CHAPTER VII
The Mad Hatters
If Katrine was determined that her career at Aireyholme should be "Artbefore all", Gwethyn's school motto might be described as "Fun at anyprice". Her high spirits were continually at effervescing point, and shewas fast acquiring the reputation of "champion ragger" of the Fifth.There were rollicking times in the form, jokes and chaff to an evengreater extent than had obtained before her advent. Half a dozen of thegirls had always been lively, but now, under Gwethyn's sway, theirescapades earned them the title of the "Mad Hatters". The influencespread downwards and infected the juniors. Eight members of the Fourthformed themselves into a league dubbed "The March Hares", and by thewildness of their pranks sought to outdo their seniors. There was arivalry of jokes between them, and whichever scored the most points forthe time held the palm. Needless to say, their efforts were scarcelyappreciated at head-quarters. Things considered intensely diverting bythe form were viewed very differently by mistresses and monitresses, andboth Hatters and Hares were liable to find themselves in trouble.
I have mentioned that Katrine and Gwethyn slept in a little room overthe porch. The door was in the middle of a long passage leading to otherbedrooms, occupied by the Fourth and Fifth. The Aireyholme dormitorydiscipline was tolerably strict, and usually the girls were awell-conducted crew.
One morning some unlucky star caused Gwethyn to open her eyes before theusual 6.30 bell, and aroused in her a spirit of mischief. Taking herpillow, she stole along the passage to No. 9, and awoke Marian, Susie,and Megan.
"Come along!" she proclaimed. "Let's find Dona and Beatrix, and go androut up the March Hares. There's time for a little artillery practicebefore the bell rings. Bolsters are heavy ammunition, and pillows light.You can take your choice! Anyone refusing to do battle will beproclaimed coward. All the fallen will be buried with the honours ofwar. Get up, you soft Sybarites!"
Finding their bedclothes on the floor, and severe tickling the penaltyof a love for slumber, the occupants of the various dormitories on thelanding turned out and followed their leader.
"Hares versus Hatters!" commanded Gwethyn. "You may duck and dodge, butanyone fairly hit is to be considered fallen. The bedrooms are trenches.Remember, mum's the word, though!"
The battle began, and waged fiercely. The missiles flew hither andthither. Some of the girls were good shots, but others had theproverbial feminine incapacity for a true aim. There were wildlythrilling encounters, frantic chasings, and wholesale routs. In theirexcitement the combatants completely forgot the necessity for silence;they chuckled, groaned, hooted, and even squealed. Small wonder that,long before the fight was fought to a finish, an avenging deity in adressing-gown appeared upon the scene and proclaimed a compulsory peace.
"Girls! Whatever are you doing?" demanded Viola. "You ought to bethoroughly ashamed of yourselves. Go back to your rooms at once! Youknow this kind of thing is not allowed."
The delinquents seized their missiles and beat a hurried retreat, whileViola, who was wise in her generation, sounded the bell as a signal forthe rest of the school to rise and dress.
"They'll get into mischief again if I leave them larking about in theirrooms, and it won't do anybody any harm to be up a quarter of an hourearlier for once," she decided. "But I'll see they put in the extra timeat preparation. The young wretches!"
The head girl was as good as her word. She kept a stern eye on thesinners directly they appeared downstairs.
"The morning's a good time to work," she announced grimly. "If you'refond of early rising, I'll call you all every day at six, and arrangefor prep. at half-past instead of at seven. No doubt you'd benefit byit."
The jokers, who had not calculated upon an increased allowance of schoolhours, sought their desks glumly. But there was a further trial in storefor them. When they were seated at breakfast, Mrs. Franklin took herplace at the table with an air of long-suffering and injured patience.
