01 The School at the Chalet (20 page)

‘What you call “slang.” I see,’ replied the other girl. ‘But go on, Grizel. Did you meet with anybody?’

‘Only cowherds,’ said Grizel. ‘Oh, but it was lovely, so early in the morning! Everything looked so new and well-washed after the rain!-except us, of course! I don’t know about the others, but all us boarders had a hot bath and washed our hair. We had to, to get the hay-seed out! Then we all went to bed and to sleep. I never knew bed could be so nice before,’ she added meditatively. ‘Sleeping on hay is fun all right, but you don’t get much sleep! First of all, a beetle walked across Joey’s face, and she yelled and hung on to my hair-suppose it was the handiest thing there was to hang on to! Then, when we had got over that excitement, Amy began to cry because the hay-seed had gone down her neck and was tickling her. Then, just before dawn, an owl of sorts started to screech, and so did some of the little ones!’

‘But how could you enjoy such happenings? ‘asked Wanda, wide-eyed.

‘Oh, I don’t know! You do, you know! It’s something fresh-I s’pose that’s it.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Wanda doubtfully. ‘But I should not like it.’

‘Oh, you will when you’ve been with us a while,’ said Grizel confidently. ‘Only, of course, there won’t be any mountain expeditions next term.’

‘No, not with the snow here,’ agreed the young Austrian. ‘How shall we amuse ourselves then, my Grizel?’

‘Oh, I don’t know! Dancing and games, I suppose. P’r'aps we shall get up a play. Just the usual things one does do in the winter. I’m tired of these old railings now-they’re so jolly hard! Let’s walk along to the other end. Gisela may be coming. She often does on Saturdays, and so do Bernhilda and Frieda Mensch. It makes it jollier for Juliet and me. Most of the others are rather babies, you see. Coming, Juliet?’

Juliet raised her head. ‘Where to? Oh, the other gate? No, thanks, Grizel. I want to get on with my book; and anyway, it’s too hot to move.’

‘Lazy old object!’ laughed Grizel. ‘All right! Come on, Wanda! Let’s leave her to it!’

They went off, laughing and talking gaily, while Juliet, uncurling herself from the little heap in which she had been lying, gazed after them thoughtfully.

She was not jealous, although Grizel had very little to say to her nowadays. In Grizel’s eyes, Juliet had become suddenly and tiresomely ‘good’; Wanda was fresh, and the English girl was rather given to running after fresh things. One thing, thought Juliet, as she sat hugging her knees in a brown study, Grizel could come to no harm with Wanda, who had been trained on the most conventional lines, and was often horrified at her new friend’s tomboyish ways. It was rather a relief to the elder girl to know this, for she could not forget Grizel’s declaration of a fortnight or so ago that she would be off up the Tiernjoch the first chance she got, and she didn’t care who said what! City-bred Wanda was most unlikely to attempt such an expedition.

The Bärenbad Alpe was as much as she could manage, though Marie and Wolfram were ready for anything, and Kurt, the elder boy, went on climbing and hunting expeditions with his father every day.

Satisfied that Grizel was safe at present, Juliet returned to her book, and was soon lost to the world.

Meanwhile, the younger children had grown tired of their wreaths, and were making their way slowly towards the boat-landing to watch the steamer come in. As they went, Marie raised a tuneful little voice in

‘
Röslein auf der Heider
,’ in which the others joined, for they all knew it. As they strolled along, they saw a couple of big boys come racing down the path towards them, followed by a little girl of about nine.

Instinctively the children moved to one side, and the two lads tore past them without giving them a glance.

The little girl turned and looked at them, however, with a look of friendly curiosity, before she galloped after the others.

‘Wonder who they are?’ commented Jo in German, which language she now spoke as fluently as she did English. ‘They looked rather jolly, didn’t they?’

‘I think they are English,’ said Simone gravely.

‘Das Mädchen was not,’ corrected Marie. ‘She hadn’t the English view.’

‘Appearance, you mean,’ observed Margia.

“Amy, come back! You’ll fall in.’

‘It wouldn’t matter if I did-’cept for having to change,’ replied Amy.

‘Well, that would be bother enough,’ said Margia, as she hauled her little sister back into safety.

‘It wouldn’t be yours anyhow!’ snapped Amy.

Margia released her little sister in sheer amazement. It was the first time that Amy had ever attempted to have an opinion apart from her, and she gasped with wonder.

Joey laughed at her startled face. ‘Margia, if you open your mouth like that the mosquitoes will dash in to their doom. “Be always kind to animals, wherever you may be.” If a mosquito is an animal!’

‘Oh, don’t talk rubbish!’ burst out Margia. ‘Amy, you must be ill!’

‘No, I’m not! ‘ returned Amy pettishly. ‘But I’m not going to be pulled about.’

