The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life Read online

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  A CHANCE FOR RETALIATION]

  Transcriber's Note: This sentence is incomplete, as printed:"Where did you get it, Flossie?" enquired

  The New Girl at St. Chad's

  A Story of School Life

  By

  ANGELA BRAZIL

  Author of

  "A Fourth Form Friendship" "The Manor House School""The Nicest Girl in the School" &c.

  _ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN CAMPBELL_

  BLACKIE AND SON LIMITEDLONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY

  1912

  Contents

  Chap. Page

  I. Honor Introduces Herself 9

  II. Honor's Home 25

  III. The Wearing of the Green 39

  IV. Janie's Charge 57

  V. A Riding Lesson 75

  VI. The Lower Third 93

  VII. St. Chad's Celebrates an Occasion 106

  VIII. A Mysterious Happening 126

  IX. Diamond cut Diamond 138

  X. Honor Finds Favour 150

  XI. A Relapse 166

  XII. St. Kolgan's Abbey 182

  XIII. Miss Maitland's Window 199

  XIV. A Stolen Meeting 212

  XV. Sent to Coventry 227

  XVI. A Rash Step 243

  XVII. Janie turns Detective 258

  XVIII. The End of the Term 271

  Illustrations

  Page

  A Chance for Retaliation _Frontispiece_ 146

  Honor Concludes the Purchase of Firefly 33

  An Interview With Miss Cavendish 54

  The Liberation of Pete 96

  An Unlucky Escapade 209

  "Startled by the voices, she jumped up" 253

  THE NEW GIRL AT ST. CHAD'S

  CHAPTER I

  Honor Introduces Herself

  "Any new girls?"

  It was Madge Summers who asked the question, seated on the right-handcorner of Maisie Talbot's bed, munching caramels. It was a very smallbed, but at that moment it managed to accommodate no less than sevenof Maisie's most particular friends, who were closely watching theprogress of her unpacking, and discussing the latest school news,interspersed with remarks on her belongings.

  Maisie extricated herself from the depths of her box, and handed a pileof stockings to Lettice, her younger sister.

  "What's the use of asking me?" she replied. "Our cab only drove up halfan hour ago. I feel almost new myself yet."

  "So do I, and horribly in the blues too," said Pauline Reynolds. "It'salways a wrench to leave home. I'm perfectly miserable for at leastthree days at the beginning of each term. I feel as if----"

  "Oh, don't all begin to expatiate about your feelings!" broke in ChattyBurns. "We know Pauline's symptoms only too well: the first day sheshows aggressively red eyes and a damp pocket-handkerchief; the secondday she writes lengthy letters home, begging to be allowed to returnimmediately and have lessons with a private governess; the third dayshe wanders about, trying to get sympathy from anyone who isweak-minded enough to listen to her, till in desperation somebody dragsher into the playground, and makes her have a round at hockey. Thatcheers her up, and she begins to think life isn't quite such a desert.By the fourth morning she has recovered her spirits, and come to theconclusion that Chessington College is a very decent kind of place; andshe begins to be alarmed lest her mother, on the strength of thepathetic letter, should have decided to let her leave at once, andshould have already engaged a private governess."

  "You're most unsympathetic, Chatty!" said Pauline, smiling in spite ofherself. "You don't know what it is to be home-sick."

  "I wouldn't parade such a woebegone face, whatever might be the depthsof my misery," returned Chatty briskly.

  "I'm always glad to come back," declared Dorothy Arkwright. "I likeschool. It's fun to meet everybody again, and arrange about cricket,and the Debating Society, and the Natural History Club. There's so muchgoing on at St. Chad's."

  "No one has answered my question yet," remarked Madge Summers. "Arethere any new girls?"

  Chatty wriggled herself into a more comfortable position betweenAdeline Vaughan and Ruth Latimer.

  "I think there are about a dozen altogether. Vivian Holmes says thereare four at St. Bride's, three at St. Aldwyth's, two at the SchoolHouse, and two at St. Hilary's. I saw one of them arriving at the sametime as I did, and Miss Cavendish was gushing over another in thelibrary; and Marian Spencer has brought a sister--she introduced her tome just now."

  "But what about St. Chad's?"

  "We've only one, I believe, though Flossie Taylor, the Hammond-Smiths'cousin, has moved here from St. Bride's. She was always destined for aChaddite, you know, only there wasn't room for her till the Richardsonsleft."

