The Madcap of the School Read online

  THE MADCAP OF THE SCHOOL

  CHAPTER I

  THE MOATED GRANGE

  "Here they are!"

  "Not really!"

  "It is, I tell you!"

  "Jubilate! You're right, old sport! Scooterons-nous this very sec!Quick! Hurry! Stir your old bones, can't you?"

  The two girls, who had been standing in the ruined watch-tower thatspanned the gateway, tore down the broken corkscrew staircase at aspeed calculated to imperil their necks seriously, and reached thebottom at the identical moment that a motor char-a-banc rounded thecorner and drew up in front of the entrance. Sixteen jolly faces weregrinning under sixteen school hats, and at least a dozen excitedvoices were pouring forth a perfect babel of exclamations.

  "How ripping!"

  "Oh, I say!"

  "This is top-hole!"

  "What a chubby place!"

  "I'd no idea it would be like this!"

  "Oh, hold me up! This child's knocked me over entirely!"

  The opening day of a fresh term is always more or less of an event,but this particular reunion was a thrillingly important occasion, forduring the Easter holidays the school had removed, and the girls werenow having their first peep at their new quarters.

  The vision that greeted them through the old gateway was certainlycalculated to justify their ecstatic remarks. A grassy courtyard,interspersed with box-edged flower beds and flagged footpaths, led toa large, gray old Tudor house, whose mullioned diamond-paned windows,twisted chimney stacks, irregular moss-grown roof, ivied bell-tower,stone balls and carved porch offered the very utmost of the romanticand picturesque. The change from the humdrum, ordinary surroundings oftheir former school was supreme. Miss Beasley had promised them apleasant surprise, and she had undoubtedly kept her word. The sixteennew arrivals grasped their handbags and small possessions, and set offup the flagged pathway with delight written large on theircountenances. Raymonde Armitage and Aveline Kerby, in virtue of halfan hour's longer acquaintance with the premises, trotted alongside anddid the honours.

  "Yes, it's topping! Regular old country mansion sort of a place. Mighthave come straight, slap-bang out of a novel! You should see theBumble Bee! I can tell you she's pleased with life! Buzzing about noend! Even the Wasp's got a smile on! Fact! You needn't look soincredulous. I'm not ragging."

  "It's true," confirmed Raymonde. "The Wasp's quite jinky to-day.Actually said 'my dear' to me when I arrived. Of course, Mother wasthere, but even then it gave me spasms. Gibbie, of all people in thiswide world, to call me 'my dear'! I nearly collapsed! 'Goodness! whatnext?' I thought. 'Wonders will never cease!'"

  "Gibbie's certainly not given to trotting out pet names, even beforeparents," chirruped Morvyth Holmes. "Perhaps she's striking out a newline, and we shall all be 'Darling' and 'Sweetest' now!"

  "Don't you alarm yourself! She couldn't twist her tongue round them.I'd think she was pining away to an early death if she did! You'llhear plenty of plain, straight, wholesome talking-to before you'rehalf an hour older, my child, or else I'm entirely mistaken."

  "_You_ will, old sport, unless you've mended your ways," chuckledMorvyth. "Are you a reformed character this term, may I ask? Come backwith a certificate for good behaviour--no vice, gentle in harness, achild can drive her, etcetera?"

  "Help! The school would die of dullness if I did! You'd be positivelybored to tears. No, we all have our talents, and I consider my missionin life is to keep things humming and cheer you all up. I may do it atsome personal sacrifice, but----"

  "Personal thingumjig!" interrupted Valentine Gorton.

  "But it is!" persisted Raymonde, her dark eyes dancing. "You don'tknow how disinterested I am. Gibbie can't row us all at once, and whenI draw fire on myself I save you. See? I'm a kind of scapegoat for theschool. Everybody's sins are stuck on to me. Gibbie lets forth thevials of her wrath, the storm's over, she feels better, and nobodyelse is much the worse."

  "Not even you--you heroic victim?"

