A Patriotic Schoolgirl Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  The Talents Tournament

  By the time Marjorie had been a fortnight at Brackenfield she hadalready caught the atmosphere of the place, and considered herself awell-established member of the community. In the brief space of twoweeks she had learnt many things; first and foremost, that Hilton Househad been a mere kindergarten in comparison with the big busy world inwhich she now moved, and that all her standards required readjusting.Instead of being an elder pupil, with a considerable voice in thearrangement of affairs, she was now only an Intermediate, under theabsolute authority of Seniors, a unit in a large army of girls, and,except from her own point of view, of no very great importance. If shewished to make any reputation for herself her claims must rest uponwhether or not she could prove herself an asset to the school, either byobtaining a high place in her form, or winning distinction in theplaying-fields, or among the various guilds and societies. Marjorie wasdecidedly ambitious. She felt that she would like to gain honours and tohave her name recorded in the school magazine. Dazzling dreams dancedbefore her of tennis or cricket colours, of solos in concerts, orleading parts in dramatic recitals, of heading examination lists,and--who knew?--of a possible prefectship some time in the far future.Meanwhile, if she wished to attain to any of these desirable objects,Work, with a capital W, must be her motto. She had been placed in IVa,and, though most of the subjects were within her powers, it needed allthe concentration of which she was capable to keep even a moderateposition in the weekly lists. Miss Duckworth, her form mistress, had notolerance for slackers. She was a breezy, cheery, interestingpersonality, an inspiring teacher, and excellent at games, taking aprominent part in all matches or tournaments "Mistresses versus Pupils".Miss Duckworth was immensely popular amongst her girls. It was thefashion to admire her.

  "I think the shape of her nose is just perfect!" declared FrancieSheppard. "And I like that Rossetti mouth, although some people mightsay it's too big. I wish I had auburn hair!"

  "I wonder if it ripples naturally, or if she does it up in wavers?"speculated Elsie Bartlett. "It must be ever so long when it's down.Annie Turner saw her once in her dressing-gown, and said that her hairreached to her knees."

  "But Annie always exaggerates," put in Sylvia Page. "You may take half ayard off Annie's statements any day."

  "I think Duckie's a sport!" agreed Laura Norris.

  The girls were lounging in various attitudes of comfort round the firein their sitting-room at St. Elgiva's, in that blissful interval betweenpreparation and supper, when nothing very intellectual was expected fromthem, and they might amuse themselves as they wished. Irene, squattingon the rug, was armed with the tongs, and kept poking down the miniaturevolcanoes that arose in the coal; Elsie luxuriated in the rocking-chairall to herself; while Francie and Sylvia--a tight fit--shared the bigbasket-chair. In a corner three chums were coaching each other in thespeeches for a play, and a group collected round the piano were tryingthe chorus of a new popular song.

  "Go it, Patricia!" called Irene to the girl who was playing theaccompaniment. "You did that no end! St. Elgiva's ought to have a chancefor the sight-reading competition. Trot out that song to-morrow night byall means. It'll take the house by storm!"

  "What's going to happen to-morrow night?" enquired Marjorie, who, havingchanged her dress for supper, now came into the room and joined thecircle by the fire.

  "A very important event, my good child," vouchsafed FrancieSheppard--"an event upon which you might almost say all the rest of theschool year hangs. We call it the Talents Tournament."

  "The what?"

  "I wish you wouldn't ask so many questions. I was just going to explain,if you'll give me time. The whole school meets in the Assembly Hall,and anybody who feels she can do anything may give us a specimen of hertalents, and if she passes muster she's allowed to join one of thesocieties--the Dramatic, or the Part Singing, or the Orchestra, or theFrench Conversational; or she may exhibit specimens if she wants toenter the Natural History or Scientific, or show some of her drawings ifshe's artistic."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I? Nothing at all. I hate showing off!"

