CHAPTER VII
St. Chad's Celebrates an Occasion
During her first few days at Chessington, Honor had considered theCollege as little better than a prison; but as time went on and shegrew more accustomed to the routine, she began to reverse her opinion.After all, it was pleasant to have companionship. The various freshinterests, the many jokes, amusements, and constant small excitementsinseparable from a large community of girls seemed to open out a newphase of existence for her.
"I'd no idea what school was like before I came," she confided toJanie. "Of course, the boys were always talking of the things they did,and of the fagging and bullying and ragging that went on, but I wassure they were piling on the horror for my benefit, and that it wasn'treally as bad as they pretended."
"Why, no one bullies at girls' schools," said Janie.
"I know they don't; but Derrick and Dermot stuffed me with all kinds ofridiculous tales, just for the sake of teasing. They said thatChessington was exactly on the model of a boys' college, and that ifgirls learnt Latin and mathematics, and played cricket and hockey, andhad a gymnasium and a debating society, it put such a masculine elementinto them that they couldn't refrain from using brute force, instead ofany other means of persuasion. They declared it was a natural sequence,and I must make up my mind to it. Derrick even offered to teach me tobox before I came, as a useful accomplishment!"
"Did you accept?"
"No, thank you!--not after the way I'd seen him knock Brian about. Isuppose brothers are always teases."
"I've no experience, because I haven't any brothers. I've nobody exceptMother; but she's as good as a whole family combined." When Janiementioned her mother her eyes always shone, and her face would lightup. It was evident the two were everything to one another, and that theseparation during term-time was a hardship.
"I didn't want to go to school at all," continued Honor; "not, ofcourse, because I believed Derrick's absurd stories, but simply becauseI was so fond of home that I hated to leave."
"That's just how I felt. Mother and I had such a delightful timetogether, I was sure Chessington couldn't be half so nice."
"What used you to do? You've scarcely told me anything about your home,though I often talk about Kilmore."
"We live in quite a quiet place," began Janie, "though it's not soout-of-the-world as Kerry. Our house is at Redcliffe, a village a fewmiles from Tewkesminster. It's a beautiful country. There are lovelyfarms, with red-tiled roofs and big orchards and picturesque barns; andthere's a splendid old castle overlooking the river. And then thetrees! You ought to see our trees! These about Chessington look themost wretched, stunted things, after our grand oaks and elms. It's agreat fruit-growing neighbourhood; we have heaps and heaps of applesand pears and plums and apricots in our garden. They're simplydelicious when they're ripe. Then Tewkesminster is so quaint! There areall kinds of funny little side streets, with cottages built at oddangles; and there's a market cross and several old churches, as well asthe Minster. Mother is extremely fond of painting, and sometimes shetakes me out sketching with her. I can't draw very well yet--most of myattempts are horrid daubs! but Mother is such a good teacher, shealways makes one want to try."
"Hadn't you a governess?" asked Honor.
"Yes. Miss Hall used to come every day from Tewkesminster; but I had afew lessons from Mother as well, in drawing, and Greek history, andEnglish literature. We used to read books aloud in the evenings--Shakespeare,or Dickens, or sometimes Tennyson or Wordsworth. We got through atremendous amount of poetry in the winter, when it was dark early, andwe had nothing else to do, except sit by the fire. We read all _Marmion_and the _Idylls of the King_ and _Lalla Rookh_, as well as shorterpieces. Mother reads aloud most beautifully; it's delightful to listento her. Then in summer-time we used to go country walks, and find wildflowers, and bring them back and hunt out their names in the botanybook. I kept a Nature Calendar, and put down everything I noted--whenthe first violets were out, and when I heard the cuckoo, or saw aswallow for the first time in the year; and what birds' nests I found,or butterflies, or moths, or caterpillars. Sometimes I drew pictures ofthem as well. I had a whole row of specimen sheets pinned round theschool-room at home. Then one day a wretched doctor told Mother thatTewkesminster was too relaxing a place for me, and recommendedChessington. I begged and implored not to be sent away, but Mother saidthe doctor was quite right, and that I was far too grown-up for my age,and an only child ought to have young companions, so I must certainly goto school at once. I was absolutely miserable my first term. I'm alittle more used to it now, but I begin to count the days to theholidays directly I get back to St. Chad's. There are still eight weeksbefore we break up!"
