The Fortunes of Philippa: A School Story

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER III

  I GO TO SCHOOL

  "The noises intermixed, which thence resound, Do learning's little tenement betray."

  I had now been nearly two years in England, and the keen edge of theremembrance of my southern home was beginning to fade slightly from mymind, though never my love for my father. Spanish I had utterlyforgotten, scarcely a word remaining in my memory, and I think theforeign ways which Aunt Agatha had objected to had vanished along withit. It was decided that the time had come to send me to school, and theparticular establishment to be chosen was a subject for much discussionbetween Aunt Agatha and her friends.

  Lucy and I were sometimes allowed to have afternoon tea in thedrawing-room, "to improve our manners", and on these occasions I foundthat my education was the main topic of conversation.

  "Send her to Fairfield College, my dear," said Mrs. Montgomery, whoseown daughters were the champion hockey-players of the neighbourhood."It is splendid for games. Compulsory cricket, Swedish gymnastics everyday, and a thoroughly healthy and active out-of-door existence. Just thelife for a rather delicate child."

  "Now _I_ think they overdo athletics at most schools," said Mrs.Buchanan Smith, the gay widow of an officer. "Give me the French systemof education. My Stella is at a convent in Paris. I consider the Sistersteach the most _adorable_ manners, and the girls return home with afinish that is very different from the hoydenish ways they learn at_some_ of our colleges."

  "If you ask me, I have no opinion at all of foreign schools," said Mrs.Northby, the doctor's wife. "My husband says the sanitary arrangementsare generally most defective, and that English children, accustomed toplenty of fresh air and ventilation, would be very liable to contracttyphoid. I think, too, that the French 'jeune fille' is brought up in anatmosphere of falsehood and deceit, and without any idea of rationalenjoyment, and I prefer to send my little girl to a day-school, whereshe can get a sound education, while I can keep her under my own eye. Ido not like the plan of sending children away to boarding-schools justat the time when their health needs most attention, and they are formingtheir strongest opinions."

  "I'm afraid I don't agree with you," said Mrs. Montgomery. "I consider aboarding-school is the world in miniature, and it helps a girl to findher own level. She will learn many other things besides her lessons, andwill no doubt make some pleasant friendships; but the school must be agood one, for inferior companions are worse than none."

  "It is no question of terms," said Aunt Agatha. "My brother-in-law isanxious for her to have every advantage. It's simply a matter ofchoosing the best, and I feel the responsibility of my position."

  "If you will take my advice, you will send her to The Hollies," saidMrs. (Archdeacon) Carrington, who had listened silently so far to theconversation. "Mrs. Marshall only receives forty pupils, but I considershe turns out the best-informed and best-mannered girls of myacquaintance. She has so many applications, that it is sometimesdifficult to secure a vacancy, but I think on _my_ recommendation itmight be arranged."

  The Archdeacon's lady was the leader of society among Aunt Agatha'sfriends, and her opinion carried weight.

  "We all know how particular she is," said Mrs. Buchanan Smithafterwards. "And any school which _she_ recommends must be _most_select, both as regards education, and the girls who are there. Indeed,if Stella had not already returned to Paris, I think I should haveseriously considered the possibility of sending her to The Hollies."

  My aunt was inclined to take the same view, and when on furtherinquiries it was found that Mrs. Marshall was equally highly thought ofin other quarters, and that Mrs. Winstanley's only daughter Catherinewas already a pupil at the school, the question was considered settled.I was to be sent after the Easter holidays, and Uncle Herbert determinedthat Lucy should accompany me. We were full of the importance of ourdeparture.

  "We're to learn German and dancing," said Lucy. "And music from anItalian master. Our school clothes won't be made by Miss Jenkins; Motheris going to take us to her own dressmaker. We're each to have a newtrunk, and umbrellas with silver tops."

  Aunt Agatha escorted us herself to The Hollies, for she had not yetseen either the school or the neighbourhood, though she had had aninterview with Mrs. Marshall in London. It seemed a long journey intoDerbyshire, and our pent-up excitement had plenty of time to cool whilethe train ran through the rather uninteresting scenery of Northamptonand Leicester, but it burst out again with renewed vigour when we atlength drew up at the little station of Helston Spa.

