04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (11 page)

I want to tell you now that if you only go on as you have been doing lately; I shall be quite satisfied to have you as head-girl. As for Deira, I will see her presently, and try to put this right. Now, tell me what you have been doing in games so far.”

After that she kept the talk to the games till it was time for Grizel to take prep. She sent the girl off, a different being from the one who had come in at half-past four, and asked her to tell one of the middles to send Deira to her.

Grizel went, happier than she had been since the beginning of term, and for a few minutes Mrs. Russell was alone. She got up and wandered round the room, examining her old treasures, till the sound of footsteps outside sent her back to the sofa, and a tap sounded at the door. In answer to her call it opened, and Deira came in.

It was easy to see that the girl was in a bad mood. She dropped her little regulation curtsey, and then stood near the door with a defiant air.

“Come and sit down, Deira,” said Mrs. Russell cheerily, though she was far from feeling it.

Deira sat down on the edge of a chair, and waited for what was to come in a truculent manner.

Madge Russell promptly tackled her with, “Well, are you happy this term?”

“I’m all right,” said Deira sulkily.

“Really and truly, Deira?”

The girl opened her lips to confirm it, but something in the deep brown eyes fronting her checked her speech.

“Are you
really
happy, Deira?” repeated the low, musical voice.

Deira sat struggling hard for self-control. She won it, and as her eyes hardened, Madge realised that it was going to be no easy matter to put things right.

“I’m as happy as I want to be,” she said.

“You are easily satisfied,” said the Head. Then leaning forward, “Deira, you are
not
happy. No girl could be after doing what you have done. Why did you do it, child? It’s not like you to bear malice like this. What has Grizel done to you to make you feel like this towards her?”

Deira shut her lips firmly, and sat in stolid silence. Mrs. Russell tried every means in her power to get her to talk, but she obstinately refused to say one record, good, bad, or indifferent. Finally, the Head had to give it up. But she had learnt enough to know that in this instance Grizel was comparatively blameless, and she rather wondered that the English girl had managed to show such patience and forbearance.

“You may go, Deira,” she said at length. “I am disappointed in you.” Deira went – and stood not upon the order of her going. She just managed to get up to her cubicle before her self-control vanished, and, lying on her bed, she cried heart-brokenly. That last sentence of the Head’s had cut home. She would have given anything to be able to go back to the study and say she was sorry for it all. But she felt she could not do that

– yet.

The devil of pride was having it all his own way with poor Deira.

AFTER DEIRA had gone, Madge Russell went off to fulfil her promise to the Robin, and put that small person to bed. The girls all knew the close bond between the school-baby and their ex-Head, so there would be no question of jealousy. In any case, the Robin went earlier than anyone else, partly because she was nearly a year younger than the other juniors, partly because she was a delicate little mortal. The pretty Polish mother, who was little more than a vague memory to her now, had died in decline, and they were all very careful of her tiny daughter. Care was lavished on the Robin that would have spoilt her, had she not been possessed of a sweet nature and a very low idea of her own importance. Dr. Jem had said that, if she was well looked after during her growing years, the chances were that the trouble would pass her by. He had drawn up a regime for her which was strictly adhered to, and she was watched by all the staff. Early bed, plenty of fresh air and milk were the main parts of it. No slightest ailment was neglected, and already she was showing the good results of it. Her lesson hours were shorter than those of the others, for the doctor considered that it was wiser not to keep her too much at books yet awhile. Luckily, she was one of those happy children who seem to pick up knowledge as they live, and she was quite well-advanced for her age.

Joey told her endless stories which brought in a good deal of history, for that young person was “history-crazy,” to quote Grizel. The Robin loved the tales, and took in a good deal of information with them.

She was sitting on her bed pulling off her long stockings when “Tante Marguerite” appeared, and, at sight of the woman who was mother to her now, she flung down the one she was holding, and scrambled off her perch to fling her arms round Mrs. Russell, and croon in low tones, as was her habit when she was very pleased.

“Off the floor with your bare feet, had child!” cried Madge, picking her up. “Do you want to catch a cold?”