Janie spoke of home with the intense longing of a girl who is notnaturally fond of the social side of life. She was out of her elementat Chessington, and the strenuous bustle and stimulating whirl of theplace, which began to mean so much to Honor, were repugnant to herquiet, reserved disposition. In every big school there are Janies,isolated characters not quite able to run the pace required by theinexorable code of public opinion, interesting to the one or two whomay happen to discover their good points, but to the mass of theircompanions merely names and faces in class. Some of them do fine workin the world afterwards, yet the very qualities that help them tofuture success are not those to bring present popularity. They are notfor the many, but for the few, and only show their best to anoccasional friend whose sympathy can overstep the wall of shyness thatfences them round.
With Honor alone Janie was at her ease, and she would chat away intheir bedroom with a sprightliness that would have amazed the othermembers of St. Chad's, if they could have heard her. The two girls goton well together. Their opposite dispositions seemed to dovetail intoone another, and so to cause little friction; and Miss Maitland, whoseobservant eyes noticed more than her pupils imagined, was wellsatisfied with the result of her experiment. Janie kept Honor up to themark in the way of work; she would generally go over dates or difficultpoints in the lessons while they were dressing each morning, and it waschiefly owing to her efforts that Honor held a tolerably high place inher class. The latter often wished that she could have performed a likeservice for her friend in respect of athletics, but Janie was hopelessat physical sports, and endured them only under compulsion.
Every afternoon, from two o'clock till a quarter to four, all the girlswere required to take part in organized games, under the direction ofMiss Young, the gymnastic mistress. They were allowed their choicebetween cricket and tennis, but during the specified hours they mustnot be absent from the playing-fields, as this systematic outdoorexercise formed part of the ordinary course of the school. Now and thenit was varied by a walk, and occasionally by an archery or croquettournament; but these were reserved for insufferably hot days, and thetime, as a rule, was devoted to more active pursuits. The cricket pitchlay to the west of the College, a splendid, level tract of ground,commanding a glorious prospect of low, undulating hills, cliffsbordering a shingly beach, and the long, blue stretch of the Channelbeyond. All the healthy moorland and sea breezes seemed to blow there,filling the lungs with pure, fresh air, and well justifying MissCavendish's boast that Chessington was the most bracing place in thekingdom for growing girls. Even Janie's pale cheeks would take a tingeof pink as she ran, unwillingly enough, in chase of a ball; and themajority of the school would come in at four o'clock flushed and rosy,and very ready indeed for the piles of thick bread and butter thatawaited them in the various dining-halls.
Honor took to the games with enthusiasm. Having served anapprenticeship in the Beginners' Division at cricket, and having shownMiss Young her capacity in the way of batting and bowling, she wasallowed a place in the St. Chad's team.
It happened that on the very day of her promotion her house played St.Hilary's, and there was great excitement about the match, because thelatter was generally considered the crack team of the College. Thatafternoon, however, the Hilaryites did not quite justify theirreputation. Perhaps the S
t. Chad's bowling had been extra good; at allevents, the St. Hilary side was dismissed for sixty-seven.
Honor's heart was beating fast when at length her innings arrived, and,taking her bat, she walked to the wicket. Every eye, she knew, would befixed upon her play. A new girl, she was standing her trial before theschool, and on the result of this match would largely depend herposition during the term. She had played cricket during the holidayswith her brothers, and all Derrick's rules came crowding into her mindas she tried to imagine that she was on the dear, rough old field athome, with Brian to bowl, and Fergus for long-stop, and Dermot andOsmond to field, and criticize her strokes afterwards.
She held her bat well, keeping her left shoulder to the bowler and hereye on the ball. The bat was a light, new one, which the boys had givenher as a parting present, and she felt she could wield it easily.During the first over she played steadily, but did not attempt toscore. It was one of Derrick's pet maxims that it was folly to try todo so until you had taken the measure of your opponent, and she wishedto gain confidence.