"Girls!" she began, in a martyred voice, "I have been most hurt, mostpained, at what occurred this morning. Anything more thoughtless andinconsiderate I could not have imagined. I had passed a bad night, and Iwas snatching a short sleep, when I was awakened by an uproar that iswithout all precedent. When Ermengarde was here, such a thing neveroccurred. There was a different spirit abroad in the school. Every girl,even the youngest junior, was careful for my comfort, and would not havedreamed of disturbing me. I fear now an entirely selfish feelingprevails in the Fifth and Fourth Forms. I am grieved to see it. Ourtraditions at Aireyholme have been very high. I beg the standard maynever be lowered."
No names were mentioned, but Hares and Hatters were conscious that theeyes of the rest of the school were fixed upon them with scornfulreproach. They ate their breakfast in a state of dejection.
"I never dreamed Mrs. Franklin would take it that way!" mourned Roseafterwards to her fellow-delinquents.
"Diana Bennett says we are a set of brutes," sighed Beatrix ruefully.She admired Diana, and winced under her scorn.
"The others were wild at getting extra prep. this morning. They're readyto take it out of us," remarked Susie.
"Look here," said Gwethyn, "I think the best way to settle the wholebusiness will be to go and apologize to Mrs. Franklin. Say we didn'tknow she had a headache, and we're sorry. That ought to square things."
"Right-o! Then Diana may stop nagging."
At the eleven-o'clock interval a dozen girls reported themselves at thePrincipal's study, and with Rose as spokeswoman, tendered an embarrassedapology. Mrs. Franklin was not inclined to treat the matter too lightly;she considered herself justly offended; but after listening with duegravity, she solemnly and majestically forgave them.
"I suppose I cannot expect all to be as naturally thoughtful andkind-hearted as Ermengarde," she added, "but I try to stand in the placeof a mother to you here, and I hope to meet with some response."
I am afraid Mrs. Franklin would have been grieved again if she had heardthe laughter that ensued when the girls were out of ear-shot of thestudy. They were really sorry to have hurt her feelings, but the mentionof the impeccable Ermengarde was always a subject for mirth.
"I have it on absolute authority that Ermengarde once made another girlan apple-pie bed!" tittered Susie. "It was Nell Stokes who told me. Shewas at Aireyholme then, and slept in the same dormitory."
"What happened?"
"History doesn't relate. I should say Saint Ermie got disciplined anddid penance. She wasn't canonized then!"
Although Mrs. Franklin was apt to be a little pompous and over stately,she was very good to the pupils on the whole, and they thoroughlyrespected her. They sympathized deeply with her anxiety for news fromthe war, where her two sons were serving their country. Many of thegirls had brothers or cousins in the Army, and each morning anenthusiastic crowd collected to hear the items which Mrs. Franklin readout to them. They were not allowed to look at the daily papers forthemselves, as Mrs. Franklin considered many of the details unsuitablefor their perusal; but she gave them a carefully-edited summary of thecourse of events, with special particulars, if possible, of regiments inwhich they were interested. The occasional letters received by girlsfrom relatives at the front were subjects for great rejoicing. Theycompared notes keenly over the experiences related. Katrine and Gwethynscored considerably, for their brother Hereward was a fairly regularcorrespondent, and gave vivid accounts of his campaigning. It was atGwethyn's suggestion that the school held what they called a "Heroes'Exhibition". Every girl with a relative engaged in the war was requestedto lend his photograph, any chance snapshots she might have of him, anynewspaper cuttings narrating his achievements, and any of his regimentalbuttons, if she were lucky enough to possess them. These contributionswere arranged on a table with an appropriate background of flags andsprigs of laurel. A penny each was charged for admission, and cataloguesof the exhibits were sold at one halfpenny. As all the girls, themistresses, and three of the servants patronized the show, the sum offive shillings and twopence halfpenny was c
leared, and put in theBelgian Relief Fund Box. Gwethyn had wished to add a competition withvotes for the handsomest hero, but Mrs. Franklin sternly vetoed theidea.
"It would have been ever such fun, and the girls would have loved it!"Gwethyn assured her chums in private, "but of course I see the reason.Mrs. Franklin's sons may be very estimable, but they're both plain, andof course Hereward's photo would have won the most votes; he's by farthe best-looking!"
