04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (15 page)

“Thank goodness I don’t learn with him”‘ said Jo.

“Hear – hear! I’d be sorry for whoever came after your lesson!”

“How d’you think you’ll like Florence, Grizel?” asked Rosalie curiously. “It’ll be a change from this, anyway.”

“I don’t want to think of Florence at all,” replied Grizel. “I wish I weren’t going. Oh, I don’t mean that I don’t want to see the place!” – forestalling the exclamation on Jo’s lips – “but I shall never be a real musician, and I think it’s waste of time to work at it as I’m doing.”

“What would you like to do then, my Grizel?” asked Gertrud.

“I’d like to go to coll. as Juliet is doing, and read maths. Then I should like to do research work of some kind. I couldn’t teach, for I simply haven’t the patience.”

“Well, why don’t you write to your poppa, and tell him?” Evadne wanted to know. “I guess that’s what I’d do! And make
some
fuss, too, till he said I might!”

“Father wouldn’t agree for a moment,” said Grizel briefly. “It wouldn’t be any use.”

“Well, I guess I’d make him see reason if he was my poppa,” declared Evadne, who could twist her indulgent father round her little finger, and had never known what it was to be refused anything she wanted that he could get her.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Jo. “Your father may be like that, but everyone’s isn’t.

Herr Marani wouldn’t let Gisela or Maria argue with him, I know. Would he, Maria?”

Maria Marani, brought up to render implicit obedience to her parents, looked shocked at the very idea; although, as Jo said later, she should have been accustomed to Evadne by this time. “Papa would be very angry,” she said simply, and I should not be happy.”

“Nor I,” added Frieda. “Papa would he sad, and so would mamma.”

“Well, say! I don’t think you people have brought up your parents right,” said the irrepressible Evadne. “I guess there’d be
some
doings if I had to do as I was told all the time! Me for good old U.S.A. all the time!”

“You’re talking rubbish,” Grizel told her; “and you are too young to understand,” a statement that made Evadne wildly indignant.

However, no one paid any attention to her splutterings, for Gertrud had raised the question of their sale of work, and they were all hard at discussing it. So the American child recovered her temper, and joined in.

“We shall have a needlework table,” said Gertrud, “and one for handcrafts. But what else shall we do?”

“Mademoiselle is going to show us how to make sweets,” said Rosalie. “Don’t you think the little ones might have a lucky dip, Grizel?”

“But what is that – a lucky dip?” inquired Vanna di Ricei with interest.

“A tub with sawdust, and you hide parcels in the sawdust,” explained Jo. “Then people pay so much, and dig for a parcel. It’s jolly fun.”

“That will be a new thing here,” said Gertrud. “I think it a good idea, Rosalie. What do you say, Grizel?”

“I don’t see why not,” responded Grizel. “Some of us will have to help them, but it ought to go, I think.”

“I’ve cut five jig-saw puzzles,” said Jo, whose hobby this was. “If I can cut five more, I think they’ll sell, and we ought to get about two
Schillings
for each.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got already,” said Grizel. “Some of you people go and get the boxes from the prefects’ room, will you?”

Three middles dashed off, and presently returned with the two big boxes in which the girls placed their work as they finished it. Grizel, rising with a stifled groan at her stiffness, removed the lids, and began to take out what they had. There were three baby gowns, beautifully embroidered; fifteen pin-cushions of various kinds; a goodly pile of undergarments, all exquisitely made; a couple of towels, handsomely worked; a small collar of pillow-lace, and handkerchiefs edged with the same, for many of the girls were experts at it. This was in the smaller box. In the other were napkin-rings, blotters, and raffia baskets; Jo’s five jig-saw puzzles, in boxes covered with wall-paper; two fretwork brackets; some wooden boxes, the lids carved with floral designs; one or two picture-frames; and a dozen book-marks of stamped leather – Grizel’s own contribution.

“It isn’t much,” said Mary, with vivid memories of what had been accumulated for the church bazaars at home. “We’ll have to work like niggers if we want to have a decent show in March. What else is there to come in that we know of?”

“Bernhilda is making some frocks,” said Frieda shyly; “and mamma is also helping.”

“Wanda paints some china for us,” Marie von Eschenau added, “but she will not send it till nearer to the time, in case it should get broken.”

