01 The School at the Chalet (6 page)

Bette Rincini’s cousins came from Innsbrück to live at Buchau with their uncle and aunt for the summer months, and it was taken quite as a matter of course that they should come with her. Then two sisters came from Scholastika at the other end of the lake, and two small children came from the Kron Prinz Karl, where they were staying with their parents.

‘It is awfully thrilling!’ said Joey to Madge on the Saturday morning as she sat curled up on her sister’s bed. ‘I didn’t think schools grew as quickly!’

‘They don’t generally,’ replied Madge, who was brushing out her curly locks. ‘It just happens that we’ve made a lucky pitch.’

She laid her brush down, and began to twist up her hair. Suddenly she turned from the mirror and faced her sister.

‘Joey, is Simone Lecoutier happy? She’s such a quiet little thing, and those eyes of hers look naturally tragic. Are you and Grizel kind to her? I hope you don’t go off together and leave her alone?’

‘Do you really think we’d be so mean?’ demanded Joey, righteously indignant. ‘Why, we haul her along wherever we go when we can find her! But she’s so weird! Soon as ever lessons are over, she slides off by herself, and where she gets to is more than I can say.’

It was on the tip of Madge’s tongue to inquire, ‘Are the others decent to her?’ but she remembered in time that no headmistress can expect to be respected if she starts questioning her pupils about each other; so she let the subject drop, and suggested instead that Joey had better go to her own quarters.

‘I see so little of you now,’ grumbled the younger girl as she wriggled off the bed. ‘Early morning is the only chance I get nowadays.’

Madge laughed. ‘Sorry, Joey, but I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with that during term-time. I’ll make it up to you in the holidays. Run along now. The breakfast-bell will be going in a minute.’

Joey left the room and went downstairs to the big dining-room, where Marie was just putting a big dish of honey on the table. Simone was there already, looking, as she usually did, almost painfully tidy in her blue and white checked frock and long black pigtails. The Châlet School uniform was to be a short brown tunic with tussore top, but so far, Joey and Grizel were its only members to have them, although the others were getting them made, and Simone’s, at any rate, would be ready by Monday.

Her sister’s question had aroused fresh interest in the little French girl in Joey, and she regarded the younger child gravely as she saluted her with the pretty Tyrolean greeting, Grüss Gott!’

‘Bon jour,’ said Simone soberly. She was rather white, and her eyes looked as though she had been crying.

‘Why don’t you give me “God’s greeting”?’ asked Joey laughingly. ‘I think it’s such a nice thing to say to anyone.’ She came closer. ‘Simone, why have you been howling? Aren’t you happy?’

‘I am ver’ ‘appee, zank you,’ replied Simone with dignity.

‘Then you don’t look it,’ retorted Jo, in her most downright manner. ‘If you’re happy, why don’t you chirk up a bit?’

Simone lifted tragic dark eyes to her face, but anything she might have said was lost, for Grizel came running in at that moment, followed in more stately fashion by Mademoiselle, and Simone promptly became muter than any oyster.

As a matter of fact, all that was wrong with her was that she was dreadfully homesick. She had never been away from her mother before in her life, and wanted her badly. She said nothing, because her people were poor, and had jumped at this chance of getting her educated so cheaply; for Mademoiselle insisted that the only return that she desired for her services was her small cousin’s education. To little Simone, it would have been terrible ingratitude for all Cousine Elise’s kindness if she had let her see that she was not quite happy. Then again, neither Grizel nor Jo wanted to leave her out of things, but they had a trick of referring to their past good times together which had the effect of making the little French girl feel that she was not wanted. Perhaps Grizel was the worst offender in this way. It was the natural reaction from the effects of her home-life. The pity was that Simone should be the sufferer. On this morning she slipped off again as soon as breakfast was over, while the other two were concluding an amicable wrangle as to which of them should practise on the sitting-room piano. Jo missed her presently as she went off, quite cheerfully, to what was, for the moment, known as the Junior form-room.

‘Slipped off again!’ she thought. ‘Well, my practice must just wait-though it’s a shame to be indoors on such a gorgeous day! But I must find her first. Simone! Si-mo-one!’ She raised her voice in a long melodious call, but no Simone answered it. ‘Si-i-i-mo-one! Where are you? Simone!’

