THE HOLLIES
"I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days."
I was happy at school, though the work was hard and the discipline
strict. When I try to recall our system of education, I think it must
have been somewhat unique, for it was an endeavour to combine the very
best points of a thoroughly modern course of study with the rigid rules
and exemplary behaviour of a past generation. We learnt mathematics at
The Hollies, but we curtsied to our teachers as we left the room; we had
chemistry classes in a well-fitted laboratory, but we were taught the
most exquisite darning and the finest of open hem-stitch; we played
cricket, hockey, and all modern games, but we used backboards and were
made to walk round the school-room balancing books upon our heads, to
learn to hold ourselves erect; we had the best of professors for
languages and literature, and we were taught to receive visitors
graciously, to dispense afternoon tea, arrange flowers, and to write and
answer invitations correctly.
It was the summer term. Each morning the great school bell roused us
from our slumbers at half-past six, and woe to her who dared to turn
over and go to sleep again! At a quarter-past seven we assembled in the
hall, where rows of little blue mugs were waiting for us upon the table;
then, under the escort of Miss Buller, we all turned out, weather
permitting, to go and drink the waters for which Helston Spa was famous.
The brisk run through the fields, where the hawthorn was opening, and an
occasional bird's nest might be found by those who were skilful enough
to lag behind, was inspiriting as a beginning to the day. We always
entreated for the stile path, and lamented when a wet night made Miss
Buller declare the grass too damp, and necessitated a walk along the
high-road, where we must file two and two--"in a crocodile," as Janet
called it.
"Why a crocodile?" asked Lucy, who was not yet used to school-girl
parlance.
"Oh, don't you know?" replied Janet. "Some terribly clever person, I
can't remember whether it was Ruskin or Browning or Carlyle or who it
was, said he would any day rather meet a crocodile than a ladies'
school, so a long row of girls has been called a crocodile ever since."
"It's a stupid old-fashioned custom," said Ellinor, who was generally
disposed to grumble. "At St. Chad's the girls have bounds and may go
where they please, three together. I hate to be paraded like a file of
convicts. We look so foolish carrying our mugs, anyone would take us for
a Sunday-school picnic."
Whether we came by field-path or road the well was quite a romantic spot
when we reached it, for the water bubbled up in a clear spring from a
rocky basin grown round with moss and shaded by ferns. As yet it had not
been spoilt by having had a pavilion built over it, but was left in its
natural condition, under the care of a homely old woman called Betty,
who turned an honest penny by dispensing the waters to visitors, and who
stood our school-girl banter with perfect good-humour.
"Good-morning, Mother Shipton! You haven't flown away on your broomstick
yet?"
"My broom's too busy sweepin' floors, miss, to be used for anything
else."
"What will you do when we've drunk up all the waters, Betty?"
"There's plenty more, miss, where this comes from, so I won't deny you
another mugful if you're wantin' it."
"No, thank you, one is enough of such disgusting stuff! What I want now
is something to take the taste out of my mouth."
Betty drove a brisk but illicit trade with us in toffee. She kept a
basket concealed under her chair, in which was a species of mint-rock
very dear to our souls. We were not supposed to be allowed to buy any
such luxuries at The Hollies, but at this point of the proceedings Miss
Buller would kindly turn her back and pretend to take a deep interest in
the surrounding landscape, thinking perhaps that the nastiness of the
waters deserved some recompense. In my own case, I am certain the
combined flavours completely spoilt my breakfast. I was growing fast,
and was inclined to be a little fastidious about my food. Mrs. Marshall
held to the old-fashioned principle that we must finish everything that
was put upon our plates; a trying rule for me, for, like many children,
I had a horror of fat, and to have eaten it would, I think, almost have
choked me. Very fortunately I sat at table next to a girl named Marion
Burns, whose appetite was large and indiscriminate. The portions which I
viewed with dismay were to her insufficient, so I hit upon the happy
expedient of slipping a part of my dinner each day upon her plate, and,
like Jack Spratt and his wife, I was thus able to "leave the platter
clean". Strange to say my little manoeuvre was never discovered, even
by the watchful eyes of Miss Percy.
