CHAPTER EIGHT.
AN ENCOUNTER.
Sunday afternoon was hopelessly wet; but the fact was less regrettedthan usual, as from three to four was the time put aside for writinghome. So far a postcard to announce safe arrival had been the only wordwritten, and each girl was eager to pour forth her feelings at length,to tell the latest news, and report changes of class. The two new-comers had a score of complaints and lamentations to record, and Rhoda,at least, entered unhesitatingly into the recital.
She had never been so miserable in her life. The girls were hateful,domineering, and unfriendly--Miss Bruce had spoken to her three timesonly--the food was good enough in its way, but so plain that she simplylonged for something _nice_; the lessons were difficult, the hoursunbearably long.--It took three whole sheets to complete the list ofgrievances, by which time her hand was so tired that she read it over byway of a rest, with the result that she was quite astonished to discoverhow miserable she had been! Everything she had said was true, and yetsomehow the impression given was of a depth of woe which she could nothonestly say she had experienced. Perhaps it was that she had omittedto mention the alleviating circumstances--Miss Everett's sweetness,Fraulein's praise, hours of relaxation in the grounds, signs ofsoftening on the part of the girls, early hours and regular exercises,which sent her to the simple meals with an appetite she had never knownat home. Five days at school, and on the whole there had been as muchpleasure as suffering. Then, was it quite fair to send home such amisleading account?
Rhoda drew from her pocket the latest of the five loving letters pennedby the maternal hand, and read it through for the dozenth time. Sundaywas a lonely day for new-comers, and the period occupied by the sermonin church had been principally occupied by Rhoda in pressing back thetears which showed a presumptuous desire to roll down her cheeks andsplash upon her gloves. It had been a sweet consolation to read overand over again the words which showed that though she might be one of acrowd at "Hurst," she was still the treasured darling of her home.There was nothing original in the letter; it simply repeated indifferent words the contents of its four predecessors--sorrow for herabsence, prayers for her welfare, anxiety for the first long letter.
"I can hardly wait until Monday morning. I am so longing to know howyou are faring!" Rhoda read these words, and looked slowly down uponher own letter. Well! it would arrive, and the butler would place it onthe breakfast-table, and her mother would come hurrying into the room,and seize it with a little cry of joy. She would read it over, andthen--then she would hand it to her husband, and take out herhandkerchief and begin to cry. Mr Chester would pooh-pooh herdistress, but she would cry quietly behind the urn, and despite hisaffectation of indifference he, also, would look worried and troubled;while Harold would declare that every one must go through the same stagebefore settling down, and that Rhoda might be expected to "make a fuss."She had been so spoiled at home!
Rhoda dug her pen into the blotting-paper, and frowned uneasily. Fivedays' experience at school had impressed her with the feebleness of"making a fuss."
"If you are hurt--bear it! If you are teased--look pleasant! If youare blamed--do better next time! If you feel blue--perk up, and don'tbe a baby!" Such were the Spartan rules of the new life, and anunaccustomed shame rose up in her mind at the realisation of theselfishness and weak betrayal of that first home letter. Was it notpossible to represent the truth from the bright side as well as thedark, to dwell on the kindnesses she had received, and leavedisagreeables untold? Yes, it _was_ possible; she would do so, and saveher dear ones the pain of grieving for her unhappiness. So the thicksheets were torn across with a wrench, which made Thomasina look up fromher desk.
As a head girl, "Tom" possessed a study of her own, to which she hadprepared to depart earlier in the afternoon, but had been persuaded tostay by the entreaties of her companions.
"Tom, don't go! Don't leave us! It's a wet day, and so dull--do staywith us till tea-time. You might! You might!" urged the suppliantvoices, and so Tom sat down to her desk in the house-parlour which wasthe property of the elder Blues, and indited letters on blue-lined,manly paper, with a manly quill pen.