  With what curiosity we viewed every other girl upon the platform,wondering whether she were bound for the same destination as ourselves,and how soon we should get to know her. We looked rather longingly at anomnibus laden with a jolly, laughing crew, who seemed to be in charge ofa teacher; but my aunt bustled us into a cab, and we drove away along awhite limestone road, bordered with tall crags on the one side and abrawling stream on the other.

  The Hollies proved to be an old-fashioned red-brick house with a trimgarden, and playing-fields beyond.

  "It's a nice open situation, and the air feels bracing," said AuntAgatha, sniffing the breeze as if to test its quality. "I notice that itfaces south, and there's a pretty view over the woods and hills. Itought to be healthy, I'm sure, so far away from London smoke and fog."

  Lucy and I looked with delight at the gray hills in the distance, andthe line of fresh green trees which fringed the river; after the long,dull streets of our suburban home, it was pleasant to feel that ourschool was in the country.

  Mrs. Marshall received new arrivals in the drawing-room, and when we hadbidden a rather hasty good-bye to Aunt Agatha, who was returning to townby the next train, and had unpacked our boxes in the pretty littlebedroom which we were to share together, we were ushered down to theplay-room by a teacher, to make the acquaintance of our school-fellows.There was a pause in the loud hum of conversation as the door opened,and I caught the words "new girls". Miss Buller, the governess, seemedbusy, and not able to waste any time upon us, so she merely announced:"Lucy and Philippa Seaton. I hope you will make them welcome, girls;"and hurried away, leaving us standing shyly by the door, not quiteknowing what to do next.

  The little group collected round the fire moved slightly so as to makeroom for us, and a pretty fair-faced girl, with a mop of frizzypale-gold hair, came forward.

  "Come along," she said brightly, "and I'll tell you who we all are. I'mDoris Forbes, and this is my sister Janet, and these are Ellinor Graham,Millicent Holmes, Blanche Greenwood, and Olave and Beatrice Milner,"pointing to each as she spoke. "Most of the others are still upstairsunpacking their boxes, and a few of us haven't arrived yet. Now asyou're new girls, we want to know all about you. To begin with, which isLucy, and which is Philippa? Are you sisters, and have you ever been toschool before?"

  "I'm Philippa," I replied, "and this is my cousin Lucy. We've never beento school before; we had a governess at home."

  "All the better for you," put in the tall girl in the blue dress whomthe others called Millicent Holmes. "Mrs. Marshall never likes girls whocome from other schools. She says she has to teach them everything allover again."

  "That's just to make you think her ways are better than anyone else's,"said Ellinor Graham. "I've had five music masters, and every one has putme back to the beginning, and told me the others didn't know how toteach."

  "Then you'll get put back again this term," laughed Blanche Greenwood."For Herr Goldschmidt has gone home to Germany, and we're to have anItalian, named Signor Salviati, instead."

  "No!" cried the girls with thrilling interest. "Have you seen him?What's he like?"

  "Oh, don't excite yourselves! He's not a romantic-looking Italian, withlong curls and a twisted moustache; he's a nasty little fat oily kind ofa man, with a pointed beard, who looks as if he could be horribly crossif you played wrong notes."

  "How disgusting!" cried the others. "Are there any other changes?"

  "Miss Buller is to have the fourth class," said Blanche, who see
med tobe the general fund of information. "Janet, Beatrice, and Olave are onthe early-morning practising list for this month" (groans from Janet,Beatrice, and Olave at the bad news), "the Simpsons have the bedroom atthe end of the passage, with the balcony, and Miss Percy is to take thesewing this term."

  "What a nuisance!" lamented Janet. "She's _so_ particular! I can nevermake my stitches small enough to satisfy her. I hate poking over sewing.I wish we went to Ecclestone, where our cousins go, it's exactly like aboys' public school; they have a matron to do all the mending, and thegirls play football."

  "I know they do," said Millicent, "and Mother says it is _most_unladylike. We know several girls who go there, and they behave sobadly, sitting on the edges of the drawing-room tables, and gulpingtheir tea, and bolting their cake, and talking the most atrociousslang."

  "My sister goes to St. Chad's," said Ellinor Graham, "and they weigh thegirls every time they go back. They won't let them do any work ifthey're not 'up to standard', and Patty's so thin that she's always'turned out to grass', as they call it, for at least a fortnight at thebeginning of each term. I think she has a lovely time."

