CHAPTER I
Gipsy Arrives
ONE dank, wet, clammy afternoon at the beginning of October half a dozenof the boarders at Briarcroft Hall stood at the Juniors' sitting-roomwindow, watching the umbrellas of the day girls disappear through theside gate. It had been drizzling since dinner-time, and the prospectoutside was not a remarkably exhilarating one. The yellow leaves of theoak tree dripped slow tears on to the flagged walk, as if weepingbeforehand for their own speedy demise; the little classical statue onthe fountain looked a decidedly watery goddess, the sodden flowers hadtrailed their heads in the soil, and a small rivulet was running downthe steps of the summer house. As the last two umbrellas, after a briefand exciting struggle for precedence, passed through the portal and thegate was shut with a slam, Lennie Chapman turned to her companions andheaved a tragic sigh.
"Isn't it withering?" she remarked. "And just on the very afternoon whenwe'd made up our minds to decide the tennis championship, and securedall the courts for the Lower School. I do call it the most wretchedluck! I'm a blighted blossom!"
"We'll never persuade the Seniors to give us all the courts again!"wailed Fiona Campbell. "They said so emphatically that it was only to befor this once."
"I believe they knew it was going to be wet!" growled Dilys Fenton.
"You don't think if it cleared a little we might manage just a setbefore tea?" suggested Norah Bell half hopefully.
"My good girl, please to look at the lawn! Do you think anyone in hersenses would try to play on a swamp like that?"
"It's getting too late in the year for tennis," yawned Hetty Hancock."Don't believe we shall get another game at all. We'd better resignourselves."
"Resign ourselves to what?" asked Daisy Scatcherd.
"Why, to leaving the championship till next summer, and to not going outto-day, and to sitting stuffing here and moaning our bad luck, andfeeling as cross as a bear with a toothache--at least, that's how Ifeel: I don't know what the rest of you do!"
"I should like to have gone home with the day girls," sighed DilysFenton.
"No, you wouldn't!" snapped Norah Bell. "You know it's jollier to be aboarder; we do have some jolly times, even if it does rain. You can'texpect it always to keep fine, and as for----"
"Oh, Norah, don't preach! We must have our growls--it lets off steam. Ithink it's the wretchedest, miserablest, detestablest, most altogethersickening afternoon that ever was--there!"
"If only something would happen, just to cheer us up a little!" saidLennie Chapman, opening the window rather wider and putting her head outinto the rain.
"What do you want to happen?"
"Why, something exciting, of course--something interesting and jolly,and out of the common, to wake us up and make things more lively."
"You'll fall out of the window if you lean over like that, and thatwould be lively, in all conscience, if you were picked up in fragments.Come in; you're getting your hair wet."
"Let me alone! I shan't! I say, what's that? There's a cab turning in atthe gate; it's coming up the drive!"
Five extra heads immediately poked themselves out of the windowregardless of the rain, for the Juniors' sitting-room commanded anexcellent view both of the carriage drive and of the front steps.
"It is a cab!" murmured Dilys excitedly.
It certainly was a cab, just an ordinary station four-wheeler, with abox on the top of it, bearing the initials G. L. painted in large whiteletters. As the vehicle came nearer they could see a girl's face inside,and--yes, she apparently caught sight of the row of heads peering outof the window, for she smiled and turned to somebody else who sat besideher. There was a grinding of wheels on the gravel, the cab drew up atthe steps, the door opened, and out hopped a dark-haired damsel in along blue coat. She gave one hurried glance at the window, smiled againand waved her hand, then vanished inside the porch, where she wasinstantly followed by her companion, a middle-aged gentleman, whocarried a bag. The cabman began to take down the box, and the sound ofthe front door bell could be heard plainly--a loud and vigorous peal,forsooth--enough almost to break the wire! The six Juniors subsided intotheir sitting-room. Here, at least, was something happening.
"Who is she?"
"Where's she come from?"
"Is she a new girl?"
"Haven't heard of anybody new coming. Have you?"
"She looks jolly."
"I hope she's going to stay."
"I say, let's go downstairs and ask if anyone knows anything about her,"said Hetty Hancock, suiting her action to her words, and hurrying out ofthe room with her five schoolmates following close at her heels. Butnobody knew; not even the Seniors could give the least information.Indeed, the six who had seen the newcomer from the window had theadvantage, for none of the others had witnessed the arrival. The girlswere consumed with curiosity. A scout, who ventured ten steps into theforbidden territory of the front hall, came back and reported thattalking could be heard in the drawing-room.
"A big, deep voice, like a man's, and Poppie's saying 'Yes'. I daren'tstop more than a second; but somebody's there, you may be sure of that.And the box is standing in the vestibule too."
"I believe she's come to stay!" said Dilys.
"The cab's waiting at the door still, though," objected Norah Bell. "Shemay be going back in it."
