CHAPTER XX
The Coon Concert
At the end of the summer term it had always been the custom of theschool for each Form to get up a separate little entertainment, atwhich the other Forms should act audience. This year it wasunanimously decided not only to keep up the old tradition, but toextend the original plan by charging for admission, and sending theproceeds to the Blinded Soldiers' Fund. This idea appealed greatly tothe girls.
"They've given their eyes for us, and we ought to do something forthem!" declared Linda emphatically.
"It must be awful to be blind," sighed Muriel.
"Yes, and some of them are such lads, too! Think of losing your sight,and having your whole career ruined, when you're only nineteen ortwenty, and the ghastly prospect of living years and years and yearstill you're quite old, and never being able to see the sun again, andthe flowers, and your friends' faces, or anything that makes lifebeautiful! I don't think half of us realize what our soldiers havesuffered for us!"
"And they're so patient and cheerful!" added Veronica. "In my opinionthey prove their heroism as much by the way they bear their ruinedlives afterwards as by their deeds in the trenches. It has shown whatstuff British folk are made of. And you get such surprises. Often aboy whom you've known, and always thought weak and selfish and silly,will turn out to have any amount of grit in him. There's one inparticular--a friend of ours. He cared for nothing before exceptamusing himself--the kind of boy who's always getting into debt anddoing foolish things. Well, he's utterly changed; he's not like thesame fellow. I think the war will have made a great difference to manyof our men."
"And to our women too, I hope," said Miss Beasley, who, unnoticed byVeronica, had joined the group. "It would be a poor thing for thecountry if only the men came purified out of this time of trouble. 'Anation rises no higher than its women!' And now is Woman's greatopportunity. I think she is taking it. She is showing by her work inhospitals, in canteens, on the land, in offices, or in public service,how she can put her shoulder to the wheel and help in her country'shour of need. I believe this war will have broken down many foolishold traditions and customs, and that people will be ready afterwardsto live more simple, natural lives than they did before. Theschool-girls of to-day are the women of to-morrow, and it is on youthat the nation will rely in years to come. Don't ever forget that!Try to prove it practically!"
Miss Beasley seldom "preached" to the girls, but when she spoke, herfew quiet words generally had their effect. Hermie and Linda inespecial turned them over in their minds. As the result of theirmistress's last remark, they made a suggestion to theirfellow-monitresses.
"Some of us are leaving this term, and at any rate in a few years weshall all have left, and be scattered about in various places.Wouldn't it be nice to make a kind of League, and undertake that everygirl who has belonged to this school will do her very best to help theworld? It should be a 'Marlowe Grange' pledge, and we'd bind ourselvesto keep it. If a whole school makes up its mind to a thing, it oughtto have some effect, and it would be splendid to feel that our schoolhad been an inspiration, and helped to build up a new and betternation after the war. There are only twenty-six of us here at present,but suppose when we leave we each influence ten people, that makes twohundred and sixty, and if they each influence ten people more, itmakes two thousand six hundred, so the thing grows like circles in apond. I don't mean that we're to be a set of prigs, and go aboutcriticizing everybody and telling them they are slackers--that's notthe right way at all; but if we stick up constantly for all that weknow is best, people will probably begin to sympathize, and want to dothe same."
Hermie's and Linda's idea appealed to the Sixth. They instituted theLeague at once, and persuaded the entire school to join. They puttheir heads together, and drew up a short code which they consideredshould explain the attitude of their society. It ran as follows:--
MARLOWE GRANGE LEAGUE
AFTER-THE-WAR RULES
1. To do some definite, sensible work, and not to spend all my time in golf, dances, and other amusements.
2. To read wholesome books, study Nature, and be content with simple pleasures.
3. Not to judge my friends by the standards of clothes and money, but by their real worth.
4. To strive to be broad-minded, and to look at things from other people's points of view as well as my own.
5. To do all I can to help others.
6. To understand that character is the most useful possession I can have, to speak the truth, be charitable to my neighbours' faults, and avoid gossip.
7. To cultivate and cherish the faculty of appreciating all the beautiful in life, and to enjoy innocent pleasures.
8. To realize that as a soldier is one of an army, so I am a unit of a great nation, and must play my part bravely and nobly for the sake of my country.
9. To remember that I can do good and useful work in my own home as well as out in the world.
10. To keep my heart open, and take life cheerfully, kindly, and smilingly, trying to make my own little circle better and happier, and to forget myself in pleasing others.
11. Not to moan and groan over what is inevitable, but to make the best of things as they are.
12. To be faithful to my friends, loyal to my King and my Country, and true to God.
God Save the King!
