Trouble
Marjorie and her fellow autograph collectors from St. Elgiva's entered
the sitting-room in a state of much exhilaration, to boast of their
achievement.
"You didn't!" exclaimed Betty Moore. "You mean to say you ran up and
asked him under Frankie's very nose? Marjorie, you are the limit!"
"He was as nice as anything about it. I think he's a perfect dear. He
didn't seem to mind at all, rather liked it, in fact! Here's his neat
little signature. Do you want to look?"
"Well, you have luck, though you needn't cock-a-doodle so dreadfully
over it. How did Frankie take it?"
"Oh, she was rather ratty, of course; but who cares? We've got our
autographs, and that's the main thing. One has to risk something."
"We'll get something, too, in my opinion," said Patricia Lennox, one of
the sinners. "Frankie was worse than ratty, she was absolutely savage. I
could see it in her eye."
"Well, we can't help it if we do receive a few order marks. It was well
worth it, in my opinion," chuckled Marjorie shamelessly.
She bluffed things off before the other girls, but secretly she felt
rather uneasy. Miss Franklin's threat to report the matter to Mrs.
Morrison recurred to her memory. At Brackenfield to carry any question
to the Principal was an extreme measure. The Empress liked her teachers
to be able to manage their girls on their own authority, and, knowing
this, they generally conducted their struggles without appeal to
head-quarters. Any very flagrant breach of discipline, however, was
expected to be reported, so that the case could be dealt with as it
deserved.
Marjorie went into the dining-hall for tea with a thrill akin to that
which she usually suffered when visiting the dentist. To judge from
their heightened colour and conspicuously callous manner, Rose Butler,
Patricia Lennox, Phyllis Bingham, Laura Norris, Gertrude Holmes, and
Evelyn Pickard were experiencing the same sensations. They fully
expected to receive three order marks apiece, which would mean bed
immediately after supper, instead of going to the needlework union. To
their surprise Miss Franklin took no notice of them. She was sitting
amongst the Juniors, and did not even look in their direction. They took
care not to do anything which should attract attention to themselves,
and the meal passed over in safety. Preparation followed immediately.
Marjorie found the image of the aviator and Miss Franklin's outraged
expression kept obtruding themselves through her studies, causing sad
confusion amongst French irregular verbs, and driving the principal
battles of the Civil Wars into the sidewalks of her memory. She made a
valiant effort to pull herself together, and, looking up, caught Rose
Butler's eye. Rose held up for a moment a piece of paper, upon which she
had executed a fancy sketch of Captain Devereux and his aeroplane
surrounded by schoolgirls, and Miss Franklin in the background raising
hands of horror. It was too much for Marjorie's sense of humour, and she
chuckled audibly. Miss Norton promptly glared in her direction, and gave
her an order mark, which sobered her considerably.
When preparation was over the girls changed their dresses and came down
for supper, and again Miss Franklin took no notice of the sinners of the
afternoon. They began to breathe more freely.
"Perhaps she's going to overlook it," whispered Rose.
"After all, I can't see that we did anything so very wrong," maintained
Phyllis.
"Frankie's jealous because she didn't get an autograph for herself,"
chuckled Laura.
"I don't believe we shall hear another word about it," asserted Evelyn.
The interval between supper and prayers was spent by the girls in their
own hostels. At present each house was busy with a needlework union.
They were making articles for a small bazaar, that was to be held at the
school in the spring in aid of the Red Cross Society. They sat and sewed
while a mistress read a book aloud to them. Marjorie was embroidering a
nightdress case in ribbon-work. She used a frame, and enjoyed pulling
her ribbons through into semblance of little pink roses and blue
forget-me-nots. In contrast with French verbs and the Civil Wars the
occupation was soothing. Ever afterwards it was associated in her mind
with the story of _Cranford_, which was being read aloud, and the very
sight of ribbon-work would recall Miss Matty or the other quaint
inhabitants of the old-world village.
At ten minutes to nine a bell rang, sewing-baskets were put away, and
the girls trooped into the big hall for prayers.
If by that time any remembrance of her afternoon's misdeeds entered
Marjorie's mind, it was to congratulate herself that the trouble had
blown over successfully. She was certainly not prepared for what was to
happen.
Mrs. Morrison mounted the platform as usual, and read prayers, and the
customary hymn followed. At its close, instead of dismissing the girls
to their hostels, the Principal made a signal for them to resume their
seats.
"I have something to say to you this evening," she began gravely.
"Something which I feel demands the presence of the whole school. It is
with the very greatest regret I bring this matter before you.
Brackenfield, as you are aware, will soon celebrate its tenth birthday.
