A School Ballot
Mavis and Merle started for school on Tuesday morning confident of
finding many changes. Hitherto 'The Moorings' had been a modest
establishment where about twenty-four children had been educated by Miss
Pollard and her sister Miss Fanny, who were the daughters of the late
Vicar of the parish. They were neither of them particularly learned or up
to date, but they had a happy knack with girls, and had been especially
successful in the care of delicate pupils. The remarkably mild climate of
Durracombe made the place peculiarly suitable for those who had been born
in India or other hot countries, and so many more boarders had been
entered for this term that the school was practically doubled.
Recognising the fact that this sudden enlargement in numbers ought also
to mean a march forward in other ways, the sisters were wise enough to
seize their golden opportunity and completely reorganise their methods.
They were fortunate in being able to get hold of the house next to their
own, and, turning that into a hostel for boarders, they devoted the whole
of 'The Moorings' to classrooms. They engaged a thoroughly competent and
reliable mistress, with a university degree and High School experience,
and gave her _carte blanche_ to revise the curriculum and institute
what innovations she thought fit. They allowed her to choose her own
assistant mistress, and made fresh arrangements for visiting teachers,
reserving for themselves only a very few of the classes, and
concentrating most of their energies on the management of the hostel.
These new plans gave great satisfaction to both parents and pupils.
"It will be rather nice to have somebody modern at the head of things, so
long as Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny aren't entirely shelved," declared
Merle.
"They're perfect dears! We couldn't do without them," agreed Mavis.
"But they're not clever!"
"Um--I don't know! It depends what you call clever! They mayn't be B.A.'s
and all the rest of it, but they're well read, and they can sketch and
sing and play and do a hundred things that a great many graduates can't.
I call them 'cultured,' that's the right name for them. They're such
absolute and perfect ladies. It's a style you really don't meet every
day. And they're so pretty with their pink cheeks and their silver hair,
like the sweet old-fashioned pictures of eighteenth-century beauties in
powder and patches. I love to look at them, and to listen to the gentle
refined way they talk--I think they're adorable!"
"So they are--but you want something more in a school. I hope the fresh
teacher will be a regular sport, and that she'll use slang sometimes, and
play hockey. That's my ideal of a head mistress."
Miss Mitchell, the new peg upon which so much was now to depend at 'The
Moorings,' might not have been blamed for regarding Tuesday morning as
somewhat of an ordeal. If she was nervous, however, she managed to
conceal her feelings, and bore the introduction to her prospective pupils
with cheerful calm.
Forty-six girls, taking mental stock of her, decided instantly that she
was 'the right sort.' She was tall, in her middle twenties, had a fresh
complexion, light brown hair, a brisk decisive manner, and a pleasant
twinkle in her hazel eyes. She was evidently not in the least afraid of
her audience, a fact which at once gave her the right handle. She faced
their united stare smilingly.
"I'm very pleased to meet you all!" she began. "I hope we shall work
together splendidly and have an extremely happy term. As Miss Pollard has
just told you, there have been so many changes at 'The Moorings' that it
is practically a new school. It's a tremendous opportunity to be able to
make a fresh start like this. We can make our own traditions and our own
rules. Some of you have been at the school before and some have been at
other schools, but I want you all to forget past traditions and unite
together to make 'The Moorings' the biggest success that can possibly be.
We're all going to love it and to be very loyal to it. We hope to do well
with our work, and well with our games. I must explain to you later about
all the various societies which we mean to start, but I want to tell you
that though there is plenty of work in front of you there's also plenty
of fun, and that if every girl makes up her mind to do her very best all
round we shall get on grandly. Now I am going to read out the lists of
the various forms, and then you can march away in turn to your own
classrooms."
In making her arrangements for the reorganisation of the school Miss
Mitchell had decided to have no Sixth form as yet. The girls were all
under seventeen, and she did not consider any of them sufficiently
advanced to be placed in so high a position. The Fifth was at present to
be the top form, and consisted of eleven girls, all of whom she intended
should work their uttermost and fit themselves for the honour of becoming
the Sixth a year later.