  "Yes, but you have to wear the school costume at St. Chad's, even inchurch," put in Doris. "And it's ever so ugly--a blue serge dress withno shape in it, a plaid golf-cape, and a cricket-cap. I shouldn't likethat at all!" and she smoothed down her pretty dress with evidentsatisfaction.

  "You haven't yet told us what class you're to be put in," said BlancheGreenwood, turning to Lucy and myself, who had been listening with muchinterest to the conversation.

  "In the fourth, I believe," said Lucy. "Mrs. Marshall said she expectedwe could both manage the work."

  "The fourth! That's to be Miss Buller's. Janet and Olave and I are inthe same class, and Catherine Winstanley is to be monitress for themonth. By the by, where is Cathy? Has no one seen her?"

  "Here!" said a voice from the door, and a slender girl of about thirteencame forward to join the group. She was a pretty girl, with long,curling brown hair, and a very graceful way of holding herself. Herpleasant manner and bright winning smile attracted me to her at once.Her dark eyes seemed familiar, and I wondered where I had seen thembefore, till in a sudden flash of remembrance I recalled how eyes justthe same had looked into mine when Mrs. Winstanley had held me close inher arms, and told me she was my mother's friend. So this was the littledaughter of whom she had spoken, and as I watched her I hoped with allmy heart that we, too, might become friends. She seemed to be a generalfavourite, for there were many affectionate greetings between her andthe other girls, and numerous interchanges of home and school news, butat length she turned to where Lucy and I were standing.

  "I think," she said, speaking to me, "that you must be Philippa Seaton.Mother told me you would be here, and that I was to look out for you. Isuppose this is your cousin Lucy. I'm so glad that we're all to be inthe same class. I hope your bedroom is near mine. Oh! there's thetea-bell, and we must go, but I shall see you again afterwards."

  She walked away, with her arm linked in that of Janet Forbes, and Lucyand I followed the others to the dining-room, where tea was beingdispensed in an informal manner by Miss Buller and one of the underteachers. For this first meal there were no special places, and I foundmyself sitting at table next to a rather stout, rosy-cheeked girl,perhaps a year older than myself, whose name appeared to be ErnestineSalt.

  She moved very grudgingly to make room, but she did not speak to me, nortake any further notice. Lucy and I sat silently watching our thirtycompanions. It was all new and strange to us--the fresh faces, theschool-girl chaff, the jokes and allusions to things of which we as yetknew nothing, and we wondered how long it would be before we could takeour part in that lively conversation.

  "I never can eat anything the first night," declared one of the girls,mopping her eyes rather ostentatiously with a lace-edgedpocket-handkerchief. "I'm always so terribly homesick, and they cut thebread so thick!"

  "Nothing spoils my appetite," proclaimed Ernestine Salt. "I'm sofrightfully hungry, I shall eat your share. I didn't have halfenough sandwiches on the journey, though I bought three orangesand two jam-tarts at the railway-station as well. Where is thebread-and-butter?"

  As the plate was within my reach, I handed it to her. She looked mecoolly up and down, as if she were taking in every detail of myappearance, but she did not thank me.

  "Oh, never mind manners, just help yourself and shove it on," she saidcarelessly. "We do as we like the first evening. Mrs. Marshall will comedown to tea to-morrow, and then it'll have to be prunes and prism."

  "Not so loud, Ernestine, I can hear your voice above all the others,"said Miss Buller, who seemed trying to check the talk that every now andthen threatened to become too uproarious.

  A fresh instalment of girls, who had arrived by a later train, and nowjoined the tea-table, claimed general attention, and the meal at lengthbeing over, the whole party trooped away to the play-room. It was achilly evening, and I stood by the fire warming my hands, while Iwatched the various girls who were walking about arm in arm, or standingtogether in select little groups. They were most of them laughing andtalking with much excitement, but the loudest and noisiest of them allwas Ernestine Salt, who with a few choice spirits had taken possessionof the table, where she sat dangling her legs and eating chocolate, thesilver paper from which she made into small hard pellets, and fired atunsuspecting passers-by, provoking shrieks of laughter from hercompanions. So amusing did she evidently find this occupation, that, thepellets being exhausted, she fished some walnut-shells out of herpocket, and commenced a perfect onslaught on a neighbouring group ofgirls. They, however, did not take it so peaceably, for, suddenlyseizing the table, they tilted it over, sending her ignominiouslysprawling upon the floor, while, seating themselves in her vacant place,they announced their intention of holding the fort against all comers.

