A Fortunate Term, Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  The School Favourite

  Mavis and Merle walked into the dining-room just in the nick of time tosatisfy Mrs. Tremayne's sense of propriety. She was a dear, nervous, oldlady, who had never had any daughters of her own, and had rather a hazynotion of girls in general, and was indeed a little frightened ofschoolgirls; but she tried to be very kind to her great-nieces, and hadtold Jessop to be sure and look after them. Jessop did not need anytelling. It was she who had arranged their bedroom, and had put thelittle table in the window, and the two basket-chairs, and the bookcasefull of tales of adventure and bound volumes of _The Boys' Own Paper_.The iced soda-cake was of her making, and so was the plateful ofdelicious treacle toffee.

  "It's twenty years since the boys used to come home from boarding-schoolfor their holidays, but I haven't forgotten what young folks like," sheexplained to Mavis and Merle, as she helped them to unpack. "It's morelike a boys' bedroom than a girls' perhaps, but I just collectedanything of Master Richard's and Master Cyril's that I could find aboutthe house. If you don't care about them we'll take them out."

  "But we _love_ boys' things," declared Merle, admiring the pictures ofdogs and horses on the walls, opening the drawers of the cabinet ofbirds' eggs, and touching the whip and the cricket bat with friendlyfingers. Mavis was already deep in _Coral Island_, and temporarily deafto the outside world, but she had just sufficient sense of manners leftto grunt "It's a gorgeous bookcase!" before she lost herself in theSouth Seas among the palm trees.

  "Two very nice young ladies, and to have them here is like old times,"Jessop had confided to Tom, the factotum. "The house has always seemeddull since Master Cyril went away. Miss Mavis reminds me of him, withher blue eyes and that gentle little voice of hers. Now, Miss Merle islike Master Percy. He'd a way with him! I never knew what was going tohappen next when he was at home. 'Jessop' he'd say, 'you're a wonderfulwoman!' Then I knew he meant to coax me to let him keep his rabbits inhis bedroom, or do something of that sort. Girls are quieter than boys,but these two will cheer us up a little, I dare say. We all seem to havegrown old here lately."

  And Tom, the factotum, polishing boots by the back door, agreed withher. Twenty years ago he had been the coachman, and, immaculate in hisgrey livery and silver buttons and top hat with the cockade at the side,had driven the high gig about the country lanes. It had nearly brokenhis heart when his master decided to give up the horses and take tomotoring instead. There were tears in his eyes when he groomed Czar andRuby for the last time. But, though Dr. Tremayne might march with thecentury, and visit his patients more quickly in his new automobile, hehad no intention of parting with his old coachman, and determined toturn him into a chauffeur instead. So Tom learnt to drive the car,learnt almost too well, indeed, for, determined not to show the whitefeather, he waxed foolhardy, and would career round corners with onewheel off the ground, or dash down hills at such breakneck speed thatthe doctor, not usually a nervous subject, would gasp with relief tofind himself alive at the bottom. Something plainly had to be done, orTom would soon have broken the family's bones, and the question was howto shelve him without giving him offence. The riddle, fortunately,solved itself by the retirement of Dalton, the factotum-gardener. Dr.Tremayne decided to retrench and to keep only one man-servant. In futurehe drove his own car, and Tom was installed in Dalton's place, to weedthe walks, clip the grass, polish the knives, and carry the coals. Hemade friends at once with Mavis and Merle, or rather he merelytransferred to them the friendship he had given to their mothertwenty-five years ago, when she used to spend her holidays at BridgeHouse, and rode Cobs, the white pony, whose grave lay at the bottom ofthe paddock. To Tom, motoring was the sign of a degenerate age, and hewould descant to the girls about the good old days, when people were notin such a frantic hurry and could wait for the doctor until he drove upbehind a well-groomed horse, and made such a case for the past timesthat Merle, in spite of her ambition to drive a car, began to wish Czarand Ruby and Cobs were still in the stable, and she herself could beclad in Mother's old riding-habit and flourish Cousin Percy's discardedwhip as she ambled along the lanes on pony-back.

  That, however, was before she had had a run in the little, yellowDeemster car. After the first trip to Chagmouth she completely changedher mind.

