The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School Life

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER VIII

  Daisy Forgets

  THOUGH Gipsy was accustomed to try to enjoy herself in any place wherecircumstances chanced to fling her, and though she had contrived tosettle down fairly happily at Briarcroft, she nevertheless thought oftenof her father, far away on the opposite side of the Equator. He mustlong ago have arrived at the Cape, and it was high time that shereceived news from him, telling her of his whereabouts. Every morningshe looked out anxiously for the post, but day after day brought thesame disappointment. She was the only boarder who had no letters, andshe often felt her isolated position keenly when she saw her schoolmatestearing open their welcome budgets. It would be nice, she thought, tohave a mother and brothers and sisters to write to her, and a home to goto in the holidays. In her roving life she could not remember a realhome; a log hut for a few weeks in a mining camp had been the nearestapproach to it.

  "But I've Dad, and he's better than a whole family; and it's fun to goabout the world with him, though I do live mostly at hotels when I'm notat school," she said to herself. "I'm not going to worry my head. Dadwill send me a letter as soon as he possibly can, I know. He's not inthe least likely to forget me."

  So she tried to comfort herself, but every day she looked out wistfullyfor the postman--how wistfully nobody but Miss Edith ever noticed. Itwas growing towards the end of November, and already the boarders werebeginning to talk of the holidays. The evening recreation time wasdevoted to the making of Christmas presents; even the little girls werebusy embroidering traycloths and constructing pincushions. Gipsy beganto work a pair of slippers for her father, a rather lengthy proceeding,for she was not clever at needlecraft, and was apt to pull her wool tootightly, having to unpick her stitches in consequence. There was noparticular hurry in her case, though, for it was impossible for her todispatch the parcel in time for Christmas when she did not know where toaddress it. If there was a forlorn look in the brown eyes sometimes whenothers talked about home, they twinkled again so readily that herschoolmates never realized she could feel lonely, and a stranger in astrange land. To them she appeared the very epitome of fun andhappy-go-lucky carelessness, and they would have been surprised indeedif they had known what a very sore heart she carried occasionally underher outward assumption of jollity.

  Daisy Scatcherd's birthday fell on the last day of November. Daisy,though she merited her nickname of "Scatterbrains", was rather afavourite among the boarders, so she came off very well indeed in thematter of presents. Her home people had also remembered her, and manyinteresting parcels arrived for her during the course of the morning.Between four and half-past, in the afternoon, she was taking a run roundthe garden in company with a few friends, when she spied the postmanwalking briskly up the drive.

  "I expect he's got something more for me," she exclaimed, and divedunder the laurels to take a short cut to the drive and intercept him.

  "Give me the letters, please! It's my birthday!" she said breathlessly.

  "Only three this afternoon, missy! Don't know whether any of 'em's foryou or not," said the man, laughing.

  "Let me see! Yes! yes! I'll take them, please. It's all right."

  Not sorry to save the extra walk to the house, the postman departed. Hewas late, and had a long round before he could return home. Daisy waslooking eagerly at the letters. One, a thin foreign envelope, wasaddressed to Miss Gipsy Latimer, and that she thrust hastily into hercoat pocket; the other two were for herself. They both contained postalorders, which elevated her to such heights of satisfaction that shenever gave a thought to the letter she had stuffed in her pocket:indeed, in her excitement she had put it away so automatically that theincident faded from her memory almost as soon as it happened. She rushedinto the house in a state of great exultation, to ask Miss Edith totake charge of her orders, and put them away safely.

  "A whole pound! Isn't it lovely? I shall buy a new camera, or perhaps abookcase like Hetty Hancock's; or I want a bracelet watch most fearfullybadly, and I expect I'll get some more money at Christmas that I couldput to it. What would you advise, Miss Edith?" she chattered.

  "Wait till you go home and consult your mother," said Miss Edith. "Whata cold you've got, child! You oughtn't to have been running about thegarden. And this coat is much too thin. You must wear your thick onenow. Put this away in your wardrobe, to take home at Christmas."

  "Mother said I needn't take my autumn clothes back with me," objectedDaisy. "It only crams up my boxes. She said they might as well be lefthere."

  "Very well. I'll put it away in my big cupboard until the spring. Hereare some cough lozenges, and I shall rub your chest to-night withcamphorated oil. Go and sit by the fire, and mind you don't get intodraughts."

  "I've got all my birthday letters to answer," replied Daisy, as shetripped gaily away. "I don't particularly want to go out again."

  Miss Edith folded the coat neatly, placed a packet of camphor balls withit to keep away moths, and laid it with a pile of similar garmentsinside a large cupboard in the linen room. It never struck her to lookin the pockets, so the letter so longed for and expected lay upstairsin the dark, and Gipsy waited and hoped, and hoped and waited, all invain.

  To forget her troubles she threw herself with enthusiasm into theworking of the Dramatic Section of the Lower School Guild. The Juniorsintended to act _The Sleeping Beauty_, and she had been chosen as thewicked fairy, a part which she rehearsed with much spirit. She wasunwearied in her efforts at arranging costumes, constructing scenery,and coaching her fellow performers in their speeches. She soon had thewhole play by heart, and could act prompter without the help of thebook--a decided convenience to those whose memories were liable to failthem at critical moments.

  Though the Guild comprised a number of separate societies, it lacked onefeature which Gipsy considered it certainly ought to possess. Briarcrofthad no school magazine, and not even among the Seniors had one ever beensuggested.