  "She's no great acquisition," said Dorothy Arkwright. "I hate girls tochange their quarters. When once they start at a house, they ought tostick to it."

  "Well, she wants to be with her cousins, I suppose," put in MadgeSummers. "Who's our new girl?"

  "I don't know. I haven't heard anything about her."

  "Perhaps she hasn't arrived yet."

  "Sh! Sh!" said Pauline Reynolds, squeezing Madge's arm by way ofremonstrance, and pointing to the closely-drawn curtains of the cubicleat the farther end of the room. "She's here now."

  "Where?"

  "There, you goose!"

  "What has she shut herself up like that for?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Perhaps she's unpacking," suggested Dorothy Arkwright.

  "If she is, she'll finish it quicker than Lettice and I can," returnedMaisie Talbot. "Why can't you be hanging up some of those skirts,instead of sitting staring at me? Yes, this is a whole box of Edinburghrock, but you shan't have a single piece, any of you, unless you getoff my bed at once."

  "Poor old Maisie, don't grow excited!" murmured Ruth Latimer,appropriating the box and handing it round, though no one attempted tomove.

  "But look here! what about this new girl?" persisted Madge. "Hasn'tanybody seen her?"

  "No. She's been in there ever since she arrived."

  "Don't talk so loud; she'll hear you."

  "I don't care if she does."

  "I want to know what she's doing."

  "I can tell you, then," said Chatty Burns, in a whisper that was moreaudible by far than her ordinary voice.

  "What?"

  "Crying! New girls always cry, and some old ones too, if you takePauline as a specimen."

  "I'm not crying now!" protested Pauline indignantly. "And how can youtell that the new girl is?"

  "I'm as certain as if I'd proved a proposition in Euclid. Why shouldshe have drawn her curtains so closely? If she's not lying on her bed,with a clean pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, I'll give you sixcaramels in exchange for three peppermint creams!"

>   "Then you're just mistaken!" cried a voice from the end cubicle. Thechintz curtain was pulled aside, and out marched a figure with sojaunty an air as to banish utterly the idea of possible homesickness ortears.

  It was a girl of about fifteen, a remarkably pretty girl (so herschoolmates decided, without an instant's hesitation), and rather outof the common. She had a clear, olive complexion, a lovely colour inher cheeks, a bewitching pair of dimples, and a perfect colt's mane ofthick, curly, brown hair. Perhaps her nose was a little too tip-tilted,and her mouth a trifle too wide for absolute beauty; but she showedsuch a nice row of even, white teeth when she laughed that one couldoverlook the latter deficiency. Her eyes were beyond praise, large andgrey, with a dark line round the iris, and shaded by long lashes; andthey were so soft, and wistful, and winning, and yet so twinkling andfull of fun, that they seemed as if they could compel admiration, andmake friends with their first glance. The girl walked across the roomin an easy, confident fashion, and stood, with a broad smile on herface, beaming at the seven others seated on Maisie's bed.

  "Why shouldn't I pull my curtains?" she asked. "If I'd been pullingfaces, now, you might have had some cause for complaint. You lookrather a nice set; I think I'm going to like you."

  The girls were so surprised that they could only stare. It seemedreversing the usual order of things for a new-comer, who ought to beshy and confused, to be so absolutely and entirely self-possessed, andto pass judgment with such calm assurance upon these old members of St.Chad's, some of whom were already in their third year at ChessingtonCollege.

  "Perhaps I'd better introduce myself," continued the stranger. "My nameis Honor Fitzgerald, and I come from Kilmore, near Ballycroghan, inCounty Kerry."

  "Then you're Irish!" gasped Chatty Burns.

  "Quite right. First class for geography! County Kerry is exactly in thebottom left-hand corner of the map of Ireland. It's a more hospitableplace than this is. I've been here nearly two hours, and nobody hasoffered me any refreshments yet. I'm simply starving!"

  She looked so humorously and suggestively at the Edinburgh rock thatMadge Summers promptly offered it to her, regardless of the fact thatthe box belonged to Maisie Talbot.

  "Come along here," said Ruth Latimer, trying to make a place for thenew girl on the bed by pushing the others vigorously nearer the end.

  "No room unless I sit on your knee, while you get up and walk about,"declared Honor. "There! I knew you would!" as Madge Summers fell with acrash on to the floor.

  "Seven little schoolgirls, eating sugar sticks; One tumbled overboard, and then there were six!"