At tea-time Miss Poppleton's accustomed place was empty, and speculationran high among her pupils. All kinds of wild rumours circulated roundthe table, but there was no means of verifying any of them, and thegirls were obliged to go to preparation with their curiosity stillunsatisfied. At seven o'clock, however, when the Juniors had finishedtheir work and trooped back to their own sitting-room, they found themystery solved. In front of the fire, warming her hands between the barsof the high fender, and looking as comfortably at home as if she ownedthe place, stood the stranger who had skipped so quickly out of the cabthat afternoon. She was a girl who, wherever she was seen, would haveattracted notice--slim and erect and trim in figure, and a decidedbrunette, a real "nut-brown maid", with a pale olive complexion, thebrightest of soft, dark, southern eyes, and a quantity of fluffy, silky,dusky curls, tied--American fashion--with two big bows of very widescarlet ribbon, one on the top of her head and one at the nape of herneck. She smiled as the others entered, showing an even little set ofwhite teeth, and four roguish dimples made their appearance at thecorners of her mouth. She seemed to have assumed proprietorship of theroom so entirely that the Juniors stopped short in amazement, toodumbfounded for the moment to do anything but stare. The strangerstepped forward with almost an air of welcome and, dropping a mockcurtsy, announced herself.
"Glad to make your acquaintance!" she began. "Miss Poppleton said she'dintroduce me to the school, but I guessed I'd rather introducemyself--thought I'd do the thing better than she would, somehow. I don'tlike stiff introductions--I'm not at all a starchy sort of person, as Idare say you can see for yourselves; and I prefer to make friends aftermy own fashion. My name's Gipsy Latimer, and I'm American and Britishand Colonial and Spanish all mixed up, and I've travelled half round theworld, and been in seven different schools, and I was fourteen lastbirthday, and I arrived here this afternoon, and I'm going to stop on awhile, and I just adore cricket, and I detest arithmetic in any shape,and I'm always ready for any fun that's on the go. There! I've told youall about myself," and she curtsied again.
The girls laughed. There was something decidedly attractive and breezyabout the newcomer. Her dark eyes danced and twinkled as she spoke, andthere was an unconventional jollity in the very high-pitched tone of hervoice, and an infectious merriment in her dimples.
"What did you say your name was?" asked Hetty Hancock, by way of makingthe first advances.
"That's right--fire off your questions! I've been at seven schoolsbefore this, and everybody starts with the same catechism. I'm ready toanswer anything within reason, but perhaps I'd best take a seat whileyou're at it. No, thanks! I prefer the table--always like the highestplace, you see! I've sat on the ma
ntel-piece before now. Yes, I said myname was Gipsy--G--I--P--S--Y."
"But it's not your real name, surely?"
"You weren't christened that?"
"Only wish I had been! No, my godfather and godmothers didn't know theirbusiness, and they went and gave me the most outlandish, sentimental,ridiculous, inappropriate name you could imagine. You might try a dozenguesses, and you'd never hit on it. Don't you want to guess? Well, I'lltell you, then--it's Azalea."
"Azalea--why, I think that's rather pretty," ventured Lennie Chapman.
"Pretty enough in itself, perhaps, but it doesn't suit me. Do I looklike an 'Azalea' with my dark hair and eyes? They should have had moresense when they christened me. Why, an Azalea ought to be a little,pretty, silly thing, with blue eyes and pink cheeks and golden hair--allbeauty, you know, and no brains, like this girl! What's your name?You're more an Azalea than I am."
"I'm Barbara Kendrick!" gasped that flaxen-headed member of the UpperThird, not quite knowing whether to be flattered or offended.
"There you are--not a bit like a Barbara! Nothing in the leastbarbarous about you. I think there ought to be a law against naming agirl till she's old enough to choose for herself. Well, as I told you, Iwas christened Azalea, but everybody saw from the first it didn't fit.'She's a regular little gipsy!' Dad said; so they called me Gipsy, andGipsy I mean to be. I made Dad tell Miss Poppleton so, and enter meGipsy on the school books. I wasn't going to start in a new place asAzalea."
"So you've been to school before?" said Dilys Fenton.
"Rather! I told you I've been to seven schools--three in America, two inNew Zealand, one in Australia, and one in South Africa. This is thefirst English school I've tried."
"Seven--and you're only fourteen! Why, you must have been to a fresh oneevery year!"
Gipsy nodded.
"You're just about right there. Never stayed more than two terms at anyof them. No--they didn't expel me! I tell you, I'm an absolute miracleof good behaviour when I like. It was simply because Dad and I werealways moving on, and whenever he went to a fresh place I had to go to afresh school. You don't think I'd let him leave me in America when hewas going to Australia, do you?"
"Haven't you got a mother?" asked Barbara Kendrick.
"Shut up, you stupid!" murmured Dilys Fenton, giving Barbara a nudge.