  "I've no 'parlour tricks' either," yawned Laura. "I shall help to formthe audience and do the clapping; that's the role I'm best at."

  "Old Mollie'll put you up to tips if you're yearning to go on theplatform," suggested Elsie. "She's A 1 at recitations, reels them off noend, I can tell you. You needn't hang your head, Mollums, like a modestviolet; it's a solid fact. You're the ornament of St. Elgiva's when itcomes to saying pieces. Have you got anything fresh, by the way, forto-morrow night?"

  "Well, I did learn something new during the holidays," confessed Mollie."I hope you'll like it--it's rather funny. I hear there's to be a newsociety this term. Meg Hutchinson was telling me about it."

  "Oh, I know, the 'Charades'!" interrupted Francie; "and a jolly goodidea too. It isn't everybody who has time to swat at learning parts forthe Dramatic. Besides, some girls can do rehearsed acting well, and areno good at impromptu things, and vice versa. They want sorting out."

  "I don't understand," said Marjorie.

  "Oh, bother you! You're always wanting explanations. Well, of course youknow we have a Dramatic Society that gets up quite elaborate plays; themembers spend ages practising their speeches and studying theirattitudes before the looking-glass, and they have gorgeous costumes madefor them, and scenery and all the rest of it--a really first-ratebusiness. Some of the prefects thought that it was rather too formal anaffair, and suggested another society for impromptu acting. Nothing isto be prepared beforehand. Mrs. Morrison is to give a word for acharade, and the members are allowed two minutes to talk it over, andmust act it right away with any costumes they can fling on out of the'property box'. They'll be arranged in teams, and may each have fiveminutes for a performance. I expect it will be a scream."

  "Are you fond of acting, Marjorie?" asked Mollie.

  "I just love it!"

  "Then put down your name for the Charades Tournament. We haven't got agreat number of volunteers from St. Elgiva's yet. Most of the girls seemto funk it. Elsie, aren't you going to try?"

  Elsie shook her curls regretfully.

  "I'd like to, but I know every idea I have would desert me directly Ifaced an audience. I'm all right with a definite part that I've got intomy head, but I can't make up as I go along, and it's no use asking me.I'd only bungle and stammer, and make an utter goose of myself, andspoil the whole thing. Hallo! There's the supper bell. Come along!"

  Marjorie followed the others in to supper with a feeling ofexhilaration. She was immensely attracted by the idea of the TalentsTournament. So far, as a new girl, she had been little noticed, and hadhad no opportunity of showing what she could do. She had received a hintfrom Mollie, on her first day, that new girls who pushed themselvesforward would probably be met with snubs, so she had not tried the pianoin the sitting-room, or given any exhibition of her capabilitiesunasked. This, however, would be a legitimate occasion, and nobody couldaccuse her of trying to show off by merely entering her name in theCharades competition.

  "I wish Dona would play her violin and have a shy for the schoolOrchestra," she thought. "I'll speak to her if I can catch her aftersupper."

  It was difficult for the sisters to find any time for private talk, butby dodging about the passage Marjorie managed to waylay Dona before thelatter disappeared into St. Ethelberta's, and propounded her suggestion.

  "Oh, I couldn't!" replied Dona in horror. "Go on the platform and play apiece? I'd die! Please don't ask me to do anything so dreadful. I don'twant to join the Orchestra. Oh, well, yes--I'll go in for the drawingcompetition if you like, but I'm not keen. I don't care about all thesesocieties; my lessons are quite bad enough. I've made friends with AilsaDonald, and we have lovely times all to ourselves. We're making scrapalbums for the hospital. Miss Jones has given us all her old Christmascards. She's adorable! I say, I must go, or I shall be late for our callover. Ta-ta!"

 
The "Talents Tournament" was really a very important event in the schoolyear, for upon its results would depend the placing of the variouscompetitors in certain coveted offices. It was esteemed a greatprivilege to be asked to join the Orchestra, and to be included in thecommittee of the "Dramatic" marked a girl's name with a lucky star.