“Here’s my tray-cloth!” Rosalie waved it at them. “And Gertrud has her sets of collars and cuffs.”

They went through the list carefully, but, even when the last napkin-ring to be given by the Robin had been counted, it seemed to the elder girls that they would not have a great deal.

“We must give up all our spare time,” Grizel decided. “If we have a sale of work, it’s got to be worth while. We want to send a good sum up to the san. It would be very jolly if we could manage to get enough to pay for keeping one bed occupied for a year. We might, if we tried hard. Help me to put away these things, some of you, and let’s all go and fetch our work. We ought to get something done tonight.”

They eagerly obeyed her; and when Miss Maynard came in to see what they were doing, she found them all hard at it. “What amazing industry!” she cried, as she looked round the room. “What
has
happened to you all? I should have thought this morning’s labours would have taken all desire to work from you.”

“It is the sale of work,” explained Gertrud. “We do not wish to have a small one, so we thought we would do something tonight, when there is no preparation to think about.”

“May I see what you have ready?” asked Miss Maynard.

Grizel opened the boxes, and showed their stock. “It isn’t much, is it? ” she said.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s so bad for a beginning,” replied the mistress cheerily. “If you all work from now till the day, we ought to have quite a good sale, I think.”

“We mean to,” said Joey, coming up. “I must get on with these puzzles. Do you think I could sell fifteen if I made them? Are they likely to go well?”

“I should think so,” returned Miss Maynard. “You cut them well, Jo, and you have some very pretty pictures. Make fifteen, by all means, if you can. We can always raffle them at the end if they don’t sell.”

Jo went back to her fret-saw, and Miss Maynard went the rounds to see what the others were doing. Then she suggested reading to them while they worked, and this idea was received with acclamations.

“Read us something exciting,” said Jo. “Something like
Treasure Island
would be nice. I love pirates!”

The maths. mistress laughed, and left the room, to return presently with
Stalky and Co
., whereat Jo uttered a squeal of delight. The work went on steadily after that, until Luise rang the bell for
Abendessen
, and they all had to stop.

“I’ve done a lot,” said Evadne, looking at her nearly-finished napkin-ring with approval. “It’s lots easier when you’re read to!”

“And I have finished my collar,” said Vanna, holding up a collar embroidered in Richelieu work most beautifully done. “That makes another set, Grizel. I will just finish it off tomorrow – there are one or two stitches to correct – and then I will give you the set.”

After
Abendessen
the middles went off upstairs. They were expected to go to bed, but Joey, who at fifteen might have been expected to have given up childish ways, spent a good ten minutes in making an apple-pie bed for Mary. Paula, Margia, Evadne, Frieda, and Marie von Eschenau followed her example, with the result that they had to scramble in order to be in bed by the time Miss Wilson, who was on duty, came up to put their lights out. Luckily for them, she was a minute or two late, and even Paula, who was slower than the others, was between the sheets when the mistress appeared on the scene. There was no talking allowed after lights out, though they might talk after seven in the morning, but sundry gurgles and chuckles told of their deep satisfaction in their evil work. They tried to stay awake to hear what the seniors had to say when they tried to get into bed, but nature was too strong for them, and they were all sleeping when Grizel and her compeers came upstairs.

What the seniors thought may be gathered by their actions. Jo woke early the next morning, feeling thirsty.

She got out of bed, switched on her electric torch, and proceeded to make her way out of her cubicle. To her amazement the curtains would not open. Neither could she get under them when she tried. She was a prisoner for the present. Being thus effectually checked, she naturally felt madly thirsty, and persuaded herself that she simply
couldn’t
wait till seven to get the water. She struggled with the obstacle, but in vain.

All she succeeded in doing was in waking up Frieda, who slept next to her. “Jo,” whispered that young lady,

“what is wrong? Are you, then, ill?”

“No; but I can’t get out of my cubie,” replied Jo savagely.

Frieda got out of bed with a bump and tried to come to her, but found it impossible. She, too, was a prisoner. By this time several of the others had awakened, and, since they dared not talk aloud, the dormitory was filled with hissing, as people whispered what they thought of the matter to each other. Try as they would, they could not move those curtains one inch. Jo did contrive to tug one of hers a little way, but a rending sound warned her that there would be trouble if she went on with it, so she gave it up in disgust.

