CHAPTER TEN.
HARD WORK.
From that day forward matters moved more smoothly for Rhoda. Dorothyreported that Tom had returned to the house-parlour to explain herregret at having misjudged a new-comer, and her desire that hercolleagues would second her effort to make Rhoda happy, and, as usual,Tom's word was law. That very evening several of the girls took anopportunity of exchanging friendly remarks with Rhoda, while at supperan amount of attention was bestowed upon her plate which was positivelyembarrassing. It was a delightful change, but through all the reliefrang the sting of remembering that it had been accomplished byThomasina, not herself; that the new friendliness was the result ofThomasina's orders rather than her own deserts. To her fellow-studentsshe was still an insignificant new-comer, with no claim to distinction.If she excelled in one subject, she was behind in the next, while atgames she was hopelessly ignorant. It was wormwood and gall to beobliged to join the "Bantlings" at hockey, and be coached by a girl oftwelve; but Rhoda set her teeth and determined that if pluck and energycould help, it would be a short time indeed before she got her reward.Oh, those first few games, what unmitigated misery they were! The anklepads got in her way, and made her waddle like a duck, and when at lastshe began to congratulate herself on overcoming the first difficulty,they tripped her up, and landed her unexpectedly on the ground.Although she was repeatedly warned to keep her stick down, it seemed tofly up of itself, and bring disgrace upon her; and then, alas! the ballfollowed its example, bounded up from the ground, and landed neatly onher cheek immediately beneath her left eye. A hideous swelling anddiscolouration was the result, but after the first rush to see that thedamage was not serious, no one seemed in the least agitated about themishap. Erley Chase would have been convulsed with panic from attic tocellar, but Thomasina only struck an attitude, and exclaimed, "Oh! myeye!" and even Miss Everett smiled, more in amusement than horror, asshe cried, "In the wars already, Rhoda? You _have_ begun early." MrsChester would hardly have recognised her darling in the knickerbockeredgirl, with her curly mane screwed into a pigtail, her dainty feetscuffling the ground, and her face disfigured by a lump, which changedto a different colour with each new dawn. If she could have had aglimpse of her during that tragic period it is certain that Rhoda's termat "Hurst" would have been short indeed: but she was not informed of theaccident, while each letter showed an increasing interest in work andplay. Rhoda had put her back into her studies, and worked with analmost feverish earnestness. The hours of preparation were all tooshort, but she found a dozen ways of adding to their length, so thatfrom morning to night her brain was never allowed to rest. She grewwhite and tired, and so perceptibly thin that Miss Bruce questioned herclass-mistress as to the change in her appearance.
"She is an ambitious girl," was the reply, "and does not like to feelbehind. She is working hard, and making progress; but she nevercomplains, or appears to feel ill."
"Oh, well, everything in moderation. See that she is not overworked.There will be no time gained in that way," said the principal, andforthwith banished the subject from her busy brain. There came a day,however, half way through the term, when Rhoda collapsed, and found itimpossible to rise from her bed. Three times over she made the effort,and three times sank back upon her pillow faint and trembling, and thenin despair she raised her voice, and wailed a feeble "Tom!"
Tom came promptly, buttoning her magenta jacket, and went through a mostprofessional examination.
"To the best of my judgment," she announced finally, "you are sickeningfor scarlatina, tonsilitis, and housemaid's knee, but if you stay in bedand have an invalid's breakfast I should say you would be fairlyconvalescent by twelve o'clock. Snoddle down, and I'll see Nurse assoon as I'm dressed, and put her on the track."
"I want Miss Everett!" sighed Rhoda plaintively, and Tom gave a grunt ofassent.
"I expect you do. All the girls want her when they are ill. She's notime to spare, but I'll tell her, and probably she'll squeeze in fiveminutes for you after breakfast. You are not going to die this time, mydear, so don't lose heart. We shall see your fairy form among us beforemany hours are past!"
Perhaps so. Nevertheless it _was_ good to be coddled once more, to liesnugly in bed and have a tray brought up with a teapot for one's veryown self, and egg, and fish, and toast--actually toast! instead of thickslices of bread-and-scrape. The luxury of it took away one's breath.It was pleasant, also, to have Nurse fussing around in motherly fashion,and hear her reminiscences of other young ladies whom she had nursed, indays gone by, and brought back from the jaws of death. From her manner,it is true, she did not appear to suffer any keen anxiety about herpresent patient: but, as Rhoda looked at the empty dishes before her,she blushingly acknowledged that, after all, she could not have been soill as she had imagined.
After breakfast came Miss Everett, sweet as ever, and lookingrefreshingly pretty in her pale blue blouse and natty collar and cuffs.If one did not know to the contrary, she would certainly have beenmistaken for one of the elder girls, and her manner was delightfullyunprofessional.
"Well, my poor dear, this is bad news! I _was_ sorry when Tom told me.What is it?--headache--back-ache--pain in your throat?"
Rhoda stretched herself lazily and considered the question.
"A kind of general all-overishness, if you know what that means. I feelplayed out. I tried to get up, but it was no use, I simply couldn'tstand. I feel as if I had no back left--as weak as a kitten."
Miss Everett looked at her quietly, then her eye roved round the roomand rested meaningly on half-a-dozen pieces of paper fastened up inconspicuous positions. One sheet was tacked into the frame of thelooking-glass, another into a picture, a third pinned against thecurtain, and each was covered with Rhoda's large writing, easily legibleacross the few yards of space: Rules of Latin Grammar, List ofSubstantives, Tenses of Verbs--they stared one in the face at everyturn, and refused to be avoided. Miss Everett laid her hand upon thebed, and something rustled beneath her touch. Yet another sheet hadbeen concealed beneath her pillow.