  "Bless you, child, I'm as used to scolding as eels to skinning.Neither the Bumble Bee nor the Wasp worry me. I let them both buzz. Itseems to please them! Indeed, I think they expect it. When one's got areputation, one's bound to live up to it."

  Raymonde Armitage would certainly not have won a medal for exemplarybehaviour, had any such prize been offered at the school. There was noharm in her, but her irrepressible spirits were continually ateffervescing point, and in fizzing over were liable to burst intooutbreaks of a nature highly scandalizing to the authorities. Asregarded Miss Beasley, the Principal, though she upheld disciplinefirmly, it was an open secret that she had a sneaking weakness forRaymonde. "The Bumble Bee rows Ray, but she likes her," was thegeneral verdict. With Miss Gibbs, however, it was a different matter.The humour of a situation never appealed to her. She franklyconsidered her troublesome pupil as a thorn in the flesh, and perhapsgave her credit for more than she really deserved in the way of blame.It was whispered in the school that several enterprising spirits hadmanaged to shift on to Raymonde's shoulders the consequences of theirown crimes, with results more satisfactory to themselves than to theirlively classmate. In spite of the fact that she had passed herfifteenth birthday, Raymonde was the most irresponsible creature inthe world. She looked it. Her face was as round and smooth as aninfant's, with an absurd little dab of a nose, a mouth with babydimples at the corners, and small white teeth that seemed more likefirst than second ones, and dark eyes which, when they did not happento be twinkling, were capable of putting on a bewitching innocence ofexpression calculated to deceive almost any teacher, howeverexperienced, save the case-hardened Miss Gibbs.

  At the beginning of this term there were twenty-six girls in thelittle community assembled at Marlowe Grange. The old house providedample accommodation, and had been easily adapted to meet the wants ofa school. Built originally in Elizabethan days, it had been added toat various times, and its medley of architecture, while hopelesslyconfusing styles, had resulted in a very picturesque and charmingwhole. Perhaps the most ancient part was the fortified gateway,ruinous and covered with ivy, but still preserving its winding stairleading to an upper story that spanned the entrance. With its tinyloophole windows and its great solid oak gate with the little door cutthrough, it had the aspect of a mediaeval fortress, and was a fittingintroduction to what was to follow. High walls on both sides enclosedthe courtyard, and farther on, to the right of the house, was anotherquaint garden, where shaved yew trees and clipped hollies presenteddistorted imitations of peacocks, umbrellas, pagodas, or otherambitious examples of topiary art. Here, in the late April weather,spring bulbs were blooming, wallflowers made a sheet of gold, and thepear trees were opening pure white blossoms. Little clumps of pansies,pink daisies, and forget-me-nots were struggling up, rather mixedamongst the box edging, and a bank of white alyssum on the rockerynear the hives provided a feast of nectar for the bees, whose drowsyhum seemed to hold all the promise of the coming summer.

  Behind this garden, and sheltered by the outbuildings from the northand east winds, lay the orchard, neglected and unpruned, but verybeautiful with its moss-grown apple trees, its straggling plums, andbudding walnuts, and cherries just bursting into an ethereal fairynetwork of delicate palest pink bloom. Primroses grew here amongst thegrass, and clumps of dog violets and little tufts of bluebells werepushing their way up to take the place of the fading daffodils, whilea blackthorn bush was a mass of pure white stars. At the far end,instead of a hedge, lay the moat, a shallow stagnant pool, borderedwith drooping willows, tall reeds, and rushes that reared theirspear-like stems from the dark oozy water. Originally this moat hadencircled the mansion as a means of defence, but now, like the ruinedgateway, its mission was long past, and it survived, a sleepy witnessto the warfare of our forefathers, and a picturesque adjunct to thegeneral beauty of the place that could scarcely be surpassed. From thefarther side of the moat peaceful meadows led to the river, wherebetween high wooded banks a stately silver stream glided slowly andtranquilly on in its path towards the oce
an, rippling over weirs, andbearing on its calm bosom an occasional pleasure boat, punt, or fussylittle motor yacht.

