The Madcap of the School Part 2

"She must be lost without you!"

"I think they'll miss me," admitted Cynthia, with a little fluttering sigh of regret. "The girls all subscribed before I left and gave me this bracelet as a keepsake. It's got an inscription inside. Would you like to look at it?"

Cynthia had unclasped her treasure, and handed it with an a.s.sumed nonchalance for Raymonde's inspection. On the gold band was engraved: "To Cynthia Greene, a token of esteem from her schoolfellows."

"Highly gratifying!" gurgled Raymonde.

"It was sweet of them, wasn't it? Well, I tried to do my best for them, and I'll do my best for this school too when I get the chance.

I'm in no hurry. I'm content to wait, and let the girls come round."

"Quite the best plan. In the meantime, if there are any little tips I can give you, come to me."

"Thanks awfully! I will. I'd have done the same by you if you'd been a new girl at The Poplars."

Raymonde retired bubbling over with suppressed mirth.

"That girl's the limit!" she reported to her confederates. "For calm self-complacency I've never seen anybody to equal her. The idea of imagining _me_ as a new girl at her wretched pettifogging old school!

Oh, it's too precious! She'd patronize the Queen herself! The Poplars must be executing a war-dance for joy to have got rid of her. Probably they'd have subscribed for more than a bracelet to pa.s.s her on elsewhere!"

"So she's waiting patiently till she wins the school," hinnied Aveline. "Poor angel! Did you notice her wings sprouting, or a halo glowing round her head?"

"I think we can put her up to a few tips," chuckled Ardiune.

"It would only be kind," gushed Raymonde. "The sort of thing she must have done herself hundreds of times to many a poor neglected new girl at The Poplars. The bread she cast upon the waters shall be returned to her."

"With b.u.t.ter on it!" added Aveline.

"She can swallow any amount of b.u.t.ter," observed Raymonde. "She evidently likes it laid on thick. Suggestions invited, please, for kind and disinterested advice to be administered to her."

"Professor Marshall comes to-morrow," volunteered Aveline.

"The very thing! Ave, you old sport, you've given me an idea! Now just prepare your minds for a pretty and touching little scene at the beginning of the mediaeval arts lecture. No, I shan't tell you what it is beforehand. It'll be something for you to look forward to!"

The staff at Marlowe Grange consisted of Miss Beasley, Miss Gibbs, and Mademoiselle, but there were several visiting masters and mistresses who had attended at the former house, and were now to continue their instructions at the school in its present quarters. Among these Professor Marshall was rather a favourite. As befitted a teacher in an establishment of young ladies, he was grey-haired and elderly, and, as the girls added, "married and guaranteed not to flirt," but all the same he was jolly, had a hearty, affable manner, and a habit of making bad jokes and weak puns to break up the monotony of his lectures. It was decidedly the fas.h.i.+on to admire him, to sn.i.g.g.e.r indulgently at his mild little pleasantries, and to call him "an old dear." Some of the girls even worked quite hard at their preparation for him. He had written his autograph in at least nineteen birthday books, and it was rumoured that, when the auspicious 10th of March had come round, no less than fourteen anonymous congratulatory picture post-cards had been directed to him from the school and posted by stealth. Having already improved their minds upon a course of English Cla.s.sics and Astronomy, the school this term was booked for culture, and devoted to the study of the fine arts of the Middle Ages. A few selected members of the Sixth had been told off to search through back numbers of _The Studio_ and _The Connoisseur_ for examples of the paintings of Cimabue and Giotto, and the large engraving of Botticelli's "Spring," which used to hang in Miss Beasley's study, now occupied a prominent position on the dining-room wall to afford a mental feast during meal-times.

Raymonde, anxious not to overdo things, left Cynthia to herself for the rest of the day; but the following morning, after breakfast, she seized an opportunity for a few words with her.

"You won't mind my giving you a hint or two on school etiquette?" she observed casually. "You see, there are traditions in every school that one likes to keep up, and of course you can't find them out unless you're told."

"I'd be very glad," gushed Cynthia gratefully. "We'd a regular code at The Poplars, and I used to initiate everybody. They always came straight to me, and I coached them up. I can't tell you how many new girls I've helped in my time!"

"Well, you're new yourself now," said Raymonde, detaching Cynthia's mind from these reminiscences of past service and bringing it up to date. "Professor Marshall's coming to-day, and you'll have to be introduced to him."

"Oh dear! I'm so shy! I wonder what he'll think of me?" fluttered Cynthia.

"Think you're the sickliest idiot he ever met!" was on the tip of Raymonde's tongue, but she restrained herself, and, drawing her victim aside, whispered honeyed words calculated to soothe and cheer, adding some special items of good advice.

"Thank you," sighed Cynthia. "I won't forget. Of course, we never did such a thing at The Poplars, but, if it's expected, I won't break the traditions of the school. You can always depend upon me in that respect."

