For a moment the six girls retained their former positions, staring with
blank, expressionless faces at the new comer. Then Mary Webster, the
eldest of the "Currant Buns," advanced with outstretched hand, followed
by her two younger sisters.
"How do you do?"
"How do you do?"
"How do you do?"
"So glad to see you."
"So glad--"
"Very glad--"
The murmurs died into silence, while Dreda smiled a radiant
encouragement.
"Quite well, thank you. But rather cold. May we poke the fire? My
feet--"
She tapped expressively on the floor, whereupon Mary Webster poked
discreetly at the fire and Susan, the youngest of the sisters, pushed a
chair into the cosiest corner. The other three girls had come forward
by this time, and introduced themselves in due form.
"How do you do? I'm Barbara Moore. It's hateful to be a new girl!"
"How do you do? I'm Norah Grey. Sorry you're cold."
"How do you do? I'm Nancy. Tell me truthfully--_Do you snore_?"
Dreda laughed gaily.
"Sometimes--when I lie on my back. I do it on purpose, because you
dream such thrilling dreams. And I yell horribly when I come to the bad
bits."
"Something will have to be done!" said Nancy, darkly. She was the girl
with the band over her front teeth. It was ugly, but fascinating; one
felt constrained to look at it, and looking at it could not help
noticing how curved and red were the lips, how darkly lashed the long
grey eyes. Nancy was evidently a person to be reckoned with. She sat
herself down by the fire, stretched out her feet to the blaze, and
appeared to be lost in thought. Dreda longed to talk to her, to inquire
what she meant by that mysterious "something," but the "Currant Buns"
were clustering round her, regarding her with anxiously proprietary airs
as if, having the honour of a personal acquaintance, it was their due to
receive the first attention. Dreda felt quite like a celebrity, on the
point of being interviewed by a trio of reporters; but as usual she
preferred to play the part of questioner herself.
"Were you doing prep when I came in? What classes are you taking to-
day? I feel as if I've forgotten everything. One always does in the
holidays, doesn't one? Such a bore having to grind through it all
again. Seems such a waste of time."
"Have you a bad memory? Miss Drake, our English governess, is
especially clever at developing the powers of memory. And holiday tasks
are so useful, too; don't you find them so? It is impossible to forget,
if one has to study for an elaborate thesis."
"The--what?" questioned Dreda blankly. "But whoever _does_ study in the
holidays? I don't! If you did, they wouldn't be holidays. So stupid!
Holidays are for rest and fun. Bad enough to have lessons for two-
thirds of the year. One's brain must have _some_ rest!"
She ended on quite an indignant note, and her companions stared at her
with a mingling of admiration and dismay. Such a vivid bit of colouring
had not been seen for many a long day in that neutral-tinted room.
Yellow hair, pink cheeks, red lips, blue dress--she was positively
dazzling to behold. The two younger Miss Websters appeared absorbed in
admiration, but the eldest and cleverest-looking of the three pursed up
her lips with an air of disapproval and said primly:
"It depends upon one's _idea_ of rest, doesn't it? Leisure may mean
only a time of amusement, but it's a rather poor conception of the word.
The ancient Greeks understood by it a time of _congenial_ work, as
distinguished from work which they were obliged to do. Their necessary
work was undertaken in order that they might obtain a time of leisure,
but when it came, instead of wasting it in foolish and passing
amusement, they used it to strengthen their intellect and to store up
ennobling thoughts."
"How did they do that, pray?" Dreda put the question with the air of
one launching a poser, but Mary Webster showed no signs of discomfiture.
"They used to meet together in little companies, and discuss the deepest
and most important topics of the day--"
"I expect they gossiped horribly!"
"And they watched the dramas--"
"I call that amusement! I wouldn't mind doing that myself."
"But the Greek dramas were not light and vapid like modern plays. They
dealt with serious subjects, and the audience often used to commit the
words to memory as a mental exercise."
Dreda yawned.
"Ah, well," she conceded indulgently, "it's a long while ago! One
mustn't be hard on them, poor dears, for they knew no better. I don't
approve of girls bothering their heads about ancient Greeks. Boys have
to, for examinations, but if we want to grow up nice, domesticated women
it's better to learn modern things, and leave those old fusties alone.
They do one no good."
The girls stared at her in stunned surprise. Agnes, the second Webster,
dropped her chin to an abnormal length; the youngest, Susan, bit
nervously at her lips; Mary cleared her throat and showed signs of
returning to the attack, but Dreda was already tired of the subject, and
made a diversion by leaping from her seat and approaching the table
where piles of blue-covered exercise books were neatly arranged at
intervals of about a yard apart.