Mavis and Merle, both of whom were included in this elect eleven, walked
demurely away to their new classroom. Five of their old companions were
with them, Iva Westwood, Nesta Pitman, Aubrey Simpson, Muriel Burnitt,
and Edith Carey, and the remaining four consisted of Beata Castleton, Fay
Macleod, and two strangers, Sybil Vernon and Kitty Trefyre. Romola
Castleton had been placed in the Fourth, together with Maude Carey,
Babbie Williams, Nan Colville, Tattie Carew, and several other new girls.
The Fifth, as the top form, was to be mainly Miss Mitchell's; Miss
Barnes, the fresh assistant mistress, was to take the Fourth; and the
teaching of the three lower forms would be shared by Miss Hopkins,
Mademoiselle, and Miss Fanny Pollard. Lessons, on a first morning, are
usually more or less haphazard, but at any rate a beginning was made, the
pupils were entered on their class registers, their capacities were
tested, and they began in some slight degree to know their teachers.
Before the school separated at 12.30 for dinner Miss Pollard had an
announcement to make.
"Miss Mitchell and I have decided that for the general good of the school
it will be wise to appoint four monitresses. Two of these must be
boarders and will be chosen by us, but the other two may be elected by
yourselves. We will have a ballot this afternoon. You may nominate any
girls you like by writing their names upon slips of paper and handing
them in to me before 2.30. All candidates, however, must be over the age
of fifteen and must have spent at least two previous terms at 'The
Moorings.' The voting will take place in the big schoolroom immediately
after four o'clock."
Mavis and Merle, walking home to lunch at Bridge House, discussed the
project eagerly as they went.
"Good for Miss Pollard! Or I expect it's really Miss Mitchell who
suggested it! I call it a ripping idea. It's just exactly what's wanted.
The monitresses will lead the games and all the various societies. Run
the school, in fact. What sport!" rejoiced Merle, with shining eyes. "The
old 'Moorings' will really wake up at last."
"Only four monitresses, and two of them are to be boarders and chosen by
the powers that be!" mused Mavis. "That means Iva and Nesta, if I know
anything of Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny! Now the question is who are to
be the other two lucky ones?"
"It ought to be somebody who could lead!" flushed Merle. "Somebody really
good at games and able to organise all that rabble of kids. Some one
who's been accustomed to a big school and knows what ought to be done.
Not girls who've spent all their lives in a tiny school like this.
They've no standards. I've often told them that! They've simply no idea
of how things used to swing at the Whinburn High!"
"I wish Miss Pollard and Miss Mitchell would have done all the choosing,"
said Mavis anxiously. "I think myself it's a mistake to put it to the
vote. Probably somebody quite unsuitable will be elected. The juniors
will plump for the girl they like best, without caring whether she knows
anything about games or not. There's Aubrey Simpson!"
"Oh! They _can't_ choose 'the jackdaw'!" interrupted Merle.
"They can choose her if they like. She's over fifteen and perfectly
eligible. Edith Carey is rather a favourite, I believe."
"That silly goose! Good-night!"
"Well, there's Muriel Burnitt at any rate. She's been a long time at 'The
Moorings.'"
"All the worse for that, though she's better than Edith or Aubrey. I
shall vote for her myself, and for you."
"And I'm going to vote for _you_, and for Muriel, because, as you
say, she's better than the others. I sincerely hope you'll win."
"I hope we both shall. I'll nominate you if you'll nominate me!"
"Rather a family affair, isn't it? I think I'll ask first and see if
anybody else is going to give in our names. Perhaps Iva or Nesta may. It
would be much nicer than seeming to poke ourselves forward."
"If we don't hustle a little we'll never get there! That's my opinion!