In the next over her partner, Chatty Burns, made a single, whichbrought Honor to the opposite wicket. Gertrude Humphreys's bowling wasmore to her taste; it might be described as fast and loose, and Honor,unlike most girls, did not object to swift bowling, having beenaccustomed to it from Brian and Derrick. The first ball she receivedcame down at a good pace, but well on the off side of the wicket. Thiswas just the chance she had been waiting for, and a well-timed cut sentit flying to the boundary for three. The rest of the over wasuneventful, Chatty having evidently made up her mind to be careful.Winnie Sutcliffe now took up the bowling at the other end, but herfirst ball, being a wide, served to increase the confidence that Honorhad felt in breaking her duck. The next ball, though straight on middlestump, was a half-volley; Honor stepped out to it with a feeling ofexultation, and a moment later it was soaring over the bowler's headfor four.
"Good!" "Well hit, Honor!" "St. Chad's for ever!" "Hurrah!" ejaculatedthe Chaddites.
Success like this often turns the batter's head, but Honor rememberedin time the many cautions she had received from her critical brothers,and the next ball, being of good length, she played quietly to long offfor one. Chatty now received the bowling, and, encouraged by Honor'ssuccess, made what the girls afterwards described as the finest leg hitthey had ever seen. Certainly it was a good stroke, taken quite cleanand square, and as it cleared the boards it was marked down six amidrapturous applause. After that runs came more slowly for a time, andneither girl appeared inclined to take any risks. This careful play,however, began to wear down the bowling, especially GertrudeHumphreys's, which became decidedly loose. Honor, seeing her chance,suddenly began hitting about her with a spirit and vigour that almostsent the Chaddites delirious with delight, while even Miss Young wasseen laughing and smiling with Miss Maitland in a manner that seemed toimply no small self-congratulation on her choice for the last vacancyin the team.
The Hilaryites were looking decidedly glum at this marked change in thefortunes of the game. Grace Ward, their captain, at the end of the overquietly rolled the ball to Ida Bellamy, famed for her slow "twisters".Her first essay pitched well to the leg side, and Honor, who ratherdespised "slows", made a mighty stroke at it, not allowing for thebreak, and missed it altogether. With her heart in her mouth sheglanced rapidly round at the wicket, expecting to see her bails fly;but luck was on her side, for the break had been a little too great,and the ball just cleared the off stump.
"A good thing Derrick isn't here," said Honor to herself. "I shouldnever have heard the end of that!"
It was very hard to resist the temptation to hit out, dangerous thoughshe knew it to be, and it was with a sensation of relief that she sawthe ball travelling off for a single to long field, thus leaving therest of the over to Chatty, who, neither so ambitious nor so impatient,played it out without giving the much-longed-for chance of a catch. Bythis time sixty was up on the board, of which Honor had contributedtwenty-eight, to the great satisfaction of all concerned.
But Grace had not played her last card. She had evidently decided on adouble change of bowling; for, when the fielders had crossed, IreneRichmond was seen at the wicket. Irene's bowling was peculiar; it wasleft-handed, which is quite uncommon in a girl, and the more difficulton that account. The Chaddites looked at one another with smiles thatwere less spontaneous.
Certainly Irene might with advantage have been put on before. Herstyle, though by no means swift, was most awkward to play. Chattyreceived the first ball, which beat her completely, though luckily itdid not touch the wicket. A minute later she made a single, and Honorfelt rather blank, as it was now her turn to face the bowling. One ofDerrick's pet rules, however, came into her mind: "When you're indoubt, watch each ball carefully, till you get your eye in"; and bydint of adherence to this, she played out the over with safety.
The slow bowling at the other end, though it looked so simple, was fullof weird pitfalls, into one of which Chatty fell an easy victim. Sheplayed too soon at a short-pitched ball, and spooned a catch to mid-on,who took good care not to drop it. Chatty retired rather ruefully, butwas consoled by the applause she received from the pavilion, hertwenty-three runs being regarded as a handsome contribution.
Maisie Talbot came in next. Being tall and athletic for her age, shehad a long reach, which she employed successfully in driving the firstball she received right along the ground into "the country" for three.This seemed to disconcert the bowler; the next one she sent down was aneasy full pitch. Honor waited till just the right moment, and then,with a fine swing of her bat, sent the ball clean over the boundary forsix, a performance that quite "brought down the house", even theHilaryites joining in the cheering. For a moment no one seemed to haverealized how the score was going, but when seventy went up on the boardthere was a wild rush for the pavilion, for the match was won.
