CHAPTER I
The Interloper
Girls! Girls everywhere! Girls in the passages, girls in the hall,racing upstairs and scurrying downstairs, diving into dormitories andrunning into classrooms, overflowing on to the landing and hustlingalong the corridor--everywhere, girls! There were tall and short, andfat and thin, and all degrees from pretty to plain; girls with fair hairand girls with dark hair, blue-eyed, brown-eyed, and grey-eyed girls;demure girls, romping girls, clever girls, stupid girls--but never asilent girl. No! Buzz-hum-buzz! The talk and chatter surged in a full,steady flow round the house till the noise invaded even that sanctuaryof sanctuaries, the private study, where Miss Birks, the Principal, sataddressing post cards to inform respective parents of the safe arrivalof the various individual members of the frolicsome crew which had justreassembled after the Christmas vacation. In ordinary circumstancessuch an indiscretion as squealing on the stairs or dancing in thepassages would have brought Miss Birks from her den, dealing out sternrebukes, if not visiting dire justice on the offenders; but for this onebrief evening--the first night of the term--the old house was LibertyHall. Each damsel did what seemed good in her own eyes, and talked,laughed, and joked to her heart's content.
"Let them fizz, poor dears!" said Miss Birks, smiling to herself as aspecial outburst of mirth was wafted up from below. "It does them goodto work off steam when they arrive. They'll have to be quiet enoughto-morrow. Really, the twenty make noise enough for a hundred! They'reall on double-voice power to-night! Shades of the Franciscans, what anoise! It seems almost sacrilege in an old convent."
If indeed the gentle, grey-robed nuns who long, long ago had stolensilently along those very same stairs could have come back to survey thescene of their former activities, I fear on this particular occasionthey would have wrung their slim, transparent hands in horror over thestalwart modern maidens who had succeeded them in possession of theancient, rambling house. No pale-faced novices these, with downcast eyesand cheeks sunken with fasting; no timid glances, no soft etherealfootfalls or gliding garments--the old order had changed indeed, andyielded place to a rosy, racy, healthy, hearty, well-grown set oftwentieth-century schoolgirls, overflowing with vigorous young life andabounding spirits, mentally and physically fit, and about as differentfrom their mediaeval forerunners as a hockey stick is from a spindle.
Among the jolly, careless company that on this January evening heldcarnival in the vaulted passages, and woke the echoes of thetime-hallowed walls, no two had abandoned themselves to the fun of themoment more thoroughly than Deirdre Sullivan and Dulcie Wilcox. They hadattempted to dance five varieties of fancy steps on an upper landing,had performed a species of Highland fling down the stairs, and hadfinished with an irregular jog-trot along the lower corridor, subsidingfinally, scarlet with their exertions, and wellnigh voiceless, on to thebottom step of the back staircase.
"Oh!--let's--sit here--and talk," heaved Deirdre, her power of speechreturning in jerks. "I'm--tired--of ragging round--and--I've not seenyou--for ages!--and oh!--there's such heaps and heaps--to tell.Look!--she's over there!"
"Who?" queried Dulcie laconically. She was stouter than Deirdre, and,like Hamlet, "scant of breath".
"Why, she, of course!"
"Don't be a lunatic! Which she? And what she? And why she of all shes?"gasped Dulcie, still rather convulsively and painfully.
"What 'she' could I possibly mean except the new girl?"
"You don't mean to tell me there's a new girl?"
"You don't surely mean to tell me you've never noticed her! You blindbat! Why, there she is as large as life! Can't you see her, stupid? Theatrocious part of it is, she's been stuck into our bedroom!"
Dulcie sprang up, with hands outstretched in utter tragedy.
"No!" she wailed, "oh, no! no! Surely Miss Birks hasn't been heartlessenough to fill up that spare bed! Oh, I'll never forgive her, never! Ourducky, chummy little room to be invaded by a third--and a stranger! It'ssheer barbarous cruelty! Oh, I thought better of her! What have we doneto be treated like this? It's pure and simple brutality!"
"Who's the lunatic now? Stop ranting, you goose! That bed was bound tobe filled some day, though it's hard luck on us. We did pretty well tokeep the place to ourselves the whole of last term. 'All good thingscome to an end.' I'm trying to be philosophical, and quote proverbs; allthe same, 'Two's company and three's trumpery'. That's a proverb too!You haven't told me yet what you think of our number three. She'stalking to Mademoiselle over there."