"You utter goose! That wasn't the reason," snubbed Rose Randall."Besides which, if it comes to a question of looks, your brother isn'tin the running with my cousin Everard."
* * * * *
Gwethyn's fertile brain was continually at work. In spite of the madnessof some of her propositions, she was really an acquisition to the Fifth.She could always be counted upon for new suggestions, and on wet daysshe would invent games, get up charades, or engineer impromptuentertainments with the ingenuity of a variety manager. One afternoonthe heavy rain prevented the girls from taking their usual outdoorexercise between dinner and school. Very disconsolately they hung about,grumbling at the downpour. Only the Sixth Form were privileged to usethe studio on such occasions; the younger ones, flung on their ownresources, killed time as best they could. The Fourth suffered moreparticularly, as it was their afternoon for the tennis courts, and theyhad had bad luck lately in the matter of weather on their special tennisdays.
"I declare, I'm sorry for those poor kids!" said Gwethyn. "This is thethird Wednesday their sets have been stopped. They are standing in thecorridor, looking like a funeral. Can't we liven them up somehow?"
"All serene! Let's ask them into our form room and play games," agreedRose. "Where are the rest of us? Jill, go and hunt up Susie andBeatrix. It's far more fun when there are plenty. I say, you kiddiesthere, come along and have some jinks! Pass the word on."
The juniors responded promptly to the invitation. They flocked into theFifth room, and settled themselves anywhere, on desks or floor.
"What's the game?" they asked hopefully.
"It's quite a new one," explained Gwethyn, who had had a hasty privateconference with some of her chums. "It's called 'The Oracle of Fortune'.I'm to be blindfolded so that I can't see the least peep; then you'reall to march round me in a circle. When I tap with this stick, you stop,and I point at somebody who comes forward."
"Oh, I know! French blind-man's-buff. That's nothing new!" exclaimedMadge Carter.
"No, it's not French blind-man's-buff," returned Gwethyn, so crushinglythat Madge was sorry she had spoken. "I don't feel your faces while yougiggle--it's something quite different. I tell your characters. Ifthey're correct, you walk on. If I make a mistake, you may take my placeas oracle."
"Who's to judge if they're right?"
"The general opinion!" frowned Gwethyn.
"But suppose----"
"Oh, suppress that dormouse!" exclaimed some of the March Hares. "Whereis there a big handkerchief to bind your eyes? You mustn't have theleast little teeny weeny scrap of a peep-hole left. We'll take care ofthat."
Bandaged to the entire satisfaction of all spectators, Gwethyn took herplace in the centre of the room, and the girls commenced to circle roundher. At a rap from her stick they halted. She pointed blindly to anunknown figure, who stepped silently forward.
"List to the Oracle!" proclaimed Gwethyn dramatically. "Sweet temper,kindness, and modesty here go hand in hand. Pass on, gentle maiden, thouart worthy!"
Bertha Grant, a small and inoffensive junior, retired into the ring amidthe applause of the audience, and the march continued. At the next haltMyrtle Goodwin, a particularly turbulent and mischievous member of theFourth, responded to the rap.
"Whom have we here?" murmured the Oracle. "Alas! my inner sense tells methis is imp, not angel. Go and amend thy misdeeds. I feel the darknessof thy shadow."
Again a round of clapping certified to the correctness of the charactergiven. The girls began to think the game rather fun. Laura Brownehappened to be the next chosen.
"Fair on the surface, but false below," was the verdict. "The professedfriend of everybody, but the chum of nobody. Full of promises, but shyof performance."
"She can see! She must be able to see!" shouted the girls, much struckby the aptness of the remarks.
"No, I can't. Not one hair-breadth. Look at my bandages for yourselves,"declared Gwethyn emphatically (though she murmured "Done you, LauraBrowne!" under her breath). "Does anybody imagine I can see through twosilk handkerchiefs? I haven't Roentgen-ray eyes!"