  "Thank you. I think I prefer to 'take the chair', as the dentist says.There only seems to be one in each cubicle, but as I'm the visitor----"

  "Take care!" screamed Maisie. "My clean blouses!"

  "What am I doing? I declare, I never saw them. There, I'll nurse themfor you while I eat this delicious-looking piece of pink rock."

  The new girl was so utterly different from anybody else who had evercome to St. Chad's that the others waited with curiosity to hear whatshe would say next.

  "Well?" she enquired coolly at last. "I suppose you're thinking meover. I should like to know your opinion of me. They tell me at homethat my nose turns up, and my tongue is too long. But I didn't turn upmy nose at the Edinburgh rock, did I?--and as for my tongue, it fits mymouth, as a general rule, though it runs away sometimes."

  "When did you come?"

  "What class are you in?"

  "Have you seen Miss Cavendish yet?"

  "How old are you?"

  "Have you been to school before?"

  "Do you know anyone here?"

  "Why did you come to St. Chad's?"

  The questions were fired off all together from seven pairs of lips.

  "One at a time, please!" returned Honor. "I'm older than I look, andyounger than I seem. You mayn't believe me, yet I assure you I've onlyhad three birthdays."

  "Rubbish!" said Chatty Burns.

  "It's a fact, all the same."

  "But how could that be?" demanded Pauline Reynolds incredulously.

  "Because I was born on the twenty-ninth of February, and I can't have abirthday except in a leap year. That accounts for anything odd there isabout me; so if you find me queer, you must just say: 'She's atwenty-ninth of February girl', and make excuses for me. As for theother questions, I've never been to school before; I've seen MissCavendish, but I haven't heard yet what class I'm to be in; fiveminutes ago I didn't know anybody here, but now I know--how many arethere of you?--one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!"

  "Have you unpacked yet?" asked Maisie, returning to her box, whichLettice had been steadily emptying.

  "Only about half."

  "I think we had better come and help you, then."

  "Better finish our own first!" grunted Lettice, for which remark shewas promptly snubbed by her elder sister.

  "Miss Maitland will be up at eight o'clock to look at our drawers,"said Chatty Burns. "She'll expect you to have everything put away, andyour coats and dresses hung in the wardrobe."

  "We have to be so fearfully tidy here!" sighed Adeline Vaughan. "Awarden comes round each morning, and woe betide you if you leave hairsin your brush, or have forgotten to fold your nightdress!"

  "It's just as bad at St. Hilary's," said Madge.

  "And worse at St. Bride's," added Ruth Latimer.

  "My father wanted me to be at the School House," said Honor, "but MissCavendish wrote that it was full, so I was entered at St. Chad'sinstead."

  "Yes, you generally need to have your name down for two years beforeyou can get a vacancy at the School House," said Dorothy Arkwright."It's the popular favourite with parents, because Miss Cavendishherself is the Head; but really, St. Chad's is far nicer. We all standup for our own house, and I know you'll like it."

  "There's the tea-bell! Come along! we must go at once," interruptedChatty Burns.

  "Won't they wait for us?" enquired Honor, beginning to wash her handswith much deliberation.

  "Wait! She asks if they'll wait!" exclaimed Adeline Vaughan.

  "One can see you've never been to school before!" commented MaisieTalbot. "No, you certainly haven't time to comb your hair now. You hadbetter follow the rest of us as fast as you can."

  St. Chad's could accommodate forty pupils, and Honor found a placeassigned to her in the dining-hall near the end of a long table, whichlooked very attractive with its clean white cloth, its pretty china,and its vases of flowers in the middle. She had a good view of herschoolfellows, more than half of whom seemed of about the same age asherself, though there were tall girls, with their hair already put up,and a few younger ones who had apparently only just entered theirteens. Grace was sung, and then the urns began to fill an almostceaseless stream of cups, while plates of bread and butter circulatedwith much rapidity.

  "We're late to-day," explained Honor's neighbour, "because the trainfrom the North does not get in until five. Our usual tea-time is fouro'clock, after games; then we have supper at half-past seven, whenwe've finished evening preparation. Did you bring any jam? Your hamperwill be unpacked to-morrow, and the pots labelled with your name. Iexpect you'll find one opposite your plate at breakfast. Jam andmarmalade are the only things we're allowed, except plain cakes."