In order to make the League a binding and lasting affair, themonitresses decided to give each member a copy of the code, and askher to sign her name to it. For this purpose they made twenty-sixdainty little books of exercise paper, with covers of cardboard(begged from the drawing cupboard) decorated with Japanese stencils ofiris, chrysanthemums, birds and reeds, or other artistic designs, thebacks being tied with bows of baby ribbon. After the list of rules,were appended a few suitable quotations, and blank pages were left, sothat each individual could fill them up with extracts that she liked,either cut out of magazines or written in her own hand. Most of thegirls admired Robert Louis Stevenson, so the selections began with hiswise and tender epitome of life:--
"To be honest, to be kind, to earn a little and to spend a littleless, to make upon the whole a family happier for his presence, torenounce when that shall be necessary and not be embittered, to keep afew friends, but these without capitulation. Above all, on the samegrim condition, to keep friends with himself. Here is a task for allthat a man has of fortitude and delicacy."
As Linda and Hermie could not agree whether this ideal of life or theone by William Henry Channing was the more beautifully expressed, itwas agreed to put the latter's as well:--
"To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather thanluxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, notrespectable, and wealthy, not rich, to study hard, think quietly, talkgently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sageswith open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, awaitoccasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden andunconscious, grow up through the common--this is to be my symphony."
As the League was to be nothing if not practical, everyone felt thatthe best way of upholding its principles at the present moment was toraise a good collection for the fund for the blinded soldiers. TheSixth determined to give a theatrical performance, the juniors adisplay of gymnastics and dancing, and the Fifth concentrated theirminds upon a concert.
"It's not to be just an ordinary concert," said Ardiune, addressing aselect committee of management; "it must be something extra specialand outside, such as we've never had before in the school, so rub upyour ideas, please, and make suggestions. I'm waiting!"
"Rather a big order to get anything entirely new!" grunted Morvyth. "Ishould say everything on the face of the earth's been tried already!"
"But not here! How you catch me up!"
"There isn't time to get up an operetta, I suppose?" venturedFauvette.
"Hardly--in three days!"
"A patriotic performance?"
"Had one only last term, so it would come stale."
"Then what can we have?"
"I know!" exclaimed Raymonde, bouncing up from her chair, and taking aseat upon the table instead. "I vote we be coons!"
"What's coons?" asked Katherine ungrammatically.
"Oh, you stupid! You know! You sing plantation songs, and wear ared-and-white costume, and wave tambourines, and that sort of thing."
"Do we black our faces?"
"We can if we like, but it isn't necessary. We're not to be niggerminstrels exactly. Coons are different. Of course, the songs are allabout Sambos and Dinahs, but white people can sing them with quite asgreat effect. I believe the Bumble's got some castanets and things putaway that we could borrow."
"So she has! Bags me the cymbals!"
"Pity nobody can play the banjo."
"Never mind, we shall do very well with the piano."
The committee having decided that their concert was to be a coonperformance, the girls set to work accordingly to make preparations.All the songbooks in the school were ransacked to find plantationmelodies, and after much discussion, not to say quarrelling, aprogramme was at length arranged, sufficiently spicy to entertain thegirl portion of the audience, but select enough not to offend theeasily shocked susceptibilities of Miss Gibbs, whose ideas of songssuitable for young ladies ran--in direct opposition to most of hertheories--on absolutely Early Victorian lines.
"Gibbie's notion of a concert is 'Home, Sweet Home' and 'Cherry Ripe',and perhaps 'Caller Herrin' if you want something lively," poutedArdiune.
"Yes, and even those have to be edited," agreed Morvyth. "Don't youremember when we were learning 'Cherry Ripe', she insisted on ourchanging 'Where my Julia's lips do smile' into 'Where the sunbeamssweetly smile?'"
"And she wouldn't let us sing 'The Blue Bells of Scotland', and weknew it was just because it began: 'Oh where, tell me where, is yourHighland laddie gone?'"
"Don't you know it's highly improper for a school-girl even to mentiona laddie?" murmured Katherine ironically.
"How about the blinded soldiers, then?"
"That's another matter, I suppose."
"Look here--let's take our programme to the Bumble, and get her topass it beforehand, and then there can be no criticisms afterwards."
"Right you are!"
"I've got another idea," propounded Raymonde. "Suppose, instead ofhaving our concert in the lecture hall, we ask the Bumble to let ushave it in the barn instead? It would be just twice as coony."
"Top-hole! It would be a regular stunt!" agreed the committee.
