A Patriotic Schoolgirl Part 3

"I just love it!"

"Then put down your name for the Charades Tournament. We haven't got a great number of volunteers from St. Elgiva's yet. Most of the girls seem to funk it. Elsie, aren't you going to try?"

Elsie shook her curls regretfully.

"I'd like to, but I know every idea I have would desert me directly I faced an audience. I'm all right with a definite part that I've got into my head, but I can't make up as I go along, and it's no use asking me.

I'd only bungle and stammer, and make an utter goose of myself, and spoil the whole thing. Hallo! There's the supper bell. Come along!"

Marjorie followed the others in to supper with a feeling of exhilaration. She was immensely attracted by the idea of the Talents Tournament. So far, as a new girl, she had been little noticed, and had had no opportunity of showing what she could do. She had received a hint from Mollie, on her first day, that new girls who pushed themselves forward would probably be met with snubs, so she had not tried the piano in the sitting-room, or given any exhibition of her capabilities unasked. This, however, would be a legitimate occasion, and n.o.body could accuse her of trying to show off by merely entering her name in the Charades compet.i.tion.

"I wish Dona would play her violin and have a shy for the school Orchestra," she thought. "I'll speak to her if I can catch her after supper."

It was difficult for the sisters to find any time for private talk, but by dodging about the pa.s.sage Marjorie managed to waylay Dona before the latter disappeared into St. Ethelberta's, and propounded her suggestion.

"Oh, I couldn't!" replied Dona in horror. "Go on the platform and play a piece? I'd die! Please don't ask me to do anything so dreadful. I don't want to join the Orchestra. Oh, well, yes--I'll go in for the drawing compet.i.tion if you like, but I'm not keen. I don't care about all these societies; my lessons are quite bad enough. I've made friends with Ailsa Donald, and we have lovely times all to ourselves. We're making sc.r.a.p alb.u.ms for the hospital. Miss Jones has given us all her old Christmas cards. She's adorable! I say, I must go, or I shall be late for our call over. Ta-ta!"

The "Talents Tournament" was really a very important event in the school year, for upon its results would depend the placing of the various compet.i.tors in certain coveted offices. It was esteemed a great privilege to be asked to join the Orchestra, and to be included in the committee of the "Dramatic" marked a girl's name with a lucky star.

On the Sat.u.r.day evening in question the whole school, in second-best party dresses, met in the big a.s.sembly Hall. It was a conventional occasion, and they were received by Mrs. Morrison and the teachers, and responded with an elaborate politeness that was the cult of the College.

For the s.p.a.ce of three hours an extremely high-toned atmosphere prevailed, not a word of slang offended the ear, and everybody behaved with the dignity and courtesy demanded by such a stately ceremony. Mrs.

Morrison, in black silk and old lace, her white hair dressed high, was an imposing figure, and set a standard of cultured deportment that was copied by every girl in the room. The Brackenfielders prided themselves upon their manners, and, though they might relapse in the playground or dormitory, no Court etiquette could be stricter than their code for public occasions. The hall was quite _en fete_; it had been charmingly decorated by the Seniors with autumn leaves and bunches of chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies. A grand piano and pots of palms stood on the platform, and the best school banner ornamented the wall.

It all looked so festive that Marjorie, who had been rather dreading the gathering, cheered up, and began to antic.i.p.ate a pleasant evening. She shook hands composedly with the Empress, and ran the gauntlet of greetings with the other mistresses with equal credit, not an altogether easy ordeal under the watching eyes of her companions. This preliminary ceremony being finished, she thankfully slipped into a seat, and waited for the business part of the tournament to begin.

The reception of the whole school lasted some time, and the Empress's hand must have ached. Her mental notes as to the quality of the handshakes she received would be publicly recorded next day from the platform, with special condemnation for the limp, fishy, or three-fingered variety on the one side, or the agonizing ring-squeezer on the other. Miss Thomas, one of the music mistresses, seated herself at the piano, and the proceedings opened with a violin-solo compet.i.tion.

Ten girls, in more or less acute stages of nervousness, each in turn played a one-page study, their points for which were carefully recorded by the judges, marks being given for tone, bowing, time, tune, and artistic rendering. As they retired to put away their instruments, their places were taken by vocal candidates. In order to shorten the programme, each was allowed to sing only one verse of a song, and their merits or faults were similarly recorded. Several of the Intermediates had entered for the compet.i.tion. Rose Butler trilled forth a sentimental little ditty in a rather quavering mezzo; Annie Turner, whose compa.s.s was contralto, poured out a sea ballad--a trifle flat; Nora Cleary raised a storm of applause by a funny Irish song, and received marks for style, though her voice was poor in quality; and Elsie Bartlett scored for St. Elgiva's by reaching high B with the utmost clearness and ease. The Intermediates grinned at one another with satisfaction. Even Gladys Woodham, the acknowledged prima donna of St.

