For the School Colours Part 31

"I'm glad the League's prospering," she had said. "It's splendid how you're all working together now and coaching each other. It's a pity, though, if all this new spirit of helpfulness spends itself entirely on the school. It ought to find a wider outlet. You're having jolly times in the playing fields this term. Can't you pa.s.s on some of the fun to others who never get a chance to play games for themselves? I mean the little cripple children. There's a branch of the 'Poor Brave Things'

Society in Harlingden. If Miss Thompson would let you give them an afternoon's outing they'd have the time of their lives. Could you possibly suggest it, do you think? I really believe it's the sort of thing Silverside would enjoy."

The League and Miss Thompson justified the Lavender Lady's good opinion of them. They took up the idea with enthusiasm, and decided to organize a "Romp Day" for the crippled children. They communicated with the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" Society, with the result that invitations were sent out to thirty little invalids to come to a picnic party in the garden at Silverside and be entertained. A special half-holiday was given for the occasion, and all the school was asked to unite in making the affair a success. Miss Thompson wished the day girls to stay to tea that afternoon, but catering was a difficulty. It was utterly impossible for her to provide a meal for a hundred and thirty children. The Food Controller rationed the school according to the number of its boarders. The Princ.i.p.al was inventive, however, and hit on an excellent solution of the problem. She asked each day girl to bring enough tea, sugar, milk, buns, and cake for her own consumption and for half the allowance for one guest, and in this way provided ample for everybody, without anyone being asked to give more than a very small contribution of food.

"Before the war I should have been horrified at the idea of inviting you to come to a party and bring your own provisions," said Miss Thompson.

"In these days of semi-famine, however, we have to do many new and strange things. It's wonderful what we can get used to when we try."

The girls themselves thought it was immense fun each to bring a little basket to make the feast.

"It's like an American tea," said Gladys Wilks. "I'm going to make some scones myself. We've got a quarter of a pound of sultanas h.o.a.rded up.

We've been saving them for some great occasion; Mother said they'd do for my birthday cake, so I know she'll let me use them for this instead.

I've got a topping recipe, if they only turn out as it says."

"Guess they'll be jolly nice. Bags me one if the cripples don't want them all!" declared Maggie. "You shall have a piece of my sandwich-cake instead."

"Look here," interrupted Gertrude; "this business isn't to be all tea and buns. We've got to give these kiddies a real good time. Suggestions, please! Don't all speak at once!"

"We're going to sing to them."

"And the Juniors are to do a dance."

"How about some gym display?"

"Um--tolerable! But my idea is that they won't want to sit and watch us perform the whole time. There ought to be something specially for themselves. Stop a minute! I've a brain wave! Don't speak to me! My mind's working."

The girls grinned expectantly, while Gertrude stood with finger uplifted for silence.

"Got it!" she proclaimed at last. "We'll have a Surprise Tree."

"What's that?"

"Well, you can't exactly have a Christmas tree at this time of year, but we'll rig up something very like it. You know that little monkey-puzzler near the summer-house? We'll decorate it with streamers of paper and ornaments, and hang presents on with coloured ribbons.

There must be one for each crippled child, or two if possible. Every girl in this school has got to bring a present."

Once the idea of providing suitable entertainment for their invalid guests was mooted, many suggestions were forthcoming. Vivian Roy, who was the lucky owner of a Shetland pony and a tiny basket cart, offered to bring these to school and take relays of children for drives round the garden. Sybil Beaumont undertook to lend a very superior gramophone; the mother of one of the Juniors promised to send oranges. Violet Parker told her aunt, the Mayoress, about the party, and that kind-hearted lady arranged to allow the use of her carriage for the afternoon, to carry some of the children from their homes to the school and back. As means of conveyance were a real difficulty, several other parents followed her example and sent governess cars or hired cabs. It was a form of help for which the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" was particularly grateful.

"You've no idea what trouble it is for their friends to bring them," she explained. "Unless they possess, or can borrow, some kind of invalid carriage it's an impossibility. Also many of them can't spare the time to do it. In the days of petrol plenty we used to have an annual outing for the children, and people lent their cars, but of course that is all stopped now."

On the afternoon in question the numerous hostesses were waiting about in the garden long before their visitors were due. Each day girl had duly brought her basket, the contents of which were to be pooled for general consumption. The gramophone had been placed on a table outside, and the Shetland pony and cart were in readiness near the door.

"I expect there's been a terrific amount of was.h.i.+ng and dressing and hair-curling going on," laughed Annie. "I hope the children will survive your scones, Gladys!"

"Don't be insulting! My scones are delicious! I've tasted them, so I know."

"You greedy thing!"

"Certainly not. I couldn't bring them without seeing whether they were fit to eat."

"I heroically didn't touch even a crumb of mine!"

"More goose you!"

"Don't spar," interrupted Gertrude. "Here comes the first contingent!"