You're too good for this wicked world, Mavis! I've often told you so!"
declared Merle, running into the house and putting down her books with a
slam. "Angel girls are all very well at home, but school is a scrimmage
and it's those who fight who come up on top! Don't laugh! Oh, I enjoy
fighting! I tell you I want most desperately and tremendously to be made
a monitress, and if I'm not chosen, well--it will be the disappointment
of my life! I'm not joking! I mean it really and truly. I've set my heart
upon it."
Mavis, who had a very fine sense of the fitness of things, and who did
not think sisters should nominate one another, returned early to school
that afternoon and hunted up Iva Westwood. She found her very
enthusiastic about the election.
"We've never had anything of the sort before at 'The Moorings,'" purred
Iva. "We're beginning to wake up here, aren't we? I'm going to give in
your name as a candidate, Mavis! I'm just writing it now."
"Thanks! Won't you put Merle too?"
"Oh, I will if you like." (Iva's voice was not too enthusiastic.) "I
suppose it doesn't matter how many we nominate. Somehow I never thought
of Merle."
"She's a splendid leader, and A1 at games. You should have seen her at
Whinburn High!"
"Oh, I daresay! Well, to please you I'll put her name on my list. It can
do no harm at any rate."
"Thanks ever so!"
"Old Muriel's canvassing like anything downstairs among the kids!"
"Is canvassing allowed?"
"Well, it hasn't been forbidden. Nesta and I are too proud to go and beg
for votes, but Mu doesn't care in the least; rather enjoys it, in fact.
She's sitting in the playroom, with Florrie Leach and Betty Marshall on
her knee, 'doing the popular,' and giving away whole packets of sweets.
If Merle really wants--hello! here's Merle herself!"
Mavis turned quickly, for her younger sister, looking flushed and
excited, had burst suddenly into the room and was speaking eagerly.
"Mavis! Have you a shilling in your pocket? I left my purse at home!
_Do_ lend it to me! What for? I want to tear out and buy some
sweets. Oh yes, I've time. I shall simply sprint. Hand it over, that's a
saintly girl! Thanks immensely!"
Merle departed like a whirlwind, slamming the door after her. Iva
Westwood pulled an expressive grimace and laughed.
"So she's trying the popular trick too! Well, sometimes it works and
sometimes it doesn't. I think Edith Carey has a good chance myself. The
kids are rather fond of her. Have you written your nominations yet,
Mavis? Then come along, and we'll drop them inside the box."
As the first bell rang at 2.25 and the girls began to assemble in the big
schoolroom, Muriel Burnitt walked in followed by a perfect comet's tail
of juniors, some of whom were hanging on to her arms. Each was sucking a
peppermint bull's-eye, and each wore a piece of pink ribbon pinned on to
her dress.
"Muriel's favours!" they explained, giggling loudly. "We're all of us
going to vote for her. Isn't it fun?"
Mavis glanced round for Merle, hoping her expedition to the sweet-shop
would not have made her late, and to her relief saw her sitting on the
opposite side of the room, in company with Beata and Romola Castleton,
Fay Macleod, and a number of other new girls whose acquaintance she had
evidently just made. They were passing round chocolates, and seemingly
enjoying themselves. Merle waved a hand gaily at her sister, beckoning
her to join the group, but at that moment Miss Mitchell entered the room,
and all seated themselves on the nearest available benches while the
roll-call was taken.
"We will meet here at four o'clock for the election," said the mistress,
as she closed the register and dismissed the various forms to their
classrooms.
The first day of a new term always seems intolerably long, and with such
an interesting event as a ballot before them most of the girls felt the
hour and a half to drag, and turned many surreptitious glances towards
wrist watches. Merle in especial, who hated French translation, groaned
as she looked up words in the dictionary, and made several stupid
mistakes, because her thoughts were focussed on the election instead of
on the matter in hand. Once she yawned openly, and drew down a reproof
from Mademoiselle, whereupon she heaved a submissive sigh, controlled her
boredom, and went on wearily transferring the flowery sentiments of
Fénelon into the English tongue. At precisely five minutes to four the
big bell clanged out a warning, dictionaries were shut, exercise-books
handed in, pencil-boxes replaced in desks, and the class filed downstairs
to the big schoolroom. Miss Pollard was not there: she was busy in the
hostel; and Miss Fanny, looking rather flustered and nervous, had
evidently given over the conduct of the meeting to Miss Mitchell, and was
present merely as a spectator. The new mistress seemed perfectly at home
and ready for the occasion. She passed round pieces of paper, inquired
whether everybody had a pencil, then made her announcements.
