CHAPTER III
A Mysterious Schoolfellow
It is all very well for a girl to be shy on her first night at school. Acertain amount of embarrassment is indeed considered almost "good form"in a new-comer, indicative of her realization of the privileges whichshe is about to enjoy, and the comparative unworthiness of any previousestablishment she may have attended. But when her uncommunicativeattitude is unduly prolonged, what was at first labelled mere becomingbashfulness is termed stupidity, closeness, stuck-up conceit, orintentional rudeness by her companions, who highly resent any repulse oftheir offers of friendship. Gerda Thorwaldson, after nearly a fortnightat the Dower House, seemed as much a stranger as on the evening when shearrived. She was neither uncivil nor disobliging, but no efforts on thepart of her schoolmates were able to penetrate the thick barrier of herreserve. She appeared most unwilling to enter into any particulars ofher former life, and beyond the fact that she had been educated chieflyin Germany no information could be dragged from her.
"You've only to hint at her home, and she shuts up like an oyster,"said Annie Pridwell aggrievedly. Annie had a natural love of biography.She delighted in hearing her comrades' experiences, and was so well upin everybody's private affairs that she could have written a "Who's Who"of the school.
"You ought to know, Deirdre," she continued. "Doesn't she tell youanything at all in your bedroom?"
"Hardly opens her mouth," replied Deirdre. "You wouldn't believe howdifficult it is to talk to her. She just says 'Yes' or 'No', andoccasionally asks a question, but she certainly tells us nothing aboutherself."
"Never met with anyone so mum in my life," added Dulcie.
The question of Gerda's nationality still weighed upon Dulcie's spirits.In her opinion a girl who could speak a foreign language with suchabsolute fluency did not deserve to be called English, and she wasfurther disturbed by a hint which got abroad that the new girl had beenrequisitioned to the school for the particular purpose of talkingGerman.
"If that's so, why has she been poked upon us?" she demandedindignantly. "Why wasn't she put in a dormitory with somebody who'dappreciate her better?--Marcia Richards, for instance, who says she'envies our advantages'."
"Ask Miss Birks!"
"Oh, I dare say! But I don't like people who listen to everything andsay nothing. It gives one the idea they mean to sneak some day."
Though Gerda's attitude regarding her own affairs was uncommunicative,she nevertheless appeared to take a profound interest in her presentsurroundings. As Dulcie had noticed, she listened to everything, and nodetail, however small, seemed to escape her. She was anxious to learnall she could concerning the old house, the neighbourhood, and thefamilies who resided near, and would ask an occasional question on thesubject, often blushing scarlet as she put her queries.
"Why, I should think you could draw a plan of the house!" said Dulcieone day. "What does it matter whether the larder is underneath ourdormitory or not? You can't dive through the floor and purloin tarts!"
"No, of course not. I was only wondering," replied Gerda, shrinking intoher shell again.
Nevertheless, later on in the afternoon, Dulcie suddenly came across hermeasuring the landing with a yard tape.
"What in the name of all that's wonderful are you doing?" exclaimed themuch-surprised damsel.
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" said Gerda, hastily rolling up her tape measure,and slipping it into her pocket. "Only just an idea that came into myhead. I wanted to know the length of the passage, that was all!"
"What a most extraordinary thing to want to know! Really, Gerda, you'rethe queerest girl I ever met. Is it having lived in Germany that makesyou so odd?"
"I suppose it must be," murmured Gerda, escaping as rapidly as possibleinto the schoolroom.
I have said before that owing to the unique situation of the Dower Housethe girls were allowed an amount of liberty in their play-hours whichcould not so easily have been granted to them at other schools. Theywandered freely about the headland without a mistress, and so far hadnever abused their privileges, either by getting into danger or stayingout beyond the specified time.
Though as a rule they rambled in trios, on the first of February thewhole of Form VB might have been seen walking together over the warren.They had a motive for their excursion, for it was St. Perran's Day, andSt. Perran was the patron saint of the district. At the end of thepromontory there was a small spring dedicated to his memory, andaccording to ancient legends, anybody who on his anniversary dropped apin into this well might learn her luck for the coming year. Formerlyall the lads and lasses from the villages of Pontperran, Porthmorvan,and Perranwrack used to come to deck the well and try their fortunes,but their annual visitation having degenerated into a rather riotous andundesirable ceremony, Mrs. Trevellyan had put up extra trespass notices,and given strict orders to her gamekeeper to exclude the public from theheadland.