"So she is! Why, if she isn't talking German, too, as pat as a native!What a tremendous rate their tongues are going at it! I can't catch asingle word. Is she a foreigner? She doesn't somehow quite suggestEnglish by the look of her, does she?"
The new girl in question, the interloper who was to form the unwelcomethird, and spoil the delightful _scene a deux_ hitherto so keenlyenjoyed by the chums, certainly had a rather un-British aspect whenviewed even by impartial eyes. Her pink-and-white colouring, blue eyes,and her very fair flaxen hair were distinctly Teutonic; the cut of herdress, the shape of her shoes, the tiny satchel slung by a strap roundher shoulder and under one arm--so unmistakably German in type--theenamelled locket bearing the Prussian Eagle on a blue ground, all showeda slightly appreciable difference from her companions, and stamped heremphatically with the seal and signet of the "Vaterland". On the wholeshe might be considered a decidedly pretty girl; her features were smalland clear cut, her complexion beyond reproach, her teeth even, her fairhair glossy, and she was moderately tall for her fifteen years.
Dulcie took in all these points with a long, long comprehensive stare,then subsided on to the top of the boot rack, shaking her head gloomily.
"You may call it British prejudice, but I can't stand foreigners," sheremarked with a gusty sigh. "As for having one in one's bedroom--why,it's wicked! Miss Birks oughtn't to expect it!"
"Foreigners? Who's talking about foreigners?" asked Marcia Richards, oneof the Sixth Form, who happened to be passing at the moment, andoverheard Dulcie's complaints. "If you mean Gerda Thorwaldson, she is asEnglish as you or I."
"English! Listen to her! Pattering German thirteen to the dozen!"snorted Dulcie.
"You young John Bull! Don't be insular and ridiculous! Gerda has livedin Germany, so of course she can speak German. It will be very goodpractice for you to talk it with her in your bedroom."
"If you think we're going to break our jaws with those abominablegutturals!"--broke out Deirdre.
"Miss Germany'll have to compass English, or hold her tongue," addedDulcie.
"Don't be nasty! You're wasting your opportunities. If I had yourchance, I'd soon improve my German."
"Why didn't Miss Birks put her with you instead?" chimed the injuredpair in chorus. "You're welcome to our share of her."
"Come along, you slackers!" interrupted Evie Bennett and Annie Pridwell,emerging from the dining-hall. "You're wasting time here. Betty Scott'splaying for all she's worth, and everybody's got to come and dance. Passthe word on if anyone's upstairs. Are you ready? Hurry up, then!"
"Oh, I say! I'm tired!" yawned Dulcie.
"We've had enough of the light fantastic toe!" protested Deirdre.
"Little birds that can hop and won't hop must be made to hop!" chirpedEvie firmly.
"How'll you make us?"
"The 'Great Mogul' has decreed that any girl who refuses to dance shallbe forcibly placed upon the table and obliged to sing a solo, or forfeitall the sweets she may have brought back with her."
"'Tis Kismet!" murmured Deirdre, hauling up Dulcie from the boot rack.
"No use fighting against one's fate!" sighed Dulcie, linking arms withher chum as she walked along the passage.
After all, it was only the younger members who were assembled in thedining-hall--the Sixth, far too superior to join in the general romping,were having a select cocoa party in the head girl's bedroom, and tellingeach other that the noise below was disgraceful, and they wondered MissBirks didn't put a stop to it. (At se
venteen one's judgment is apt to besevere, especially on those only a few years younger!) Miss Birks,however, who was forty-five, and wise in her generation, did notinterfere, and the fun downstairs continued to effervesce. Betty Scott,seated at the piano, played with skill and zeal, and the others weresoon tripping their steps with more or less effect, according to theirindividual grace and agility--all but two. Hilda Marriott had strainedher ankle during the holidays, and could only sit on the table and sighwith envy; while Gerda Thorwaldson, the new girl, stood by the door,watching the performance. Everybody was so taken up by the joys of themoment that nobody realized her presence, even when whirling skirtswhisked against her in passing. Not a single one noticed her forlornaloofness, or that the blue eyes were almost brimming over with tears.Mademoiselle, the only person who had so far befriended her, had beatena retreat, and was finishing unpacking, while the fourteen fellow pupilsin the room were still entire strangers to her. As nobody made theslightest overture towards an introduction, and she seemed rather in theway of the dancers, Gerda opened the door, and was about to followMademoiselle's example, and make her escape upstairs. Her action,however, attracted the attention that had before been denied her.