"As Miss Pollard told you this morning, you are here to elect two
monitresses. Two from among the boarders have already been chosen by us,
these are Iva Westwood and Nesta Pitman, but the remaining two are to be
balloted for from among the list of candidates. As perhaps some of you
don't understand a ballot, I will tell you just what to do. I have
written on the blackboard the names of those girls who have been
nominated:
"Muriel Burnitt.
"Aubrey Simpson.
"Edith Carey.
"Mavis Ramsay.
"Merle Ramsay.
"What I want you to do is to write on your piece of paper the names of the
two candidates for whom you wish to vote, then fold your paper and hand
it in. You must not add your own name to it, and you have no need to tell
anybody how you voted. The whole principle of a ballot is that it is done
in secret. Are you ready? Then please begin."
The little ceremony was soon over, the girls scribbled rapidly, folded
their papers, and passed them along the benches to Nesta and Iva, who
collected them and gave them to Miss Mitchell.
"It will take a short time to count the votes," explained the mistress.
"Those girls who wish to go home can do so, but any who like to wait and
hear the result can stay."
Miss Mitchell and Miss Fanny retired to the study and the meeting broke
up. Most of the day-girls put on their hats and coats in readiness to go
home, but hung about the hall until the names should be announced. The
contingent from Chagmouth, whose car was stationed outside in the road,
and whose driver was waxing impatient, were obliged to depart without the
exciting news. Merle went as far as the gate to watch them pack into
their 'sardine-tin.' Four sat behind, and two in front with the
chauffeur, all quite radiant and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"Good-bye! I hope you'll win!" said Beata, waving a hand to Merle with
difficulty, for she was tightly sandwiched between Fay and Tattie. "We
did our best for you and Mavis. I didn't know any of those others.
Romola, have you got the books? That's all right. I was afraid we'd left
the satchel. Yes," (to the chauffeur) "we're quite ready now, thanks!
Ta-ta, Merle! Good luck to you! We're off!"
Merle, looking after the retreating car, was joined by Aubrey Simpson,
rather injured, and disconsolate.
"I didn't know all these new girls were to have votes," she grumbled.
"How can _they_ choose a monitress when they don't know anybody!
It's rather humbug, isn't it?"
"They know _me_" perked Merle.
"Did you canvass them? Oh, how mean!"
"Why mean? You could have done it yourself. Muriel was canvassing among
the juniors as hard as she could go."
"I might have canvassed among the new boarders! Why didn't I think of
it?" wailed Aubrey.
"Well, really, it's your own stupid fault! Don't blame me!" snapped
Merle.
"Iva and Nesta said they didn't mean to ask for votes."
"Well, they'd no need to. They were both jolly certain that Miss Pollard
would make them monitresses. It's easy to talk loftily when you're sure
of your innings."
"Did Mavis canvass?"
"No--but then, of course, Mavis wouldn't!"
"Why not?"
"Oh--because she's Mavis! I can't see her doing it somehow. What a long
time Miss Mitchell and Miss Fanny are over their counting! I wish they'd
hurry up. I want to go home to tea."
The girls had not much longer, however, to wait.
In the course of a few minutes the new mistress entered the hall and read
out the important result.
"The polling is as follows," she announced.
"Muriel Burnitt . . . 27
Mavis Ramsay . . . 20
Merle Ramsay . . . 19
Edith Carey . . . 14
Aubrey Simpson . . . 12
"The two monitresses elected, therefore, are Muriel Burnitt and Mavis
Ramsay."