A deputation waited upon Miss Beasley, and found her quite graciousand amenable to reason, both in respect of the choice of plantationditties and the use of the barn as a place of entertainment. She evenvouchsafed the further and most valuable suggestion that they mightsupply refreshments and charge for them, to help to swell the funds.
"You can send an order to the Stores at Gladford to-morrow for cakesand biscuits. Cook shall make you some lemonade, and you may have theoil stove in the barn and supply cocoa at twopence a cup."
"May we sell sweets, Miss Beasley?" asked Raymonde tentatively.
"Well--yes. I don't see why you shouldn't. You may put down chocolateswith your order for cakes and biscuits, if you like."
The delegates made a cheerful exit from the study, and hurried tocommunicate their good tidings to the rest of the Form.
"O Jubilate! We'll make a night of it!" commented Katherine. "TheBumble's turned into an absolute honey-bee!"
Great were the preparations for the event. Costumes had to becontrived--a difficult matter with only the school theatrical box todraw upon--and ten coons to be turned out in uniform garb. The usualstock properties, such as the brigand's velvet jacket, the Admiral'scocked hat, or the hunting top-boots, were utterly useless, and thegirls had to set their wits to work. They decided to wear their bestwhite petticoats with white blouses, and to make hats out of stiffbrown paper trimmed with rosettes of scarlet crinkled paper(obtainable at the village shop), using bands of the same scarlet forbelts and ties.
"Of course we'd rather have had real rush-hats and ribbons, but if youcan't get them you can't, and there's an end of it, and you must justmake up your mind to do without!" said Raymonde philosophically.
"If I sing too hard I know I'll burst my waistband!" objected Morvyth,who always looked on the gloomy side of events.
"Then don't sing too hard, and don't take any refreshments, if you'vesuch an easily expanding figure!" snapped Raymonde.
"We could stitch the crinkled paper over an ordinary belt, and thenit wouldn't break through," suggested Valentine.
"Scarlet's not my colour!" mourned Fauvette.
"Never mind, Baby, you look nice in anything!" returned Avelinesoothingly. "And your white petticoat's a perfect dream! I always saidit was a shame to wear it under a dress."
The entertainment was to take place in the evening, after preparation,and on the afternoon of the day in question the Fifth Form took soleand absolute possession of the barn, turning everybody else out, eventhose indignant enthusiasts who were at work at the wood-carvingbench.
"Mind, our tools haven't got to be touched, or we'll have something tosay!" called out Daphne as she made an unwilling exit.
"I shall put them all in the box!" returned Morvyth, slamming thedoor.
The wood-carving bench had to serve as refreshment table, so it wascleared with scant ceremony, in spite of Daphne's protest; a cleancloth, borrowed from the cook, was spread upon it, and plates of cakesand biscuits, and packets of chocolates, were laid out as attractivelyas possible, with vases of flowers between.
Raymonde, who was nothing if not inventive, suddenly evolved a new andenterprising scheme.
"We must have a platform!" she decided. "Come along to the wood pile,and we'll get some packing-cases and put railway sleepers over them.It won't take us long!"
It turned out a more strenuous business than she had anticipated,however, for it was difficult in the first place to find packing-casesof the same height, and more difficult still to get the railwaysleepers to fit neatly together on the top of them.
"I hope it'll hold up!" said Aveline dubiously, when the erection wasat last complete.
"Oh, it'll just have to hold!" returned Raymonde in her airiestmanner. "I think it's nicer than a stiff platform, and more suitablefor a barn. It looks really 'coony', and suggests the Wild West, andlog-cabins, and all that sort of thing."
Immediately after preparation, the coons retired to make finalarrangements in the barn. The big stable lanterns were lighted andhung up for purposes of illumination, and a cauldron of water was setupon the oil cooking-stove. It was a horrible scramble, for time wasshort, and they still had to change their dresses. Everyone seemed ineverybody else's way, and each gave directions to the others, thoughnobody was in authority, and all got decidedly cross and snapped atone another.
"It's not an atom of use sticking up that lantern unless you fill itfirst," urged Valentine. "I tell you it's almost empty, and won't burntwenty minutes. You don't want to perform in the dark, I suppose?"
"It ought to have been filled before!" grumbled Ardiune. "Here, giveme the paraffin can."
"Take care what you're doing! You're slopping into the cauldron!"
"I'm not!"
"But I saw you! We shall have to empty out the cauldron and wash itand refill it."
"Nonsense!" interfered Raymonde. "There isn't time. Val, is thatlantern finished? Then hang it up, and come along and dress. We shallhave everybody arriving before we're half ready."