"Hallo, the new girl's sneaking off!" cried Annie Pridwell, pausing sosuddenly that she almost upset her partner.
"Here! Stop!"
"Where are you going?"
"You've got to stay."
"Come here and report yourself!"
The dancing had come to a brief and sudden end. Betty Scott, concludingin the middle of a bar, turned round on the music stool, and holding upa commanding finger, beckoned the stranger forward.
"Let's have a look at you," she remarked patronizingly. "I hadn't timeto take you in before. Are you really German? Tell us about yourself."
"Yes, go on! Where do you come from, and all the rest of it?" urged EvieBennett.
"Are you dumb?" asked Rhoda Wilkins.
"Perhaps she can't speak English!" sniggered Dulcie Wilcox.
Gerda Thorwaldson, now the target of every eye, had turned crimson tothe very roots of her flaxen hair. She stood in the centre of a ring ofnew schoolfellows, so overwhelmed with shyness that she did notvolunteer a single response to the volley of remarks suddenly fired ather. This did not at all content her inquisitors, who, once theirattention was drawn to her, felt their curiosity aroused.
"I say, why can't you speak?" said Barbara Marshall, nudging her elbow."You needn't look so scared. We're not going to eat you!"
"No cannibals here!" piped Romola Harvey.
"Lost, stolen, or strayed--a tongue! The property of the new girl.Finder will be handsomely rewarded," remarked Mary Beckett facetiously.
"You've got to answer some questions, Gerda Thorwaldson--I supposethat's your name?--so don't be silly!" urged Irene Jordan.
"Speak up! We shan't stand any nonsense!" added Elyned Hughes.
"What do you want me to say?" murmured Gerda, gulping down herembarrassment with something suspiciously like a sob, and blinking herblue eyes rapidly.
"Oh, you can talk English! Well, to begin with, are you German or not?"
"No."
"But you come from Germany?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever been in Cornwall before?"
"Never."
"I suppose you can dance?"
"No."
At this last negative a united howl went up from the assembled circle.
"Can't dance? Where have you lived? Make her try! She's got to learn!Take her arm and teach her some steps! She won't? She'll have to! Noone's to be let off to-night!"
"Gerda Thorwaldson," said Evie Bennett impressively, "we give you yourchoice. You either try to dance this very instant, or you stand on thattable and sing a song--in English, mind, not German!"
"Which will you choose?" clamoured three or four urgent voices.
"Oh, I say! It's too bad to rag her so, just at first!" protested DorisPatterson, a shade more sympathetic than the rest.
"Not a bit of it! If she's really English, she must show it--and if shewon't, she's nothing but a foreigner!" blustered Dulcie Wilcox.
"This is easy enough," volunteered Annie Pridwell, performing a fewsteps by way of encouragement. "Now, come along and do as I do."
"Fly, little birdie, fly!" mocked Betty Scott.
"She's too stupid!"
"She's going to blub!"
"Leave her alone!"
"No, make her dance!"
"Don't let her sneak out of it!"
"I say, what's going on here?" said a fresh voice, as Marcia Richardsentered the room, and, after pausing a moment to take in the situation,strode indignantly to the rescue of poor Gerda, who, still shy andhalf-bewildered with so many questions, stood almost weeping in themidst of the circle.
"Is this the way you treat a new girl? You ought to be ashamed ofyourselves! No, she shan't learn to dance if she doesn't want to! Notto-night, at any rate. Come along with me, Gerda, and have some cocoaupstairs. Don't trouble your head about this noisy set. If they've nobetter manners, I'm sorry for them!"
With which parting shot, she seized her protegee by the arm and bore herout of the room.
Most of the girls laughed. They did not take the affair seriously. A fitof bashfulness and blushing might be very agonizing to the new-comer,but it was distinctly diverting to outsiders. New girls must expect alittle wholesome catechizing before they were admitted into the bosom oftheir Form. It was merely a species of initiation, nothing more. Nodoubt Gerda would find her tongue to-morrow, and give a better accountof herself. So Betty sat down again to the piano, and the others,finding their partners, began once more to tread the fascinating stepsof the latest popular dance.
"We did rag her, rather," said Deirdre half-apologetically.
"Serve her jolly well right for talking German!" snapped Dulcie.