CHAPTER II
A Friend from the Bush
Ulyth Stanton was a decided personality in the Lower Fifth. If notexactly pretty, she was a dainty little damsel, and knew how to make thebest of herself. Her fair hair was glossy and waved in the most becomingfashion, her clothes were well cut, her gloves and shoes immaculate. Shehad an artistic temperament, and loved to be surrounded by prettythings. She was rather a favourite at The Woodlands, for she had fewsharp angles and possessed a fair share of tact. If the girls laughedsometimes at what they called her "high-falutin' notions" theynevertheless respected her opinions and admired her more than theyalways chose to admit. It was an accepted fact that Ulyth stuck to herword and generally carried through anything that she once undertook. Shealone of six members of her form who had begun to correspond with girlsabroad, at the instigation of the magazine editor, had writtenregularly, and had cultivated the overseas friendship with enthusiasm.The element of romance about the affair had appealed to Ulyth. It was sostrange to receive letters from someone you had never seen. To be sure,Rona had only given a somewhat bald account of her home and her doings,but even this outline was so different from English life that Ulyth'simagination filled the gaps, and pictured her unknown correspondentamong scenes of unrivalled interest and excitement. Ulyth had once seena most wonderful film entitled "Rose of the Wilderness", and though thescenes depicted were supposed to be in the region of the Wild West, shedecided that they would equally well represent the backwoods of NewZealand, and that the beautiful, dashing, daring heroine, so aptlycalled "the Prairie Flower", was probably a speaking likeness of RonaMitchell. When she learnt that owing to her letters Rona's father haddetermined to send his daughter to school at The Woodlands, herexcitement was immense. She had at once petitioned Miss Bowes to haveher as a room-mate, and was now awaiting her advent with the verykeenest anticipation.
There was a little uncertainty about the time of the new girl's arrival,for it depended upon the punctuality of the ocean liner, a doubtfulmatter if there were a storm; and the feeling that she might be expectedany hour between 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. made havoc of Ulyth's day. It wasimpossible to attend to lessons when she was listening for the sound ofa taxi on the drive, and even the attractions of tennis could not decoyher out of sight of the front door.
"I must be the very first to welcome her," she persisted. "Of courseit's not the same to all the rest of you--I understand that. She's to bemy special property, my Prairie Rose!"
"All serene! If you care to waste your time lounging about the steps youcan. We're not in such a frantic state to see your paragon," laughed thegirls as they ran down the garden to the courts. After all, the waitingwas in vain. Tea-time came without a sign of the new-comer. It wasunlikely that she would turn up now until the evening train, and Ulythresigned herself to the inevitable. But when the school was almosthalf-way through its bread and butter and gooseberry jam, a suddencommotion occurred in the hall. There was a noise such as nobody everremembered to have heard at The Woodlands before.
"Thank goodness gracious I've got meself here at last!" cried a loudnasal voice. "Where'll I stick these things? Oh yes, there's heaps moreinside that automobile! Travelling's no joke, I can tell you; I'm tiredto death. Any tea about? I could drink the sea. My gracious, I've had atime of it coming here!"
At the first word Miss Bowes had glided from the room, and the voicedied away as the door of her private study closed. Sounds suggestive ofthe carrying upstairs of luggage followed, and a hinnying laugh echoedonce down the stairs. The girls looked at one another; there was ashadow in Ulyth's eyes. She did not share in the general smile thatpassed round the table, and she finished her tea in dead silence.
"Going to sample your new property?" whispered Mary Acton as the girlspushed back their chairs.
"What's the formula for swearing an undying friendship?" giggled AddieKnighton.
"Was it Rose of Sharon you called her?" twinkled Christine Crosswood."Or Lily of the Valley?"
Ulyth did not reply. She walked upstairs very slowly. The nasal twang ofthat high-pitched voice in the hall had wiped the bloom off heranticipation. The small double dormitory in which she slept was No. 3,Room 5. The door was half-open, so she entered without knocking. Bothbeds, the chairs, and most of the floor was strewn with an assortment ofmiscellaneous articles. On the dressing-table was a tray with theremains of tea. Over a large cabin trunk bent a girl of fourteen. Shestraightened herself as she heard footsteps.
Alas! alas! for Ulyth's illusions. The enchanting vision of the prairieflower faded, and Rona Mitchell stood before her in solid fact. Solidwas the word for it--no fascinating cinema heroine this, but anordinary, well-grown, decidedly plump damsel with brown elf locks, aruddy sunburnt complexion, and a freckled nose.
Where, oh, where, were the delicate features, the fairy-like figure, andthe long rich clustering curls of Rose of the Wilderness? Ulyth stoodfor a moment gazing as one dazed; then, with an effort, she rememberedher manners and introduced herself.
"Proud to meet you at last," replied the new-comer heartily. "You andI've had a friendship switched on for us ready-made, so to speak. Iliked your letters awfully. Glad they've put us in together."