  "I don't care!" said Ernestine, picking herself up, and moving awaytowards the fire. "It's horribly cold, and I was going to get warmanyhow. You can keep your old table, if you want. Here, get out of myway, you little animal!" and, pushing me rudely aside, she pulled achair forward and seated herself in the very front of the cheerfulblaze.

  "I'm not an animal!" I said with some indignation, for I thought hermanner most disagreeable, and I was determined to hold my own.

  "Mineral, then, if you prefer it!" she returned, with a laugh.

  I looked her up and down as coolly as she had surveyed me at thetea-table.

  "I should think it is you who are the mineral, if your name is 'Salt',"I said quietly. "I only wonder they didn't add 'pepper' when they werechristening you!"

  Her companions tittered.

  "You've met your match, Ernestine?" declared one.

  "Sharp little thing! Who is she?" whispered another.

  "You won't put 'salt' on that bird's tail!" said a third, laughing ather own joke.

  Ernestine looked as black as thunder, but for the moment she had norepartee ready, and she was saved from the necessity of a reply by thetinkle of a bell, and the voice of the head-girl, who announced that ageneral meeting of the various committees of the school sports and gameswas about to be held, at which everybody was requested to attend.

  "I'm glad you stood up to Ernestine Salt," said Janet Forbes, who hadbeen a silent listener. "But I'm afraid she'll hate you ever afterwards,and she can be uncommonly nasty when she likes. You'll be in for thecricket? We all have to play, whether we want to or not. I suppose youdidn't bring a bat? The tennis-courts are reserved for the upper forms,but the fourth and fifth classes are getting up a Badminton club, and Iadvise you to join that. I'll propose you for the archery, too, if youlike; it's splendid fun when we have a tournament."

  Lucy and I were only too ready to be included in anything that might begoing on, and soon found ourselves duly elected members, not only of theBadminton and archery, but also of a croquet club and an athleticsociety, which was to practise various feats of skill for the annualsports.

  "
How are you getting on?" said Catherine Winstanley, making her wayacross the room to us from a quieter group of girls who seemed to havebeen having a private meeting apart from the others. "I'm glad you'rejoining all the games. Shall I propose you for the dramatic society? Wealways get up a piece at the end of the term. Mother told me how youwere playing at carnival that time she saw you in London, and how wellyou had dressed up all your cousins, so I'm sure you must be fond ofacting."

  "I wish you would," I replied; "I should like to join immensely."

  "Then let us go at once; they're just electing the members now. Janet,come here! I'm going to propose Philippa for the dramatic society. Willyou second her?"

  "Of course I will," answered Janet heartily; and they stepped across tothe select committee, who were seated on the top of a long row oflockers at the end of the room.

  "I beg to propose Philippa Seaton as an active member of this society,"said Cathy, with a little business-like air.

  "And I beg to second this proposal," added Janet, pulling me forward toshow me to the committee. The president, a tall girl in spectacles, tookout her note-book and a well-worn stump of pencil ready to record myname.

  "The candidate has been duly proposed and seconded. Has any member anyobjection to raise?" she enquired.

  "I veto the election!" said Ernestine Salt hastily, rising before anyoneelse had time to reply. "The candidate is a new girl; we don't know yetwhether she can act, and we don't want to admit members who can't speakup, and who turn their backs upon the audience!"

  "I can answer for it that she wouldn't do that," said Cathy, flushingrather indignantly.

  "How do you know? Don't be absurd, Cathy Winstanley! We're not going tospoil the society to oblige you, or anybody else. Besides, ten membersare quite enough if we want to give parts to each, and I, for one,sha'n't consent to any more being brought in."

  The committee seemed inclined to take Ernestine's view of the matter,and, the bell ringing for prayers, the meeting broke up in confusion.

  "I'm so sorry!" said Cathy, squeezing my hand as we went up the stairstogether. "I'm sure you can act. I can see it in your face. They wouldcertainly have elected you if it hadn't been for Ernestine. Never mind,you'll get your chance later, and then you must show them what you cando."

  Lucy and I went to bed that night feeling as if it were years since wehad left home, so much seemed to have happened already in the short timewe had been at school.

  "There are two things I'm quite certain of," I remarked, as we discussedthe day's doings while we brushed and plaited our hair. "I shall dislikeErnestine Salt exceedingly, but I've simply fallen in love withCatherine Winstanley."