No response came, so she dropped her music on to the nearest chair, and dashed upstairs-in complete defiance to rules-to see if the small girl had taken refuge in the dormitory. But when she pulled aside the pale yellow cubicle curtains, she found the cubicle quite empty. A scamper downstairs, and a hasty rush through all the living-rooms, helped her no further, for Simone was not there. Marie, when questioned, declared she had not seen the young lady since breakfast, and she was sure she was with neither Mademoiselle nor Fräulein Bettany, for they had gone off to Spärtz half an hour before. So that accounted for the fact that no one had wished to know why she was running about the house instead of practising, thought Jo, as she wandered out into the warm sunshine, and turned to gaze at the Bärenkopf, a mountain which greatly took her fancy, although they had not climbed it yet, since it was considered dangerous, at any rate for amateurs.

‘I’ll have a shot at that some day,’ she thought, as she looked at the bold, rugged outlines. Then she gave an exclamation, for among the trees which clustered at the foot of the slope of the Bärenbad, another mountain, she had caught a flash of the blue and white frock which Simone wore.

‘So that’s where she goes!’ she thought, as, practice now completely forgotten, she raced across the flower-besprinkled grass which lay between her and the woods. She soon reached them, but by that time Simone had disappeared, and although Joey shouted again and again, there was no answer. Finally, just as she had decided to give up the hunt and return home, she stumbled over the root of a large tree, and went headlong on to a nest of old leaves, and there was Simone, sobbing as if her heart would break. Joey had a horror of tears, and never quite knew what to do with people who cried. Still, it was obvious that she could not leave the little French girl like that, so she wriggled over to her and began to pat her shoulder.

‘Simone! What’s up? Don’t cry like that, old thing! Aren’t you well?’

At the first sound of her voice Simone had half sprung up, then she collapsed again into the little huddle she had been when Jo found her.

‘Is anything up?’ asked the latter again, as she made a valiant effort to pull the other child into her arms.

‘Tell me, Simone, old thing!’

‘I want my mother!’ sobbed Simone in French, so that it was all Joey could do to make it out. I want my mother and my home!’

‘You poor kid!’ Simone was exactly ten weeks younger than Joey, but for the present the English girl felt very maternal towards her. ‘You poor kid! There, don’t cry, old dear! You’ll be all right soon!’

Simone stretched out a hot, sticky hand and grabbed Joey’s.

‘I am so lonelee!’ she sobbed. ‘You and Grizel are such friends!’

‘I say, we didn’t mean to make you feel out of it,’ replied Joey, whose conscience was very busily at work.

‘Honour bright, we didn’t!’

‘You are of the same nationality,’ went on Simone, who, once she had started to make confidences, evidently meant to go on. ‘You live in the same town, and know each other well, and me, I am only one.

And now there will be two more, and I shall still be only one.’

Here her sobs choked her, and she was unable to go on for a few minutes. Joey sat stroking her head in silence, the while she was rapidly turning things over in her mind. Finally she decided.

‘Simone,’ she said aloud, ‘I’m awfully sorry Grizel and I have been such beasts. I quite see we have been beasts, even though we didn’t mean it! Now I want you to mop up-here’s a hankie!-and come back with me, and we’ll start again. I’m sure Grizel will see it, and we’ll all be pally together.’

But this was not what Simone wanted. Truth to tell, she had conceived a violent affection for Jo, and Grizel, with her vivid prettiness and more obvious qualities, repelled her. So she sobbed on, while Joey sat, nearly distracted, and not knowing what to do.

‘Simone, I do wish you’d stop!’ she said finally. ‘Do stop crying, old thing! I’ll do anything I can for you; honest, I will!’

Simone made a big effort. ‘Will you be- my friend? ‘ she choked out.

‘Of course I will! I am! We both are!’

‘No; I mean-my
amie intime
! Oh, Jo, if you only would, I think I should be happier! Grizel makes friends with everyone. Gisela Marani loves her, and so does Bette Rincini! I don’t want her; I want only you! I love you so!’

Anyone less sentimental than Joey Bettany it would have been hard to find; and now she sat rigid with horror while Simone made this little speech. Her first impulse was to say, ‘Don’t be so idiotic!’ but you can’t do that when a person has lifted a pathetically tear-stained face to you, and is looking at you with eyes full of a doglike affection. At least you can’t if you are like soft-hearted Jo, who promptly hugged the younger girl, saying, ‘Righto! we’ll be pals. And now, do mop up, there’s a gem!’

