CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"IF I PASS--"
The Christmas holidays were over, the Easter holidays were over, andspring was back once more. On the slope over which the new students hadgaily tobogganed two months before the primroses were showing theirdainty, yellow faces, and the girl gardeners were eagerly watching theprogress of their bulbs. Hearing that other plots boasted nothing rarerthan pheasant eye and Lent lilies, Rhoda had promptly written home for asupply of Horsfieldi and Emperor, which were expected to put everythingelse in the shade, but, alas! they were coming up in feeble fashion, andshowed little sign of flowering. "Another year," the gardener said,"they would do better another year! Bulbs were never so strong thefirst season." Whereat Rhoda chafed with impatience. Always anothertime, and not _now_!
Always postponement, delay, uncertainty! Try as she might, checksseemed to be waiting on every side, and she could never succeed indistinguishing herself above her fellows. In moments of depression itseemed that she was as insignificant now as on the day when she firstjoined the school; but at other times she was happily conscious of achange in the mental attitude towards herself. Though still far fromthe front, she was recognised as a girl of power and determination; anambitious girl, who would spare no work to attain her end, and whomight, in the future, become a dangerous rival. Dorothy had long agothrown up the unequal fight, and even Kathleen had moments of doubt,when she said fearfully to herself, "She is cleverer than I am. Shegets on so well. Suppose--just suppose..."
With milder weather, cricket had come into fashion, and on the occasionof the first pavilion tea the Blues turned up in force. Thomasina satperched in manly attitude on the corner of the table, where, as itseemed to the onlooker, every possible hindrance was put in the way ofher enjoyment of the meal. Irene Grey presided at the urn, Berthahanded round the cups, and a bevy of girls hung over the cake basket,making critical and appreciative remarks.
"Bags me that brown one, with the cream in the middle! I've tried thosemacaroons before--they are as hard as bricks!"
"I wish they would get cocoa-nut cakes for a change; I adore cocoa-nuts,when they are soft and mushy. We make them at home, and they are everso much nicer than the ones you buy!"
"That's what they call plum-cake, my love! Case of `Brother, where artthou?' like the Friday pudding. Those little white fellows lookfrightfully insipid. What Rhoda would call a `kid-glove flavour,' Ishould say."
Every one laughed at this, for it was still a matter of recentcongratulation in the house that Rhoda Chester had invented anappropriate title for a certain mould or blancmange, which appeared atregular intervals, and possessed a peculiar flavour which hitherto hadrefused to be classified.
In a moment of inspiration, Rhoda had christened it "Kid-Glove Jelly,"and the invention had been received with acclamation. Did she say shehad never distinguished herself, had never attracted attention? No,surely this was wrong; for in that moment she had soared to the verypinnacle of fame. So long as the school endured, the name which she hadcreated would be handed down from generation to generation. Alas, alas!our ambitions are not always realised in the way we would choose! Whenone has pined to be in a first team, or to come out head in anexamination, it is a trifle saddening to be obliged to base ourreputation on--the nickname of a pudding!
Rhoda smiled brightly enough, however, at the present tribute to herpowers, and passed her cup for a third supply with undiminishedappetite. She had been playing with her usual frantic energy, and wastired and aching. Her shoulders bent forward as she sat on her chair;she shut her eyes with a little contraction of the brows; the dimple nolonger showed in her cheek; and when Bertha upset the tray upon thefloor, she started with painful violence. Her nerves were beginning togive way beneath the strain put upon them; but, instead of being warned,and easing off in time, she repeated obstinately to herself:--"Threemonths more--two and a half--only two!--I can surely keep up for eightweeks, and then there will be all the holidays for rest!"
It seemed, indeed, looking forward, as if the world were bounded by thecoming examination, and that nothing existed beyond. If she succeeded--very well, it was finished! Her mind could take in no further thought.If she failed--clouds and darkness! chaos and destruction! The worldwould have come to an end so far as she was concerned.
It filled her with surprise to hear the girls discuss future doings intheir calm, unemotional fashion; but though she could not participate,the subject never failed to interest. The discussion began again now,for it was impossible to keep away from the all-engrossing subject, andthe supposition, "If I pass," led naturally to what would comeafterwards.