Gipsy rolled her handkerchief into a tight ball, and unrolled it againbefore she replied.
"I've nobody in the world but Dad," she answered, and there was just asuspicion of huskiness in her voice. "He's never gone far away from mebefore, but he's starting to-morrow for South Africa, and I'm to stophere till he comes back. He says it won't seem long. I hope I'm going tolike it. I've only been three days in England, and you're the firstEnglish girls I've spoken to. Dad said England ought to feel like home,but it's a queer kind of home when one's all alone. Tell me what thisschool is like. Is Miss Poppleton nice? She gushed over me before Dad inthe drawing-room, but she looks as if she could be a Tartar, all thesame. I've had a little experience with schoolmistresses. I cangenerally take their measure in five minutes. She's got a sister, hasn'tshe--a Miss Edith, who showed me my bedroom? I expect I shall like her.Have I hit the mark?"
The girls looked at one another and laughed.
"Just about," said Fiona Campbell. "Poppie's temper varies like thebarometer. One day she's at 'set fair', and calls everybody 'dear', or'my child'; and the next she's at 'stormy', and woe betide you if you somuch as drop your serviette at dinner, or happen to sneeze in theelocution class! Miss Edie's ripping! She doesn't teach much--only oneor two classes. She does the housekeeping, and sees we keep our clothestidy, and change our wet stockings, and all that sort of thing."
"And how many are there of you? Remember, I've been dumped down here ata day's notice, and I know absolutely nothing at all about the schoolyet. Is it a big one?"
"Twenty boarders and seventy-two day girls--that's ninety-two, andyou'll make the ninety-third. There are eight Senior boarders, andthey've got a sitting-room of their own, with a carpet on the floor. We,the common herd, are only provided with linoleum, as you see."
"Eight from twenty leaves twelve! You're not all here."
"No; two of us are practising, and the kids have half an hour with MissEdith before they go to bed."
"Shouldn't mind half an hour with Miss Edith myself. By the by, are youkeen on Fudge here?"
The girls stared.
"I don't know what you mean," returned Hetty Hancock rather stiffly."What is Fudge?"
Gipsy threw out her arms in mock horror.
"Shades of Yankee Doodle!" she exclaimed. "These benighted Britishershave actually never heard of the magic name Fudge! Why, in the Statesit's a word to conjure with! I've known some girls who absolutely livedfor it."
"You haven't told us what it is yet. Is it a game?"
Gipsy laughed till she nearly collapsed off the table.
"A game? No; Fudge is candy--the most delicious adorable stuff you evertasted. Get me a pan, and some sugar, and some milk, and some butter,and I'll make some for you this instant. How you'll bless me!"
"Don't I wish you could!" sighed Norah Bell. "But we're not allowed tomake toffee except on the 5th of November. They let us have a pan then,and we boil it over this fire."
"We'll have a pan of our own here," said Gipsy cheerily. "I'll go outand buy one to-morrow. I can't exist without Fudge."
"But we aren't allowed to go out and buy things," exclaimed the girls inchorus.
"Do you mean to tell me we mayn't go on the least scrap of an errand ifwe ask leave?"
"Not if you ask ever so!"
"Why, that's dreadful! I can't be boxed up like that. I'd as soon be inprison. I'm afraid you'll find me walking out on my own sometimes."
"You'll get into an uncommonly big scrape if you do!"
"Dad warned me I'd have to be very prim and proper in England," saidGipsy, looking serious, "but I didn't know things were as bad as that.I'll begin to wish I hadn't come here. Oh dear! we were going rightthrough to Chicago if we hadn't been shipwrecked, and I love America."
"Shipwrecked!" shrieked the girls. "Do you mean to tell us you've beenin a real wreck?"
"Only just come from it," replied Gipsy calmly. "A very wet, cold,unpleasant affair it was, too! Especially in only one's nightdress!Every rag of clothing I possessed went to the bottom. Dad had to rig meout again at Liverpool. That's why I've come to this school in such ahurry. Dad lost his papers, and had to go back to South Africa, and hewouldn't take me with him this time. So you see I've been sprung uponyou suddenly--an unexpected blessing, you might call me."
"Oh, do tell us about the wreck!" implored Hetty Hancock. "I've never inall my life met anybody who'd really and truly been shipwrecked."
"All right! Come and squat by the fire. I'm tired of the table, andprefer the floor for a change. Please don't expect anything extrablood-curdling, for you won't get it, unless you'd like me to romance alittle. Where do you want me to begin? All my adventures in all theplaces I've lived at? That's rather a big order. You'll have to becontented with a piece. Here goes!"
But as Gipsy's descriptions, though graphic, were not of a remarkablylucid character, it will perhaps be well to omit her version of thestory, and, for a better understanding of her independent, whimsicallittle self, give a brief account of her previous career in a separatechapter.