ALLISON INTERFERES
The Fifth had succeeded in arranging a cricket fixture for Wednesday
half-holiday as the weather still continued too warm for hockey and
netball, and had challenged the rest of the school. Irene was
captaining the Fifth, having pressed nearly the whole of the form
into the team in order to complete it. She and Betty Cairns went in
to open the batting for the Fifth.
Nat sat on one of the forms near the pavilion with Monica by her
side, with the laudable intention of initiating her into the science
of the noble game. Monica, needless to say, had not been asked to
play and seemed rather relieved when she heard that her services
would not be required.
"Now," said Nat in explanatory tones, "those two girls you see at the
wickets are going to bat."
Monica gazed across the green field. "Yes, I suppose so, as they
appear to be holding bats," she remarked with a touch of irony, then
added with a genuine attempt to appear interested: "Which one is
playing for your side and which for the other side?"
Nat looked puzzled. "I don't quite see what you mean. Our form is
playing a school eleven, as there aren't enough girls in the Sixth to
make up an eleven of their own."
"Yes, but what I meant was, which girl is batting for the Fifth and
which for the school?"
Nat burst out laughing. "Why, both batsmen are on one side, of
course."
"And all those other girls?"
"Oh, they are all on the other side and trying to get the batsmen
out. There is the bowler; the wicket-keeper--the girl with the pads
on--and the rest are fielding."
It was Monica's turn to look astonished. "What, two against one,
two, three--ten, eleven! I don't call that a bit fair."
Nat chuckled, and some of the other girls who were sitting around
watching and who had overheard, joined in the laughter. Prudence
Preston of the Fourth, and the third of the Preston sisters--the
three were known at St. Etheldreda's as the "Milestones"--jumped
eagerly to her feet. She was a very keen netball player and a
dashing little centre. Her eldest sister Pam was the netball captain
and goal defender, and both were always on the alert for new recruits
for their side.
"Has the new girl decided which games club she is joining, Nat?" she
inquired.
Nat shook her head. "She says she knows nothing about either game.
But of course, she'll play hockey. Anyone with any sense knows it's
the better game."
Prue fired up at once. "Not a bit of it! Netball is a far superior
game."
Nat looked supremely incredulous. "How do you make that out?
Netball is tame compared with hockey."
"Hockey makes you round-shouldered, so a famous doctor once said."
"Netball's a soft game," Nat countered, adding conclusively: "Look at
Allison's black eye last year and the time when Madge Amhurst had a
front tooth knocked out. Whoever heard of anyone getting a black eye
or black-and-blue ankles at netball! Anyone can last through a
thirty minutes' netball match, but you've got to be up to form to
last to the end of seventy minutes' gruelling hockey."
Prudence brought up her reserves. "All the same, netball's a
superior game. It's more hy-hygienic." She brought out the last
word with a visible effort.
Nat's face assumed a perplexed expression. "More--what was the word
you used?"
"Hy-hygienic."
Nat shook her head. "Never heard of it." She turned gravely to
Glenda, who was standing behind. "You don't happen to have a
dictionary with you, Glenda? This Fourth Form youngster is using
such extraordinary words."
"Not on the cricket field," Glenda replied, grinning broadly.
Prudence wriggled uneasily. "I'm sure that's the word," she said,
though there was a shade of hesitation in her tone. "It means--it
means a thing is good for you, keeps you healthy and all that."
Nat shook her head again, then as if seized with a sudden
inspiration: "I know what you're trying to say. You mean
'hypothetical,' not 'hygienic.'"
Whether Prue was convinced or not can never be known, for just at
that moment there was a shout from the field and Glenda said
hurriedly:
"Betty's wicket's down. You're in next, Nat. Hurry up and get your
pads on."
Monica did not stay with the spectators long after Nat's departure.
Already rumours of the new girl's wicked record had leaked out in the
school, and as she sat there alone she was conscious of curious
glances cast at her by many of the younger girls, who were also
onlookers of the game--of sly nudgings and whisperings in their
ranks, whisperings which she knew were about herself. No one spoke
to her or came near her, though they all stared hard enough. She had
made no friends in her own form during her first week at the school
and even her relations with her own study-mate, awkward, blundering
Nat, whom she regarded with some contempt since she had discovered
her to be the occupant of the lowest seat in the class, did not
progress very much; though that, she admitted, was chiefly her own
fault.
There wasn't anything very exciting to watch on the cricket field;
privately she thought it decidedly slow. Getting abruptly to her
feet she strolled off and, fetching a book from her study, sought out
a quiet spot in the summer-house by the now deserted tennis lawn and
settled down to read in undisturbed tranquillity.
She was not, however, the only one who sought solitude that September
afternoon. She had not been reading many minutes before there was
the sound of a footstep outside, a shadow darkened the entrance and
Allison entered with her book under her arm, intent upon a couple of
hours' hard "swotting."
She stopped when she saw the summer-house already occupied.
"Oh, I didn't know there was someone here," she exclaimed. "I
thought all the school would be on the field or out for a walk this
lovely afternoon. I shall have to find another lonely nook."
There was no response, although any other girl in the school would
have at once jumped to her feet and offered to go instead. Allison
knew it, but made no remark as she turned to walk away. Then she
altered her mind and turned back suddenly, with a quick, keen look at
the slight figure of the girl who sat on the seat, with her legs
curled under her, and her dark, short hair tumbling about her
forehead as she bent again over her book.
"You are the new girl I introduced to the Fifth, Monica Carr, aren't
you?"
Monica looked up in surprise at being addressed and a wary look
crossed her face. This was the senior girl of the school, she knew.
