Musical Stars
Mavis and Merle had not seen Bevis since last July, so they had an
immense amount to talk about when he came over to Bridge House on the
following afternoon. They had to tell him all their adventures during the
summer holidays and about the changes at 'The Moorings,' and he also had
much to relate about his own school and his future plans. Though he was
now squire of Chagmouth, he took his new honours very quietly and made no
fuss about them.
"It's something to feel I'm back at the old Coll. and can go on to
Cambridge," he acknowledged in reply to the girls' questions. "The
lawyers are very decent to me and give me pretty well all I want. In the
spring I'm going to have a yacht of my own! They've promised me that.
I'll take you both out for a sail in it."
"Oh, do! We shall just live for Easter!" rejoiced the girls.
"I wish it was holidays all the time!" added Merle. "What fun we'd have
in your yacht!"
Such a wish, however, could certainly not be realised.
Bevis was due back at Shelton College, and 'The Moorings' claimed both
Mavis and Merle. School might not be as exciting as yachting, but it had
its interests. There was the Magazine, of which Mavis was editress, and
to which many spicy items were contributed; there was the Entertainments
Club, which was getting up a piece to act at the end of the term.
In connection with this society, alack! a tremendous squabble ensued. It
had fallen almost entirely into the hands of the boarders, and they
seemed determined to keep all its privileges to themselves. They fixed
upon a play, shared the cast among them, and held rehearsals in the
evenings. Mavis, Merle, and Muriel, the only day-girls on the Committee,
were furious.
"Where do we come in?" demanded Merle.
"It's too cool to settle everything without consulting us! We're as much
on the Committee as you are! It's completely out of order!"
"Oh, what does it matter?" said Nesta, with aggravating easiness. "We
can't bother to be always holding meetings. We wanted to set to work at
once and rehearse, and there weren't enough parts to include day-girls.
Can't you act audience for once? You seem very anxious to show off!"
"It's the pot calling the kettle black then, if we do!" retorted Muriel.
"What about yourselves, I should like to know?"
The worst of it was that Miss Mitchell seemed to take the side of the
boarders.
"I can't have you day-girls coming in the evenings to rehearse!" she
decided. "No, I can't allow you to stay at four o'clock either, because
the boarders must get their walk before tea. It would upset all our
arrangements. Perhaps we may put some of you in a tableau, because that
really wouldn't need much preparation."
A tableau! The day-girls felt much insulted! Miss Mitchell, who had seen
them act in the history class, ought not thus to scout their talents.
Merle took the matter particularly to heart because of her adoration for
the new mistress. She was furiously jealous of the boarders, who could
sit at meal-times at the same table as her idol, and could indulge in
private chats with her during the evenings. Miss Mitchell was perfectly
well aware of Merle's infatuation, but did not encourage it too deeply.
She meant to be quite impartial, and to have no favourites. Moreover, she
was very modern and unsentimental, and disliked what she called
'schoolgirl gush.' She had been the subject of violent admirations
before, and knew how soon they were apt to cool down. She was perfectly
nice to Merle, but a little off-hand, and never showed her any
preference. This line of treatment rather aggravated Merle's symptoms
instead of curbing the tendency.
"I'll _make_ her like me!" she said to herself stubbornly.
The siege laid to the teacher's heart progressed slowly, partly because
Merle's tactics were noticed by the others and became somewhat of a joke.
Merle had placed a daily buttonhole of flowers upon the teacher's desk,
but, led by Muriel, the Fifth form rallied, and one morning each of them
appeared with a kindred posy and deposited her offering. Miss Mitchell
turned quite pink at the sight of the eleven floral trophies. She was not
absolutely sure how far it was meant for a 'rag.'
"This looks like a nature study competition!" she remarked. "I'm sure
it's very kind of you all to bring me flowers, but unless it's my
birthday or some special occasion I'm afraid I really don't know what to
do with them. You can put them all in water at eleven, Nesta, but you
mustn't waste time now fetching vases."
Merle, of course, never presented any flowers again. She brought a book
to school one day that she had heard Miss Mitchell express a wish to look
at, and, after lingering about in the classroom, plucked up courage to
interrupt her idol, who was correcting exercises, and offer the loan of
it.
The mistress, with her finger held to mark her place, looked up and shook
her head.
"I've really no time for reading, thanks! At present my days are full
from morning till night."
