THRILLS FOR THE FIFTH
The Fifth did not quite know whether they were enjoying themselves or
not. Last year's Fifth Form would have had no doubts at all about
the matter, but the present Fifth were on the whole a law-abiding
set. Thrilled, however, they certainly were.
The morning had commenced with Latin. The girls appeared tired and
little inclined to rouse themselves to great efforts; probably they
were still feeling the effects of the recent strenuous match and the
celebrations which followed the victory. Glenda, who had no great
love for Latin in her best moments, was frequently occupied in
tenderly rubbing a painful bruise on her left leg and consequently
missed a good deal of Miss Andrews' exposition on semi-deponent
verbs. Miss Andrews had no sympathy whatever with hockey and its
after effects; but her gentle, dreamy temperament often found it
difficult to be as severe and strict as she thought necessary.
"Really, girls," she remonstrated, as one after another failed to
grapple successfully with the examples and exercises in their books.
"You seem to have left your brains still asleep on your pillow when
you got up this morning. Monica," calling upon her favourite Latin
pupil, "show the rest of the class what can be done by means of a
little concentration."
Monica picked up her book and with the most careless air imaginable
made an even worse attempt than any of the previous ones. Poor Miss
Andrews stared in bewilderment as her model pupil stammered and
hesitated, making the wildest and most ludicrous guesses.
"That will do, Monica," she said stiffly. "I do not think you are
trying in the least. This exercise must be done again by the class
to-night, as returned work."
The Fifth sighed with relief when the bell announced the end of the
period. They aroused themselves to pay better attention to Miss
Moore's English lesson, which came next and which luckily presented
no great difficulties. When the last period arrived Miss Bennett,
the energetic, announced that she would give them an impromptu test
on their history preparation and the Fifth, with rough note-books and
pencils in front of them, settled down to write brief answers to the
questions hurled at them in quick succession. Then books were
exchanged and the girls corrected each other's answers, afterwards
handing back the books to their owners. In order of form, the girls
then called out the results of their work. These proved to be fairly
satisfactory till it was the last girl's turn, and the Fifth held
their breath as Monica said calmly: "None, Miss Bennett."
Miss Bennett looked as if she could hardly believe her ears. Never
in al her experience had a senior girl failed to answer a single
question in a test on prepared work.
"Bring your rough book to me, Monica," she ordered and as Monica
obeyed, Glenda, who had marked it, turned red to the tips of her
ears. The page which Monica presented to Miss Bennett was destitute
of anything in the way of history answers, but was decorated instead
with a sketch representing a grim-looking female with turned-down
mouth, clad in academic gown and seated at a desk, and possibly,
though there wasn't much facial resemblance, intended to be Miss
Bennett herself. Underneath was printed an inscription, which ran as
follows:
"Elle est plaine de bong tay."
Miss Bennett was a very different person to deal with from the meek,
dreamy Miss Andrews. She ignored the drawing and asked sternly:
"Why did you not attempt to answer the questions?"
"I couldn't do them," Monica replied.
"Why couldn't you do them? The questions were on work set for your
preparation."
"I didn't do the preparation."
Miss Bennett tapped impatiently on the desk with her fingers. "But
why didn't you do the preparation? If you were unwell, or had any
other reasonable excuse, why didn't you come to me and tell me so?"
Monica gazed doggedly at the floor. "I hadn't an excuse," she
muttered. "I didn't do the prep because I didn't want to."
Miss Bennett looked again at the paper on her desk, and perhaps it
was the sight of the sketch that hardened her heart. "Go to your
study, Monica," she said sharply, "and stay there till you are told
you may leave. Take your history book and learn the work which you
have not prepared."
When Monica had departed Miss Bennett turned to the class. "Which
girl shares Monica's study?"
"I do, Miss Bennett," replied Nat.
"Will you please find room in one of the other studies for the time
being, Nathalie? I do not wish any girl to hold communication with
Monica for the present. Of course, if you have books or anything in
the study which you require, you may fetch them."
The bell at twelve-thirty announced the end of the morning's lessons.
"What a gay morning we have had!" said Ida. "It isn't much good
trying to play Benny up, is it?"
"I thought all that industry was too great to last," observed Glenda
sagely. "Even poor Miss Andrews had a shock. Monica Carr won't get
to the top of the class if she refuses to do her prep when she thinks
it too much trouble."
Irene said nothing, but she knew that she was hoping Monica would
remain long in this difficult mood of defiance, so that her work
might suffer. Secretly, Irene had already begun to feel that this
new girl, who seemed so quick and ready in many ways, was a rival to
be feared; one who might possibly succeed in wrenching the coveted
laurels from her. She thought of the purloined letter upstairs,
locked in her own writing-case, and wondered if Monica had sought for
it very long.
"What was on the page that made Benny look so sour, Glenda?" someone
was asking, and at Glenda's description of the drawing and
inscription the Fifth went out chuckling. It certainly was rather
funny, they decided.
Probably the most uncomfortable girl in the Fifth that day was Nat,
though she could not have accounted for this strange feeling. It was
not entirely because she was shut out of her own study. During the
dinner hour she did not go near the room, neither did Monica appear
at the dinner table. Her dinner was sent to her, so evidently she
ate her meal in silent loneliness.