Miss Percy was Mrs. Marshall's right hand in all matters of discipline.
She was a lady of uncertain age, and even more uncertain temper; though,
as Cathy said, "It's not uncertain, because you may be quite sure it's
going to be disagreeable". She seemed to regard school-girls with
perpetual suspicion, and to have a perfect genius for pouncing down upon
us on the most inopportune occasions. Were we indiscreet enough to talk
in bed, Miss Percy was sure to be passing the door at the identical
moment; were we late for prayers, hoping to scuffle in unnoticed among
the servants, she was certain to be waiting for us in the hall. She had
a very lynx eye for missing buttons or untied shoe-laces, her long thin
nose smelled out directly the chestnuts we endeavoured to roast by the
school-room fire, and she could catch the lowest whisper in the
preparation hour.
"I think she must have eyes in the back of her head, and second sight as
well," said Janet, who was a frequent sufferer.
In spite of the strict rules I enjoyed my new life; the variety of the
school work, the excitement of the games, and the companionship of so
many girls of my own age, were far pleasanter to me than the quiet
humdrum of our daily round at Aunt Agatha's.
I got on well with my school-fellows, and I think I was a favourite with
most of my class. I am sure, too, I honestly tried to share in that
"give and take" which is the essence of school-girl conduct.
The one flaw in my happiness was Ernestine Salt. Since the day of my
arrival she had taken a dislike to me, which she seemed to lose no
opportunity of showing. There are many ways in which a girl can make
herself unpleasant without giving any actual cause of complaint, and I
found that I was subjected to a number of petty annoyances, too small
for comment, but which stung all the same. When we met in the
ladies'-chain at dancing, she would squeeze my unfortunate hand till I
almost cried out with the pain; was it her turn to distribute the clubs
at calisthenics, she would take care that I received the one with the
split handle. She would try to leave me out in the games, and scoffed at
my efforts at croquet, rejoicing openly when my opponents won and making
light of my best strokes. If I were unlucky enough to sit next her at
tea-time, she would nudge my elbow as if by accident at the very moment
when I was raising my cup to my lips, and would profess the deepest
concern for the spill which followed. She nicknamed me "Tow-head" in
allusion to my light hair, and had always some clever remark to make at
my expense. I kept out of her way as much as possible, for I was of a
peaceable disposition and disliked quarrelling; but every now and then
some little occasion would arise when I was obliged to stand up for
myself, and a battle would follow, in which, with her sharp tongue and
ruthless witticisms, she generally managed to get the best of it.
As a compensation for this trouble, I had the great delight of my
growing friendship with Catherine Winstanley. She had taken me into her
bedroom on the day after our arrival, and had shown me her various
treasures--the water-colour picture of her home which hung over the
chimney-piece ("painted by my mother", she explained), the photographs
of her family, and snap-shots of various horses, dogs, and other pets
"taken by the boys".
"That's George on Lady. Edward snapped them just as they were leaping
the fence. That's Dick bowling; he looks as if he were scowling
horribly, but it's only the sun in his eyes. That's Edward asleep under
the apple-tree. I took that myself, and he was so indignant when he
found it out he wanted to tear up the photo, but I wouldn't let him.
That's Father, with his fishing-rod, proudly holding up a good catch;
and that is Mother pouring out tea on the lawn, with Zelica on her
knee."
"Is it a rabbit?" I enquired.
"No, it's a Persian cat. Uncle Bertram brought her home really from
Persia, so we christened her out of 'Lalla Rookh'. Are you fond of
pets?"