  The interior of the old Grange was quaint as its exterior. The largerooms lent themselves admirably to school uses. The big hall, with itsoak-panelled walls, stained-glass windows, and huge fireplace, made anexcellent lecture-room, or, when the forms were moved to one end,provided plenty of space for drilling or dancing. It seemed strangecertainly to turn an Elizabethan bedroom into a twentieth-centuryclass-room, and standard desks looked decidedly at variance with thecarved chimney-pieces or the stags' antlers that still ornamented thewalls; but the modern element only seemed to enhance the old, and thegirls agreed that nothing could be more suitable than to learn historyin such a setting.

  "It'll give us a loophole for lots of our lessons," remarked Raymondehopefully, as she personally conducted a party of new arrivals overthe establishment. "For instance, if I get muddled over circulatingdecimals, I'll explain that my brains fall naturally into a mediaevalgroove in these surroundings, and decimals weren't invented then, sothat of course it's impossible for me to grasp them; and the same withgeography--the map of Africa then had about three names on it, so it'squite superfluous to try to remember any more. I'm going to cultivatethe mental atmosphere of the place and focus my mind accordingly. I'llconcentrate on the Elizabethan period of history, and the rest I'lljust ignore."

  "Don't know how you'll convince Gibbie!" chuckled Muriel Fuller.

  "You leave Gibbie to me! My mind's seething with ideas. It'sabsolutely chock full. I see possibilities that I never even dreamt ofat the old school. I believe this term's going to be the time of mylife. Bless the dear old Bumble Bee! She's buzzed to some purpose inbringing us here!"

  Perhaps what struck the girls most of all was the large dormitory. Inthe days of the French Revolution Marlowe Grange had been the refugeof an order of nuns, who had escaped from Limoges and founded atemporary convent in the old house. It was owing to the excellence oftheir arrangements, and the structural improvements which they hadleft behind them, that the Grange had been so eminently suitable for aschool. Seven little bedrooms placed side by side served exactly toaccommodate the members of the Sixth Form, while the great chamber,running from end to end of the house, with its nineteen snow-whitebeds, provided quarters for the rank and file. Just for a moment thegirls had stared rather aghast at their vast dormitory, contrasting itwith the numerous small rooms of their former school; but thepossibilities of fun presented by this congregation of beds outweighedthe disadvantages, and they had decided that the arrangement was"topping." It had, however, one serious drawback. At the far end was asmall extra chamber, intended originally for the use of the MotherSuperior of the convent, and here, to the girls' infinite dismay, MissGibbs had taken up her abode. There was no mistake about it. Her boxblocked the doorway; her bag, labelled "M. Gibbs. Passenger to GreatMarlowe via Littleton Junction," reposed upon a chair, her hat andcoat lay on the bed, and a neat time-table of classes was alreadypinned upon the wall.

  "We didn't bargain to have the Wasp at such close quarters!" whisperedArdiune Coleman-Smith ruefully. "She'll sleep with both ears open, andif we stir a finger or breathe a word she'll hear!"

  "Cheero! There are ways of making people deaf," remarked Raymondesanguinely. "How? Ah, my child, that's a surprise for the future!D'you suppose" (with a cryptic shake of the head) "I'm going to giveaway my professional secrets? I've told you already it's my mission toenliven this school, and if you don't have a jinky term I'll considermyself a failure. Haven't I started well? I arrived half an hourbefore everyone else, and booked up all the beds on the far side forour set. Here you are! A label's pinned to each pillow!"

  The six kindred spirits who revolved as satellites in Raymonde's orbitturned to her with a gush of admiration. It was a brilliant thought tohave labelled the beds, and so secured the most eligible portion ofthe dormitory for themselves.

  "You're the limit, Ray!" gurgled Aveline.