‘You will be my
amie intime
?’ persisted Simone, even as she scrubbed her eyes hard with Joey’s handkerchief. ‘You will relate to me all your secrets, and walk with me, and love me?’

‘Yes, as long as it doesn’t interfere with other people,’ responded Joey. ‘I can’t tell you other people’s affairs, Simone! And look here, you mustn’t come rushing off by yourself. It might come on a thunderstorm or anything, and we shouldn’t know where you were. At least, I should now, but the others wouldn’t, and it might worry them.’

‘I will p-romise to do it no more,’ replied Simone soberly. ‘And now, Joey, please kiss me. You have never kissed me yet.’

Joey hastily brushed Simone’s cheek with her lips, then she said, ‘I don’t kiss anyone very much. You mustn’t go feeling hurt ‘cos I don’t kiss you every day. We don’t in England.’

‘I think England must be very cold and hard,’ sighed Simone, as she accepted the hand Joey stretched out to her, and got on to her feet. ‘But I will remember, Joey, that it is not because you do not love me that you do not kiss me, but that it is your custom.’

‘You’re all leaves; you’d better let me brush you down!’ said Jo, changing the subject hurriedly. She had had quite enough of it. ‘You’ll have to change before we go over to the Mensches this afternoon; you can’t go in that frock now! It looks as though you’d slept in it!’

They went slowly down the slope, and crossed the grass to the Châlet, where they were met at the door by Grizel, who had just finished her practice.

‘Hello! ‘ she said. ‘I’ve just finished. What shall we do?’

‘I’m going to practise,’ replied Jo. ‘I haven’t touched the keys yet!’

‘Not practised? But you went when I did!’

‘Well, I changed my mind. I’ve been out with Simone, so I’ve got to do it now instead; and she’s got to change her frock. Come on, Simone!’ And Joey vanished into the house, leaving Grizel looking after her in startled fashion.

Simone followed her, and Grizel was left alone to wonder, first, what on earth the French child had been crying about; second, why Joey had left her practice till this hour. She could come to no satisfactory conclusion, so she gave it up, and wandered off to the landing-stage to see if any visitors were coming, as the steamer was just crossing from Buchau. She was rewarded for her interest by seeing a party, unmistakably English, leave the boat, and, giving their luggage in charge of the porter, make for the Tyroler Hof, one of the largest hotels in Briesau. What interested her most was the fact that, besides a lady and gentleman who looked very bored, there was also a girl of about her own age.

‘I wonder if they are staying long?’ she thought to herself, as she turned and went back to the Châlet to see if the other two were ready to come out. ‘P’r'aps it’ll be another pupil for the Châlet School. Oh, I do hope so!’

Chapter 7.

The Tiernjoch.

Some new people came this morning,’ said Grizel.

They were all five-Joey, Simone, Bernhilda, Frieda, and herself-gathering flowers in the stretch of meadow that lies between Seespitz and Torteswald. The flowers in the Tyrol are wonderful, and now, in mid-May, the place was a veritable fairyland. Even Grizel and Joey, fresh from Cornwall, where the wealth of bloom is almost as rich as it is in Devon, were thrilled with the riches at their feet, and gathered armfuls of gentian, anemone, hepaticæ, heartsease, narcissi, and daisies, which they would later arrange in the bowls and jars at the Châlet.

There had been a good deal of chatter about school affairs-or rather, Joey and Grizel had done the chattering, and the others had put in an occasional word. Now Grizel changed the conversation.

‘Some new people came this morning.’

‘How interesting!’ said Bernhilda politely. ‘Were they English?’

‘They looked like it,’ replied Grizel. ‘There were three of them-father, mother, and a girl about fourteen, I should think.’

‘Perhaps another pupil for the Châlet School,’ suggested the elder girl, glancing at her watch as she spoke.

‘I think, if you do not mind, that we had better return now, as we shall have tea at–’

‘Four o’clock!’ put in Joey. ‘You told us the time before, Bernhilda, and it is so muddling when you talk of sixteen o’clock.’

Bernhilda laughed. She was a rather sedate, well-mannered girl, and Miss Bettany had already decided to appoint her as Second Prefect. Gisela was to be Head Girl, and Bette and Gertrud would be subs. Madge would have preferred an English girl as head, but Grizel was too irresponsible, and Joey too childish for her to dream of it.

Bernhilda now led the way to the Gasthaus, her arm slipped through Grizel’s, while the other three followed, Joey keeping up a lively flow of conversation, to which shy Frieda only responded by smiles.