It was the Mayoress's carriage, and it had brought six guests--such pathetic little people! Some of them had crutches, and could manage to walk, but others had to be wheeled up the drive in a Bath chair, which was waiting on purpose. A special corner of the garden, with couches and cosy seats, had been arranged for them, and each child as it arrived was taken there, two special hostesses being told off to look after it for the afternoon and make it happy. Avelyn, together with Laura, found herself in charge of a mite of a girl who looked about eight, but declared she was nearly thirteen.

"It's the first time I've been out for ten weeks, miss," she said shyly.

"I lie on my back most days."

"What do you do? Can you read?" asked Avelyn.

"Yes, when I get any books. Our District Visitor lends me some."

"Have you ever been to school?"

"Not since I was nine. It was at school I fell and hurt my back. It's been bad ever since."

The little visitors were evidently prepared to enjoy every moment of their party. They were given tea almost immediately, and did full justice to the various cakes and buns which the girls had brought for them. They listened smiling while the gramophone blared forth selections, and clapped their hands when the Juniors danced for their amus.e.m.e.nt. Those who could bear the jolting went for short drives in Vivian's pony carriage, but most of them were obliged to sit very still.

One little fellow--the cheeriest of all--lay flat on a rug, with a cus.h.i.+on under his head.

As it would have been impossible to move all the children from one place to another, their special corner had been arranged round the Surprise Tree. The little monkey-puzzler presented a very gay appearance, for it had been decorated with Christmas-tree ornaments, coloured b.a.l.l.s, and gla.s.s birds, crackers, oranges, and bags of sweets. Underneath were piled sixty interesting-looking parcels tied up with ribbons. Mabel Collinson, one of the Juniors, dressed as a fairy and attended by two Brownies, suddenly made her appearance among the bushes, and going up to the tree, began to strip its branches and hand sweets and crackers and oranges to the expectant children. The parcels came next. There were two apiece for them; and so well had the girls responded to the appeal for presents that gasps of astonishment and delight followed the unwrapping of the packages. "Oh's" and "Ah's" resounded on all sides.

"It's too lovely, miss!" beamed Avelyn's little protegee, hugging a story-book in one arm and a work-basket in the other.

Her neighbour was rejoicing over a writing-case and a drawing-slate, and the tiny girl on the couch was kissing a doll. It was a pretty sight to see the poor little helpless creatures happy for one afternoon--pretty, but so pathetic that the tears swam in Miss Thompson's eyes. The contrast between these crippled children and her own st.u.r.dy girls seemed so acute.

"Please, m'm," volunteered one little boy, "Lizzie over there says she can say a piece of poetry if you'd like to hear her."

"By all means. We shall be only too pleased," returned Miss Thompson, going across to the small reciter and asking her to begin.

Lizzie was a diminutive, white-faced specimen of ten, with a crooked spine and big bright eyes. There was a large soul in the little body, and it showed when she began to speak. Her piece was a patriotic one, and she said it well. The Silverside girls who were near enough to hear her applauded heartily, and those who were too far off to catch a word clapped too, out of sympathy. Finding that everyone was interested, Miss Thompson asked some of the other children to recite. Most of them were too bashful, but one or two consented, and shyly murmured a few verses.

None, however, had the fire and spirit of Lizzie, who was quite the star of the company. She departed, beaming with pride at having distinguished herself, and clasping a poetry book which Miss Peters had hurriedly fetched from her bedroom and presented to her.

"It was the nicest party we've ever had at the school," said Laura, watching as the last of the little guests was lifted into a Bath chair to be wheeled home. "There was no mistake about their enjoying themselves at any rate."

"They've had the time of their lives, bless 'em!" agreed Janet.

There was much to tell the Lavender Lady when Friday came round again.

Lately she had grown to be the centre of all Avelyn's actions. She was always so ready to take a sympathetic interest in things, and Daphne--Daphne, who of yore was the recipient of innumerable confidences--had somehow been growing self-absorbed. She would sit and st.i.tch with a far-away look in her eyes, while Avelyn poured out school news, and her occasional comments showed that she was not really listening.

"She's getting so horribly grown-up!" complained her injured sister.

"She's not the same girl she used to be. I feel as if she had drifted miles away in the last few months. Quite suddenly she seems ten years older than David and Tony and me. I don't like it!"

"You must let Daphne have her innings," said Mrs. Watson. "You'll have your own some day. She can't remain a child always. I think on the whole she's very good to you younger ones. It's only natural she should begin to like the society of older people now. Her life is just opening out.

You mustn't expect her to give up her whole time to yourself and the boys. Do be nice about it, Ave! Be proud that you've got such a pretty sister, and glad for her to enjoy herself."

That was certainly a different way of looking at it. Avelyn felt self-reproachful. She remembered that she had not troubled to listen when Daphne consulted her as to whether a pink or a mauve voile blouse would look best with her new costume; just at the moment school affairs had seemed so much more interesting than her sister's clothes.