  For a week life went on with the greatest regularity at Durracombe.Every morning the girls were called by Jessop promptly at half-pastseven. They started for school at twenty minutes to nine, returned homefor lunch, rushed back to The Moorings by 2.30, did their preparationand practising in the evenings, and went to bed at nine o'clock. UncleDavid was nearly always out, or busy in the surgery, and Aunt Nellie satby the fire, knitting or taking little naps. She would ask very kindlyabout their lessons, then, hardly giving them time to answer, wouldplunge into reminiscences of her boys' schooldays. Life, for her, stillcentred round Percy, Richard, and Cyril. When the girls wanted to talkthey went to Jessop. It was to her they poured out their experiences oftheir new school, and she listened with the flattering interest of onewho really enjoys hearing. She never read any books, so perhaps thelittle adventures described humorously by Mavis or Merle took the placeof chapters in a serial story. She was familiar directly with the namesof all the girls and teachers at The Moorings, and most delightfullyready to "take sides", and like those whom they liked and agree aboutthe iniquities of those who offended them.

  For this first week had not been all plain sailing. It is often reallyeasier to get on in a big school than a little one. There is moreelbow-room among two hundred girls than among two dozen. Nobody exceptIva Westwood had seemed particularly pleased to welcome them. OpalEarnshaw palpably resented their presence.

  "Miss Pollard is only supposed to take twenty pupils," she remarked, onthe day after their arrival. "I know she refused two other girls, so Ican't think why she should have broken her rule."

  "But those girls would have been boarders," objected Iva.

  "Well, where's the difference?"

  "A great deal when it means two extra beds in a dormitory."

  "It means two extra seats in a room that's already overcrowded,"declared Opal loftily. "If the school is going to take any more newgirls it had better build an annexe and let them have classes there."

  "Sorry to be on the earth!" said Merle sarcastically. "Perhaps you'dlike us to sit inside the cupboard? We shouldn't crowd you out there."

  Opal looked her up and down, from her velvet hair-band to the tips ofher shoes, then she gave a kind of snort.

  "I suppose you think yourself ever so clever," she retorted. "Girls frombig schools generally give themselves airs."

  "Other people can give themselves airs," snapped Merle, warming to thebattle. "Big schools teach manners at any rate!"

  "Oh, we don't mean anything against _this_ school," hurriedly put inMavis, who generally tried to take the edge off her sister's cuttingspeeches. "We think it's going to be quite jolly. I'm sorry if we'vetaken the desks where you've had your museum, but where _are_ we to keepour books and things?"

  Opal, who was grudgingly removing the contents of two desks, which for awhole term had been devoted to a collection of natural history objects,had the grace to look rather ashamed of herself.

  "Oh, it's all right," she temporized, "but what I'm to do with all ourbirds' eggs and butterflies goodness only knows! I daren't keep them inany of the other classrooms or those juniors would be fingering them andthey'd be smashed to bits. I suppose I must pack them in boxes and getMiss Fanny to stow them away somewhere."

  "Can't I help?" said Mavis, coming to the rescue.

  Iva had just arrived on the scene bearing some large cardboard boxes,into which the three girls transferred the little collection. It seemedquite a pity to have to move it, for it had been so carefully set out.There were certainly grounds for Opal's ill humour, though even the mostunreasonable of head girls can hardly expect a mistress to reserve desksfor a museum when she can give them to two extra pupils. The fact wasthat Opal had been "first fa
vourite" at The Moorings for too long. Itwould have done her all the good in the world to be sent to a largeboarding-school and find there were people more important than herself.Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny, devoted friends of her mother, undoubtedlyspoilt her, lent a ready ear to her complaints, but listened coldly toanybody who made accusations against her. The knowledge that she willreceive support at all costs from head-quarters is a dangerous weaponfor a girl in a position of authority. During the whole of last termOpal had done pretty much what she liked, and when others grumbled woulddeclare: "Well, go and tell Miss Pollard and see which she'll believe,you or me!" an argument which was so unfortunately well founded that theluckless objectors preferred to suffer in silence.