Finally, they went back to bed, where they had to stay in durance vile till seven o’clock brought a tap at the door, and then two or three people entered.

“Nice, isn’t it?” said Mary Burnett’s voice cheerfully.

“What an orderly room! None of the little dears rushing about as usual!” added another that they knew belonged to Eva von Heiling.

“Let us out, you brutes!” cried Evadne.

“Not till you ask politely,” retorted Mary promptly.

“Undo this curtain,” commanded Joey. “We’ll all he late for our baths if you don’t!”

“Say ‘please,’ Joey dear, and then we may,” was all she got for her pains.

And it was so! Rage the middles never so violently, they had to climb down, and say “please” before the three people who had come in would agree to remove the drawing-pins with which they had secured the curtains to the floor.

“You can take out the sewing for yourselves,” said Mary cheerfully.

Eight girls were only just in time that morning. They dared not leave the curtains as they were, and they all had to turn to and undo the tacking with which the seniors had successfully imprisoned them before they could leave the dormitory.

“I rather think you’ll leave our beds alone for the future,” said Mary to Jo when they met in the passage after
Fruhstuck
.

Jo scowled at her, but Mary had spoken truly. The middles avoided the seniors’ beds after this as if they dreaded the plague from them.

Marie’s News

MARIE VON ESCHENAU went home for a week-end to be present at Wanda’s betrothal party. That was the beginning of it all, as was proved later. Joey had been invited to go too, but she had started a cold, and, in her case, colds were never things to he neglected. So she was relegated to the sickroom, while Marie went off with the aunt who came to bring her. It is a thirteen hours’ run from Innsbruck to Vienna where Marie lived, so they had to start on the Thursday night, as the feast was on the Friday. Sunday would see her on the return journey, so that she might miss as little of school as possible.

“Lucky wench!” grumbled Joey when Marie came to say good-bye and tell her how sorry she was that they couldn’t both be there as they had hoped. “I say, you might bring me something from the show – a sprig of myrtle, or something.”

“I will bring all I can,” replied Marie, who was very fond of Joey in a quiet fashion, totally unlike Simone’s rather hectic adoration. “I will also bring some cakes from that pastry-cook’s you so much like.

What will you have? Some
Obstorte
?”

“Rather! Marie, you
gem
! And some of those honey and nut things with cream in them! I love them!”

“Also a large piece of Wanda’s betrothal cake,” added Marie. “I must go now,
Hertzliebchen. Auf
Wiedersehen
.”

She went off, and Jo burrowed under her blankets and growled to herself about her ill-luck. Grizel, coming to sit with her later on, found her thoroughly disgruntled and ready to grouse about everything. Frieda had no better luck; and Simone left the room in tears.

“What on earth are you howling about
now
?” demanded the head-girl, who happened to meet her on the stairs. “Really, Simone, I never met anything like you for crying! You’re always at it!”

Simone refused to say, however. Four years in the school had taught her not to voice all her grievances aloud, and she pushed past Grizel, and went on to her dormitory to have her cry out in peace, and get rid of the tear-stains as soon as she was finished.

On the Sunday Jowas pronounced to be all right again, and was allowed to join the rest of them in the house. There was to be no going out for her for another day or two. The snow had ceased to fall, but it was freezing hard, and there was a bitter wind. As it was, she was too thankful to get away from the sick-room and Matron, who was kind but dull, and be with all her friends again. So she made the best of things, though it was very tantalising to see the pale winter sunshine turning the frozen snow into a thousand sparkling diamonds, and not go out in it. The Robin stayed with her while the others went for a long walk in the morning, there being no service in the little chapel where the old priest came once in three weeks to celebrate Mass. When they had returned, Miss Durrant took the school-baby for a brisk run to Seespitz, the tiny hamlet at the end of the lake, and they both returned with glowing cheeks.

As it was Sunday, the juniors came over to the Chalet to spend the day as usual, and there was enough noise made to justify Miss Maynard’s remarks about “rnonkey-houses.” This was the one day in the week when the girls might speak their own language all the time without let or hindrance, and they made the most of it. French, German, and Italian were the chief languages, but there was English, of course, and some Norwegian, for there were four Norwegian girls in the school now; and a little Hungarian. As Miss Wilson had once said when they all got started, the Tower of Babel wasn’t in it!