Honor's friends were loud in their congratulations, and Janie, who hadbeen an excited spectator, was almost as proud as if the success hadbeen her own. Vivian Holmes herself actually expressed approval.
"Well played, Honor Fitzgerald!" she said. "I expect some day you'll bea credit to St. Chad's."
As Vivian was generally more ready to "squash" new-comers than toencourage them, this was indeed high praise, and Honor felt inspired tocontinue her exertions, having the white ribbon of the College team asthe object of her ambition.
Great were the rejoicings of the Chaddites at their triumph over St.Hilary's. Something in the way of a celebration seemed necessary toimmortalize the occasion, and that evening, after a hurried conferenceamong the elder girls, it was given out that, with Miss Maitland'spermission, an impromptu fancy-dress ball would take place in therecreation room at 8.30 precisely.
"We're just to come in any kind of costumes we can manage to contrive,"said Lettice Talbot, who, wild with excitement, had carried thethrilling tidings to the younger contingent. "Miss Maitland is going todress up, and so is Miss Parkinson. The cook is making some lemonade; Ihope it will be cold in time, but even if it isn't it will be rathernice hot. Oh, would you advise me to go as a flower-girl, or do youthink Queen Elizabeth would be better?"
"I should suggest a Merry-andrew at the present moment," said RuthLatimer, as Lettice, unable to contain her glee, went hopping round theroom. "You could easily put a different coloured stocking on each leg,cut sheets of tissue paper to make a short, frilled, sticking-outskirt, borrow the toasting-fork from the kitchen and hang it withribbons for your bauble, and there you are!"
"Jolly!" exclaimed Lettice. "I'll do it. Will you lend me your scarletsponge-bag? It would make the very cap I want."
It was fortunate that Vivian Holmes and her fellow-workers had reservedthe announcement of the proposed fete until after preparation,otherwise very few lessons would have been learnt at St. Chad's. Thegirls finished supper with record speed, and filed out of thedining-hall at least ten minutes earlier than usual, all anxious toflee upstairs and begin the delightful but arduous task of robingt
hemselves in character.
Miss Maitland was the owner of what she called a "theatricalproperty-box". It held a store of most invaluable possessions, whichshe had collected from time to time and put by to serve for charades ortableaux. There were old evening dresses and cloaks, feathers, shawls,a few hats, artificial flowers, bright-coloured scarves, beads,bangles, and cracker jewellery, even some false moustaches and beards,a horse pistol, and a pair of top-boots. These she placed entirely atthe disposal of the girls, telling Vivian Holmes to distribute them soas to allow as many as possible to have a share. Vivian was strictlyimpartial, and doled out the treasures with the stern justice of aRoman tribune. They did not go very far, however, among fortyChaddites; so, of necessity, at least half of the costumes had to becomposed hastily of anything that came to hand.
The apparelling was a lively process, to judge from the sounds of mirththat issued from the various cubicles; and so many different articleswere borrowed, lent, and exchanged that it was a wonder theirrespective owners ever managed to claim them again. Strict secrecy wasobserved, the occupants of each bedroom denying even a peep to theirnext-door neighbours, who, though full of their own preparations, couldnot fail to exhibit curiosity when such exclamations as, "Oh, howlovely!" or, "It's simply screaming!" were wafted down the passage.
Nowhere was the excitement keener than in No. 8, though Honor and Janiehad the fun all to themselves. The latter had decided to go as a friar.She had contrived a capital monk's habit out of her waterproof, tiedround the waist with the cord that held back the window curtains. Thehood formed the cowl, a dictionary made a very passable breviary, and ahockey stick served as a pilgrim's staff.
"You're just like a palmer returning from the Holy Land," declaredHonor.
"Or the 'Friar of Orders Grey'," said Janie, "who--
"'Walked forth to tell his beads, And he met with a lady fair Clad in a pilgrim's weeds!'
"I ought to have a rosary, but there isn't anything that would do inthe least for it."
"Never mind! One must imagine it is in your pocket. Even palmerscouldn't tell their beads all day long. You look a most unsuitablefigure to dance! I'm afraid they would turn you out of your monastery,if they caught you."
Honor was determined to enact the part of Dick Turpin. She had corkedherself the most ferocious moustaches, and made a cocked hat out ofbrown paper; and was now only waiting for a certain cloak, the horsepistol, and the pair of top-boots, which Vivian had promised to bringher if Barbara Russell, one of the elder girls, did not want them.