During all these years of its existence it has always prided itself upon
the extremely high reputation in respect of manners and conduct which
its pupils have maintained in the neighbourhood. So far, at
Whitecliffe, the name of a Brackenfield girl has been synonymous with
perfectly and absolutely ladylike behaviour. There are other schools in
the town, and it is possible that there may be among them some spirit of
rivalry towards Brackenfield. The inhabitants or visitors at Whitecliffe
will naturally notice any party of girls who are proceeding in line
through the town, they will note their school hats, observe their
conduct, and judge accordingly the establishment from which they come.
Every girl when on parade has the reputation of Brackenfield in her
keeping. So strong has been the spirit not only of loyalty to the
school, but of innate good breeding, that up to this day our traditions
have never yet been broken. I say sorrowfully up till to-day, for this
very afternoon an event has occurred which, in the estimation of myself
and my colleagues, has trailed our Brackenfield standards in the dust.
Sixteen girls, who under privilege of a parade exeat visited
Whitecliffe, have behaved in a manner which fills me with astonishment
and disgust. That they could so far forget themselves as to break line,
rush on to the shore, crowd round and address a perfect stranger, passes
my comprehension, and this under the eyes of two other schools who were
walking along the promenade, and who must have been justly amazed and
shocked. The girls who this afternoon were on exeat parade will kindly
stand up."
Sixteen conscience-stricken miserable sinners rose to their feet, and,
feeling themselves the centre for more than two hundred pairs of eyes,
yearned for the earth to yawn and swallow them up. Mrs. Morrison
regarded them for a moment or two in silence.
"Each of you will now go to her own house and fetch the autograph she
secured," continued the mistress grimly. "I give you three minutes."
There was a hurried exit, and the school sat and waited until the
luckless sixteen returned.
"Bring them to me!" commanded Mrs. Morrison, and in turn each girl
handed over her slip of paper with the magic signature "Henri Raoul
Devereux". The Principal placed them together, then, her eyes flashing,
tore them into shreds.
"Girls who have deliberately broken rules, defied the authority of my
colleague, which is equivalent to defying me, and have lowered the
prestige of the school in the eyes of the world, deserve the contempt of
their comrades, who, I hope, will show their opinion of such conduct. I
feel that any imposition I can give them is inadequate, and that their
own sense of shame should be sufficient punishment; yet, in order to
enforce the lesson, I shall expect each to recite ten lines of poetry to
her House Mistress every morning before breakfast until the end of the
term; and Marjorie Anderson, who, I understand, was the instigator of
the whole affair, will spend Saturday afternoon indoors until she has
copied out the whole of Bacon's essay on 'Empire'. You may go now."
Marjorie slunk off to St. Elgiva's in an utterly wretched frame of mind.
It was bad enough to be reproved in company with fifteen others, but to
be singled out for special condemnation and held up to obloquy before
all the school was terrible. In spite of herself hot tears were in her
eyes. She tried to blink them back, for crying was scouted at
Brackenfield, but just at that moment she came across Rose, Phyllis,
Laura, and Gertrude weeping openly in a corner.
"I'll never hold up my head again!" gulped Phyllis. "Oh, the Empress was
cross! And I'm sure it was all because those wretched girls from 'Hope
Hall' and 'The Birches' were walking along the promenade and saw us. If
they'd had any sense they'd have rushed down and asked for autographs
for themselves."
"It was mean of the Empress to tear ours up!" moaned Gertrude. "I call
that a piece of temper on her part!"
"And after all, I don't see that we did anything so very dreadful!"
choked Rose. "Mrs. Morrison was awfully down on us!"
"I hate learning poetry before breakfast!" wailed Laura.
"I'm the worst off," sighed Marjorie. "I've got to spend Saturday
afternoon pen-driving, and it's the match with Holcombe. I'm just the
unluckiest girl in the whole school. Strafe it all! It's a grizzly
nuisance. I should like to slay myself!"
To Marjorie no punishment was greater than being forced to stay indoors.
She was essentially an open-air girl, and after a long morning in the
schoolroom her whole soul craved for the playing-fields. She had taken
up hockey with the utmost enthusiasm. She keenly enjoyed the practices,
and was deeply interested in the matches played by the school team. The
event on Saturday afternoon was considered to be of special importance,
for Brackenfield was to play the First Eleven of the Holcombe Ladies'
Club. They had rather a good reputation, and the game would probably be
a stiff tussle. Every Brackenfielder considered it her duty to be
present to watch the match and encourage the School Eleven.
Marjorie would have given worlds to evade her punishment task that
Saturday, but Mrs. Morrison's orders were as the laws of the Medes and
Persians that cannot be altered, so she was policed to the St. Elgiva's
sitting-room by Miss Norton, and provided with sheets of exercise paper
and a copy of Bacon's _Essays_.
"I shall expect it to be finished by tea-time," said the mistress
briefly. "If not, you will have to stay in again on Monday."