“No; only I am so pleased to see you, dearest,” replied the small maid, as she rubbed her cheek against the soft curly hair. “Will you bath me, Tante Marguerite?”

“Bath you, and brush you, and hear your prayers and everything! Come along, sweetness. It’s a cold night, and we mustn’t waste time. Put on your bedroom slippers, and let me finish undressing you,” replied Madge, diving for the articles mentioned, and presenting them to the child.

The Robin put them on, and then stood still while her clothes were discarded, and she was put into her dressing-gown. The bath was a quick matter, for Tante Marguerite would allow of no playing. It was a bitterly cold night with a promise of more snow in the north wind that was howling round the chalet, and there must be no dawdling. Twenty minutes later the Robin was in bed, her curls brushed, her prayers said, and the long lashes already beginning to droop on her cheeks.

“Sing me to sleep,” she begged in her pretty French. “Sing ‘The Red Sarafan’.”

Madge complied. Both she and Joey were well able to sing the old Russian folk-song which had been the baby’s lullaby from her earliest days. She had taught it to them long since, and Captain Humphries, who had learned it from his wife, was able to correct any bad pronunciation. The Robin loved it because it was

“mamma’s song,” and it was a treat to her to be sung to sleep with it. She generally got it in the holidays, but in term time it was a rare thing, for she was usually popped into bed, the night-light she always had lighted, and then she was left to go to sleep. She was “over” before the last sweet notes had sounded, and Mrs.

Russell, after tucking the clothes more firmly round her, and seeing that the bar of wood they put in to open the sashes of the window was fixed, kissed her as she lay, lit the night-light, and stole out.

Mademoiselle met her at the door. “She is asleep, our
bebe
?” asked the older woman.

“Went off almost at once. She looks well, Elise. I do believe we shall bring her safely through if only we can ward off any colds. Jem’s methods seem to be working all right.”

“She has been very well this winter,” agreed Mademoiselle, as they went downstairs together. “All the same,
ma chere
, one is always anxious about her.”

“As long as she doesn’t notice it! She is such a frail little being, for all her high spirits and rosy cheeks.

And then, I can’t forget her mother.”

“But that was largely what she suffered during the war,” said Mademoiselle, ushering her visitor into the little room that was hers. “First, she had the terrible flight from Poland when the Germans took it, and then there were the long years of struggling along on food that was insufficient and poor in quality. With the Robin we are making as certain as we can of laying an excellent foundation for good health, and one gathers that that was not thought of in the case of Madame Humphries. Dr. Jem was quite satisfied with her the last time he saw her. I think you need not trouble.”

Madge laughed. “It’s silly of me, I know. But I always feel as if she was one of the most precious charges I possess. I don’t have to worry over Juliet’s health, thanks be! She is as strong as a horse. And Jo has gained enormously since we came out here to live. She isn’t the same child. Jem thinks she will completely outgrow that awful delicacy of hers that used to make me so anxious. It’s queer, Elise,” she went on thoughtfully, “but I seem to have to worry about the strength of my children always. Four years ago, if anyone had told me that I should worry as much over any child as I did over Jo, I should have laughed at them. I never would have thought it possible. But I do over the Robin. Still, I’m really borrowing trouble, I suppose, that silliest of all things to do! But one can’t help loving the baby.”

“No; that is very true.” There was a little silence after Mademoiselle’s last speech, and then she roused herself and inquired, “And what about Grizel and Deira,
cherie
? Have you been able to settle their differences?”

“As far as Grizel is concerned, Deira is absolutely hopeless just now. I simply can’t imagine what has happened to make her like this. She always had a temper – we knew
that
! But she’s never kept up a grudge before. It’s always been one flash, and then over. Now she won’t listen to me, and I tried everything I could think of. What are we to do about it?”

“Nothing, I fear. She is not happy, of course, and she has taken to refusing her food, but that I will not allow. If she will not eat, she shall be fed; also, she shall have a tonic. I wish Dr. Jem to see her when he returns – unless matters are settled by then. But she must first see how wrong she has been, and then we shall all be glad to forgive.”

