NAT MAKES A DISCOVERY
Monica was seated in her chair, absorbed in her favourite occupation
of reading, when Nat entered. Nat had intended to say a few
well-chosen words expressing her gratitude and thanks, but
unfortunately emotion with Nat was generally accompanied by
inarticulation, and all she achieved was a casual "Hello!"
Monica glanced up, said: "Hello!" in reply, then returned to her book.
Nat stood in the middle of the room, surveying its walls, her brow
corrugated with thought. Suddenly she seemed to come to a decision,
for she shook herself, moved towards the nearest wall with an air of
great firmness, and proceeded deliberately and methodically to take
down all the notices pinned there, piling them neatly on the table.
Monica watched her in silence. When the walls were quite bare Nat
spoke, in firm decisive tones to match her manner.
"If you don't want these papers, Monica, I'm going to put them in the
rubbish bin. I've quite made up my mind that this room is no longer
going to be called the Chamber of Horrors. Next term there will be
no more of these--these atrocities. The walls will be devoted to
decorative and artistic purposes. You can have two for your Raphaels
and Rubens and I'll have the other two for my dogs."
"I don't mind," Monica replied with amazing indifference. "No, I
don't want them. Burn them if you like."
Nat scooped up a bundle of papers and departed with them in her arms,
returning a minute later to remark in tones of satisfaction: "There,
thank goodness I shan't be staring at Pythagoras' Theorem all next
week. Good riddance to the horrible things!"
"De mortuis--speak no evil of the departed," admonished Monica
gently. "After all, they have served their purpose."
"I say," said Nat, blushing a little. "I'm sorry you--er--didn't
come out very well in the exams. Of course, I know you could have
done a lot better if you hadn't been so worried, and all that."
"Oh, I didn't mind," replied Monica cheerfully. "I'm afraid I'm not
really a proper schoolgirl yet, for I don't seem to care in the least
whether I come out top or bottom. I don't see that it matters much.
But perhaps it's because I've no real home to take a report to. That
must make a difference."
"Yes, I suppose you value it more for your people's sake and what
they think of you than for your own," agreed Nat sympathetically.
"I'm going to write home this week-end and ask mother if you can come
to our place for the Christmas vacation."
"That's awfully good of you, I should love to come."
"We always fill the house up at holiday times. My brothers often
bring their friends home," said Nat.
She went towards the cupboard, then suddenly stopped half-way, as if
struck by an entirely new idea. She turned and came slowly back
towards Monica, conflicting expressions chasing each other across her
face.
"What's up?" asked Monica. "Garter busted?"
Nat ignored the question; in fact, she did not seem to hear it.
"Don't tell me I'm more of a blockhead than I already knew I was,"
she said slowly. "Look here, Monica, for whose benefit was all that
stuff put on the walls, yours or mine?"
"What bee have you got in your bonnet now?"
"Please answer my question," said Nat.
Monica made no reply, only put her head on one side and twinkled in
her impish, Puck-like way.
"You need not answer," Nat continued. "You've given yourself away.
I remember telling you that one of my three ambitions was--not to be
bottom of the form. Only you'd already said you intended to be top.
Didn't you mean it?"
Monica burst out laughing.
"I only said it for fun; just to make a little commotion among the
self-satisfied Fifth. I never cared a brass farthing about it."
"All the same, you are cleverer than most of the girls in the Fifth,"
Nat persisted. "It's absurd to think of you being bottom. Did you
do it on purpose?"
"Well, as I didn't care a scrap if I occupied the place and you cared
very much, I thought I might as well rob you of it," Monica
confessed, laughing.
Nat sat down in a chair and gazed at Monica wonderingly.
"You _are_ a queer girl. I see it all now. You pretended you wanted
to be top and that the stuff on the walls was to help you to remember
the work, when it was really to try and knock something into _my_
head. And always making me hear you say your prep, just when I was
off for a game of chess---- Whatever did you do it for?"
"Oh, just for fun. You aren't stupid enough to be always at the
bottom of the form, you know, Nat."
"You mean _you_ aren't," retorted Nat. "Still," she added after a
moment's consideration, "though I'm sure it's good of you to take so
much trouble over me, I think I'd almost rather be bottom than sit in
a room decorated in the same way again."
"Perhaps we can manage it without such extreme measures next term,"
Monica said optimistically.
"If my luck holds out. However, I've a sort of feeling that's it's
going to change for the better. Something tells me that next
Saturday, when St. Etheldreda's wins the hockey match, I shall not
slip up in the goal circle instead of shooting the winning goal; that
on Speech Day the following Wednesday I shall not make my entry as
Cæsar's ghost at the wrong cue, as I did last year. You see, I feel
that I have you as my mascot now," and Nat heaved a huge sigh of
supreme content.
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