Marjorie frowned at the threat of further confinement, and settled
herself with rather aggressive slowness. She was in a pixy mood, and did
not mean to show any special haste in beginning her unwelcome work. Miss
Norton glared at her, but made no further remark, and with a glance at
the clock left the room. All the girls had already gone to the
hockey-field, and Marjorie had St. Elgiva's to herself. She opened the
book languidly, found Essay XIX, "Of Empire", and groaned.
"It'll take me the whole afternoon, strafe it all!" she muttered. "I
wish Francis Bacon had never existed! I wonder the Empress didn't tell
me to write an essay on Aeroplanes. If I drew them all round the edges
of the pages, I wonder what would happen? I'd love to do it, and put
Captain Devereux's picture at the end! I expect I'd get expelled if I
did. Oh dear! It's a weary world! I wish I were old enough to leave
school and drive a transport wagon. Have I got to stop here till I'm
eighteen? Another two years and a half, nearly! It gives me spasms to
think of it!"
She dipped her pen in the ink and copied:
"It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to desire, and many
things to fear."
"I agree with old Bacon," she commented. "Only I've got great heaps of
things to desire, and the one I want most at present is to go to the
hockey match. I wish his shade would come and help me! They didn't play
hockey in his days, so it would be a new experience for him. Francis
Bacon, I command you to give me a hand with your wretched essay, and
I'll take you to the match in return!"
A smart rap-tap on the window behind her made Marjorie start and turn
round in a hurry. Her invocation, however, had not called up the ghostly
countenance of the defunct Sir Francis to face her; it was Dona's
roguish-looking eyes which twinkled at her from the other side of the
pane.
"Open the window!" ordered that damsel.
Marjorie obeyed in much amazement. Dona was standing at the top of a
ladder which just reached to the window-sill.
"Old Williams has been clipping the ivy," she explained, "so I've
commandeered his ladder. I haven't broken any rules. I've never been
told that I mustn't get up a ladder."
The girls' sitting-room at St. Elgiva's was on the upper floor, and
members of other houses were strictly forbidden to mount the stairs.
Marjorie laughed at Dona's evasion of the edict.
"Give me a hand and I'll toddle in," continued the latter. "Steady oh!
Don't pull too hard. Here I am!"
"Glad to see you, but you'll get into a jinky little row if the Acid
Drop catches you!"
"Right oh, chucky! The Acid Drop is at this moment watching the team for
all she's worth. She's awfully keen on hockey."
"I know. And so am I," said Marjorie aggrievedly. "It's the limit to
miss this match."
"You're not going to miss it altogether. I've come to help you. Here,
give me a pen, and I'll copy some of the stuff out for you. Our
writing's so alike no one will guess--and you'll get out at half-time."
"You mascot! But you're missing the match yourself!"
"I don't care twopence. I'm not keen on hockey like you are. Give me a
pen, I tell you!"
"But how are we to manage?" objected Marjorie. "If we do alternate pages
we shan't each know where to begin, and we can't leave spaces, or the
Acid Drop would twig."
"Marjorie Anderson, I always thought you'd more brains than I have, but
you're not clever to-day! You must write small, so as to get each line
of print exactly into a line of exercise paper. There are twenty blue
lines on each sheet--very well then, you copy the first twenty of old
Bacon, and I'll copy the second twenty, and there we are, alternate
pages, as neat as you please!"
"Dona, you've a touch of genius about you!" purred Marjorie.
The plan answered admirably. By writing small, it was quite possible to
bring each line of print into correspondence with the manuscript. There
were a hundred and twenty lines altogether in the essay, which worked
out at six pages of exercise paper. Each counted out her own portion,
then scribbled away as fast as was consistent with keeping the size of
her caligraphy within due bounds. Thirty-five minutes' hard work brought
them to the last word. Marjorie breathed a sigh of rapture, fastened the
pages together with a clip, and took them downstairs to Miss Norton's
study.
"You're an absolute trump, old girl!" she said to Dona.
The latter, meantime, had run downstairs and removed the ladder back to
where she had found it, so that no trace of her little adventure should
be left behind. The two girls hurried off to the playing-field, but took
care not to approach together, in case of awakening suspicions.
Everybody's attention was so concentrated on the match that Marjorie
slipped into a crowd of Intermediates unnoticed by mistresses. She was
in time for part of the game, and keenly enjoyed watching a brilliant
run by Daisy Edwards, and a terrific tussle on the back line resulting
in a splendid shot by Hilda Alworthy. When the whistle blew for time the
score stood six goals to three, Brackenfield leading, and Marjorie
joined with enthusiasm in the cheers. She loitered a little in the
field, and came back among the last. Miss Norton, who was standing in
the hall, looked at her keenly as she entered St. Elgiva's, but the
teacher had just found the essay "Of Empire" laid on her desk, and,
turning it over, had marked it correct. If she had any suspicions she
did not voice them, but allowed the matter to pass.