"Did--did you have a nice journey?" stammered Ulyth.
It was a most conventional enquiry, but the only thing she could thinkof to say.
"Beastly! It was rough or hot all the time, and we didn't get much funon board. Wasn't it a sell? Too disappointing for words! Mrs. Perkins,the lady who had charge of me coming over, was just a Tartar. Nothing Idid seemed to suit her somehow. I bet she was glad to see the last ofme. Then I was sea-sick, and when we got into the hot zone--my, how badI was! My face was just skinned with sunburn, and the salt air made itworse. I'd not go to sea again for pleasure, I can tell you. I say, I'llbe glad to get my things fixed up here."
"This is your bed and your side of the room," returned Ulyth hastily,collecting some of the articles which had been flung anywhere, andhanging them in Rona's wardrobe; "Miss Moseley makes us be very tidy.She'll be coming round this evening to inspect."
Rona whistled.
"Guess she'll drop on me pretty often then! No one's ever calledneatness my strong point. Are those photos on the mantelpiece your homefolks? I'm going to look at them. What a lot of things you've got:books, and albums, and goodness knows what! I'll enjoy turning them overwhen I've time."
At half-past eight that night a few members of the Lower Fifth, puttingaway books in their classroom, stopped to compare notes.
"Well, what do you think of your adorable one, Ulyth?" asked StephanieRadford, a little spitefully. "You're welcome to her company so far asI'm concerned."
"Rose of the Wilderness, indeed!" mocked Merle Denham.
"Your prairie rose is nothing but a dandelion!" remarked ChristineCrosswood.
"I never heard anyone with such an awful laugh," said Lizzie Lonsdale.
"Don't!" implored Ulyth tragically. "I've had the shock of my life.She's--oh, she's too terrible for words! Her voice makes me cringe. Andshe pawed all my things. She snatched up my photos, and turned over mybooks with sticky fingers; she even opened my drawers and peepedinside."
"What cheek!"
"Oh, she hasn't the slightest idea of how to behave herself! She askedme a whole string of the most impertinent questions: what I'd paid formy clothes, and how long they'd have to last me. She's unbearable. Yes,absolutely impossible. Ugh! and I've got to sleep in the same room withher to-night."
"Poor martyr, it's hard luck," sympathized Lizzie. "Why did you writeand ask the Rainbow to put you together? It was rather buying a pig in apoke, wasn't it?"
"I never dreamt she'd be like this. It sounded so romantic, you see,living on a huge farm, and having two horses to ride. I shall go to MissBowes, first thing to-morrow morning, and ask to have her moved out ofmy room. I only wish there was time to do it this evening. Oh, why did Iever write to her and make her want to come to this school?"
"Poor old Ulyth! You've certa
inly let yourself in for more than youbargained for," laughed the girls, half sorry for her and half amused.
Next morning, after breakfast, the very instant that Miss Bowes wasinstalled in her study, a "rap-tap-tap" sounded on her door.
"Come in!" she called, and sighed as Ulyth entered, for she had a shrewdsuspicion of what she was about to hear.
"Please, Miss Bowes, I'm sorry to have to ask a favour, but may Rona bechanged into another dormitory?"
"Why, Ulyth, you wrote to me specially and asked if you might have herfor a room-mate!"
"Yes, I did; but I hadn't seen her then. I thought she'd be sodifferent."
"Isn't it a little too soon to judge? You haven't known her twenty-fourhours yet."
"I know as much of her as I ever want to. Oh, Miss Bowes, she'sdreadful! I'll never like her. I can't have her in my room--I simplycan't!"
There was a shake, suggestive of tears, in Ulyth's voice. Her eyeslooked heavy, as if she had not slept. Miss Bowes sighed again.
"Rona mayn't be exactly what you imagined, but you must remember inwhat different circumstances she has been brought up. I think she hasmany good qualities, and that she'll soon improve. Now let us look atthe matter from her point of view. You have been writing to herconstantly for two years. She has come here specially to be near you.You are her only friend in a new and strange country where she is manythousand miles away from her own home. You gave her a cordial invitationto England, and now, because she does not happen to realize your quiteunfounded expectations, you want to back out of all your obligations toher. I thought you were a girl, Ulyth, who kept her promises."
Ulyth fingered the corner of the tablecloth nervously for a moment, thenshe burst out:
"I can't, Miss Bowes, I simply can't. If you knew how she grates uponme! Oh, it's too much! I'd rather have a bear cub or a monkey for aroom-mate! Please, please don't make us stop together! If you won't moveher, move me! I'd sleep in an attic if I could have it to myself."
"You must stay where you are until the end of the week. You owe that toRona, at any rate. Afterwards I shall not force you, but leave it toyour own good feeling. I want you to think over what I have been saying.You can come on Sunday morning and tell me your decision."