Knowing of the ancient custom which had been practised from timeimmemorial, it was of course only in schoolgirl nature to want to testthe powers of divination attributed to the old well. The Sixth Form,who considered themselves almost grown up, treated the affair withridicule, and the members of VA, who copied their seniors slavishly,likewise affected a supreme contempt for so childish a proceeding; butVB, being still at an age when superstition holds an immense attraction,trotted off _en bloc_ to pay their respects to St. Perran. Each, indeference to the long-established tradition of the neighbourhood, bore agarland of ferns and other greeneries, and each came armed with thenecessary pin that was to work the spell.
"Jessie Macpherson says we're a set of sillies," volunteered BettyScott. "But I don't care--I wouldn't miss St. Perran's Day foranything."
"My wish came true last year," put in Barbara Marshall.
"Oh, I do hope I shall have some luck!" shivered Elyned Hughes.
The well in question lay in a slight hollow, a kind of narrow gully,where in wet weather a small stream ambled between the rocks and randown to the sea. In the mild Cornish climate ferns were growing herefresh and green, ignoring the presence of winter; and dog's-mercury,strawberry-leaved cinquefoil, and other early plants were pushing upstrong leaves in preparation for the springtime. The famous well wasnothing but a shallow basin of rock, into which the little stream flowedleisurely, and, having partially filled it, trickled away through a gap,and became for a yard or two merged in a patch of swampy herbage.Overhung with long fronds of lady-fern and tufts of hawkweed, it had apicturesque aspect, and the water seemed to gurgle slowly andmysteriously, as if it were trying in some unknown language to reveal asecret.
The girls clustered round, and began in orthodox fashion to hang theirgarlands on the leafless branches of a stunted tree that stretcheditself over the spring. They were in various moods, some giggling, somehalf-awed, some silent, and some chattering.
"It isn't as high as it was last year, so I don't believe it will workso well," said Evie Bennett. "St. Perran must be in a bad temper, andhasn't looked after it properly. Tiresome old man, why can't he rememberhis own day?"
"He's got to do double duty, poor old chap!" laughed Betty Scott. "Youforget he's the patron saint of the sailors as well, and is supposed tobe out at sea attracting the fish. Perhaps he just hadn't time thismorning, and thought the well would do."
"Let well alone, in fact," giggled Evie.
"Oh, shut her up for her bad pun! Dip her head in the water! Make hertry her luck first!"
"Pleased to accommodate you, I'm sure. Here's my pin," returned Evie."Now, if you're ready, I'll begin and consult the oracle."
St. Perran's ceremony had to be performed in due order, or it wassupposed to be of no effect. First of all, Evie solemnly dropped her pinin the well, as a species of votive offering, while silently shemurmured a wish. Then placing a small piece of stick on the surface ofthe water in the exact centre of the basin, she repeated thetime-honoured formula:
"Perran, Perran of the well, What I've wished I may not tell, 'Tis but known to me and you
, Help me then to bring it true".
All eyes were fixed eagerly on the piece of stick, which was alreadycommencing to circle round in the water. If it found its waysuccessfully through the gap, and was washed down by the stream, it wasa sign that St. Perran had it safely and would attend to the matter; butif it were stranded on the edge of the basin, the wish would remainunfulfilled. Round and round went the tiny twig, bobbing and dancing inthe eddies; but, alas! the water was low this February, and instead ofsweeping the twig triumphantly through the aperture, it only washed itto one side, and left it clinging to some overhanging fronds of fernthat dipped into the spring. Evie heaved a tragic sigh ofdisappointment.
"I'm done for at any rate!" she groaned. "St. Perran won't have anythingto say to me this year. Oh, and it was such a lovely wish! I'll tell youwhat it was, now it's not going to come off. I wished some aviator wouldask me to have a seat in his aeroplane, and take me right over toAmerica in it!"
The girls tittered.
"What a particularly likely wish to be fulfilled! No, my hearty, youcan't expect St. Perran to have anything to do with aeroplanes," saidBetty Scott. "The good old saint probably abhors all modern inventions.I'm going to wish for something easy and probable."
"What?"
"Ah! wouldn't you like to know? I shan't tell you, even if I fail. ShallI try next?"
Whatever Betty's easy and probable desire may have been, the result wasbad, and her stick, after several thrilling gyrations, tagged itself onto Evie's under the cluster of fern. She bore her ill luck like a stoic.
"One can't have everything in this world," she philosophized. "PerhapsI'll get it next year instead. Deirdre Sullivan, you deserve to loseyour own for sniggering! This trial ought to be taken solemnly. We'llget St. Perran's temper up if we make fun of it."
"I thought he was out at sea, attracting the fishes!" said Deirdre.
"I'm not sure that Cornish saints can't be in two places at once, justto show their superiority over Devonshire ones. Well, go on! Laugh ifyou like! But don't expect St. Perran to take any interest in you!"