  It was not in the nature of things that a disposition such as MerleRamsay's could be in the same school with Opal Earnshaw without a clash.Merle loved fair play, and was always ready and willing to stand up foranybody's rights, including Mavis's and her own. Her first instinct hadbeen to clear their new desks by tipping the unfortunate museum on tothe floor. That was Merle all over. She preferred forcible methods todiplomacy. It generally needed all Mavis's tact to smooth over thedifficulties roused by Merle's ardent partisanship and freedom ofspeech. Many were the squalls from which she had rescued her sister atthe Whinburn High School, and apparently she would be required toperform the same office for her at The Moorings.

  Opal calmed down and was fairly civil during the morning, but on thatvery afternoon arose another unfortunate occasion of dispute. TheRamsays had finished lunch early, and hurried back to school in order tohave a little fun with the boarders before lessons began at 2.30. Theyliked Iva and Nesta, and also some of the younger ones, and meant toenjoy half an hour with them in the playroom. Merle was by nature apublic entertainer. She could not spend ten minutes in the company ofother girls without wanting to start games or organize a sing-song or insome way get up amusement. During the Christmas holidays she had beenporing over an article on palmistry which she found in a magazine. Asthe result of her studies in that direction she offered to tell thefortune of anybody who liked to consult her. She was instantly besiegedby an excited crowd, all thrusting forward their hands at once forinspection and trying to push one another aside.

  "Cheerio! This won't do!" decreed Merle. "One at a time, my hearties!Take your places in an orderly queue and come up in your turns to thewitch, or she'll fly away on her broomstick and tell you nothing! Ivafirst, then Nesta, then you others, and no squabbling. Anybody who triesto push in front will be turned to the end of the queue. That's kismet!"

  Merle could always keep order among juniors. The small fry giggled, butformed into line and kept their places while Iva and Nesta consulted theoracle. The prophecies were rather startling but sufficiently excitingto make eight young heads bob up and down with eagerness to secure theirturns before the bell rang for afternoon school. Iva had been sent awaya little dubious between the attractions of "foreign travel" and awarning of "danger by sea", while Nesta was openly rejoicing over aprospect of "wealth and honours" in spite of the "accidents" scatteredover her future path. It was now the turn of Mamie Drew, and thatshort-skirted damsel was just advancing with rather awed eyes and anervous chuckle, when the door opened and Opal Earnshaw strolled intothe room.

  "Hello! What are you all doing here?" she exclaimed. "Fortunes! Oh, Isay! I _must_ have mine told. What can you make out of my hand?"

  And, thrusting Mamie aside, she spread out her palm for Merle'sinspection.

  Now it was partly Merle's love of fair play and partly her antipathy toOpal, and partly a little bit of "katawampus", but the three feelingscombined made her thrust away the hand in a very peremptory fashion, andbrought an extremely tart note into her voice as she said:

  "No pushing in front! Go to the end of the queue and take your turn withthe others. It's Mamie next."

  "I don't mind," volunteered Mamie, making way for Opal.

  "But _I_ mind!" snapped Merle. "It's I who's telling the fortunes andI'll do it as I like, and take you in order. If you don't want to comenext, Mamie, get out of the way can't you, and let Joyce have herinnings! Opal must wait like other people."

  Opal, however, as head girl, considered herself highly insulted.

  "You needn't think I'm going to wait at the end of a queue of kids," sheretorted angrily. "I don't care about your old fortune-telling, thanks!"and she flounced out of the room.

  She was very glum indeed all afternoon, and would not look at either ofthe Ramsays, though Mavis, to make amends, offered the loan of a newpenknife, and even tendered a surreptitious chocolate.

  "I took her down, didn't I?" smirked Merle, as the sisters walked homeup the High Street, and watched the retreating figure of Opal, who hadscuttled past them with averted eyes, hurrying towards her own frontdoor.

  Mavis sighed. Her naturally kind and peaceful disposition and herloyalty to Merle were always pulling her in opposite directions.

  "I'm afraid Opal just detests us. Perhaps you might have let her takeMamie's turn as Mamie actually offered."

  "Certainly not." (Merle's voice was firm.) "If you begin to let a girllike that butt in whenever she wants, you never know where you are. Ithink she's the limit. She'd no need to look so annoyed when we arrivedat school. What does it matter to her? The Moorings isn't run for herprivate convenience!"

  "She couldn't forgive us for taking those spare desks and turning outthe museum."

  "Bother her museum!"

  "It's rather a nice one anyway. It seems a pity it has to be put by incardboard boxes."