"We haven't any at Aunt Agatha's, but I used to keep a few when I was at
home. I had two green parrots, a monkey, and a terrapin; and once Tasso
brought me a tiny baby puma from the forest. It was the sweetest little
thing, with soft yellow fur, and it purred just like a kitten. But
Father wouldn't let me keep it; he thought it would be so dangerous when
it grew up. So he sent it to the Zoo at Monte Video."
"Tell me all about your life in South America. It is so interesting. I
want to hear what your house was like, and your black servants, and the
forest and the queer animals. Have you no pictures of them all?"
I had not, but I wrote at once to my father, who sent me a charming
series of views of the neighbourhood, and enough pocket-money with them
for me to be lavish in the matter of frames, so my walls were soon hung
with remembrances of my old home.
Our bedrooms at The Hollies were rather a feature of the school. They
were so arranged that the two little beds and the washstand could be
screened off by a curtain, leaving the rest as a sitting-room. A table
and two chairs stood in the window, and during the summer term we were
allowed to prepare our lessons here instead of in the school-room, a
privilege we much appreciated, but which was at once forfeited if we
were caught talking during the study hours. It was a point of honour for
each girl to make her bedroom as pretty as possible, and we vied with
one another in the way of photo-frames, artistic table-covers,
book-shelves, mats, and china ornaments. We were allowed to buy flowers
on Saturday mornings for our vases, and must have been quite a source of
income to the funny old man at a certain stall in the market, who kept
us plentifully supplied according to the season.
"What was you wantin'? Don't know 'em, leastways by that name," as I
enquired for lilacs. "Oh, ay, _loy_lacs! Here you have 'em, purple and
white, and no charge extry for smell. Roses? I can bring 'em next week,
both Glory Johns and Jack Minnots" (he meant Gloire de Dijon and
Jacqueminots!). "Sweet peas is gettin' on gradely, and Fair Maids o'
France, just ready for the fair maids who buy 'em!" with an attempt at
a compliment which was severely repressed by Miss Percy, who whisked
us away in a hurry lest the old man should become "too familiar".
But to return to Cathy. Whenever possible I sat next her in school, I
was her partner when we walked out "in crocodile", and she kindly
initiated me into the mysteries of cricket, Badminton, archery, and
croquet, in all of which I had hitherto been profoundly ignorant. She
was a most stimulating companion. A little older than myself, and
brought up among a family of brothers, she had all the frank open ways
of a boy, with the pretty attractive manners which often mark a
much-thought-of only daughter. To hear her talk took me into a new
world. Instead of the ordinary topics common among school-girls, the
lessons, the games, the chances for the next prize, or grumbles at Miss
Percy's tiresome rules, she would tell me about her home, and the
delightful round of hobbies and interests which seemed to make up their
life at Marshlands. I did not know before that people pressed ferns,
collected shells and sea-weeds, painted studies of birds and flowers,
scoured the hills in search of antiquities, and held classes for
wood-carving among the village boys. At my aunt's I had heard of none of
these things. I had lived almost entirely in the nursery and
school-room, and on the few occasions when I had been allowed to come
down to the drawing-room the conversation was certainly far from
intellectual.
"But do your father and mother go out to picnics, and hunt for shells,
and help you to paste sea-weeds in books?" I asked, almost
incredulously.
"Why, of course! They enjoy it as much as we do. Father is tremendously
keen on butterflies, and Mother is making a collection of mosses and
lichens. It wouldn't be half the fun unless they did everything with us.
Just wait until you come to stay at Marshlands and then you'll see for
yourself. Mother means to ask you, I know."
I very much hoped she would, as I could imagine no greater treat than a
visit to Cathy's home. I longed to see all the places she had described,
and to meet the people of whom she had spoken, and to share in the many
tempting projects which she seemed to be planning. I was proud of her
friendship, for she was popular at school, and could have taken her
choice of playmates among girls who were both older and cleverer than
myself. To be thus singled out as her special companion seemed an honour
of which I felt scarcely worthy, and my letters to my father were mainly
filled with ecstatic praises of my new friend.