Precisely at 11.30 the whole of the school was a.s.sembled in the big hall awaiting the presence of their lecturer. Professor Marshall, who had been regaling himself with lunch in Miss Beasley's study, now made his appearance, escorted by the head mistress, and apparently refreshed by cocoa and conversation. The girls always agreed that his manners were beautiful. He treated everybody with a courtly deference, something between the professional consideration of a fas.h.i.+onable doctor and the dignity of an archdeacon. After Miss Gibbs's uncompromising att.i.tude, the contrast was marked. He entered the room smiling, bowed a courteous good morning to his pupils, who rose to receive him, and placed a chair for Miss Beasley with gentlemanly attention.

The Princ.i.p.al, radiant after showing off her new quarters, refused it with equal politeness.

"No, thank you, Professor. I'm not going to stay. I have other work to do. You will find your cla.s.s the same as before, with the addition of two new girls. Maude Heywood--come here, Maudie!--and Cynthia Greene.

I hope they'll both prove good workers."

Maudie Heywood, blus.h.i.+ng like a lobster, stepped forward and thrust three limp fingers for a fraction of a second into the Professor's large clasp, then thankfully merged her ident.i.ty among her schoolfellows. Cynthia, who was behind her, smiled bewitchingly upwards into the florid, benevolent face of her new instructor, then, falling gracefully upon one knee, seized his hand and touched it with her lips.

The sensation in the room was immense. The Professor, looking decidedly astonished and embarra.s.sed, hastily withdrew his hand from the affectionate salutation. Miss Beasley's eyes were round with horror.

"Cynthia!" she exclaimed, and the tone of her voice alone was sufficient reproof.

The luckless Cynthia, instantly conscious that her act had been misconstrued, retired with less grace than she had come forward, and spent most of the lecture in surrept.i.tiously mopping her eyes. As she walked dejectedly down the corridor afterwards, she was accosted by Hermione Graveson, a member of the Sixth.

"Look here!" said Hermione briefly. "What prompted you to make such an utter exhibition of yourself just now? I never saw anything more sickening in my life!"

Cynthia's tears burst forth afresh.

"It wasn't my fault," she sobbed. "I didn't want to do it, but I was told it was school etiquette and I must."

"Who told you such rubbish?"

"That girl with the dark eyes and a patriotic hair ribbon."

"Raymonde Armitage?"

"I believe that's her name."

Hermie shook her head solemnly.

"New girls are notoriously callow," she remarked, "but I should have thought anybody with the slightest grain of sense could have seen at a glance what Raymonde is. Why, she's simply been playing ragtime on you. Did you actually and seriously believe that the girls at this school were expected to go through such idiotic performances? Don't believe a word Raymonde tells you again."

"Whom shall I believe? Everybody tries to stuff me!" wailed the injured Cynthia. "I never treated anybody like this at The Poplars."

"Trust your common sense--that is, if you happen to have any; and, for goodness' sake, don't snivel any more. Wipe your eyes and take it sporting. And, wait a moment. If you want a bit of really good, sound advice, don't mention The Poplars again, or the fact that you were head girl there, and the idol of the school, and the rest of it.

You're only a junior here, and the sooner you find your level the better. We're not exactly aching to have our tone improved by you!

And, look here! Take that absurd keepsake bracelet off, and lock it up in your box, and don't let anybody see it again till the end of the term. There! go and digest what I've told you."

Having settled with Cynthia Greene, it now remained for the Mystic Seven to turn their attention to the matter of Maudie Heywood. The situation was growing acute. Maudie had been ten days at the Grange, and in that brief s.p.a.ce of time she was already beginning to establish a precedent. She was a tall, slim girl, with earnest eyes, a decided chin, and an intellectual forehead. Work, with a capital W, was her fetish. She sat during cla.s.ses with her gaze focused on her teacher, and a look of intelligent interest that surpa.s.sed everyone else in the Form. Miss Gibbs turned instinctively to Maudie at the most important points of the lesson. There was a feeling abroad that she sucked in knowledge like a sponge. n.o.body would have objected to her consuming as much as she liked of the mental provender supplied had she stopped at that. Maudie unfortunately was over-zealous, and finding the amount of preparation set her to be well below the limit of her capacity, invariably did a little more than was required. Her maps were coloured, her botany papers ill.u.s.trated with neat drawings, her history exercises had genealogical tables appended, and her literature essays were full of quotations. This was all very exemplary, and won golden opinions from Miss Gibbs, but it caused heartburnings in the Form. It was felt that Maudie was unduly raising the standard. Miss Gibbs had suggested that other botany papers might contain diagrams, and had placed upon the cla.s.s-room chimney-piece a book of poetical extracts suitable for use in essay-writing.

"If we don't take care we'll be having our prep. doubled," said Aveline uneasily.

It was decided to reason with Maudie before taking any more active measures. The united Seven tackled her upon the subject.

"I promised Mother I'd work," urged Maudie, in reply to their remonstrances.

"But you've no need to work overtime," objected Ardiune. "We don't mind how hard you swat during prep., but it isn't right for you to be putting in extra half-hours while the rest of us are in the garden.

It's stealing an advantage."