It certainly seemed as though the patron of the well had for onceforsaken his favourite haunt. Girl after girl wished her wish andrepeated her spell, but invariably to meet with the same ill fortune,till a melancholy little clump of eight sticks testified to the generalfailure.
"Have we all lost? No, Gerda Thorwaldson hasn't tried! Where's Gerda?She's got to do the same as anybody else! Gerda Thorwaldson, where areyou?"
Gerda for the moment had been missing, but at the sound of her name shescrambled down from the rocks above the well, looking rather red andconscious.
"What were you doing up there?" asked Dulcie sharply. "It's your turn totry the omen. Go along, quick; we shall have to be jogging back in halfa jiff."
Gerda paused for a moment, and with face full towards the sea mutteredher wish with moving lips; then turning to the tree, she carefullycounted the third bough from the bottom, and the third twig on thebough. Breaking off her due portion, she twisted it round three times,and holding it between the third fingers of either hand, dropped it intothe water, while she rapidly repeated the magic formula:
"Perran, Perran of the well, What I've wished I may not tell, 'Tis but known to me and you, Help me then to bring it true".
The girls watched rather half-heartedly. They were growing a littletired of the performance. They fully expected the ninth stick to driftthe same way as its predecessors, but to everybody's astonishment itmade one rapid circle of the basin, and bobbed successfully through thegap.
"It's gone! it's gone!" cried Betty Scott in wild excitement. "St.Perran's working after all. Oh, why didn't he do it for me?"
"How funny it should be the only one!" said Elyned Hughes.
"I believe the water's running faster than it did before," commentedRomola Harvey. "Has the old saint turned on the tap?"
"Shall I get my wish?" said Gerda, who stood by with shining eyes.
"Of course you'll get it--certain sure. And jolly fortunate you are too.You've won the luck of the whole Form. Don't I wish I were you, just!"
"You're evidently St. Perran's favourite!" laughed Annie Pridwell.
"Come along, it's nearly time for call-over. We'll be late if we don'tsprint," said Barbara Marshall, consulting her watch, and starting at arun on the path that led back to the Dower House.
"It was a funny thing that our sticks should all 'stick', and Gerda'sjust sail off as easily as you like," said Deirdre that evening, as,with Dulcie, she gave an account of the occurrence to Phyllis Rowland, amember of the Sixth. As one of the elect of the school, Phyllis wouldnot have condescended to consult the famous oracle, but she neverthelesstook a sneaking interest in the annual ceremony, and was anxious to knowhow St. Perran's votaries had fared.
"Did you do it really properly?" she enquired. "An old woman atPerranwrack once told me it wasn't any use at all if you forgot theleast thing."
"Why, we hung up our garlands and then wished, and said the rhyme, andthrew in our sticks."
"Oh, that isn't half enough. Where were you looking when you wished?Facing the sea? Your stick should be chosen from the third twig on thethird branch, and it ought to be turned round three times, and heldbetween your third fingers. Did you do all that?"
The faces of Deirdre and Dulcie were a study.
"No, we didn't. But Gerda Thorwaldson did it--every bit. And the watercame down ever so much faster for her turn, too."
"Probably she went behind the well, and cleared the channel of thestream. That's a well-known dodge to make the water flow quicker, andhelp the saint to work."
"I certainly saw her climbing down the rocks," gasped Dulcie.
"Then she's a cleverer girl than I took her for, and deserves her luck,"laughed Phyllis. "Look here, I can't stay wasting time any longer. I'vegot my prep to do. Ta, ta! Don't let St. Perran blight your young lives.Try him again next year."
Left alone, Deirdre and Dulcie subsided simultaneously on to a bench.
"It beats me altogether," said Dulcie, shaking her head. "How did shemanage to do it? How did she know? Who told her?"
"That's the puzzler," returned Deirdre. "Certainly not Phyllis, and Idon't believe anybody else ever heard of those extra dodges. Gerda'sonly been a fortnight at the school, and says she's never been inCornwall in her life before, so how could she know? Yet she did it allso pat."
"It's queer, to say the least of it."
"Do you know, Dulcie, I think there's something mysterious about Gerda.I've noticed it ever since she came. She seems all the time to be tryingto hide something. She won't tell us a scrap about herself, and yetshe's always asking questions."
"What's she up to then?"
"That's what I want to find out. It's evidently something she doesn'twant people to know. She ought to be watched. I vote we keep an eye onher."
"I really believe we ought to."
"But mind, you mustn't let her suspect we notice anything. That wouldgive the show away at once. Lie low's our motto."
"Right you are!" agreed Dulcie. "Mum's the word!"