  Tea on the first afternoon was generally an exciting occasion at St.Chad's. There were so many greetings between old friends, so much newsand such various topics to be discussed, that conversation, in asufficiently subdued undertone, went on very briskly. The girls hadenjoyed their Easter holidays, but most of them seemed pleased toreturn to school, for the summer term was always the favourite atChessington College.

  "Have you heard who's in the Eleven?" began Madge Summers. "They'veactually put in Grace Shaw, and she bowls abominably. I think it's rankfavouritism on Miss Young's part. She always gives St. Hilary's a turnwhen she can."

  "She was a Hilaryite herself," returned Adeline Vaughan. "That's theworst of having a games
mistress who's been educated at the school;she's sure to show partiality for her old house."

  "And yet in one way it's better, because she understands all ourcustoms and private rules. It would be almost impossible to explaineverything to a new-comer."

  "What about the house team?" asked Ruth Latimer. "Is anything fixed?"

  "Not yet. There's to be a practice to-morrow, and it will go by ourscores."

  "I shall stick to tennis," declared Pauline Reynolds. "One gets a fairchance there, at any rate, and we must keep up the credit of St. Chad'sin the courts. I don't know whether we've any chance of winning theshield. I wish we could get a real champion!"

  "You should see Flossie Taylor play!" burst out Edith and ClaudiaHammond-Smith, who were anxious to bring their cousin forward, and toensure her popularity among the other girls.

  "I've not heard that she made any record at St. Bride's," remarkedDorothy Arkwright, who resented Flossie's removal to St. Chad's.

  "She hasn't had an opportunity. She only came to school last Christmas,and it wasn't the tennis season. Wait till you see her serve!"

  "Miss Young will have to be judge, not I," replied Dorothy coldly.

  "Flossie is in your bedroom, Dorothy," announced Claudia. "She has thecubicle near the fireplace."

  "If you're sleeping in the bed next to mine," said Flossie, eyeingDorothy across the table with a rather patronizing air, "I sincerelyhope you don't snore."

  "Of course not!" responded Dorothy, in some indignation.

  "At St. Bride's," continued Flossie, "one of my room-mates snoredatrociously. I used to have to get up and shake her, and pull thepillow from under her head, before I could go to sleep."

  "You'd better not try that on with me!"

  "I would, in a minute, if you kept me awake."

  "It is a shame she's not in our room," interposed Edith. "We've askedMiss Maitland to let her change with Geraldine Saunders, and I thinkperhaps she may. We want Flossie all to ourselves; I do hope she'll letus!"

  "So do I!" retorted Dorothy feelingly. "The Hammond-Smiths are welcometo their cousin, so far as I'm concerned," she whispered to ChattyBurns; "I don't like her. She's trying to show off. Edith and Claudiaare making far too much fuss over her."

  "They always gush," commented Chatty. "Still, I dare say Flossie willneed taking down a little."

  "It would do her all the good in the world," replied Dorothy. Then,turning to the Hammond-Smiths, she remarked aloud: "There's a new girlhere who may be just as good as your cousin, for anything we know.Honor Fitzgerald, do you play tennis?"

  "I can play, but how you'll like it is another story," answered Honor."We two," nodding at Flossie, "had better try a set by ourselves, andthen you can choose the winner."

  "I'm sure I don't care about it, thank you." Flossie's tone wassupercilious.

  "All right! We don't force ourselves where we're not wanted in my partof the world."

  "Is that Ireland? Then I suppose your name is Biddy?"

  "Certainly not!"

  "I thought all Irish girls were called Biddy; are you sure you're not?"

  "My name is Honor Fitzgerald."

  "Really! I'm astonished it isn't Mulligan, or O'Grady."

  The Hammond-Smiths giggled, and poked Effie and Blanche Lawson.

  "Isn't Flossie funny?" they whispered delightedly.

  "I think she's very rude," observed Dorothy Arkwright. "I call that anextremely cheap form of wit."

  "Irish names are often rather peculiar," drawled Claudia Hammond-Smith.

  "They're quite as good as English ones, and sometimes a great deal moreancient and aristocratic," returned Honor.

  "One for Claudia, and for Flossie Taylor too!" said Dorothy to ChattyBurns.

  "Paddy, for instance," interposed Flossie, who saw that the Lawsonswere listening, as well as her cousins. "St. Patrick and pigs always gotogether, in my mind. I suppose you keep a pig in Ireland?"