"I heard Barbara say she meant to be a shepherdess," she said, "so shecouldn't possibly wear top-boots. I don't believe anybody else hasthought of a highwayman. I wish Vivian would be quick!"
She was in a ferment of excitement. A festivity such as this was anevent in her life. She could hardly bear to wait, and would have beendown the passage in search of the missing properties, only she did notwish to exhibit her beautiful moustaches before the right time.
"Vivian won't be long," Janie assured her. "She is the most dependableperson I know; when she says she'll do a thing, she does it. Oh, hereshe is now!"
Honor sprang to the door, but her face fell as she saw the monitressarrive empty-handed.
"I'm dreadfully sorry!" announced Vivian. "Barbara decided, after all,to be Oliver Cromwell, so of course she wanted the cloak, boots, andpistol. I've brought you a few bangles and a wreath of flowers, ifthey'll be of any use to you; I've nothing else left. I must fly! I'veto get into my own costume."
Poor Honor! It was a bitter disappointment. She had counted so much onrepresenting Dick Turpin that to have to forgo the part seemed littleshort of a tragedy.
"I can't do a highwayman in nothing but a pair of corked moustaches!"she exclaimed dolefully.
"It is a pity," sympathized Janie, "but of course it can't be helped.If we're very quick we shall just have time to think of something else.Could you manage a fairy, with the bangles and the wreath and a whitepetticoat?"
"A fairy! No! Do I look like a fairy? I'm so cross, it would have to bea goblin. I know what I'll do; I shall go as an Arab."
"With the towels wound round you, I suppose?"
"They're not big enough; I must use my sheets," and Honor, suiting heraction to her words, ruthlessly disarranged her bed.
If the towels were too small, the sheets proved too large. In spite ofJanie's efforts (much hampered by her cassock and cowl) they refused todrape elegantly. Honor lost all patience at last, and, seizing herscissors, ripped the offending sheets in halves with uncompromisingfingers.
"Oh, Honor, what have you done? How could you? Oh, what will MissMaitland say?" shrieked Janie, almost in tears.
"I don't care!" declared Honor recklessly.
In her present excited state she would have torn up her best dress withequal readiness. She was elated with her success in the cricketfield--what the Scotch call "fey"; and so long as she gratified herpresent whim, she had no thought at all for the future.
"I must have some costume," she continued, "and we ought to godownstairs at once. They're my own sheets, so what does it matter? Itisn't as if they were school property; I brought them from home withthe rest of my linen--they're marked 'H. Fitzgerald' in the corner."
"You'll get into a shocking scrape, all the same," said Janie, who washorror-stricken at her friend's lawlessness.
There was no time, however, to think about consequences. The gong wasgiving the signal for the parade to begin, and various gigglings andexclamations in the passage warned them that the other girls werealready issuing from their rooms. Honor hastily finished her Arabtoilet, and without further delay the pair joined the rest of themasqueraders in the hall.
Here a brilliant scene awaited them. Considering the scanty materialsat command, quite marvellous results had been accomplished. Thecostumes were most gay and varied, and many of them showed extremeingenuity on the part of their wearers. Lettice Talbot had carried outRuth Latimer's idea for a Merry-andrew with great success, and wasevidently endeavouring to sustain the character by firing off bad puns,or facetious remarks on the appearance of her friends. DorothyArkwright, in a blue evening dress and a black velvet hat withfeathers, made a dignified Duchess of Devonshire; and Pauline Reynolds,whose long, golden hair hung below her waist, came arrayed as FairRosamond. There were several Italian peasants, a Cavalier, a Roundhead,and a matador. Agnes Bennett, one of the elder girls, impersonated thePied Piper of Hamelin. By pinning two dressing-gowns (one of red andone of buff) together, she had well imitated the "queer long coat fromheel to head, half of yellow and half of red", worn by the mysteriousstranger; and, with her pipe, hung with ribbons, at her lips, seemedready to charm either rats into the Weser, or children into thehillside. Edith Hammond-Smith was a fairy, and Claudia a pierrot; whileFlossie Taylor, in an Eastern shawl, and with bangles tied on forear-rings, looked a gorgeous Cleopatra.