As direct means failed Merle turned to indirect. She wrote anonymous
poems and popped them in the letter-box, hoping, however, that her
writing might be recognised. Whether Miss Mitchell read them or not is
uncertain; she made no mention at any rate of their receipt, and probably
dropped them in the waste-paper basket. Merle would have been far more
grieved over these repulses had there not been a counter interest at
home. At the beginning of November Dr. and Mrs. Ramsay left the north
altogether and came to settle at Durracombe. Naturally there were great
changes at Bridge House. Jessop--the invaluable Jessop, who had been so
many years in Dr. Tremayne's service--was leaving to take charge of a
widower brother, and a young parlour-maid was coming in her place.
Several rooms were cleared to make way for Dr. Ramsay's possessions, and
a large motor van arrived bearing some of his furniture from Whinburn.
Mrs. Ramsay was to have a little upstairs drawing-room of her own, in
which to deposit her special treasures, and her husband was to turn the
gun-room into his study. The delight and excitement of welcoming her
father and mother made Merle temporarily dethrone Miss Mitchell in her
heart. It was such fun to help to arrange all the things from home, and
see how nice they looked in their new surroundings. Then Dr. Ramsay had
brought his car, and of course Merle wanted to help to clean it and to go
out with her father in it and coax him to allow her to drive. Everybody
felt that it was ideal to have Mrs. Ramsay at Bridge House. She took the
place of a daughter to Aunt Nellie, who was somewhat of an invalid, and
would nurse her and manage the housekeeping for her instead of Jessop.
She had always loved her native county of Devon, and rejoiced to return
there instead of living in the north.
"I shall grow young again here!" she declared. "I'm going to try to find
time to do some sketching. I've hardly touched my paintbox for years.
Mavis and I must go out together and find subjects."
"While I drive Daddy about in the car!" decreed Merle. "I've told him I'm
going to be his chauffeur as soon as I leave school. He didn't jump at
the offer! Wasn't it ungrateful of him? He doesn't deserve to have a
daughter! Oh, well, yes, I _did_ run the car into the hedge
yesterday, but there was no damage done, after all."
Dr. Tremayne thoroughly welcomed Dr. Ramsay as his partner. The calls of
the practice had lately been growing too much for him, and he was glad to
be able to share the numerous visits, so the arrangement of joining
households was a satisfaction to all concerned. Jessop wept when it came
to the time of her departure.
"I've been here thirty-two years come Christmas!" she said. "I know it's
the best for everybody, but I do feel it. I'm fond of my brother, and
willing to look after him and the shop, but I'll miss the patients here!
I've known many of them since they were born. At my age it's hard to make
a change and settle down afresh."
"We'll motor over very often and see you, Jessop, and tell you all the
news," consoled Mavis.
"I'll always be glad to welcome you and Miss Merle whenever you come. Let
me know beforehand if you can, and I'll make you crumpets for your tea.
You always like my crumpets!"
"Nobody else in the world knows how to make them properly," Merle assured
her. "Those heavy things with holes in them that they sell in the shops
simply aren't fit to be called by the same name!"
With Mother in the background to consult about matters of difficulty
school seemed much easier, though not altogether without thorns. Last
summer term Merle had considered herself the chosen chum of Iva Westwood,
but now Iva had completely fallen into the arms of Kitty Trefyre. As they
were both boarders and in the same dormitory, it was perhaps only natural
they should be friends, yet it is never nice to be dropped, and Merle
thought hard things of Iva. If she could have kept her feelings locked in
her own breast it would not have mattered so much, but she was a true
daughter of Jupiter, and, when provoked, could not refrain from shooting
her arrows of bitter words. They quarrelled about the silliest trifles:
the loan of an indiarubber, the loss of a pencil, or some slight
differences of opinion, over which they would argue hotly. It was a pity,
for at bottom Iva was a nice girl, and was merely passing through a phase
from which she would probably soon have recovered if Merle would only
have let her alone. On her side she might very well have contended that
it is hard to be pinned to a single chum, and that she was perfectly at
liberty to make fresh friends if she wished without of necessity giving
offence to the old ones by so doing.
"Merle's so jealous!" she complained. "Why should she care? I'm sure I
don't mind her walking about the school arm-in-arm with Beata Castleton!"
That, however, was exactly the point. Merle wanted Iva to mind, and was
extremely annoyed because the incident left her unruffled.
One afternoon, in the musical appreciation class, the two had partly
patched up past squabbles, and, for a wonder, were sitting side by side.
The subject was 'Handel,' and for one of the illustrations Miss Mitchell
called upon Merle to play the celebrated 'Largo.' She went through her
performance quite creditably, took her music, and turned from the piano.