The real fact was that Gwethyn and Rose had arranged beforehand a codeof signals. The characters were to be of three classes--good, moderate,and bad. When the march stopped and a girl stepped forward, Rose was togive her confederate the required information by means of a cough, a tapon the floor, or a laugh. For certain of the girls, special signals ofidentification had been arranged. Laura was one of these, and as luckwould have it, the lot had fallen to her early in the game.
"Go on and try me again," commanded Gwethyn. "Anyone who likes mayconsult the gipsy."
At the next halt Rose signalled as usual, and the Oracle responded.
"Whom have we here? A junior remarkable for her charm of disposition, agirl with many friends, a favourite in her form----"
Here Gwethyn was interrupted by an outburst of giggles.
"Wrong for once!"
"This doesn't fit!"
"The Oracle's not working!"
Gwethyn tore off the silk handkerchiefs that bandaged her eyes. She sawat once what had happened. Amid the noise of the tramping she hadmisinterpreted Rose's signal "junior bad" for "junior good". Instead ofaddressing one of the pattern members of the Fourth, she had beeneulogizing Githa Hamilton. The poor little Toadstool stood with a verycurious expression in her dark eyes. Keen delight was just fading intobitter disappointment. She looked round the circle of tittering girls.Not one endorsed the good character, or had a kind word to say forher--all were clamouring against the falseness of this description. Herface hardened. Gwethyn perceived it in a flash. "Does she really carewhat they think of her?" she speculated. Gwethyn's instinct was alwaysto fight on behalf of the losing side, and at this moment Githa seemedto stand alone against the whole room. Moreover, the Oracle was notdisposed to own up that she had made a mistake. She stuck, therefore, toher guns.
"If Githa's not a favourite, she ought to be. It's your own lack ofappreciation. Where are your eyes? She's a jewel, if you'd the sense tosee it. There, I'm sick of the whole business. If anybody likes to takemy place, I'll resign. Or shall we play something else instead?"
Perhaps the girls thought the game was growing rather too personal.Nobody offered to act gipsy, and someone hurriedly suggested "Clumps".In less than a minute the crowd had divided into two close circles, andthe catechism of "animal", "vegetable", or "mineral" began briskly.
Githa took no open notice of Gwethyn's unexpected championship, but fromthat afternoon her attitude changed. Instead of continually snapping, orexercising her wit in sharp little remarks, she was unusually quiet. Shewould watch Gwethyn without speaking, and often followed her about theschool, though always at a short distance and with no apparentintention.
It was at this crisis that Gwethyn one morning received bad news. Tony,her Pekinese spaniel, and the idol of her heart, had been put out toboard when the Marsdens left home. His foster-mistress, a respectableworking woman, wrote occasionally to record his progress. Hitherto herletters had been satisfactory, but to-day her report was serious.Katrine found Gwethyn weeping violently in the sanctum of their bedroom.
"What's the matter?" she asked in some anxiety.
"Matter! Oh! whatever am I to do? Read this."
"DEAR MISS MARSDEN,
"I did not answer your inquiries before about the poor little dog, hoping he might pick up a bit, but indeed he frets like to break his heart. The children next door worries him, and he won't eat, and he has gone that thin it is pitiful to see him.
I do my best, but he does not like being here. He is getting just a bag of bones, and my husband says it is nothing but home-sickness. Will you please tell me what I am to do about him?
"Your obedient servant, "MARY CARTER."
"The darling! The poor darling! Breaking his little heart for hismissis!" sobbed Gwethyn. "I knew he'd never be happy at the Carters'cottage. A bag of bones! Oh, my Tony! Katrine, have you got a pennystamp?"
The girls at Aireyholme were not supposed to send letters withoutsubmitting them first to a mistress, but the rule was not very strictlyenforced, and Gwethyn had no difficulty in answering by return of post.What she said to Mrs. Carter she did not reveal even to Katrine. Throughthe whole of that day and the next, she went about with a look ofmingled anxiety and triumph on her face.