Chatty Burns, in a tartan plaid, made a typical "Highland lassie".Effie Lawson, with her hair plaited in a tight pigtail, and hereyebrows corked aslant, had, with the aid of a coloured bedspread and aJapanese umbrella, turned herself into a very creditable "HeathenChinee"; and Maisie Talbot, who found materials waxing scarce after shehad finished arraying Lettice, had flung a skin rug over her shoulders,painted her face in streaks of red and black, and come as a savage.Adeline Vaughan had an original and rather striking costume. She calledherself "Scholastica", and had decorated herself with a double row ofexercise books, suspended by ribbons round her waist. Pencils,india-rubbers, pens, and rulers were fastened to all parts of herdress; and a College cap, borrowed from Miss Maitland, completed theeffect.
The funniest of all, however, was Madge Summers, who represented asausage. She had been elaborately got up for the part by herroom-mates. They borrowed a coloured table-cloth from the kitchen, thereverse side of which was a pinky-fawn shade; then they padded Madgecarefully all over, so as to make her the right shape, swathed her inthe table-cloth, and fastened it down the back with safety-pins
, tyingit tightly round her neck and ankles. She could scarcely manage towalk, much less dance; and she was so hot in her many wrappings thather face burnt--so she assured her friends--as if she were already onthe frying-pan: but if she could not take an active part in theproceedings, she had the satisfaction of attracting an immense amountof attention.
The girls chose partners in the hall, and marched in procession intothe recreation room, where Miss Maitland (a stately Marie Antoinette)acted hostess, and received her guests with the assistance of MissParkinson (a Spanish gipsy) and Vivian Holmes (hastily attired as atroubadour).
"It is indeed a carnival," said Miss Maitland. "The costumes aresplendid, and all deserve hearty congratulations. We shall have to takevotes as to which is the best. We haven't thought of the music yet; itseems almost presumptuous to ask Queen Cleopatra to play a waltz forus, but perhaps she will condescend thus far. We can't ask the sausage,for she hasn't any arms! The troubadour and the Pied Piper ought to dotheir share, and the Merry-andrew must give us a _pas seul_."
Everybody declared the evening to be the greatest success. Thelemonade, fortunately cold, was delicious, and so were the biscuitsthat Miss Maitland, through lack of any other dainties, had provided asrefreshments. Half-past nine came far too soon, and the dancers, hot,flushed, and excited, were forced reluctantly to abandon thefestivities and betake themselves upstairs to tear off their grandeur.
Honor slept between the blankets that night, and her slumbers werehaunted by a vision of Miss Maitland, as an avenging spectre, arrayedin the mutilated sheets. The dream was certainly prophetic, for thehouse-mistress was extremely angry on discovering the damage done, andgave Honor a lecture such as she richly deserved.
"You will stay in from cricket to-day, and mend the sheets," shedecreed, at the conclusion of the scolding. "You will find them readyfixed by two o'clock. I shall expect the seams to be neatly run, andthe edges turned over and hemmed."
Honor groaned. After the excitement of yesterday's match, she had beenlooking forward to the cricket practice; moreover, she hated sewing.But there was no appeal. Each house-mistress had authority to suspendgames, if necessary, so she was compelled to pass a weary afternoon ata most uncongenial occupation.
"It's hard labour!" she exclaimed, when Janie ran in at four o'clock."Finished! No! I've only run one seam, and hemmed about six inches. Ifeel like the 'Song of the shirt' (only it's the song of the sheetinstead). 'Stitch, stitch, stitch', and 'work, work, work'! My fingersare getting quite 'weary and worn'. There's one comfort, at any rate:Miss Maitland won't be likely to keep me away from preparation, and asthe clothes go to the wash to-morrow, perhaps she'll let one of themaids do the rest of this, and give me some other penance instead. I'drather learn five chapters of history, or a scene from Shakespeare; andI'd welcome a whole page of equations--I would indeed!"
"I'm afraid it's a vain hope," said Janie. "Miss Maitland always sticksto her word."
She proved right; Miss Maitland was inexorable. The discipline atChessington was strict, and any mistress who gave an order wasaccustomed to enforce it rigorously. Honor was obliged to forgo thetriumphs of the playing-fields until the very last stitch had been putin her sheets--a punishment which was severe enough, if not entirely towork a reform, at any rate to sober her considerably for the present.