Then she saw that during her absence Kitty had commandeered her seat next
to Iva. For a moment Merle stood with a look of the blankest
consternation, not knowing where to go, till Mavis beckoned and made a
place for her, into which she thankfully slipped, squeezing her sister's
hand surreptitiously, and feeling there was no friend in all the world so
staunch as Mavis.
"If you wouldn't worry so over everybody, you'd get on better, dear!"
advised the latter.
"I can't help caring! I wasn't born calm. It all matters so very much to
me! What's the use of anything unless you care? You'd better swop me for
a nice, little, tame, harmless sister guaranteed never to squabble even
if people pull her hair, and always content to sit in the background
everywhere!"
"She'd be very uninteresting!" laughed Mavis, bestowing a kiss upon
Merle's apple cheek. "I think I prefer to keep you, thanks!"
"Thunderstorms and all?"
"So long as they clear the air, certainly! But we expect to have sunshine
afterwards, please!"
Miss Mitchell intended to wind up her course of lessons on musical
appreciation with a concert among the pupils, and certain of them had
been bidden to play or sing. Naturally those on whom the choice fell went
through agonies in the matter of practising. After hearing so much about
great composers and the proper interpretation of their works, it seemed
almost a liberty for schoolgirls to venture to give their rendering, and
all felt that their performances would be subjected to decided criticism.
"It's the audience that will make me nervous!" fluttered Merle. "If I
could play my piece when I'm alone and in the right mood and get a
gramophone record taken of it that could be put on at the concert, I
shouldn't mind. It would be rather fun sitting in a corner and listening
to my own playing. Something like seeing my own ghost, wouldn't it?"
Mavis, Merle, Muriel, and Edith were all down for piano solos, Beata was
to bring her violin, and Nesta, Iva, and Kitty were to sing. They would
all do their best, but none had reached a very high level in the matter
of attainment. Miss Mitchell, with memories of the splendid talent
mustered at St. Cyprian's College in her own schooldays, felt that the
concert would be a most modest affair.
"I wish we could get one or two good performers to come and help us!" she
suggested.
"Durracombe isn't at all a musical place," admitted Miss Fanny. "There
really isn't anybody whom we could ask. Mrs. Carey used to play, but
she's out of practice and I'm sure she wouldn't venture before a roomful
of schoolgirls."
"It would be rather an ordeal, I own."
About ten days before the event was to take place Muriel Burnitt had a
tea-party at her own home to which she invited Miss Fanny, Miss Mitchell,
and the elder boarders, asked them to bring their music, and went through
all the programme of the little concert. It, in fact, answered the
purpose of a dress rehearsal.
Mavis and Merle had not been included in the invitation and they were
very much hurt.
"Muriel asked Beata, only she couldn't come. I know because Romola told
me so. She even asked Babbie Williams!"
[Illustration: SHE HAD BROUGHT HER WONDERFUL STRADIVARIUS VIOLIN]
"It's most mean of her to miss us out!"
"When we're playing solos, too!"
The boarders talked tremendously about the pleasant evening they had had,
and how very much they had enjoyed themselves.
"Muriel's aunt will be staying with her next week, and she's going to
persuade her to sing at the concert!" said Iva. "She has a beautiful
voice, and it will give things such a lift. Miss Mitchell is as pleased
as Punch about it, and says that's just what we want. We ought to have
one or two musical stars to make it go."
Muriel, who felt she had scored by securing a singer, took up a rather
lofty attitude and made herself so objectionable that Merle raved in
private, and even gentle Mavis was ruffled. They poured out their
grievances at home.
"What's the date of the concert?" asked Mrs. Ramsay. "The 17th? Well, I
have an idea! No! I don't mean to tell you now in case my scheme doesn't
come off."
"What is it, Mummie? I'm curious."
"That's my secret! Take my advice and don't worry any more about Muriel.
Things will probably turn out even in the end."
In spite of coaxing Mother refused to explain herself further, and it was
only when a few days had gone by, and they had almost forgotten the
incident, that one morning she opened a letter, read it, and clapped her
hands in triumph.
"I've some lovely news for you! Cousin Sheila is coming to stay with us
on the 16th, and she's actually bringing her friend Mildred Lancaster,
the famous violinist! You know they both went to St. Cyprian's and were
in the same form with Miss Mitchell. She'll be so pleased to meet them
again! Cousin Sheila says Miss Lancaster promises to play at your school
concert. Isn't that an honour? It will be something for you to tell Miss
Mitchell, won't it? We'll ask her and Miss Fanny and some of the girls to
tea while our visitors are here!"