Some of the girls raised a cheer, others took no notice; Miss Mitchell,
who seemed in a hurry, vanished back into the study. The boarders,
hearing their tea-bell, made for the hostel.
"Congrats, Mavis!" said Iva, as she walked away arm-in-arm with Nesta.
"I'm glad the lot has fallen on you. Muriel was pretty sure of a
walk-over, but it was a toss-up who was to be the fourth. I don't mind
telling you I voted for you myself. And so did Nesta, I'm sure."
"It was a ballot, and I'm not going to let out whom I voted for!"
declared Nesta. "Some people can't keep their own secrets! All the same,
I'm glad it's you, Mavis. I wouldn't have had Aubrey a monitress for
worlds."
The Ramsays walked home together along the High Street to Bridge House.
Muriel Burnitt, escorted by Florrie and Viola Leach and the three little
Andrews, was on in front, pluming herself upon her victory. The Careys
had disappeared down the short cut to the Vicarage. Mavis hardly dared to
look at Merle. The latter kept her face turned away and blinked her eyes
hard. She had enough self-restraint not to weep openly in the High
Street. When they reached their own door however, she bolted through the
surgery entrance and, running into the garden, hid herself in the
summer-house, whither Mavis, after a word to Aunt Nellie, presently
followed her to offer what consolation she could.
"It's not that I'm jealous of _you_!" sobbed Merle stormily. "I
wanted us both to win! What does Muriel know about a decent game of
hockey, or how to conduct a society, or run a school magazine? It's
idiotic that she should be chosen. Neither she nor Iva nor Nesta has ever
been at a big school. A precious bungle they'll make of their meetings. I
know _you'll_ be there--but you're so gentle you'll never stand up
against them, and they'll have everything their own silly way. 'The
Moorings' won't be very much changed if it's just to be run upon the same
old lines. I shan't bother to try and help. I might have done so much if
they'd elected me, but what's the use now? I'm frightfully and
frantically disappointed. If Miss Mitchell had had any sense she'd have
waited a fortnight till she got to know the girls, and then have chosen
the monitresses herself. If it's Miss Fanny's fault, I'm not friends with
her any more! Tea-time, did you say? I suppose I shall have to come in
then, though I really don't want any. Ugh! I hate everything!"
Tea that day was a dreary affair. Uncle David was out, Aunt Nellie had a
headache so was unusually quiet, and Merle, with red eyes, sat silent and
brooding. Mavis tried desperately to make a little conversation, but it
was impossible to maintain a monologue, and she soon dropped the futile
attempt. Merle, after eating half a piece of bread and butter and
declining a chocolate biscuit, begged suddenly to be excused, and with
two big unruly tears splashing down her cheeks fled from the room.
"Poor child! I'm afraid she's terribly disappointed," commented Aunt
Nellie sympathetically.
"It seems a pity she wasn't chosen. I suppose she would have made a
splendid monitress. It's half the battle to be keen about anything."
Mavis agreed, passed the cake, finished her tea, picked up the dropped
stitches in Aunt Nellie's piece of knitting, carried a message to the
cook, then went out into the garden. She wanted to be alone for a little
while. There was a retired corner among the bushes by the wall
overlooking the river. She had placed a box here for a seat, and called
it her hermitage. Even Merle had not so far discovered it. It was a
retreat where she could withdraw from everybody, and be absolutely
uninterrupted and by herself. There was something about which she wished
to think in quiet. The idea had been pressing upon her, clamouring in her
brain ever since Miss Mitchell's announcement, but she must consider it
carefully before she acted upon it. Sitting in her green nook, watching
the golden light sparkling upon the river below, she faced her problem:
"_Merle would really make a far better monitress than I should. Oughtn't
I to give the post up to her?_"
It was a struggle, and a very difficult one, for Mavis, quiet though she
was, had her ambitions, and it would be hard to yield place to her
younger sister. It is only those who are accustomed to practise self-
control who have the strength for an emergency. She longed for the
opportunity of helping the school, and to stand aside voluntarily and
give the work up to another seemed a big sacrifice.
