03 The Princess of the Chalet School (8 page)

The wicked three tumbled out of bed once more and joined the agitated crowd on the stairs. They were rewarded by seeing Matron, clad only in her nightdress, and with her hair in curling-pins, rush out on to the lower landing, crying that her room was haunted by murderers!

Margia, who had emerged from the Yellow dormitory just in time to hear this, caught Elisaveta’s eye, and went off into a fit of smothered laughter.

In the meantime, Miss Bettany had boldly ventured into the room, and at once realized what had happened.

‘It’s all right, Matron,’ she said. ‘It’s only two snails who have been promenading down the window-pane.

There they are.’

She pointed them out, and the room was instantly crowded by people who wanted to see the disturbers of the peace.

Jo and Elisaveta were among them, and Joey had the presence of mind to exclaim, ‘Oh, isn’t that just exactly what happened to the Robin and me in England! Do you remember, Madame? It was horrid!’

‘
Two
of them!’ said Miss Maynard, innocently helping her out. ‘That is one worse than you, Joey.’

‘One was bad enough,’ declared Jo. ‘
Two
must be awful! Shall I knock them off it into the grass?’

‘It would be as well,’ agreed her sister. ‘I wonder how they got up there?’

‘Who can fathom the ways of snails?’ laughed Miss Maynard.

Nobody tried to answer her, and Miss Bettany sent the girls all back to bed the next minute, so they heard no more. Matron went back to her room, feeling annoyed with herself for having made such a fuss about such a little thing, and peach once more settled down on the Chalet School.

No one was blamed for the snails’ curious choice of a promenade. Joey’s speech about the occurrence while they had been at the Maynard’s had completely thrown her sister off the scent, and though Matron had her suspicions, she could scarcely suggest that the girls were to blame for it. Moreover, Miss Bettany had snubbed her so severely over the stopping of the Sunday morning reading, that she felt that she had better lie low for a while. She had every intention of gaining much more authority than she had, before she was done; but it struck her that her present Head might prove to be more difficult to influence than her former one. As for the S.S.M., they were so delighted with themselves that the wonder was that they did not give themselves away wholesale.

‘It was a
topping
rag!’ announced Margia enthusiastically at their next meeting. ‘If we can only push a few more like that on to her, we shall soon get rid of her. What can we do next?’

‘Better wait a while,’ said Jo practically. ‘If things happen too often, she’ll get suspicious – not that that would be anything fresh for her!’ she added.

‘I’ve thought of a
lovely
plan!’ cried Elisaveta. ‘It won’t be
at
her, exactly. But Madame will set it down to her.’

‘I doubt it!’ remarked Jo feelingly. ‘She’s all there – my sister. It’ll have to be a jolly good thing to get her to blame
her
and not
us
for anything we do.’

‘She will this, though,’ retorted the Princess, who was sitting in a most un-princess-like attitude, with her feet on her desk. They were in their form-room at the time. ‘It’s just this. Let’s all begin to talk like Matron!’

A grin of pure delight illuminated Joey’s features at the idea. She knew her sister’s ideas on the subject of voices. Miss Bettany herself had a low, musical voice, and if there
was
anything she disliked more than another in Matron, it was the loud, harsh tones in which she invariably spoke. If the entire middle school began to copy them, Jo foresaw trouble of all kinds coming to them. All the same, it was a really beautiful chance, so she contented herself by saying, ‘Well, I hope you’re prepared to write out that thing of Shakespeare’s about

“Her voice was ever sweet, gentle, and low,

An excellent thing in woman”

umpteen times; for that’s what will happen to us!’

“Lines would be worth it!’ declared Margia.

‘I also think so,’ said Frieda unexpectedly. ‘Matron’s voice is so loud; it makes my head ache.’

‘We must begin gradually,’ said Elisaveta, warming up as she went on to explain the details of her plan. ‘If we all start shouting at once, they will know it is on purpose.’

Joey nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s true. – You really are a brain, Elisaveta. We’d better begin – just two or three of us – by degrees. The others can join in later.’

‘I reckon it’s
our
turn to shine,’ said Evadne. ‘You three did the snails stunt, so some of the rest of us ought to get busy with this first.’

‘Righto,’ agreed Jo amiably. ‘But don’t forget what I told you about the lines.’