  Aveline was generally regarded as Raymonde's under-study. She was notso clever, so daring, or so altogether reckless, but she came in avery good second-best in most of the harum-scarum escapades. She couldalways be relied upon for support, could keep a secret, and had apeculiarly convenient knack of baffling awkward questions by puttingon an attitude of utter stolidity. When her eyes were half-closedunder their heavy lids, and her mouth wore what the girls called its"John Bull" expression, not even Miss Beasley herself could draginformation out of Aveline. The Sphinx, as she was sometimesnicknamed, prided herself on her accomplishment, and took particularcare to maintain her character. Raymonde had apportioned the bed onher right to Aveline, and that on her left to Fauvette Robinson, whooccupied about an equal place in her affections.

  Fauvette was a little, blue-eyed, fluffy-haired, clinging, cuddly,ultra-feminine specimen who hung on to Raymonde like a limpet.Raymonde twisted her flaxen locks for her in curl rags, helped tothread baby ribbon through her under-bodices, hauled her out of bed inthe mornings, drummed her lessons into her, formed her opinions, andgenerally dominated her school career. Fauvette was one of those girlswho all their lives lean upon somebody, and at present she had twinedherself, an ornamental piece of honeysuckle, round the stout oak propof Raymonde's stronger personality. She was a dear, amiable,sweet-tempered little soul, highly romantic and sentimental, with apretty soprano voice, and just a sufficient talent for acting to makeher absolutely invaluable in scenes from Dickens or Jane Austen, wherea heroine of the innocent, pleading, pathetic, babyish, EarlyVictorian type was required.

  A more spicy character was Morvyth Holmes, otherwise "The Kipper." Herpale face and shining hazel eyes showed cleverness. When she cared towork she could astonish her Form and her teacher, but her energy camein such odd bursts, and with such long lapses between, that it did notin the aggregate amount to much. It was rumoured in the school thatMiss Beasley had her eye on Morvyth as a possible candidate for publicexaminations, and, in fear lest such an honour might be thrust uponher, Morvyth was careful to avoid the display of too deep erudition.

  "It wouldn't do," she assured her chums. "Catch me swatting for theSenior Oxford like poor old Meta and Daphne. I tell you those girlswill hardly enjoy a decent game of tennis this term. The Bumble Bee'sgot their wretched noses on the grindstone, and they'll have ablighting time till the affair's over. No, I'm a wary bird, and I'mnot going to be decoyed into an intellectual trap and dished up forexamination. Not even the Essay Prize shall tempt me! You may win ityourself, Ray, if you like!"

  "Poor old Kipper!" murmured Raymonde. "It's a little rough on you thatyou daren't exhibit your talents. Can't you show a doctor'scertificate prohibiting you from entering for public exams. andlimiting your prep.? The kind of thing one brings back to school afterscarlet fever, you know."

  Morvyth shook her head dolefully.

  "It's no go! The Bumble would be capable of sending for the doctor andthrashing the matter out with him. My only safety lies in modesty. Noschool laurels for me. They cost too dear."

  Valentine Gorton and Ardiune Coleman-Smith, known familiarly as "Salt"and "Pepper," were inseparable friends in spite of the fact that theyquarrelled on an average at least three times a day. Their tiffs werevery easily made up, however, and they always supported each other inupsets with anyone else, merging what might be termed tribal disputesin national warfare. Being well supplied from home with chocolates,and liberal in their dispensation, they were favourites in their Form,and indeed throughout the school wore the hallmark of popularity.

  Raymonde's particular set of chums was completed by Katherine Harding,a damsel whose demure looks belied her character. Katherine's innocentgrey eyes and doll-like complexion were the vineyards that hide thevolcano. She could always be relied upon to support any enterprisingproject or interesting hoax that was presented for her approval. Theseseven comrades, close chums in the past, banded themselves togetheranew to enjoy life to the best of their ability, and to obtain themaximum of fun and diversion out of the f
orthcoming term. It is withtheir immediate adventures that this book is largely concerned.