Githa's, had never soared in public beyond A sharp. They felt that they had beaten the Seniors by half a tone.

Piano solos were next on the list, limited to two pages, on account of the too speedy pa.s.sage of time. Here again the St. Elgiva's girls expected a triumph, for Patricia Lennox was to play a waltz especially composed in her honour by a musical friend. It was called "Under the Stars", and bore a coloured picture of a dark-blue sky, water and trees, and a stone bal.u.s.trade, and it bore printed upon it the magic words "Dedicated to Patricia", and underneath, written in a firm, manly hand, "With kindest remembrances from E. H.".

The whole of Elgiva's had thrilled when allowed to view the copy exhibited by its owner with many becoming blushes, but with steadfast refusals to record tender particulars; and though Patricia's enemies were unkind enough to say that there was no evidence that the "Patricia"

mentioned on the cover was identical with herself, or that the "E. H."

stood for Edwin Herbert, the composer, it was felt that they merely objected out of envy, and would have been only too delighted to have such luck themselves.

They all listened entranced as Patricia dashed off her piece. She had a showy execution, and it really sounded very well. The whole school knew about the dedication and the inscription; the Intermediates had taken care of that. As their champion descended from the platform, they felt that she had invested St. Elgiva's with an element of mystery and romance. But alas! one story is good until another is told, and St.

Githa's had been reserving a trump card for the occasion. Winifrede Mason had herself composed a piece. She called it "The Brackenfield March", and had written it out in ma.n.u.script, and drawn a picture of the school in bold black-and-white upon a brown paper cover. It was quite a jolly, catchy tune, with plenty of swing and go about it, and the fact that it was undoubtedly her own production caused poor Patricia's waltz to pale before it. The clapping was tremendous. Every girl in school, with the exception of nine who had not studied the piano, was determined to copy the march and learn it for herself, and Winifrede was immediately besieged with applications for the loan of the ma.n.u.script.

She bore her honours calmly.

"Oh, it wasn't difficult! I just knocked it off, you know. I've heaps of tunes in my head; it's only a matter of getting them written down, really. When I've time I'll try to make up another. Oh, I don't know about publis.h.i.+ng it--that can wait."

To live in the same school with a girl who composed pieces was something! Everybody antic.i.p.ated the publication of the march, and felt that the reputation of Brackenfield would be thoroughly established in the musical world.

The next item on the programme was an interval for refreshments, during which time various exhibits of drawings and of scientific and natural history specimens were on view, and were judged according to merit by Miss Carter and Miss Hughlins.

The second part of the evening was to be dramatic. A good many names had been given in for the Charades compet.i.tion, and these were arranged in groups of four. Each company was given one syllable of a charade to act, with a strict time limit. A large a.s.sortment of clothes and some useful articles of furniture were placed in the dressing-room behind the platform, and the actresses were allowed only two minutes to arrange their stage, don costumes, and discuss their piece.

Marjorie found herself drawn with Annie Turner, Belle Miller, and Violet Nelson, two of the Juniors. The syllable to be acted was "Age", and the four girls withdrew to the dressing-room for a hasty conference.

"What can we do? I haven't an idea in my head," sighed Annie. "Two minutes is not enough to think."

The Juniors said nothing, but giggled nervously. Marjorie's ready wits, however, rose to the emergency.

"We'll have a Red Cross Hospital," she decided. "You, Annie, are the Commandant, and we three are prospective V.A.D.'s coming to be interviewed. You've got to ask us our names and ages, and a heap of other questions. Put on that Red Cross ap.r.o.n, quick, and we'll put on hats and coats and pretend we've had a long journey. Belle, take in a table and a chair for the Commandant. She ought to be sitting writing."

Annie, Belle, and Violet seized on the idea with enthusiasm, and robed themselves immediately. When the bell rang the performers marched on to the platform without any delay (which secured ten marks for prompt.i.tude). Annie, in her Red Cross ap.r.o.n, rapped the table in an authoritative fas.h.i.+on and demanded the business of her callers. Then the fun began. Marjorie, posing as a wild Irish girl, put on a capital imitation of the brogue, and urged her own merits with zeal. She evaded the question of her right age, and offered a whole catalogue of things she could do, from dressing a wound to mixing a pudding and scrubbing the pa.s.sages. She was so racy and humorous, and threw in such amusing asides, that the audience shrieked with laughter, and were quite disappointed when the five minutes' bell put a sudden and speedy end to the interesting performance. As Marjorie walked back to her seat she became well aware that she had scored. Her fellow Intermediates looked at her with a new interest, for she had brought credit to St. Elgiva's.