"If I do well I shall go up to Newnham, and try for the GilchristScholarship--fifty pounds a year for three years. It's vacant nextyear, and I don't see why I shouldn't have it as well as anyone else,"said Bertha, modestly, and Tom pounded the table with her heels.
"Go in, my beauty, go in and win! I only wish you could wait a fewyears until I am there to look after you. I am going to be Principal ofNewnham one of these fine days, and run it on my own lines. No work,and every comfort--breakfast in bed, and tea in the grounds--nothing todo but wait upon me and pander to my wishes!"
"I daresay! So like you, Tom! You would be a terror, and work thegirls to death. You are never tired yourself, so you would keep themgoing till they dropped. I pity the poor creatures who came under yourrule, but most likely you will never be tried. You may be firstmistress, or second, or third, but it's not likely you'll ever be aPrincipal!"
"It's not likely at all, it's positive sure," retorted Tom calmly."Principals, like poets, are born not made, and the cause can't affordto lose me. I don't say for a certainty it will be Newnham; it maypossibly be Girton, or Somerville, or Lady Margaret Hall, but one of thetwo or three big places it's bound to be. No one shall call meconceited, but I know my own powers, and I intend that other peopleshall know them too. Education is my sphere, and I intend to devote mylife to the advancement of my sex. Pass the cake, someone! I haven'thad half enough. Yes, my vocation is among women. You will hardlybelieve me, my dears, but men don't seem to appreciate me, somehow!There is a `Je-ne-sais-quoi' in my beauty which doesn't appeal to them amite. But girls adore me. I've a fatal fascination for them which theycan't withstand. There's Rhoda there--she intended to hate me when shefirst came, and now she adores the ground I tread on. Don't you, Fuzzy?You watch her smile, and see if it's not true! Very well, then; I seeplainly what Providence intends, and I'm going straight towards thatgoal."
"And it is what you would like? You would choose it if you had thechoice?"
"Rather, just! It's the dream of my life. There is nothing in all theworld that I should like so much."
Pretty Dorothy sighed, and elevated her eyebrows.
"Well--I wouldn't. I enjoy school very much, and want to do well whileI am here, but when I leave, I never want to do another hour's study.If I thought I had to teach, I should go crazy. I should like to have agood time at home for a few years, and then--yes, I should!--I shouldlike to marry a nice man who loved me, and live in the country--and havea dear little home of my own. Now, I suppose you despise me for a poor-spirited wretch; but it's true, and I can't help it."
But Tom did not look at all scornful. She beamed at the speaker overher slice of plum-cake, and cried blandly--
"Bless you, no! It's quite natural. You are that sort, my dear, and Ishould not have believed you if you had said anything else. You'llmarry, of course, and I'll come and visit you in the holidays, andyou'll say to `Him,' `What a terrible old maid Thomasina has grown!' andI'll say to myself, `Poor, dear old Dorothy, she is painfully domestic!'and we will both pity each other, and congratulate ourselves on our ownescape. We have different vocations, you and I, and it would be follyto try to go the same way."
"You are happy creatures it you are _allowed_ to go your own way," saidBertha sadly. "I'm not, and that's just the trouble. I'm not a star,like Tom, but I love work, and want
to do some good with my education.I should be simply miserable settling down at home with no occupationbut to pay calls, or do poker work and sewing; yet that's what myparents expect me to do. They are rich, and can't understand why Ishould want to work when there is no necessity. I may persuade them tosend me abroad for a year or so for languages and music, but even then Ishould be only twenty, and I can't settle down to vegetate at twenty.It's unreasonable to send a girl to a school where she is kept on thealert, body and mind, every hour of the day, and then expect her to becontent to browse for the rest of her life! Now, what ought one to doin my position? _I_ want one thing; _they_ want another. Whose duty isit to give way?"
She looked at Tom as she spoke, but Tom swung her feet to and fro, andwent on munching plum-cake and staring into space with imperturbableunconsciousness. Bertha called her sharply to attention.
"Tom! answer, can't you? I was speaking to you."
"Rather not, my dear. Ask someone else; some wise old Solomon who hashad experience."