"Let me look at your books, and see what you are doing! I didn't bring
any books till I saw what you used. I expect they will be the same.
All school books are. I've got the ones Rowena used." She broke off,
staring with dismay at the underlined questions which met her eye in one
of Agnes's neatly written books:
"_Characterise the work of Praxiteles, comparing it with that of
Phidias_."
"_Describe the Caryatids of the Erectheum_."
"_More_ Greeks! How awful! You seem saturated in Greece." She threw
down the book impatiently and took up another. "Write a short essay on
Chaucer (I know Chaucer!) and his times (When did he live? Ages ago, I
know, for he couldn't spell), dwelling on (1) the state of society as
shown by the attitude of Wycliffe to the Pope, and the higher clergy;
(2) the peasants' revolt"--Dreda looked round with horrified eyes.
"_What_ a thing! Do you often have essays like that? Your governess
must be a man in disguise!"
"She is exceedingly clever and well read, and a most interesting and
original teacher."
"Humph!--I prefer the old school! Our governess gives us essays on
Spring, and Happiness, and quotations from poetry. They are far better,
for if you don't know anything, you can make it up. You know the sort
of thing. `One has often felt--' `Should we not all--' `At this season
of the year our hearts overflow--' I assure you I have often sat down
not knowing what on earth I was going to say, and have written _pages_!
That's far better for you than learning dull facts about people who were
dead and buried hundreds of years ago, because it exercises your
imagination and resource, and they are so useful for a woman. Now, just
suppose you were married, and a lot of dull people were coming to
dinner--it would help you awfully if you'd been trained to make
conversation out of nothing! And supposing you suddenly found that
there was nothing to eat, and you had to make a dinner out of scraps--
what would be most useful to you then, Greek history or a good,
resourceful brain?"
Mary and Agnes stared aghast, but the sound of a snigger came from the
fireplace where Susan stood meekly in the background, and a moment later
a ringing laugh drew all eyes to the doorway where stood a tall, bright-
haired girl, whose white teeth gleamed pleasantly through her parted
lips.
"Bravo!" she cried gaily. "Bravo, my new pupil! Very adroitly argued.
But suppose now that one of your dull diners happened to be an
enthusiast about Greece, and that its glories were the only subject on
which he was prepared to talk! Suppose he spoke of the `Caryatids,' for
example, and you had no idea what the word meant--how would you keep up
your share of the conversation?"
"Quite easily. I'd say--`Really! How very interesting! _Pray_ do go
on!' Then he'd be charmed. People always are charmed to go on
talking," declared Dreda smiling back with the utmost frankness into the
face of this bright, friendly stranger.
So this was the English governess of whose cleverness and
accomplishments she had heard so much! She looked quite young--
ridiculously young; not many years older than Rowena herself. Dreda had
expected to see an elderly, spectacled dame, thin and spare, with scant
locks dragged tightly back from her face. In the dark depression of her
spirits she had thought it possible that she might even wear knitted
mittens, and have cotton wool in her ears. Never for a moment had it
occurred to her that an accomplished finishing governess could be young
and pretty!
To judge from Miss Drake's expression she was experiencing very much the
same pleasure in the sight of her new pupil, for her eyes brightened
visibly as she looked Dreda up and down, down and up, with a keen,
intent scrutiny. She laughed as she heard the girl's answer, and
replied easily:
"That's quite true, Etheldreda. I am myself! That's one of the reasons
which induced me to work--for unless one is contented to play the part
of hearer through life, it really is worth the trouble to store up a
little general knowledge, so that one may talk as interestingly as
possible. Lessons may seem dull and unnecessary at the time, but they
_are_ useful afterwards! Now, girls, take your places! Etheldreda
shall sit here on my left, and I will read over the syllabus for this
term's study, and draw out a timetable. As we come to each fresh
subject I will show you our books, Etheldreda, and we will see if they
are the same as those which you have been using, and how far you have
progressed. I expect we shall be able to work along together, even if
there is a little space to be gulfed on either side."
"Please!" cried the new pupil earnestly, "don't call me Etheldreda.
Nobody ever does except when I'm in disgrace, and it's so long and
proper. I'm always Dreda at home."
"Dreda, then! It _is_ more get-at-able. Well, now, Dreda, take a pen
and write down our syllabus in this book. I like my pupils to have a
clear idea of the work ahead."