‘Oh, I reckon we can stand a few lines!’ replied the American carelessly.

‘Well, you and Suzanne and Ilonka and me,’ said Margia. ‘Then you others by degrees. I shall have to remember to shout.’

As Margia had a particularly soft, pretty speaking voice, this had the merit of being absolutely correct. The other three all possessed shrill, high-pitched voices naturally, and it was only after strenuous work on the part of the staff at large that they had been trained to speak softly.

They were careful not to begin that day – it was too soon after what Evadne called ‘the snails stunt.’ Next morning Suzanne was called to order twice for speaking loudly, and Ilonka was warned that if she couldn’t moderate her tones, she would be put into silence at meal-times.

In the afternoon Mr. Denny, the school singing master, came to give them their bi-weekly lesson. He was a dreamy, irresponsible being, who declared that all teaching should be based on Plato’s – that is, that music should have the first place in every school. The girls had christened him ‘Plato,’ because he talked so much about the great philosopher, and liked him very much. He lived in a little village on the Sonnalpe, some distance from Briesau, at the other side of the lake. He had been sent there by Dr. Jem Russell, Miss Bettany’s future husband, who had built a sanatorium there, and hoped to make it a place where people who could not live in the lower lands might find health and strength. Miss Bettany was to be married soon, the girls knew, and then she would go to the big chalet just above the Sonnalpe, where Dr. Jem, as the girls all called him, had made his own home. They were not looking forward to the event, as they had no wish to lose their headmistress, but they had gradually become resigned to the fact that it must take place some day, though when, nobody knew – not even Joey.

‘Plato’ had gained an added importance in their eyes since he had gone up there to live, and they always treated him with the utmost respect.

This afternoon, however, it seemed good to them to give him a taste of what was coming. They did not dare do much, for Mademoiselle was accompanying them, but at the end of the afternoon, when the master was saying ‘Good-bye’ to Miss Maynard, whom he chanced to meet in the passage, he said, in rather bewildered tones, ‘What has chanced to make our little maids so noisy to-day?’

‘How do you mean?’ asked Miss Maynard quickly.

‘They seem to have forgotten their soft voices, and adopted a louder tone which is hurtful to the ear,’ he explained.

‘
All
of them?’ queried the mistress.

‘Plato’ thought a minute. ‘Nay; not all. But some spoke in strident tones which I do not like. Perchance they are excited over some girlish trifle.’

‘Perhaps they are,’ agreed Miss Maynard noncommittally.

He went off after that; and Miss Maynard, left to herself, put in some hard thinking. Miss Bettany had gone away for the week-end to interview her lawyers in Innsbruck about some business. She had gone that afternoon, and would spend the Saturday with Frieda Mensch’s people, going to Maria Marani’s for the Sunday, and returning early on Monday morning. Joey had known of this, and it had seemed to her to be a good opportunity for beginning the latest campaign.

Miss Maynard was puzzled about ‘Plato’s’ report. She always said that she had never before met with a community of girls whose voices and accents were so uniformly pleasant to hear. She wondered what could be at the bottom of all this. Evadne had been the only one with whom they had had any serious difficulty, but even she had learnt to control her voice. Miss Maynard felt vaguely uneasy.

At
Kaffee
, which the girls always had by themselves, she wandered into the
Speisesaal
under some slight pretext; but there was nothing to worry her then. They were all talking in their usual manner. She decided that the singing-master must have had a bad attack of imagination, and went her way, relieved and grateful.

The next day was Saturday, and Guide parade. The Chalet School company was not a large one, but they were all very keen. Work, this term, consisted in badge-work, the making and furnishing of a big doll’s house – which was destined for one of the children’s hospitals in Vienna – and special drills. As Miss Bettany, the Guide captain, was away, the girls spent most of their time on the doll’s house. It was a magnificent affair. Grizel Cochrane, one of the prefects, had her carpenter’s badge, and, under her instructions, some of the younger ones were making the house itself. Three or four of the others were keen on fret-work, and they were busy with the frames for the furniture; others were fitting the little seat-cushions into the frames; the needle-women devoted themselves to the sewing of whole sets of household linen; even the babies, who were nearly all Brownies, had their share, for they were making little frames of raffia and passepartout for the pictures. Dr. Jem had provided these with cigarette-cards, and there were some charming pictures for the establishment when it should be ready for them. Miss Maynard, as the lieutenant, supervised all the work, and went from one to another giving advice, and helping where it was necessary.