‘Oh, say no more, Margia!’ interposed Simone. ‘It is but that Amy grows up.’

‘Well-but–’ If her gentle little sister had slapped her in the face, Margia could not have been more surprised.

‘Never mind now,’ said Joey tactfully. ‘I want to talk about my idea-at least, it’s Gisela’s really,’ she added truthfully; ‘but don’t you think it would be topping to have a school mag.?’

‘Gorgeous!’ said Simone, who had picked up this expression from Jo.

‘It would be like the school tales,’ said Marie thoughtfully. ‘But we play no-no matches of the cricket and the tennis wit’ ozzer schools.’

‘”Other,” ‘ corrected Joey. ‘Nor we do, but we do other things. There’s the Mondscheinspitze for one. That would be a topping thing for a mag.!’

‘And your day at Innsbrück and Frau Berlin,’ added Margia; for all the school knew of that episode by this time.

‘Yes; and the day we went boating and the storm came on. And we do play cricket and tennis with ourselves,’ said Jo thoughtfully.

‘Then let us ask Gisela, shall we not? ‘suggested Marie.

‘An’-an’ I’ll write a poem for you,’ proposed Amy cheerfully.

They all stopped still with one accord and stared at her. She blushed crimson, but stood her ground.

Joey was the first to speak. ‘I say!’ she said, and whistled loudly.

‘Amy!’ cried Margia. ‘What do you mean? You know you can’t write poetry.’

‘I can, then!’ retorted Amy. ‘I writed some last night!’

‘Let’s see it, then!’

‘Can’t! It’s in my cubey under my pillow!’

‘What is it about?’ demanded Marie.

‘A river. The one beside the Kron Prinz Karl.’

‘That’s not a river; it’s not big enough,’ declared Margia.

‘Well, I’ve called it a little river,’ returned Amy defiantly.

‘Oh, Amy, do let us see it!’ pleaded Simone. ‘I think you are awfullee clevaire! I could not do it. I! No, truly!’

‘I tell you it’s in my cubey,’ said Amy, nevertheless softening before Simone’s compliments. ‘I’ll get it when I go to wash my hands for
Mittagessen
.’

‘There’s Gisela, with Wanda and Grizel,’ put in Joey. ‘Let’s scoot and ask her.’

But Amy had caught at her arm. ‘Joey, don’t let Grizel know!’

‘Why ever not?’ demanded Joey in surprise.

‘She’ll laugh if you do! Don’t tell her, Joey! Not yet, anyhow!’

‘Grizel Cochrane sha’n't laugh at you!’ said Margia determinedly. ‘Why should she?’

But all Amy could be got to say was, ‘She will! I know she will!’

‘Oh, all right, then! But we can ask Gisela about the mag.,’ said Joey. ‘Come on, everybody! Gisela! Gi-se-la!’

Gisela, who had been chattering gaily with Wanda and Grizel, lifted her head.

‘Yes! I come!’ she called back, and set off at a run, heedless of Grizel’s impatient ‘Oh, don’t bother with the kids just now, Gisela!’

‘What is it?’ asked the big girl, as she reached the Juniors. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘No, nothing. Only, do you remember what we were talking about the day we decided to get my sister’s birthday present? Gisela, let’s have a school mag.!’

‘Yes; and you be editor,’ added Margia.

Gisela looked thoughtful, and at this moment Wanda and Grizel came up with them.

‘Well! What’s the worry?’ demanded Grizel. ‘Anyone dead yet?’

Joey turned on her like a flash. ‘Grizel! I hate that horrid sneery way of talking you’ve got lately! You’re always making fun of us! It’s horrid of you!’

‘Keep your hair on!’ said Grizel easily. ‘ No need to get hot about nothing!’

‘I’m not!’ retorted Joey. ‘And anyhow,’ as an unholy memory came to her, ‘anyhow, I didn’t ask to have my hair rinsed in holy water!’

‘Joey! What do you mean?’ cried Wanda, astounded.

‘Ask Grizel! She knows!’ said Joey with somewhat malicious delight.

Grizel, crimson and furious, glared at her tormentor. ‘You little pig, Joey!’

‘Well, you did-didn’t you?’ Then Joey’s malice vanished in a chuckle. ‘ I say! Do you remember the man’s face when he heard you? Oh, wasn’t it funny?’

‘It was only a mistake,’ said Grizel with an unwilling laugh.

‘But what was it?’ asked Gisela, bewildered. Please tell us, Grizel.’

‘Oh, it was only that I mixed up heisses and heiliges,’ explained Grizel. ‘Jo’s a horror to drag it up like that! What about the time you threw flowers at a guide?’

‘That was years ago,’ returned Jo, not one whit abashed. ‘He looked about as horrified as Herr Alphen did when you asked for a rinse of holy water.’