Dreda settled herself complacently to the task, but as she wrote her
face grew ever longer and longer. What subjects were there which she
was supposed to study? Political economy--she had not the vaguest idea
of what it meant! Physiology--that was something horrid about one's
body, which ought properly to be left to nurses and doctors! Zoology--
animals! She knew everything that she wanted to know about animals
already; how to feed and tend them, and make them tame and friendly.
She could not love them half so much if she were obliged to worry
herself learning stupid names half a yard long, which no ordinary human
creature understood! Latin--Algebra--Astronomy. She glanced round the
table and beheld Mary and Agnes and Susan scribbling away with unruffled
composure. No sign of alarm could be traced on their calm, bun-like
countenances, the longest words flowed from their pens as if such a
thing as difficulty in spelling did not exist. Dreda looked for a
moment over Mary's shoulder, and beheld her writing a diphthong without
so much as turning a hair.
A chilly feeling crept up her spine; her heart seemed to stop beating,
then at the next moment thudded violently against her side. She was not
going to be at the top of the class; she was to be at the bottom!
Instead of leading the van, and victoriously trailing the Currant Buns
in her wake, the Currant Buns would have to trail her; and a heavy,
unenlightened load she would be! A stormy prospect lay ahead; straits
of difficulty; seas of depression; oceans of humiliation. Pride, and
pride alone, prevented Dreda from laying down her head on the dingy
brown tablecloth and bursting into tears. Alas, alas! for the happy,
easy days of History, Geography, and Arithmetic, with the old-fashioned
Spider. Alas for the finishing joys of Madame Clerc's select academy,
where the young ladies were taken about to see the sights of Paris, with
no other restriction on their pleasure seeking but that on one and all
occasions they should amuse themselves in French!
It grew wearisome to make ever the same reply to Miss Drake's question.
"No, she had never studied that subject."
"No, she had never seen this book." Mary stared unblushingly with her
little dark eyes. Agnes dropped her chin until it looked twice its
natural length, Susan flicked over the pages of her exercises and
appeared absorbed in their contents. Nancy smiled a furtive smile.
"No," cried Dreda desperately. "No, I know nothing about it! I--I have
been educated on quite different lines--I think I had better go on as I
have begun. I don't want to keep back the whole class. Let the others
go on as usual, and leave me out. I can join _in_ for the ordinary
subjects."
"Nonsense, Dreda. Nothing of the sort. We take up each subject afresh
at the beginning of the term, and if you work hard you will be able to
manage quite well. It is better to make a little push to keep in this
form than to go into a lower one with younger girls, and less
interesting work. I am not unreasonable. I shall not expect miracles;
do your best, and we'll help you on. I think you had better have a
special coach to whom you can apply if you want help or explanation in
your preparation. Now which of you girls would like to be Dreda's
coach, and spare her a little time when it is needed?"
There was a simultaneous rustle of assent, but two voices spoke first,
breaking the silence at identically the same moment.
"I!" cried Susan.
"Me!" cried Nancy.
Miss Drake smiled. "Oh, Nancy, Nancy!" she cried gaily; "a nice person
_you_ would be to coach another! Better give a little more attention to
your own grammar, my dear. Very well, Susan, that is settled. You
shall be Dreda's coach!"
Dreda and Susan looked at each other across the table in silence. Susan
saw flushed cheeks and eyes suspiciously bright. Dreda stared in
amazement, asking herself how it could be that anyone so much like the
two elder sisters could at the same time be so diametrically different.
Mary and Agnes were unusually plain, heavy-looking girls, but in Susan's
face there was at this moment, a light of sympathy which made it
strangely attractive. She possessed the family features, the family
eyes, but Nature had evidently been prejudiced on her behalf and had
given with a more generous hand. An extra shade of darkness on the
eyebrows, an extra dip to the nose, a tiny curl to the lips, a tilt of
the chin--these were trifles in themselves, but what an amazing
improvement when taken in bulk! Dreda gazed and gazed, and as she did
so there came to her one of those delightful experiences which most of
us encounter once or twice as we go through life. As she met this
strange girl's glance, a thrill of recognition ran through her veins; a
voice in her heart cried, "_My Friend_!" and she knew just as surely as
if she had been told _in_ words that at the same moment Susan's heart
had sounded the same glad welcome.
She said: "Thank you, Susan," in a voice unusually subdued, and bit her
lips to keep back the tears.