Almost every amateur concert begins late, and this was no exception tothe rule. By the time the coons had scrambled into their costumes, andFauvette had got her best lace-trimmed white petticoat fastenedadequately on to her blouse with safety-pins, and Katherine hadadjusted her tie to her satisfaction, and Muriel had induced her paperhat to tilt at the right angle on her head, the audience wasclamouring for admission at the door
of the barn, and making moralremarks on the subject of punctuality.
"We're awfully sorry," panted Raymonde in excuse, undoing the padlockwhich the coons had left fastened, and allowing the school to trampinto the place of entertainment. "Your shillings, please! Yes, we'retaking the money first thing, instead of handing round the plate inthe interval. Where's the Bumble?"
"Just coming now, with Gibbie and Ma'm'selle."
The barn with its dark rafters, stable lanterns, and improvisedbenches, certainly looked a most appropriate setting for a plantationprogramme, and Miss Beasley glanced round with amused interest on herarrival. She and the other mistresses were escorted to special postsof honour, and the performance began without further delay. Everybodyadmired the costumes; the red-and-white effect was quite charming,especially when worn by all ten alike, and the paper hats with theirbig rosettes gave a coquettish appearance that added to the piquancyof the songs. There could, of course, be no piano accompaniment, butthe girls made up for it by a liberal clashing of cymbals, rattlingof castanets, and jingling of tambourines. They were as "cute" and"coony" as they knew how to be, putting a great deal of action intothe songs, and adding a few comic asides. At Raymonde's suggestion,they had decided during the performance of "The Darkies' Frolic" todance a lively kind of combined fox-trot and cake-walk measure toillustrate the words. They had practised it carefully beforehand, andconsidered it the _piece de resistance_ of the evening. But alas! theyhad not calculated on the difference between the firm floor of thebarn and the extremely shaky erection on which they were perched. Theywere only half-way through, and were capering in most approved darkyfashion, when the middle packing-case which supported the plankssuddenly gave way, and the platform collapsed. Some of the girlssprang off in time, but several went down among the ruins, and wererescued by the agitated mistresses, fortunately without real injuries,though there were scratches and bruises, and at least half a yard oflace was torn from Fauvette's best petticoat.
As "The Darkies' Frolic" was the last item but one in the first halfof the programme, and the performers were naturally ruffled by theirunexpected accident, Miss Beasley suggested that they had better havethe interval at once, and soothe their feelings with cakes and cocoabefore resuming the entertainment. The little spread on thewood-carving bench looked attractive; the Stores had sent a temptingselection of cakes, and the audience was quite ready for refreshment.Ardiune, presiding at the cauldron, mixed cups of cocoa as speedilyas possible, and handed them out in exchange for twopences. At thefirst sip, however, an expression of acute disgust spread itself overthe countenance of each consumer.
"Whew!" choked Hermie. "What's the matter with the stuff? It's simplyatrocious!"
"It tastes of paraffin!" proclaimed Veronica, pulling a wry face.
"There! I told you so!" whispered Valentine to Ardiune. "You have justgone and done it this time!"
There was no doubt about the matter. The contents of the cauldron werequite undrinkable, and the girls had to fall back on the smallquantity of lemonade which the cook had provided. It was a mostmortifying experience, especially happening just after the failure ofthe platform. The Sixth were looking amused and superior, the juniorswere grumbling, and Miss Beasley was saying "Never mind, so long as wehelp the blinded soldiers;" which was kind, but not altogethercomforting. The audience made up for the lack of cocoa by theirconsumption of confectionery, and went on buying till not a solitarycake or packet of chocolate was left upon the bench.
The second half of the programme had to be performed upon the floor,but went off nevertheless in quite good style and with much flourishof instruments. Fauvette, with her torn lace hurriedly pinned up,piped a pretty little solo about "piccaninnies" and "ole mammies";Aveline and Katherine gave a spirited duet, and the troupe in generalroared choruses with great vigour. Everybody decided that theevening--barring the cocoa--had been a great success. The proceeds, inparticular, were highly satisfactory.
"One pound ten shillings!" announced Raymonde. "Just count it over,somebody, please, to make sure I'm right! I don't call that half badfor a Form concert. If the others do as well, we shall have quite anice sum. Shall I give it to the Bumble now?"
"She's gone upstairs. Besides, I believe it's Gibbie who's going tosend off the money. You'd better keep it till the others have hadtheir entertainments, and it can all be handed in together."
"Right-o! I'll take it and lock it up in my drawer. I say, it wasawful fun being coons, wasn't it?"
"Top-hole!" agreed the others.