"It's got to be, though!" sighed Mavis. "I'll go down and see Miss Fanny
about it at once. I expect I can make her understand."
Dodging Merle, who was disconsolately doing some gardening, she walked
back to 'The Moorings' and went to the hostel. Miss Fanny, busy among the
new boarders, received her with astonishment.
"What is it, Mavis? I can only spare you five minutes. You want to speak
to me about the monitress-ship? My dear child, Miss Mitchell will explain
everything to you to-morrow, and tell you exactly what you have to do.
There's no need to trouble about it now."
"It isn't that, please, Miss Fanny!" blushed Mavis. "The fact of the
matter is that I think Merle ought to have been chosen instead of me. I
was only one mark ahead of her. She'd make a far better monitress than I
should. May I resign and let her have the post instead?"
This was coming to the point with a vengeance. Miss Fanny knitted her
eyebrows and pursed up her mouth into a button.
"I rather expected Merle to be elected," she admitted cautiously.
"She'd be splendid!" urged Mavis, pursuing her advantage. "She's a born
leader. She's able to organise things and to keep order, and she's good
at games. She'd throw herself heart and soul into it, and work
tremendously at all the new schemes. She'd start clubs among the juniors
as well as the seniors, and coach them in hockey, and do her level best!
I'll guarantee she would!"
"And what about yourself? Can't you do any of these things?" questioned
Miss Fanny.
"Not so well as Merle! I'm shyer, and I daren't speak out, and I'm not
much good at games. And oh! Miss Fanny, there's another side of the
question. I know Merle so well. If she's made monitress she'll be heart
and soul for the school and an enormous help, but--she's a queer girl,
and if she has no special place here or anything to concentrate her
energy on, she may give trouble."
"That is certainly no reason for placing her in a post of authority,"
frowned Miss Fanny.
"No--but she's a girl who's always for or against, and it's so very
important she should be on the right side. I believe this would be the
making of her. She'd try for the sake of others when she wouldn't make
any effort for herself."
"I believe you're right," conceded Miss Fanny thoughtfully. "Miss
Mitchell would certainly be most relieved to have a monitress who was
capable of organising the juniors at games. She was wondering how she was
going to manage. Do I understand, then, that you wish to resign in favour
of Merle?"
"Please! I'll help her all I can in the background."
"Very well, Mavis. I'll accept your resignation and announce the matter
in school to-morrow. Now I must go, for I have a hundred things to do.
Tell Merle to come five minutes earlier in the morning and I'll talk to
her in the study. On the whole, I think the arrangement will be all for
the best."
It was a very radiant, triumphant Mavis who ran home to the old garden,
found Merle among the flowerbeds, and told her the glorious news.
"Sis! You can't mean it! Is it true? Oh, I don't like to take it! It's
too good of you! Don't you really mind? It's all the world to _me_.
I've been hoping to be made monitress ever since Miss Pollard spoke about
reorganising the school. Won't I have the time of my life! Monitress
Merle! It sounds nice, doesn't it? I must go and tell Jessop and Aunt
Nellie! How astonished everybody will be in school to-morrow. Fay and
Beata will be pleased. They were tremendously keen on my winning the
ballot. I'm so glad about it I want to turn a somersault or do something
mad. Come and dance with me, you old darling! What a trump you are!
You're _sure_ you don't mind?"
"Not a bit," said Mavis, swallowing a little lump in her throat. "Of
course I'll be ready to help you with anything whenever you want me.
There'll be plenty of hard work just at first, no doubt. You'll soon be
up to your eyes in starting clubs and societies. Keep a corner for me on
the school magazine if you found one. That's all I bargain for. I always
liked the Literary Society at Whinburn High. My hearty congratulations to
you, and every good wish for the success of everything you undertake
--Miss Monitress Merle!"