What had she got to say to her? If she was going to begin to preach
to her----
"How do you like the Fifth?" Allison asked in quite a friendly tone.
"I haven't thought much about them. They seem very pleased with
themselves always," replied Monica calmly.
Allison laughed. "Oh, they are quite a nice lot really, but they've
always been looked upon as a model form because they do their lessons
conscientiously, so they've become rather self-satisfied. How do you
like Nathalie?"
"Nathalie?" Monica stared uncomprehendingly.
"Nat Sandrich. Nathalie's her real name, you know, but it doesn't
fit very well."
"All right," replied Monica indifferently.
Now Allison, chancing to meet Nat that morning, had asked her a
similar question--how was she getting on with her new
study-chum?--and Nat had confessed ruefully that the new girl didn't
seem to have the least wish to be really friendly with her.
Allison's next question was rather more unexpected. "And now you've
told me what you think of the Fifth, I'm rather anxious to know what
the Fifth thinks of you."
"As to that," said Monica in a hard tone, "they had made up their
minds about me long before they saw or heard me. My aunt took good
care to let the Principal know what a naughty, unmanageable creature
I was, so that the girls might have due warning to beware of the dog."
Allison propped her back against the door-post and decided that she
could very well spare ten minutes or so from the study of advanced
mathematics.
"Yes, I believe it is true that your aunt made no attempt to hide
from Miss Julian the fact that you had already been expelled from one
school. She could hardly do otherwise. But it is also quite true
that Miss Julian did not wish this to be known by the girls
themselves and that she wanted you to have a fair opportunity to make
a fresh start. It was pure chance that led to the publication of
your lurid past. One of the Fifth Form girls had a letter from
relatives who had made the acquaintance of your aunt, and from whom
they received their information."
Allison paused and once again looked hard at Monica.
"It doesn't matter much how they got their information, does it?"
said Monica, flushing up suddenly. "They were ready enough to
condemn me before they had even seen me."
"No, you are wrong there," replied Allison with energy. "Of course,
they were a bit heated over it at first and not unnaturally objected
to a girl with such a bad reputation becoming one of their
companions, joining their hitherto select little circle. But
Nathalie Sandrich spoke up and said she thought it only sporting to
give you a fair chance and to judge you by their own impressions of
you, without prejudice. I had come into the room unnoticed and I
heard all she said. I think she had in mind a few words Miss Julian
said to us the first evening, words which she wanted us to take for
our motto this year," and very briefly Allison outlined the
Principal's speech. "The rest of the form soon came round to Nat's
point of view and agreed to her proposal that they should make no
mention of their knowledge of your past when you came, receiving you
like any other new girl. It isn't altogether their fault if you
snubbed their attempts at making friends and gave them a bad
impression of you before you had been here a couple of weeks."
Monica stirred restlessly. "I don't want their friendship," she
muttered, then added after a pause: "Besides, from what you say they
were all ready to be nasty to me when I arrived--except Nat."
"Well, Nat spoke up for you," said Allison sharply. She went on in a
gentler tone: "Nat's a nice kid, even if she does miss important
catches at cricket and turn up at school parties with one stocking
inside out. You won't come to much harm through her, if she's your
friend."
Monica lifted her head with a jerk from the close inspection of the
toe she was rubbing into the ground. "If she were my friend I
shouldn't care if she turned up at school parties with no stockings
on at all," she flared suddenly, and picking up her book she walked
out of the summer-house.
Allison looked after her thoughtfully. "Funny kid! I wonder what
she meant by that last outburst? Well, I've done my best to square
things a bit for Nat, but from the way in which I've heard she plays
up in class I don't envy Nat her study-mate."
When Nat came into her study to do her prep that evening--the two
senior forms being entrusted with the privilege of doing their prep
in their own studies and at their own time--she found Monica seated
at the table with exercise-books, ink and pens spread out in front of
her, apparently already hard at work.
Nat stared.
"Hallo! Why this unusual industry?" she demanded. "'Tisn't Latin
prep to-night and that's the only prep I've seen you tackle in real
earnest so far."
Monica looked up. "I have made a resolution," she declared. "At
least, I've a new ambition."
"What's that?"
"I'm not going to waste any more time. I'm going to swot hard and
I'm coming out top in the next term exam."
Nat sank limply into a chair, overcome with amazement. "Whatever
made you think of that?"
"Well," replied Monica, "when I first came I didn't care a toss how
long I stayed. I shouldn't have minded if I had been expelled the
first day. But I've got a new idea for getting my own back on the
sanctimonious Fifth. I'm going to give them a nasty little jolt by
beating them all at their own game, so to speak. Nothing I could
possibly do will annoy Irene Eames, for instance, as much as being
beaten by me."
Nat gazed at Monica in wonder. "That's true enough," she said
slowly. "I can't think how you can find out such things so quickly."
"Haven't you any ambitions then?" asked Monica. It was the first
time she had sought the other girl's confidence.
"Oh yes, only I don't aim as high as you," Nat admitted ruefully.
"I've three ambitions at present. First, to come out anywhere above
bottom place in a school exam. I'm so tired of being twitted at home
by the boys when my report arrives. It's developed into a sort of
family joke. Secondly, to get a place in the hockey first eleven
before I leave school. And thirdly, never to darn another stocking
in my life."
Monica burst out laughing for the first time since Nat had known her.
"Well, they are modest enough," she commented. "I should say the
first rests with yourself. As for the second, I don't know anything
about hockey. But the last is easy enough. You can pay one of the
maids to keep your stockings mended for you, I expect. Now let me
get on with my prep. I've quite made up my mind about seeing my name
heading the exam list," and nodding her head decisively she bent over
her books once more.