"Isn't she a scream?" she overheard Rose Butler say to Francie Sheppard, and Francie replied "Rather! I call her topping!" which, of course, was slang, and not fit for such an occasion; but then the girls were beginning to forget the elaborate ceremony of the opening of the evening.

Next day, after morning school was over, Jean Everard, one of the prefects, tapped Marjorie on the shoulder.

"We've put your name down for the Charades Society," she said briefly.

"I suppose you want to join?"

"Rather!" replied Marjorie, flus.h.i.+ng to the roots of her hair with delight at the honour offered her.

CHAPTER IV

Exeats

Marjorie and Dona possessed one immense advantage in their choice of a school. Their aunt, Mrs. Trafford, lived within a mile of Brackenfield, and had arranged with Mrs. Morrison that the two girls should spend every alternate Wednesday afternoon at her house. Wednesday was the most general day for exeats; it was the leisurely half-holiday of the week, when the girls might carry out their own little plans, Sat.u.r.day afternoons being reserved for hockey practice and matches, at which all were expected to attend. The rules were strict at Brackenfield, and enacted that the girls must be escorted from school to their destination and sent back under proper chaperonage, but during the hours spent at their aunt's they were considered to be under her charge and might go where she allowed.

To the sisters these fortnightly outings marked the term with white stones. They looked forward to them immensely. Both chafed a little at the strict discipline and confinement of Brackenfield. It was Dona's first experience of school, and Marjorie had been accustomed to a much easier regime at Hilton House. It was nice, also, to have a few hours in which they could be together and talk over their own affairs. There were home letters to be discussed, news of Bevis on board H.M.S.

_Relentless_, of Leonard in the trenches, and Larry in the training-camp, hurried scrawls from Father, looking after commissariat business "somewhere in France", accounts of Nora's new housekeeping, picture post cards from Peter and Cyril, brief, laborious, round-hand epistles from Joan, and delightful chatty notes from Mother, who sent a kind of family chronicle round to the absent members of her flock.

One Wednesday afternoon about the middle of October found Marjorie and Dona walking along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. They were policed by Miss Norton, who was taking a detachment of exeat-holders into the town, so that at present the company walked in a crocodile, which, however, would soon split up and distribute its various members.

It was a lovely, fresh autumn day, and the girls stepped along briskly.

They wore their school hats, and badges with the brown, white, and blue ribbons, and the regulation "exeat" uniform, brown Harris tweed skirts and knitted heather-mixture sports coats.

"n.o.body could mistake us for any other school," said Marjorie. "I feel I'm as much labelled 'Brackenfield' as a Dartmoor prisoner is known by his black arrows! It makes one rather conspicuous."

"Trust the Empress for that!" laughed Mollie Simpson, who was one of the party. "You see, there are other schools at Whitecliffe, and other girls go into the town too. Sometimes they're rather giggly and silly, and we certainly don't want to get the credit for their escapades.

Everybody knows a 'Brackenfielder' at a glance, so there's no risk of false reports. The Empress prides herself on our clear record. We've the reputation of behaving beautifully!"

"We haven't much chance of doing anything else," said Marjorie, looking rather ruefully in the direction of Miss Norton, who brought up the rear.

At the cross-roads the Andersons found their cousin, Elaine, waiting for them, and were handed over into her charge by their teacher, with strict injunctions that they were to be escorted back to their respective hostels by 6.30.

Marjorie waved good-bye to Mollie, and the school crocodile pa.s.sed along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. When the last hat had bobbed round the corner, and the shadow of Miss Norton's presence was really removed for the s.p.a.ce of four whole hours, the two girls each seized Elaine by one of her hands and twirled her round in a wild jig of triumph. Elaine was nearly twenty, old enough to just pa.s.s muster as an escort in the eyes of Miss Norton, but young enough to be still almost a schoolgirl at heart, and to thoroughly enjoy the afternoons of her cousins' visits. She worked as a V.A.D. at the Red Cross Hospital, but she was generally off duty by two o'clock and able to devote herself to their amus.e.m.e.nt. She had come now straight from the hospital and was in uniform.

"You promised to take us to see the Tommies," said Marjorie, as Elaine turned down the side road and led the way towards home.

"The Commandant didn't want me to bring visitors to-day. There's a little whitewas.h.i.+ng and papering going on, and the place is in rather a mess. You shall come another time, when we're all decorated and in apple-pie order. Besides, we haven't many soldiers this week. We sent away a batch of convalescents last Thursday, and we're expecting a fresh contingent in any day. That's why we're taking the opportunity to have a special cleaning."

"I wish I were old enough to be a V.A.D.!" sighed Marjorie. "I'd love it better than anything else I can think of. It's my dream at present."

"I enjoy it thoroughly," said Elaine; "though, of course, there's plenty to do, and sometimes the Commandant gets ratty over just nothing at all.