‘But I still do not understand,’ said Gisela. ‘Let us sit down, and you will tell us.’

So they sat down beside Amy’s ‘little river,’ and between them, Joey and Grizel explained what they meant. Gisela and Wanda rocked with laughter at the stories, especially the holy-water one.

‘But it must have been very funny!’ laughed Gisela.

‘Oh, it was!’ Joey chuckled ecstatically. ‘If you’d seen the man’s face!’

‘Oh, well, let it alone now, and let’s get on to the magazine,’ suggested Grizel.

‘It is an English institution,’ observed Wanda. ‘I have read of it in my story-books. Papa has given me several, you know, as he wished Marie and I should know something about life in the English schools.’

‘But you can’t always go by stories,’ said Joey. ‘Some of them are awful tosh-like that Denise of the Fourth one you showed me, Gisela.’

‘There is one about a girl who was a Guide,’ began Gisela doubtfully, ‘but I did not quite understand it. It is not the kind of guide we know here.’

‘Girl Guides, was it?’ asked Joey with interest. ‘I always wanted to be one, but my sister would never let me, because in England I caught cold over everything. I’m heaps better now, though.’

‘It was a Girl Guide,’ said Wanda. ‘Her name was the same as yours, Gisela, but they called her “Gilly.” I liked the book very good.’

‘You should say “very much,” ‘ Grizel corrected her. ‘Well, we can’t do anything about the Guides just now, though it’s jolly well worth thinking about. Let’s get on to the magazine. And this afternoon, I vote we play cricket. Wanda is keen to learn; aren’t you, old thing?’

‘I should love it,’ said Wanda, ‘but it sounds to me a painful game.’

The English girls went off into fits of laughter over this; and even Gisela smiled. But Simone nodded sympathetically. She had been badly bruised only three days before by a ball flung in carelessly by Bette when fielding, and she much preferred tennis. Joey played cricket, however, so Simone must too.

‘It is a tophole game,’ said Grizel. ‘You’ll soon learn it. Now, about the magazine.’

‘I have never seen an English school magazine,’ began Gisela, ‘but I have read of them. We must have for editor one who can write the-the-editorial, and also arrange. Then we must have articles upon our games and the happenings of this term. There should be stories and poetry, and a letter from our Head. There are only eighteen of us, but I think we might do it. It is an English custom, as Wanda says, and we are an English school, and I should like to do it. Bette and Gertrud and Bernhilda wish it too. What do you think, Joey?

Would Madame allow it?’

‘Rather! ‘ said Joey enthusiastically. ‘She’d be awfully keen, I know.’

‘Then what do you say? Shall we see what we can do about it?’

‘Yes, let’s!’

‘It’s a ripping scheme, Gisela!’

‘But we-we, too, Gisela! We shall be members of the school soon. May we not write for it?’

‘Well, I-I-I’ll let you have some poetry!’ This last was Amy, of course. The Seniors looked at her with much the same surprise as the others had done.

‘Poetry, Amy? Why, you don’t even know what poetry is, do you?’ teased Grizel.

‘Yes, I do! It’s lines that rhyme! So there, Grizel Cochrane!’ flashed Amy, her fair little face burning with a mixture of shyness and indignation.

‘Oh my hat! There is a cat! On the mat!’ mocked Grizel. ‘Your poetry anything like that, Amy?’

‘It’s a jolly sight better than anything you could do, anyway!’ declared Margia, coming valiantly to Amy’s assistance. She might sit on her little sister for her own good, but she wasn’t going to have Grizel Cochrane doing it if she could help it.

Grizel tilted back her pretty head and laughed aggravatingly. But Joey now took up the cudgels.

‘You’re horrid just now, Grizel! I don’t know what’s the matter with you!’ she said with more vehemence than politeness.

‘Don’t get excited, babies–’

‘Grizel!’

At the sound of their headmistress’s voice they all turned round.

‘What is the matter with you, girls?’ asked Miss Bettany, as they faced her.

Gisela rushed into the breach. ‘Madame, it was just a little argument. And please may we have a magazine for the school?’

‘A school magazine?’ She looked at them with twinkling eyes. ‘Yes, if you will promise not to quarrel over it, and not to leave all the work to one person, I think you may.’

And so was the idea of
The Châletian
book.

Only three weeks till the end of term! Nothing much can happen in three weeks!’ Thus Madge Bettany, as she sat in her bedroom, talking things over with Mademoiselle La Pâttre. ‘Our first term,’ she went on dreamily. ‘Well, it hasn’t been a bit what I thought it would. For one thing, I never expected we should get such a large school together so quickly. Eight or ten was the most I had hoped for. But here we are with eighteen, and at least seven more for next term! It isn’t bad, is it?’