“Grizel appears to have forgiven.”

“Yes; I think she realises that she was in the wrong at first, and is anxious to make amends. That is true repentance,” pronounced Mademoiselle, who was a faithful Catholic. “If only Deira would see it too, we should soon have no trouble.”

“Well, things go well as a rule,” said Madge. “Oh, I know we’ve had some exciting times since we came!

Never
shall I forget the flood – or the fire last summer, either. And, of course, there were the times when Grizel and Joey were lost on the Tiernjoch; and again, when Elisaveta was kidnapped, and Joey went off to rescue her. Still, it’s been very plain sailing on the whole, and the school hasn’t suffered by those same mad exploits. Who would have thought, Elise, that we could begin with nine girls, and reach fifty-seven in four years?”

“We have fulfilled a need,” said Mademoiselle. “That explains it.”

“Yes; I suppose it does. Well, I’ve never regretted my decision to come here, though I
have
had some thrilling moments when I
wondered
!”

“All has been for the best,” returned her friend comfortably. “For me, I have had no regrets either. I am able to help my good cousin by having Simone and Renee here, so that they receive a good education, and in the years to come will be able to help their parents as well as themselves. It is Simone’s wish to teach, and if she does well I intend to send her to the Sorbonne, that she may be the better fitted to do so. I am saving for that now. Renee is musical, and she shall have a thorough training. She will not be an artiste as Margia Stevens is, but she will do well, I think. I shall always be glad of that wet and windy day you came to the Withers and told me of your wishes. I could never have done so much for the children if I had remained
gouvernante
in a family, as I must have done. We owe much to you,
ma mie
.”

“Nonsense, Elise! I owe equally as much to you; I couldn’t have married if you had not been here to take over when I left. As it is, I can feel quite happy about the school, and also Joey. I know they are safe with you.” Madge got up as she spoke, and began to wrap herself up in the big shawl she had worn when she came across.

“Must you go, Marguerite?”

“Yes; I think so. Prep. will be nearly over by the time I get back, and I want to be there, so that if the girls want to talk to me they can find me.”

“Ah, then, I will bid you bonne nuit. The blessed saints have you in their keeping.”

“And you too.
Auf wiedersehn
!” Madge went off to the chalet, and left Mademoiselle to trot off to the
Speisesaal
in Le Petit Chalet, to see that
Abendessen
would be ready for the juniors when they came from prep.

Arrived back at the main building, Madge went off to tidy her hair, and then retired to the study, where she picked up a book and settled herself for a while. Her peace, however, was soon disturbed. First, Gertrud came for a few minutes’ chat with the Head she reverenced so much. Then Margia Stevens trotted in to ask Madame to look at her latest composition – a little dance. Margia was expected to do great things in later years, for she was gifted beyond the ordinary, and already her compositions showed a remarkable gift of melody. The “dance” was a marked improvement on anything she had hitherto done, and, secretly, Madge was surprised at it, though she took good care not to let the composer know that. Margia had a very good conceit of herself as it was. There was no need to increase it.

She had just gone when Mademoiselle’s little cousin, Simone Lecoutier, put in an appearance to ask if they might all go sledging on the morrow.

“That will depend on the weather,” said Mrs. Russell. “If it snows – and I’m afraid it will – there’ll be no outside games of any kind.”

“I am so weary of the snow!” sighed Simone. “Always it falls and spoils our fun! We could not go out this morning because it snowed. I had hoped that it had ceased.”

“You can dance,” said her Head.

Simone threw out her hands with an indescribable gesture. “But dance!” she remarked.

Madge looked up, surprised. “Why, I thought you loved your dancing?”

“Oh, I do! But one can weary of anything which one has every day. For me, I would sledge. I am
ennuyee
when we are so long in the house.”

Mrs. Russell laughed. “You are an ungrateful child, Simone. How would you like it if you
had
to be out in this weather all the time?”

“I should not like it at all,” said Simone calmly; “but I do not ask for that, Madame.”