  "Don't answer her!" whispered Honor's neighbour. "They're only teasingyou because you're new. They want to see how much you'll stand."

  But poor Honor was unaccustomed as yet to schoolgirl banter, and couldnot abstain from replying:

  "Does it matter whether we do or not?"

  She spoke quietly, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if her temperwere rising.

  "Not in the least! I only thought all Irish people cultivated pigs."

  "It's no worse than keeping a cat, or a dog."

  "My dear Paddy, of course not! Still, I shouldn't care to have thecreatures in the drawing-room. Take a little more bread and butter. I'msorry we've no potatoes to offer you."

  The Hammond-Smiths and the Lawsons tittered, and Dorothy Arkwright wasabout to state her frank opinion of their behaviour when Honor'spent-up wrath exploded.

  "We don't keep pigs in the drawing-room," she exclaimed. "There's asaying that it takes nine tailors to make a man, so if your name isTaylor you can only be the ninth part of a lady!" Then, realizing thather upraised voice had drawn upon her the attention, not only of allthe girls, but also of Miss Maitland, she flushed crimson, scraped backher chair, and fled precipitately from the room.

  Miss Maitland looked surprised. It was an unheard-of thing for any girlto leave the tea-table without permission. Such a breach of schooldecorum had surely never been committed before at St. Chad's! There wasa very complete code of etiquette observed at the house, and to breakone of the laws of politeness was considered an unpardonable offence.

  "She's made a bad beginning," whispered Ruth Latimer to Maisie Talbot."It's most unfortunate. It was really the fault of Flossie Taylor andthe Hammond-Smiths. They needn't have teased her so."

  "Still, it was silly of her to lose her temper," replied Maisie. "Shestalked out of the room like a queen of tragedy. Miss Maitland can'tbear girls who give way to their impulses; she despises what she calls'early Victorian hysterics', and I quite agree with her."

  "Yes, we must learn to be stoics here," said Ruth; "and as for teasing,the wisest thing is to take no notice of it."

  A monitress had been dispatched to fetch Honor back, but in a shorttime she returned alone, and reported that she could not find her. MissMaitland made no comment, and as the meal was now over she gave thesignal of dismissal. Most of the girls went to the recreation room, butMaisie Talbot, who had not yet quite concluded her unpacking, ranstraight upstairs. Noticing something move behind a curtain in thecorner of the bedroom, she pulled it aside. There was Honor, sitting ina queer little heap on the floor, and rubbing her eyes in a verysuggestive manner. She jumped up in a moment, however, and pretendedthat she was only arranging her boots.

  "I'd finished tea," she remarked airily, "so I thought I might as wellempty my box, and put my dresses away in my wardrobe."

  "You'll have to ask Miss Maitland's leave next time, before you marchout of the room, or you'll get into trouble," said Maisie. "If itweren't your first evening, you'd be expected to make a public apology.Of course, Flossie Taylor and the Hammond-Smiths were aggravating, butyou should just have laughed at them, and then they'd have stopped. Wedon't behave like kindergarten children here."

  Maisie spoke scathingly. She was a girl who had scant sympathy withwhat she called "babyishness", and disliked any exhibition of feeling.And, after all, she only voiced the general opinion of the school,which, by an unwritten law, had established a calm imperturbation asthe height of good breeding.

  "I don't care in the least what any of you think!" retorted Honor, andshe hung up her skirt with such a jerk that she broke the loop.

  Yet, although she spoke lightly, she evidently did care. She was veryquiet indeed all the rest of the evening, and hardly spoke atrecreation. Chatty Burns sat down next to her and tried to begin aconversation, but Honor answered so briefly that she very soon gave upthe effort in despair, and moved away; while the other girls were sointerested in their own affairs that they did not trouble to remembertheir new schoolfellow. At nine o'clock prayers were read, andeverybody went upstairs to bed.

&n
bsp; When the lights were out, and the room was in perfect silence, astrange, suppressed noise issued from Honor's corner. It might, ofcourse, have been snoring; and Honor explained elaborately next morningthat Irish people often have a peculiar way of breathing in theirsleep--an affection from which she sometimes suffered herself.

  "All the same, I don't quite believe her," confided Pauline Reynolds,who occupied the next cubicle, to Lettice Talbot, a more sympatheticcharacter than her sister Maisie. "I know what it is to feel home-sick,and to smother one's nose in the pillow! If that wasn't sobbing, it wasas like it as anything I've ever heard in my life."