As her eyes rested on the torn letter and on the clean sheet of paperdrawn up for a fresh start, she smiled, a quiet understand-all-about-itsmile, which Rhoda chose to consider an impertinent liberty. Then downwent her head again, and the scrape, scrape of pens continued until fouro'clock, by which time the girls were thankful to fold the sheets intheir envelopes and make them ready for post. Rhoda read over hersecond effort in a glow of virtue, and found it a model of excellence.No complaints this time, no weak self-pity; but a plain statement offacts without any personal bias. Her father and mother would believethat she was entirely contented; but Harold, having been through thesame experiences, would read between the lines and understand thereserve. He would say to himself that he had not expected it of Rhoda,and that she had behaved "like a brick," and Harold's praise was worthreceiving.
Altogether it was in a happier frame of mind that Rhoda left her deskand took her place in one of the easy chairs with which the room wassupplied. From four to five was a free hour on Sundays, and the girlswere allowed to spend it as they liked, without the presence of ateacher.
This afternoon talk was the order of the day, each girl in turn relatingthe doings of the holidays, and having her adventures capped by the nextspeaker. Thomasina, however, showed a sleepy tendency, and kept dozingoff for a short nap, and then nodding her head so violently that sheawoke with a gasp of surprise. In one of these intervals she metDorothy's eyes fixed upon her with a wondering scrutiny, which seemed toafford her acute satisfaction.
"Ah!" she cried, sitting up and looking in a trice quite spry and wide-awake. "I know what you are doing! You are admiring me, and wonderingwhat work of nature I most resemble. I can see it in your face. Andyou came to the conclusion that it was a codfish! No quibbles, please!Tell me the truth. That was just exactly it, wasn't it?"
"_No_!" cried Dorothy emphatically, but the emphasis expressed rathercontrition for a lost opportunity than for a wrongful suspicion. "No, Idid not!" it seemed to say, "How stupid not to have thought of it.You--really--are--extraordinarily like!"
"Humph!" said Thomasina. "Then you are the exception, that's all. Allthe new-comers say so, and therein they err. It's not a cod at all,it's a pike. I am the staring image of a pike!"
She screwed up her little eyes as she spoke, and pulled back her chin ina wonderful, fish-like grin which awoke a shriek of merriment from thebeholders. Even Rhoda laughed with the rest, and reflected that if onewere born ugly it was a capital plan to accept the fact, and make it ajoke rather than a reproach. Thomasina was the plainest girl she hadever seen, yet she exercised a wonderful attraction, and was infinitelymore popular among her companions than Irene Grey, with her big eyes andwell-cut features.
"Next time you catch a pike just look at it and see if I'm not right,"continued Tom easily. "But perhaps you don't fish. I'm a great anglermyself. That's the way I spend most of my time during the holidays."
"I don't like fishing, its so wormy," said Irene, with a shudder. "Ilike lolling about and feeling that there's nothing to do, and nowretched bells jangling every half-hour to send you off to a freshclass. `Nerve rest,' that's what _I_ need in my holidays, and I takegood care that I get it."
"I don't want rest. I want to fly round the whole day and do nicethings," said a bright-eyed girl in a wonderful plaid dress ornamentedwith countless buttons--"lunches, and teas, and dinners, and picnics,and dances, and plays. I like to live in a whirl, and stay in bed tobreakfast, and be waited on hand and foot. I don't say I _get_ it, butit's what I would have if I could."
"Well, I'm a nice, good little maid who likes to help her mother and beuseful. When I go back I say to her, `Now don't worry any more, dear;leave all to me,' and I run the house and make them all c-ringe beforeme. Even the cook is afraid of me. She says I have such `masterfulways.'"
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The speaker was a tall, fair girl, with a very large pair of spectaclesperched on the bridge of an aquiline nose. She looked "masterful"enough to frighten a dozen cooks, and made a striking contrast to thenext speaker, a mouse-like, pinched little creature, with an air ofconscious, though unwilling, virtue.
"I spent the last half of these holidays with a clergyman uncle, andhelped in the parish. I played the harmonium for the choir practice,and kept the books for the Guilds and Societies. His daughter was ill,and there was no one else to take her place, so, of course, I went atonce. It is quite a tiny little country place--Condleton, inLoamshire."
