one thing, Rowena, I'll--
I'll _hold my own_!"
"I'm sure of that," assented Rowena, with conviction. "Look here,
Dreda, would you like me to drive over with you as well as mother? I
could, you know; and it might break the ice!"
"No, no! Father wanted to come, but I begged not. Everything is
arranged, and I don't want people looking on. It will be a _hidjus_
ordeal!"
"Oh, my dear, come! Don't exaggerate. It's not so tragic as all that."
"Isn't it, then? Don't be so grown-up and horrid! How would _you_ like
it yourself, if anyone made the best of your having to teach Maud?"
That one trenchant question was sufficient to reduce Rowena to the
depths of silent despair, and the two sisters descended the staircase
with aspects equally lugubrious and mournful.
It was not a cheerful send-off, despite all the efforts of the family,
who stood shivering in the porch to wave farewells, and call out
encouraging prognostications so long as the motor remained in sight.
Dreda drew a big sigh of relief as they turned out of the drive, and
spun rapidly along the highway. The necessity for keeping up a part was
over, and involuntarily she began softly whistling beneath her breath,
for in truth she was by no means so miserable as she had striven to
appear.
Novelty was the breath of Dreda's nostrils. Any novelty to her was
better than none, and if the chance of returning to the house had at
that moment been vouchsafed, it is doubtful if she would have accepted
it at the cost of missing the excitements of the next few hours.
The car spun along strongly, so that the twenty miles' distance was
speedily covered, and before Etheldreda was half-way through her dreams
it had turned in at a gate, and there before her eyes lay Grey House, a
square, pretentious-looking building, with a door in the middle and a
stretch of three windows on either side. There, also--oh! thrilling and
exciting moment--pressed against the panes of an upper window were a
number of round white discs, which must obviously be the faces of pupils
watching the advent of the new girl!
Dreda sat up, and throwing back her golden mane, tossed a laughing
remark to her mother--the first she had volunteered since leaving home,
and showed her white teeth in a determined smile. If she were fated to
arrive at all, she would arrive as a conqueror who would be regarded
with envy and admiration. Privately, she might consider herself a
martyr, but that was not a role in which she chose to appear before
other people. She was smiling as she entered the drawing-room after her
mother, smiling as Miss Bretherton came forward to greet them, smiling
still, a forced, fixed smile, as she listened to the conversation
between the two ladies.
"Hope we shall be very happy together--"
("I shan't. I don't like you a bit! Scraggy, cross-looking thing!
Your nose looks as if it would cut!")
"...Dreda is fond of society. She will enjoy working with other girls!"
("Shan't, then! I shall hate it. I should have enjoyed it in Paris.")
"...Beginnings always are a little difficult; but young people _soon_
adapt themselves!"
("It's easy to talk!")
After a few minutes passed in the exchange of these and similar
commonplaces, Mrs Saxon rose to depart. On a previous visit she had
been shown over the house, and had seen the room where her daughter was
to sleep, and now her presence would only prolong the agony. She cast a
look at her daughter, full of yearning mother love and sympathy; but
Dreda was smiling still, her grey eyes wide open, her very gums showing
in the unnatural stretching of her lips. She submitted to be kissed,
but offered no caress in return, and turned with a nonchalant air to
examine the photographs on the mantelshelf, while Miss Bretherton
escorted her mother to the door.
They were all photographs of girls--old girls who had left school and
could afford to be amiable and forgiving. One wore a cap and gown and
was evidently a crack pupil who had won honours at college; another held
a baby on her knee--she was pretty, and had married young; a third
supported her head on her hand and stared dreamily into space; another
posed against a screen. Dreda stared at them with eyes that grew misty
and unseeing, as the motor puffed down the drive. Now she was alone--
away from home for the first time in her life! Miss Bretherton was
coming back--Miss Bretherton with the thin face and the sharply pointed
nose.
The door opened; the photographs looked mistier than ever; Miss
Bretherton's voice sounded from an immense distance, saying in cheery
tones:
"Now I am going to take you upstairs to see your room, Etheldreda.
Susan Webster and Nancy West will share it with you. Susan you know
already--a delightful girl; and Nancy is equally charming. Most of the
girls returned last night, but we have not yet settled into regular
work: it takes a little time to arrange the classes. Are your boots
quite clean? Better rub them once more on the mat! Pupils are not
allowed to ascend the staircase in outdoor shoes."
She led the way forward, while Dreda followed, looking about with
curious eyes. The carpet lasted only so long as the stair could be seen
from the hall beneath, and was then replaced by oil-cloth, worn to a
colourless drab by the tramp of many feet. On the first storey a narrow
passage ran the whole length of the house, and innumerable doors seemed
to open on each side. The murmur of voices could be heard from within,
as one passed these closed portals; but one of the number, labelled
Number 5, was not quite shut, and Dreda had a shrewd suspicion that it
opened an inch or two wide as she passed by. Probably it gave entrance
to the room from which faces had stared out on the drive; probably the
same curious faces were peering forth through that crack at this very
moment.
The bedroom bore a bleak look, despite the fact that the furniture was
all in threes--three narrow beds, three washstands, three chests of
drawers--topped by miniature mirrors--and three small cane-seated
chairs. Each of the three inmates had a portion of the room to herself,
and against the wall stood two folding screens, evidently designed to
insure privacy. Dreda noted with dismay that the two ends of the room,
the one next the window and the one next the door, already bore signs of
occupation. Her brow clouded, and instead of the usual polite remarks
of approval, out shot an impetuous question:
"Have I to take the middle? I'd rather have an end!"
"Susan and Nancy have occupied the same beds for the last year. All are
equally comfortable."
"There ought to be three screens. I want two to shut myself in.
Suppose one of the others didn't want hers up!"
"Why suppose disagreeables, my dear? It is a great mistake. I feel
sure your companions will consider your comfort as thoughtfully as their
own. Hang your jacket on the pegs; then you can come to your classroom,
to be introduced to your companions. Take off your hat."
Dreda pulled a face in the mirror. She felt cross and ill-used. At
home she was accustomed to a big, beautiful room all to herself; she did
not at all enjoy the prospect of owning a third of this chill grey
dormitory. She took off her hat--conscious that Miss Bretherton's eyes
were regarding the tomato-topped pin with silent disapproval--wriggled
out of her coat, and bestowed a series of pats and pulls to hair,
necktie, and blouse. Being one of the happy people who feel cheered
rather than depressed by the sight of her own reflection in the glass,
she followed the head mistress downstairs without any of the
trepidations of nervousness which afflict most new girls, and was by no
means surprised when that lady made straight for the doorway of Number
5.
It opened, and six girls were discovered seated before a table, wearing
expressions of preternatural solemnity. One of the number wore
spectacles; a second had a broad band of metal over her front teeth; a
third had red hair and a thick powdering of freckles; "The Currant Buns"
wore dresses of yellowy-brown tweed, which in Dreda's eyes made them
appear "bunnier" than ever. So much was taken in by the first lightning
glance, as at the appearance of Miss Bretherton the girls leapt
mechanically to their feet and stood stolidly at attention.
"Girls, this is your new companion, Etheldreda Saxon. She is to share
Number 20 with Susan and Nancy, and I expect will be in the fourth form.
You had better leave your books and have a little chat beside the fire,
until Miss Drake is ready. You may tell her that I gave you
permission."
She left the room and shut the door behind her, and Dreda was left face
to face with her new companions.