"I know what the answer will be," murmured Ulyth, as she went from theroom.
She was very angry with Miss Bowes, with Rona, and with herself for herown folly.
"It's ridiculous to expect me to take up this savage," she argued. "Andtoo bad of Miss Bowes to make out that I'm breaking my word. Oh dear!what am I to write home to Mother? How can I tell her? I believe I'lljust send her a picture post card, and only say Rona has come, and nomore. Miss Bowes has no right to coerce me. I'll make my own friends.No, I've quite made up my mind she shan't cram Rona down my throat. Tohave that awful girl eternally in my bedroom--I should die!"
After all her heroics it was a terrible come-down for poor Ulyth now theactual had taken the place of the sentimental. Her class-mates could notforbear teasing her a little. It was too bad of them; but then they hadresented her entire pre-appropriation of the new-comer, and, moreover,had one or two old scores from last term to pay off. Ulyth began todetest the very name of "the Prairie Flower". She wondered how she couldever have been so silly.
"I ought to have been warned," she thought, trying to throw the blame onto somebody else. "No one ever suggested she'd be like this. The editorof the magazine really shouldn't have persuaded us to write. It's allhis fault in the beginning."
Though the rest of the girls were scarcely impressed with Rona'spersonality, they were not utterly repelled.
"She's rather pretty," ventured Lizzie Lonsdale. "Her eyes are thebluest I've ever seen."
"And her teeth are so white and even," added Beth Broadway. "She looksjolly when she smiles."
"Perhaps she'll smarten up soon," suggested Addie Knighton. "That bluedress suits her; it just matches her eyes."
To Ulyth's fastidious taste Rona's clothes looked hopelessly ill-cut andcolonial, especially as her room-mate put them on anyhow, and seemed tohave no regard at all for appearances. A girl who did not mind whethershe looked really trim, spruce and smart, must indeed have spent herlife in the backwoods.
"Didn't you even have a governess in New Zealand?" she ventured one day.She did not encourage Rona to talk, but for once her curiosity overcameher dislike of the high-pitched voice.
"Couldn't get one to stop up-country, where we were. Mrs. Barker, ourcowman's wife, looked after me ever since Mother died. She was the onlywoman about the place. One of our farm helps taught me lessons. He was aB.A. of Oxford, but down on his luck. Dad said I'd seem queer to Englishgirls. I don't know that I care."
Though Rona might not be possessed of the most delicate perceptions, shenevertheless had common sense enough to realize that Ulyth did notreceive her with enthusiasm.
"I suppose you're disappointed in me?" she queried. "Dad said you wouldbe, but I laughed at him. Pity if our ready-made friendship turned out amisfit! I think you're no end! Dad said I'd got to copy you; it'll takeme all my time, I expect. Things are so different here from home."
Was there a suspicion of a choke in the words?
Ulyth had a sudden pang of compunction. Unwelcome as her companion wasto her, she did not wish to be brutal.
"You mustn't get home-sick," she said hastily. "You'll shake down herein time. Everyone finds things strange at school just at first. I didmyself."
"I guess you were never as much a fish out of water as me, though,"returned Rona, and went whistling down the passage.
Ulyth tried to dismiss her from her thoughts. She did not intend toworry over Rona more than she could possibly help. Fortunately they werenot together in class, for Rona's entrance-examination papers had notreached the standard of the Lower Fifth, and she had been placed in IVB.
Ulyth was interested in her school-work. She stood well with herteachers, and was an acknowledged force in her form. She came from avery refined and cultured home, where intellectual interests werecultivated both by father and mother. Her temperament was naturallyartistic; she was an omnivorous reader, and could devour anything in theshape of literature that came her way. The bookcase in her dormitory wasfilled with beautiful volumes, mostly Christmas and birthday gifts. Sherejoiced in their soft leather bindings or fine illustrations with atrue book-lover's enthusiasm. It was her pride to keep them in daintiestcondition. Dog-ears or thumb-marks were in her opinion the depths ofdegradation. Ulyth had ambitions also, ambitions which she would notreveal to anybody. Some day she planned to write a book of her own. Shehad not yet fixed on a subject, but she had decided just what the coverwas to be like, with her name on it in gilt letters. Perhaps she mighteven illustrate it herself, for her love of art almost equalled her loveof literature; but that was still in the clouds, and must wait till shehad chosen her plot. In the interim she wrote verses and short storiesfor the school magazine, and her essays for Miss Teddington weregenerally returned marked "highly creditable".
This term Ulyth intended to study hard. It was a promotion to be in theUpper School; she was beginning several new subjects, and her interestin many things was aroused. It would be a delightful autumn as soon asshe had got rid of this dreadful problem, at present the one seriousobstacle to her comfort. But in the meantime it was only Friday, andtill at least the following Monday she would be obliged to endure heruncongenial presence in her bedroom.