"Oh, Rhoda!" she cried, reproachfully; "oh, Rhoda!"
The girl put on an air of protest.
"What? There's no harm in it, is there? I can't catch the others upunless I work hard. I have not enough time in preparation, so I putthese up and learn them while I dress and undress, and every time I comein to prepare for a meal. You have no idea what a lot I get through.And I keep a list in my pocket too, and take it out at odd moments.Miss Murray is surprised at the way I am getting on."
"I have been surprised too, to see you look so ill, with such whitecheeks and heavy eyes. I understand it now."
"But, Miss Everett, I _must_ work. I _must_ get on! If I am behind I_must_ catch up. Even if I am tired I must get on in my class."
"Why?"
Why? Why must she get on? It was such an extraordinary question tocome from a teacher, that Rhoda could only gasp in bewilderment--"Why?You ask _why_?"
"Yes, I do. One has always some object in work. I wondered what yoursmight be. Why are you so terribly anxious to come to the front?"
A dozen answers rose to Rhoda's lips. To impress Thomasina; to show herthat if I do think a good deal of myself, it's not without a cause...To take the conceit out of the girls who patronise me. To be able topatronise in my turn, and not remain always insignificant andpowerless... To show Harold how clever I am, and to have my name put onthe Record Wall when I leave! ... They were one and all excellentreasons, yet somehow she did not care to confide them to Miss Everett.Instead, she hesitated, and answered by another question.
"I suppose you think there is a wrong and a right motive? I suppose youthink mine is the wrong one. What is the right, then? I'm ill, andreduced in my mind, so it's a good time to preach; I'll listen meekly!"
"And disagree with every word I say," cried Miss Everett laughing. "No,no, Rhoda, I never preach. I know girls well enough to understand thatthat doesn't pay. There are some secrets that we have
to find out forourselves, and it is waste of time telling the answers before the heareris ready to receive them; only, when one has oneself suffered fromignorance, and sees another poor dear running her head against the wall,one is sorry, that's all, and one longs to point out the danger signals.Find out, dear, what your motive is, and be satisfied that it's a goodone. Meantime, I'm going to take away these papers. Do you see?Every--single--one!" She walked round the room, confiscating the lists,and putting them in her pocket with an air of good-natureddetermination. "Let that tired head rest, and believe me, my dear, thatyour elders understand almost as much about girls as you do yourself.We are never blamed for under-working at Hurst, and you may take forgranted that the hours for work are as long as you can stand. The shorttime spent in your cubicle is not intended for work, but for rest--ofall kinds!"
Rhoda blushed guiltily. During the first days at school the morninghymn had been both a delight and stimulus. She had listened to thewords with a beating heart, and whispered them to herself in devoutecho; they had seemed to strike a keynote for the day, and send her towork full of courage; but, alas! for weeks past the strains had fallenon deaf ears, and the lips had been too busy conning Latin substantivesto have leisure for other repetition. Her sense of guilt made her meekunder the confiscation of her lists, and pathetically grateful for thekiss of farewell.
"Thank you for coming. I know you are busy, but I wanted you so! It'snice to see you; you look so sweet and pretty!"
"Oh, you flatterer! I'm surprised at you. As if it matters what astaid old teacher looked like; I'm above such silly vanities, my dear."
She looked, however, extremely pleased, quite brisked up in fact, and sodelightfully like a girl that Rhoda took heart of grace, and enquired:--
"I wish you would tell me _your_ object! That wouldn't be preaching,and you are so young to be working so hard! I have often wondered--"
"Ah!" cried Miss Everett, and a curious look passed over her face--halfglad, half sad, wholly proud. "I'll tell you my object, Rhoda--it's mybrother, Lionel! I have an only brother, and he is a genius. Youremember his name, and when you are an old lady in a cap and mittens youcan amuse other old ladies by telling how you once knew his sister, andshe prophesied his greatness. At school he carried all before him, andhe is as good as he is clever, and as merry as he is good. He won ascholarship at Oxford, but that was not enough. My father is the vicarof Stourley, in D--shire, and has such a small stipend that he could notafford to help him as much as was needed. Then I wrote to Miss Bruce,and asked her if she could give me an opening. She is an old familyfriend, and knew that I had done well in examinations and was good atgames (the younger teachers here must be able to play with the girls--it's one of the rules), so she gave me my present position, and I amable to help the boy. He went up last year and did famously, but I havehad sad news this week. He had been obliged to go home and convalesceafter an attack of influenza, and is so weak still that the doctor sayshe will want any amount of rest and feeding up before he can go back.So you see I am more thankful than ever to be able to help!"
"I don't see it at all," said Rhoda bluntly. "I should be mad. What'sthe good of your slaving here if, after all, he can't get on with hiswork? You might as well be comfortably at home."
"Rhoda! Rhoda! be quiet this moment. It's bad enough to fight againstmy own rebellious feelings without hearing them put into words. I won'tstay another moment to listen to you!"
She gave a playful shake to the girl's shoulder, and ran out of theroom, while Rhoda "snoddled" down to think over the conversation.
"Well, then, I suppose her motive is love--love for her brother, and--er--thinking of him before herself. She comes here and slaves so thathe may have his chance. She is an angel, of course, an unselfish angel,and I'm a wretch." She lay still for a few moments, frowning fiercely,then suddenly the bedclothes went up with a wrench--"I don't care--she'sambitious too! She thinks he is clever, and wants him to be great!Well, so do I want to be great! If it isn't wrong for one person, itcan't be for another. My motive is _success_, and I'll work for it tillI drop!"