"No, thank you. I know beforehand what he would say. `Submission, mychild, submission! Parents always know best. Young people are alwaysobstinate and hot-headed. Be ruled! Be guided! In time to come youwill see'--Yah!" cried Bertha, with a sudden outburst of irritation."I'm sick of it! I've had it dinned into my ears all my life, and Iwant to hear someone appreciate the other side for a change. I'm young;I've got all my life to live. If I were a boy I should be allowed tochoose. Surely! surely, I ought to have _some_ say in my own affairs!Don't shirk now, Tom, but speak out and say what you think. If you aregoing to be a Principal you ought to be able to give advice, and Ireally do need it!"
"Ye-es!" said Tom slowly. "But you needn't have given me such a poserto start with. It's a problem my dear, that has puzzled many a girlbefore you, and many a parent, too. The worst of it is that there is somuch to be said on both sides. I could make out an excellent brief foreach; and, while I think of it, it wouldn't be half a bad subject todiscuss some day at our Debating Society: `To what extent is a girljustified in deciding on her own career, in opposition to the wishes ofher parents?' Make a note of that someone, will you? It will come inusefully. I'm thankful to say my old dad and I see eye to eye about myfuture, but if he didn't--it would be trying! I hate to see girlsdisloyal to their parents, and if the `revolt of the daughters' were theonly outcome of higher education I should say the sooner we got back todeportment and the use of the globes the better for all concerned. Butit wasn't all peace and concord even in the old days. Don't tell methat half a dozen daughters sat at home making bead mats in the frontparlour, and never had ructions with their parents or themselves! Theyquarrelled like cats, my dears, take my word for it, and were ever somuch less happy and devoted than girls are now, going away to do theirwork, and coming home with all sorts of interesting little bits of newsto add to the general store. It's impossible to lay down the law onsuch a question, for every case is different from another, but I think agreat deal depends on the work waiting at home. If a girl is an onlydaughter, or the only strong or unmarried one, there is no getting awayfrom it that her place is with her parents. We don't want to be likethe girl in _Punch_, who said, `My father has gout, and my mother iscrippled, and it is so dull at home that I am going to be a nurse in ahospital!' _That_ won't do! If you have a duty staring you in the faceyou are a coward it you run away from it. An only daughter ought tostay at home; but when there are two or three, it's different. Itdoesn't take three girls to arrange flowers, and write notes, and paycalls, and sew for bazaars; and where there is a restless one amongthem, who longs to do something serious with her time, I--I think theparents should give way! As you say, we have to live our own lives,and, as boys are allowed to choose, I think we should have the sameliberty. I don't know how large your family is, Bertha, or--"
"Three sisters at home. One engaged, but the other two not likely tobe, so far as I can see, and Mother quite well, and brisk, and active!"
"Well, don't worry! Don't force things, or get cross, and they'll givein yet, you'll see. Put your view of the case before them, and see ifyou cannot meet each other somehow. If they find that you are quiet andreasonable they will be far more inclined to take you seriously, andbelieve that you know your own mind. That's all the advice I can giveyou, my dear, and I'm afraid it's not what you wanted. Perhaps someoneelse can speak a word in season!"
"Well, I side with the parents, for if the rich are going to work, whatis to become of the poor ones like me, who are obliged to earn theirliving?" cried Kathleen, eagerly. "Now, if Bertha and I competed for anappointment, she could afford to take less salary, and so, of course--"
"No, no! That's mean! I do beg and pray all you Blues that, whateveryou do, you never move a finger to reduce the salaries of other women!"cried Tom fervently. "If you don't need the money, give it away toGovernesses' Institutions--Convalescent Homes--whatever you like; but,for pity's sake, don't take less than your due. For my own part, I mustcandidly say that when I am Principal I shall select my staff from thosewho are like Kathleen, and find work a necessity rather than adistraction. It seems to me, if I were rich and idle, I could find lotsof ways of making myself of use in the world without jostling the poorMarthas. I could coach poor governesses who were behind the times, butcouldn't afford to take lessons; I'd translate books into Braille forthe blind; I'd teach working boys at their clubs, and half a dozen otherinteresting, useful things. There's no need to be idle, even if one_does_ live at home with a couple of dear old conservative parents.Where there's a will there's a way!"
"But I want it to be my way!" sighed Bertha, dolefully. Like themajority of people who ask for advice, she was far from satisfied nowthat she had got it.