  On the Saturday evening in question the whole school, in second-bestparty dresses, met in the big Assembly Hall. It was a conventionaloccasion, and they were received by Mrs. Morrison and the teachers, andresponded with an elaborate politeness that was the cult of the College.For the space of three hours an extremely high-toned atmosphereprevailed, not a word of slang offended the ear, and everybody behavedwith the dignity and courtesy demanded by such a stately ceremony. Mrs.Morrison, in black silk and old lace, her white hair dressed high, wasan imposing figure, and set a standard of cultured deportment that wascopied by every girl in the room. The Brackenfielders prided themselvesupon their manners, and, though they might relapse in the playground ordormitory, no Court etiquette could be stricter than their code forpublic occasions. The hall was quite _en fete_; it had been charminglydecorated by the Seniors with autumn leaves and bunches ofchrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies. A grand piano and pots of palmsstood on the platform, and the best school banner ornamented the wall.It all looked so festive that Marjorie, who had been rather dreading thegathering, cheered up, and began to anticipate a pleasant evening. Sheshook hands composedly with the Empress, and ran the gauntlet ofgreetings with the other mistresses with equal credit, not an altogethereasy ordeal under the watching eyes of her companions. This preliminaryceremony being finished, she thankfully slipped into a seat, and waitedfor the business part of the tournament to begin.

  The reception of the whole school lasted some time, and the Empress'shand must have ached. Her mental notes as to the quality of thehandshakes she received would be publicly recorded next day from theplatform, with special condemnation for the limp, fishy, orthree-fingered variety on the one side, or the agonizing ring-squeezeron the other. Miss Thomas, one of the music mistresses, seated herselfat the piano, and the proceedings opened with a violin-solo competition.Ten girls, in more or less acute stages of nervousness, each in turnplayed a one-page study, their points for which were carefully recordedby the judges, marks being given for tone, bowing, time, tune, andartistic rendering. As they retired to put away their instruments, theirplaces were taken by vocal candidates. In order to shorten theprogramme, each was allowed to sing only one verse of a song, and theirmerits or faults were similarly recorded. Several of the Intermediateshad entered for the competition. Rose Butler trilled forth asentimental little ditty in a rather quavering mezzo; Annie Turner,whose compass was contralto, poured out a sea ballad--a trifle flat;Nora Cleary raised a storm of applause by a funny Irish song, andreceived marks for style, though her voice was poor in quality; andElsie Bartlett scored for St. Elgiva's by reaching high B with theutmost clearness and ease. The Intermediates grinned at one another withsatisfaction. Even Gladys Woodham, the acknowledged prima donna of St.Githa's, had never soared in public beyond A sharp. They felt that theyhad beaten the Seniors by half a tone.

  Piano solos were next on the list, limited to two pages, on account ofthe too speedy passage of time. Here again the St. Elgiva's girlsexpected a triumph, for Patricia Lennox was to play a waltz especiallycomposed in her honour by a musical friend. It was called "Under theStars", and bore a coloured picture of a dark-blue sky, water and trees,and a stone balustrade, and it bore printed upon it the magic words"Dedicated to Patricia", and underneath, written in a firm, manly hand,"With kindest remembrances from E. H.".

  The whole of Elgiva's had thrilled when allowed to view the copyexhibited by its owner with many becoming blushes, but with steadfastrefusals to record tender particulars; and though Patricia's enemieswere unkind enough to say that there was no evidence that the "Patricia"mentioned on the cover was identical with herself, or that the "E. H."stood for Edwin Herbert, the composer, it was felt that they merelyobjected out of envy, and would have been only too delighted to havesuch luck themselves.