  Mavis was really concerned about the little collection of curiositiesthat had been so neatly spread forth in the unoccupied desks. Shecogitated for a long time as to how the difficulty could possibly beovercome. Finally she sought Tom, with whom she was already on terms ofgreat friendship. She found him in the greenhouse, repotting some ferns.

  "Oh, Tom!" she burst out eagerly. "Do you think there's anything aboutthe place I might take to make a museum?"

  Tom stroked the grey stubble on his chin reflectively.

  "A museum?" he repeated. "That's a big order, Miss, isn't it? I wentthrough the museum in the castle grounds at Taunton once. It must be tenyears ago. Or will it be twelve now?"

  "Oh, of course, I don't mean a museum like that," explained Mavis, "onlya kind of box arrangement with some glass over it, to put butterfliesand birds' eggs in, very like--" (her eyes wandered round thegreenhouse) "very like what you grow seeds in."

  The nice part about Tom was the alacrity with which he caught upsuggestions. At his age it was really amazing.

  "A very good idee, Miss," he agreed. "I know what you want. MasterCyril used to keep his butterflies in boxes like that. I'll hunt aboutand see what I can find for you."

  "Smart-looking boxes and some pieces of glass to fit over them?" pleadedMavis.

  "You leave it to me," was all Tom would promise, but there was a twinklein his eye as he stooped over his ferns again.

  Every morning Mavis asked him for the boxes, and each time he eitherpretended to have forgotten or was ready with some excuse. At the end offour days, however, he took her into the old harness-room, where he hada joiner's bench and a variety of tools, for he acted handy man to theestablishment.

  "How will these suit you, Miss?" he enquired, in a would-be nonchalanttone.

  Mavis gave an absolute bounce of surprise. There on the bench lay twomost beautiful cases. Tom had planed the boxes and made lids for them,into which he had fitted the pieces of glass. They were stained brownand varnished, and were lined neatly with dark-blue cloth. The old manwas evidently bursting with pride at his handiwork, though he affectedan attitude of indifference.

  Mavis made haste to congratulate him.

  "It's the cleverest thing I've ever seen done in my life," she purred."Oh, they're just too lovely for words--absolutely topping! Thanks, athousand times over. You must have simply _slaved_ to finish them soquickly."

  "Oh, I just worked at them in odds and ends of my ti
me," said Tomcasually, looking very pleased all the same. "That varnish is a bitsticky yet, but I dare say it'll be dry by the morning. If you want theboxes at school I'll carry them round for you to-morrow some time."

  "Oh, thanks! Could you bring them at eleven o'clock 'break'? That wouldbe scrumptious. I must fetch Merle to look at them at once, and Jessoptoo. You don't mind?"

  Tom delivered the cases next day with admirable punctuality; indeed hewas standing on the school doorstep exactly as Miss Fanny rang the bigbell for break. The girls, pouring into the hall, saw him deliver thetreasures into the safe custody of Bella, the housemaid. Naturally theycrowded round to look.

  "Hello! What are these for?" asked Opal. "What stunning cases!"

  "They're for Miss Ramsay," proclaimed Bella.

  Mavis, with rather a red face, stepped forward.

  "If you think they'll do to keep the birds' eggs and butterflies andthings in will you please have them as a museum for the school," shesaid quickly. "Tom, my uncle's coachman, made them on purpose."

  "Jolly decent of him. They're A1," approved Opal. "Better than thedesks really, because of the glass lids. I say, I'm going to bolt mylunch in two secs, and get down those boxes and spread out thecollection again. The things will look no end on that dark cloth."

  "Spiffing," agreed Iva, who was also inspecting the new acquisitions.

  "Hurry up with your lunch then, and help me to arrange them. No, Ican't have a dozen people's fingers interfering! I'm curator of themuseum and I won't have it smashed. Three are quite enough. Iva andMavis and I are going to do it, and we don't want anyone else, thankyou! You can come and look at it when it's finished. I'll put the caseson the window-sill in the big schoolroom. Mavis Ramsay" (this lastcommunication was whispered) "I don't mind telling you I didn't care foryou before--it was mostly the fault of that sister of yours!--but Ithink now you're an absolute sport. You and Merle aren't a scrap alike.Nobody would ever take you for sisters."