"What!" cried Rhoda, and sat erect in her seat sparkling with animation."Condleton! I know it quite well. I often drive over there with myponies. It is only six miles from our place, and such a pretty drive.I know the Vicarage quite well, and the Church, and the funny littlecross in the High Street!"
She spoke perfectly simply, and without thought of ostentation, for herparents' riches had come when she herself was so young that she had noremembrance of the little house in the manufacturing town, but looked asa matter of course upon the luxuries with which she was surrounded. Itnever occurred to her mind that any of her remarks could be looked uponas boasting, but there was a universal glancing and smiling round theroom, and Thomasina enquired gravely:
"Do you drive the same pair every day?"
"Of ponies? Oh, yes, generally," replied Rhoda innocently. "They arefrisky little things, and need exercise. Of course if we go a very longway, I give them a rest next day and drive the cobs, but as a rule theygo out regularly."
Thomasina shook her head in solemnest disapproval. "That's a mistake!You should change _every_ day. The merciful man is merciful to hisbeast. I can't endure to see people thoughtless in these matters. Mystud groom has special orders _never_ to send out the postilions on thesame mounts oftener than twice a week!"
There was a moment's pause, and then a shriek of laughter. Girls threwthemselves back in their seats, and held their sides with their hands;girls stamped on the floor, and rolled about as though they could notcontain their delight; girls mopped their eyes and gasped, "Oh, dear!oh, dear!" and grew red up to the roots of their hair. And Rhoda's faceshone out, pale and fixed, in a white fury of anger.
"You are a very rude, ill-bred girl, Thomasina Bolderston! I made aninnocent remark, and you twist it about so as to insult me before allthe house! You will ask my pardon at once if you have any rightfeeling."
"I'm the Head Girl, my dear. The Head Girl doesn't ask pardon of asilly new-comer who can't take a joke!"
"I fail to see where the joke comes in. If you are Head Girl a dozentimes over, it doesn't alter the fact that you don't know how to behave.You have bullied me and made me miserable ever since I came to thisschool, and I won't stand it any longer, and so I give you notice!"
"Much obliged, but it's no use. The rules of this school are that thepupils must obey the Head Girl in her own department, and there can beno exception in your favour, unpleasant as you find my yoke."
"When _I_ am a Head Girl I shall try to be worthy of the position. I'llbe kind to new girls, and set them a good example. I'll not jeer atthem and make them so wretched that they wish they never had been born!"
Thomasina leant her head on her hand, and gazed fixedly into the angryface. She made no reply, but there was no lack of speakers to vindicateher honour. Sneering voices rose on every side in a clamour ofindignant protest.
"When _she_ is Head Girl indeed! It will be a good time before _that_happens, I should say."
"Not in our day, let us hope. We are not worthy to be under such amistress."
"Oh my goodness, what a pattern she will be; what a shining example!You can see her wings even now beginning to sprout."
"Nonsense, child! It's not wings, it's only round shoulders. Thesegrowing girls _will_ stoop. You had better be careful, or you will beset in order next."
Rhoda looked across the room with smarting, tear-filled eyes.
"Don't alarm yourselves; I wouldn't condescend to bandy words. You arelike our leader--not worthy of notice!"
"Look here, Rhoda Chester, say what you like about us, but leaveThomasina alone. We will not have our Head Girl insulted, if we knowit. If you say another word we will turn you out into the passage."
"Thank you, Beatrice; no need to get excited; I can fight my own battleswithout your help. This little difference is between Rhoda and me, andwe must settle it together. I think we could talk matters over morecomfortably in my study, without interrupting your rest hour. May Itrouble you, Miss Chester? Three doors along the passage. I won't takeyou far out of your way!"
Thomasina rose from her seat, and waved her hand towards the door. Shewas all smiles and blandness, but a gasp of dismay sounded through theroom, as if a private interview in the Head Girl's study was no lightthing to contemplate.
Rhoda's heart beat fast with apprehension. What was going to happen.What would take place next? It was like the invitation of the spider tothe fly--full of subtle terror. Nevertheless, her pride would not allowher to object, and, throwing back her head, she marched promptly, andwithout hesitation, along the corridor.