  They all listened entranced as Patricia dashed off her piece. She had ashowy execution, and it really sounded very well. The whole school knewabout the dedication and the inscription; the Intermediates had takencare of that. As their champion descended from the platform, they feltthat she had invested St. Elgiva's with an element of mystery andromance. But alas! one story is good until another is told, and St.Githa's had been reserving a trump card for the occasion. WinifredeMason had herself composed a piece. She called it "The BrackenfieldMarch", and had written it out in manuscript, and drawn a picture of theschool in bold black-and-white upon a brown paper cover. It was quite ajolly, catchy tune, with plenty of swing and go about it, and the factthat it was undoubtedly her own production caused poor Patricia's waltzto pale before it. The clapping was tremendous. Every girl in school,with the exception of nine who had not studied the piano, was determinedto copy the march and learn it for herself, and Winifrede wasimmediately besieged with applications for the loan of the manuscript.She bore her honours calmly.

  "Oh, it wasn't difficult! I just knocked it off, you know. I've heaps oftunes in my head; it's only a matter of getting them written down,really. When I've time I'll try to make up another. Oh, I don't knowabout publishing it--that can wait."

  To live in the same school with a girl who composed pieces wassomething! Everybody anticipated the publication of the march, and feltthat the reputation of Brackenfield would be thoroughly established inthe musical world.

  The next item on the programme was an interval for refreshments, duringwhich time various exhibits of drawings and of scientific and naturalhistory specimens were on view, and were judged according to merit byMiss Carter and Miss Hughlins.

  The second part of the evening was to be dramatic. A good many names hadbeen given in for the Charades competition, and these were arranged ingroups of four. Each company was given one syllable of a charade to act,with a strict time limit. A large assortment of clothes and some usefularticles of furniture were placed in the dressing-room behind theplatform, and the actresses were allowed only two minutes to arrangetheir stage, don costumes, and discuss their piece.

  Marjorie found herself drawn with Annie Turner, Belle Miller, and VioletNelson, two of the Juniors. The syllable to be acted was "Age", and thefour girls withdrew to the dressing-room for a hasty conference.

  "What can we do? I haven't an idea in my head," sighed Annie. "Twominutes is not enough to think."

  The Juniors said nothing, but giggled nervously. Marjorie's ready wits,however, rose to the emergency.

  "We'll have a Red Cross Hospital," she decided. "You, Annie, are theCommandant, and we three are prospective V.A.D.'s coming to beinterviewed. You've got to ask us our names and ages, and a heap ofother questions. Put on that Red Cross apron, quick, and we'll put onhats and coats and pretend we've had a long journey. Belle, take in atable and a chair for the Commandant. She ought to be sitting writing."

  Annie, Belle, and Violet seized on the idea with enthusiasm, and robedthemselves immediately. When the bell rang the performers marched on tothe platform without any delay (which secured ten marks forpromptitude). Annie, in her Red Cross apron, rapped the table in anauthoritative fashion and demanded the business of her callers. Then thefun began. Marjorie, posing as a wild Irish girl, put on a capitalimitation of the brogue, and urged her own merits with zeal. She evadedthe question of her right age, and offered a whole catalogue of thingsshe could do, from dressing a wound to mixing a pudding and scrubbingthe passages. She was so racy and humorous, and threw in such amusingasides, that the audience shrieked with laughter, and were quitedisappointed when the five minutes' bell put a sudden and speedy end tothe interesting performance. As Marjorie walked back to her seat shebecame well aware that she had scored. Her fellow Intermediates lookedat her with a new interest, for she had brought credit to St. Elgiva's.

  "Isn't she a scream?" she overheard
Rose Butler say to Francie Sheppard,and Francie replied "Rather! I call her topping!" which, of course, wasslang, and not fit for such an occasion; but then the girls werebeginning to forget the elaborate ceremony of the opening of theevening.

  Next day, after morning school was over, Jean Everard, one of theprefects, tapped Marjorie on the shoulder.

  "We've put your name down for the Charades Society," she said briefly."I suppose you want to join?"

  "Rather!" replied Marjorie, flushing to the roots of her hair withdelight at the honour offered her.