She was dismayed to notice that in one or two of the girls there was a tendency to speak roughly, and Evadne was screeching away in the old manner, with Suzanne, Ilonka, and Margia as good seconds. They stopped as soon as she spoke to them; but they soon forgot, and went on again. Even Margia appeared to be losing her soft voice, and talked at the full pitch of her lungs.

The S.S.M. exchanged glances of congratulation as they noted the mistress’s face. They plan was working
beautifully
!

‘All the same, I wish she’d go and hang round some of the others for a change,’ murmured Margia as she bent over her fret-saw. ‘My throat’s
hoarse
with shrieking. I can’t think how Evadne can keep it up as she does!’

‘I expect she’s used to it,’ said Elisaveta, to whom the remark was addressed. ‘That makes a lot of difference.’

‘Cave! Maynie’s coming!’ muttered Jo from the other side of the bench where she was gluing the back and frame of a couch together. ‘I say, I think I’ll begin.’ And Miss Maynard was horrified to hear her say in stentorian tones, ‘Hand over the rest of this affair, Margia, will you? I can’t get on.’

‘Jo!’ exclaimed the Guide lieutenant. ‘Why are you shouting like that?’

‘Was I shouting?’ asked Jo innocently. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Miss Maynard.’

‘But you are still shouting!’ protested Miss Maynard. ‘You must not do it. You know how Madame dislikes it.’

Jo murmured, ‘Sorry!’ and went on with her work in silence.

Miss Maynard went her way thoroughly perplexed.

A possible solution of the mystery occurred to her when she interviewed Matron after
Mittagessen
about some laundry that had gone amissing. Could it be possible that the girls were catching it from
her
? There would be trouble if it went on – that was certain. Miss Maynard decided to take instant steps to check it.

The first opportunity came during the evening when the girls were wandering about the garden. Margia was surrounded by her own particular set, amongst them, Elisaveta. To the horror of the mistress the little Princess was audible from the other side of the tennis-lawn. What her people would think if they could hear her, Miss Maynard was appalled to think. She fled over to the children. ‘Elisaveta!’ she exclaimed; ‘you must not talk so loudly! I can hear you at the other side of the garden!’

‘Can you, Miss Maynard?’ said Elisaveta, wide-eyed. ‘I did not know. I am sorry.’

‘It is dreadful!’ declared the mathematics mistress. ‘If I hear you – or any other girl, for that matter! –talking so loudly, I shall give her lines for the future.’

Then she turned away, leaving the wicked band chuckling over the success of their scheme. They took little notice of the mistress’s warning, and before the last middle was in bed that night, four of them were condemned to spend part of their free time on Monday in writing out Shakespeare’s words twenty times in their best hand-writing.

Sunday was a little worse that Saturday. Some of the babies were beginning to pick it up, and Miss Durrant who had charge of them that day, was nearly at her wits’ end to know how to check it. To add to the difficulty, Matron had lately taken to insisting that the girls should ‘speak up,’ which from her meant ‘raise your voice.’ It really was a very awkward situation.

The climax came when the girls went out for their usual stroll up the valley to the tiny hamlet of Lauterbach. It was a charming walk, under the pines for the most part, and across the stony bed of a mountain torrent, now dried up, which invariably called up to those who had been there at the time the memory of the March of last year, when the melting snows had caused it to burst its banks and flood the valley. It was mid-May by this time, and the first visitors fo rhte summer were coming. The big hotels at Buchau were beginning to open, and soon the whole peninsula would be gay with many people. This lasted about four months, and during this time the peasant of the valley made their yearly harvest. There was little doing in the autumn and winter, and what came now had to serve most of them for the rest of the year.

Many visitors brought their children with them, and in this way the Chalet School profited, for it was easier for most of the parents to send their girls there for the morning lessons, so that they were safe. Besides this, a number of the Innsbruckers came up to the Tiern See to spend the summer in their summer chalets which were built round the lake, and the girls were day-girls for the term. The Merciers were expecting their parents to come to the Kron Prinz Karl for the summer, and several of the others would join their people sooner or later, coming to school every day. Only a few of them were boarders for the summer term.