This was indeed a delightful surprise. The name of Mildred Lancaster was
one to conjure with in musical circles. She had just completed a most
successful tour in Australia and America, and had won great applause. She
was booked to give a recital in Exeter on the 15th, so that she would be
in the neighbourhood and able easily to come on to Durracombe. She made
her headquarters at Kirkton, so Mrs. Ramsay explained, but travelled much
about the country playing at concerts. She was to be married in the
spring to her old friend, Rodney Somerville, to whom she had been engaged
for some years, but she did not intend to give up her music, and hoped
still to make frequent public appearances.
"They're to have a flat in town," read Mother from Cousin Sheila's
letter. "I'm so glad it's settled that way, because I want Mildred to be
happy, yet it would be a wicked shame if she flung her talent to the
winds, as some girls do when they marry. She'll have her own little home
and yet go on with her career. I call it ideal!"
Mavis and Merle danced off to school simply brimming over with their
news. It certainly had the desired effect. Miss Mitchell was very much
thrilled at the prospect of meeting her old friends, and highly
appreciated the privilege of a violin solo at the concert. The girls
were, of course, most excited, except the performers, who nearly had
hysterics at the prospect of playing before so great a musical star.
"I shall leave my violin at home!" wailed Beata.
"Nonsense! You'll find nobody more kind and encouraging than Miss
Lancaster," said Miss Mitchell. "It isn't the great artists who find
fault--they understand the difficulties only too well--it's the carping
critics who can't perform themselves and yet think they know all about
it! Do your best and no one will expect you to do any more!"
It was a great day for Mavis and Merle when their visitors arrived. They
were fond of Cousin Sheila and welcomed her on her own account. With her
companion they readily fell in love. Mildred Lancaster was a most
charming personality, and although she had been so fêted on concert
platforms, she was absolutely simple and unaffected in private life. She
had brought her wonderful Stradivarius violin, upon which she always
played, and she took it out of its case and allowed the girls to admire
its graceful curves, and its fine old varnish.
"It's my mascot!" she said. "I've had it all my life, and if anything
were to happen to it I believe I'd give up music! It's been a great
traveller, and always stays in my berth on sea voyages."
To say that the Ramsays were proud to escort Miss Lancaster and her
Stradivarius to 'The Moorings' hardly describes their elation. A few
parents and friends had been asked, so that with the school there was
quite a large audience. It was arranged to take the girls' part of the
programme first, and the visitors' solos afterwards, a proceeding for
which the young performers were devoutly thankful. They got through their
pieces very creditably, especially Beata, who won warm praise from Miss
Lancaster.
"That child's artistic and will make a musician if she goes on with it.
She puts _herself_ into her playing."
"They're rather a remarkable family. Her sister is studying singing in
London," purred Miss Pollard, pleased to have one of her pupils thus
noticed.
The treat of the afternoon was when Mildred Lancaster began to play, and
her entire mastery of her instrument was a revelation to most of the
girls. They had never before had the opportunity of listening to such
glorious music.
"The gramophone will sound like a ghost after this, however good the
records!" declared Iva. "I wish I could hear her again."
"Miss Fanny's bringing fourteen of you to tea to-morrow--hasn't she told
you yet?" exulted Merle.
Muriel had also been included in the invitation in spite of her previous
discourtesy.
"It hurt _you_ to be left out, so don't inflict the same feeling on
anybody else!" urged Mrs. Ramsay when her younger daughter demurred. "Two
blacks never make a white! The best way of 'getting even' with people is
to do them a kindness. That stops the whole thing and sets it into a
different groove. Ask Muriel if her aunt will come too. She sings
beautifully, and perhaps she will bring her music."
The Ramsays' 'Musical At Home' was remembered for a long time by those
girls who were present at it. Mother was a clever hostess, and she
managed to put all her guests at ease and raise that magic atmosphere of
enjoyment which only certain people seem able to create. The drawing-room
looked charming with late flowers in its vases and a blazing log fire.
Miss Mitchell, having snatched a private chat with her two old school
friends, was radiant. Jessop, who had heard full details of the occasion,
had insisted on coming over to bake the cakes, and hovered in the
background like a beneficent deity, sending in fresh batches of hot
crumpets. There were chocolates in little silver bonbonnières and even
crackers, though it was not yet Christmas. Aunt Nellie was there and
enjoyed the music, and Dr. Tremayne and Dr. Ramsay joined them before the
performance was over.
"Wasn't it a triumph? I think we know how to give a party!" rejoiced
Merle in private afterwards.
"Yes, when Mother pulls the strings!" agreed Mavis.