"GWETHYN TORE OFF THE SILK HANDKERCHIEFS. SHE SAW AT ONCEWHAT HAD HAPPENED"]
At four o'clock on the following afternoon, just when the girls werecoming from their classes, there was a bustle at the side door. A porterwith a hand-cart from the railway station was delivering a large hamper.Mrs. Franklin chanced to be passing at the moment, and stopped to makeinquiries.
"A hamper? For whom? Miss G. Marsden! And labelled 'Live Stock, withCare'! What does this mean?"
Gwethyn, coming out of the Fifth Form room, caught sight of thehand-cart, and with a cry of ecstasy made a rush for the hamper.
"It's Tony! My darling Tony! Oh, my pretty boy! where are you?"
Pulling her penknife from her pocket, she cut the cords in a trice, andopening the lid, clutched her whimpering pet in her arms. A crowd ofgirls collected to see what was happening. Mrs. Franklin thought it hightime to interfere.
"Gwethyn Marsden, whose dog is this?" she asked sharply.
"He's mine! We left him at a cottage when we shut up our house, but hefretted, so I told Mrs. Carter to send him here. He wanted his missis."
"You sent for this dog on your own authority? And without asking mypermission?"
"He was breaking his heart!"
"You have taken the most unwarrantable liberty!" Mrs. Franklin wasbridling with indignation. "I cannot allow you to keep this dog. It mustbe sent back."
"Oh no, please, please!" implored Gwethyn. "He'll die if he has to goback. I won't let him be one scrap of trouble. He'd sleep on my bed."
"Impossible!" said the Principal firmly. "Do you think I am going torelax all the rules of the school in your favour? You have been indulgedtoo much already. There are thirty-six pupils here, and if each onewished to keep a pet the place would be a menagerie. I cannot make anexception in your case. It was most impertinent of you to write andarrange for the animal to be sent."
Matters had reached the point of tragedy. Mrs. Franklin for once wasreally angry. She considered that the Marsdens were not sufficientlyamenable to school discipline at any time, but this breach was beyondall bounds. Gwethyn hugged Tony tightly, and wept stubborn tears. ThenGitha Hamilton stepped to the rescue.
"Please, Mrs. Franklin, instead of sending the little dog back, might Itake him home with me until the end of the term? My own fox-terrier diedtwo months ago, and my uncle said I could have another dog."
It was such a splendid solution of the difficulty that even thePrincipal's face cleared. Gwethyn wiped her eyes, and beamedencouragement.
"Are you sure your uncle and aunt would consent?" asked Mrs. Franklin,hopefully but doubtfully.
"Oh, yes! They said I might take the first nice puppy that was offeredme; so I know it's all right."
"Then I shall be very much obliged if you will accept the charge of thisdog."
"I'll be only too glad."
"Githa, you absolute angel!" murmured Gwethyn, pressing her treasureinto the Toadstool's hospitable arms as Mrs. Franklin, mollified atlast, turned into the house.
"Angels don't have khaki-coloured complexions!"
"Yes, they do--the nicest sort! I don't care for the golden-headed kind.At this moment you're my beau-ideal of blessedness."
"Toadstools savour of elves, not angels!" Githa was well aware of hernickname. "But look here! I'll take good care of the little chap, andmake him happy. I'll smuggle him to school sometimes, so that you cansee him. I could shut him up in the tool-house, if I square Fuller."
"Your collie won't devour him?" Gwethyn asked, with a sudden burst ofanxiety.
"Rolf never touches small dogs. He's a gentleman in that. Don't youworry. Tony'll be quite safe, and he'll soon fatten up with plenty ofmilk, and a garden to run about in. Bless him! He's taking to his newmissis already. There, precious one!"
"I want him back at the holidays," cried Gwethyn jealously. "He's not toforget me."
"Right you are! Hold him while I get my hat and my bike. I don't think Ican carry him and ride--he'd wriggle. I'll have to wheel my machinehome. There, kiss his nose just once more, and let him go!"