  "Yet it's really a most necessary thing," urged Gipsy. "How else can onegive notice of coming events, and reports of what has taken place? It'ssuch fun, too! Why shouldn't we steal a march on the Upper School andstart one of our own?"

  "There's the expense, my child, for one thing," replied Mary Parsons,who was treasurer of the United Guild. "The subscriptions don't go veryfar when we want to buy so many things with them. I'm sure they wouldn'trun to printing."

  "I never intended having it printed. I know that would be beyond us."

  "Perhaps we could have it typed," suggested Fiona Campbell, whose fatherwas a journalist. "Dad always sends his articles to a typing office, andit looks just as good as printing when it's done."

  "I don't think the Guild could afford even that," said Mary. "Thecostumes for the play will about clear out the funds for this term, andnext term, you know, we voted to buy a developing machine."

  "It was mean of the Seniors to stick to all the properties of the otherGuilds! They might have given us something," put in Norah Bell.

  "Trust them! They wouldn't part with so much as a twopenny music sheet!"said Gipsy. "But about the Magazine; it needn't cost us anything. Myidea was to ask Miss White to lend us the duplicator, and we'd make acopy for each Form. They could be lent round and round. If we liked wemight put in a few illustrations. You're good at drawing, Fiona."

  "That certainly sounds more simple," said Dilys. "And the Mag. would beripping fun. We'd have articles and poetry and stories and reviews andall sorts of things."

  "Would it be a monthly?" enquired Hetty.

  "I should say about twice a term would be enough," said Gipsy. "It wouldbe difficult to get contributions if you had it too often."

  "We couldn't duplicate the illustrations," objected Fiona, whose mindwas already turned to things artistic.

  "No; each Form would have to provide its own pictures for its own copy.That would make it all the more interesting. There'd be no two quitealike."

  "And we could even have advertisements, and a kind of Exchange andMart!" exclaimed Dilys, who was immensely ta
ken with the idea. "It wouldjust suit the First and Second; they're always trading white mice orsilkworms with one another."

  "We'll add a Beauty Bureau, with hints about the complexion, if youlike," suggested Gipsy demurely.

  The others laughed, for Dilys was rather vain of her appearance, andkept many bottles of toilet requisites upon her portion of thedressing-table.

  "Best call a general meeting of the Guild; then we can propose thething, and have it carried through in proper order," said Hetty. "Ibelieve it will catch on. Gipsy, you write out some notices and pin themup in the classrooms."

  "A GENERAL MEETING

  of the

  UNITED GUILD

  Will be held on THURSDAY at 4 p.m. in the Dressing-Room.

  Business:--To discuss the proposal of starting a Lower School Magazine.

  All members are particularly requested to attend."

  So ran the Secretary's notice, and the girls who read it were only tooeager to respond to the invitation. They felt that Gipsy stirred thingsup at Briarcroft, and were ready to listen to anything fresh she mighthave to suggest. As Hetty had expected, the idea was received withenthusiasm, and when Gipsy propounded her scheme in detail, everybodycordially agreed, and the motion was carried unanimously.

  "There's one principal matter to be settled," said Dilys, who, asPresident, occupied the post of chairman. "We've got to choose aneditor."

  "Then I beg to propose Gipsy Latimer," said Meg Gordon, rising hastily.

  "And I beg to second the proposal," said Hetty Hancock.

  "Gipsy! Yes, Gipsy!" exclaimed the girls, and a forest of hands went up.

  "You'll have to take it, Gipsy," urged Hetty. "You're the most suitableof anybody. It's a new thing in the school, so it's best managed by anew girl. We should none of us understand how to do it. Besides, yousuggested it. The whole plan of it is yours."

  "Right-o, if you think I'm 'the man for the job'," agreed Gipsy.

  Though she had not canvassed for the post, Gipsy was delighted to getthe editorship. Running a magazine was work that exactly suited her. Shewas sure she could make it a success, and she looked forward withimmense satisfaction to issuing her first number. A name had yet to bechosen, and after much debate it was decided to call the new venture the_Briarcroft Juniors' Journal_.

  "That'll quite cut the Seniors out of it," said Meg Gordon. "We don'twant them to get any of the credit."

  "And 'Juniors' Journal' has a nice juicy kind of sound," said DaisyScatcherd.

  "A juicy journal would be a new departure--it suggests oily words andhoneyed speeches!" laughed Hetty.

  By general vote, the first number was to be issued a week before the endof the term, so Gipsy had to set to work in earnest in her capacity ofeditress, inviting contributions from likely members, and settling thevarious departments of her magazine. She intended to conduct it on thelines of a real publication, and to keep separate pages for Sports andPastimes, Reviews of Books, Nature Notes, How to Make Things, HandyRecipes, Puzzles, Competitions, and Letters from Correspondents, as wellas matter of a more original literary character. It was rather a bigorder, but Gipsy's ambitions soared high; she felt it was a chance forthe Lower School to shine, and she spared no trouble to make her schemea success.

  There was very little time for all this, but she worked systematically,apportioning the departments among different girls, and making thempromise to write certain things. Joyce Adamson, who was "great" onhockey, was told off for "Sports and Pastimes"; Ethel Newton, a daygirl, who lived a few miles away quite in the heart of the country,undertook the "Nature Notes"; Meg Gordon's fertile brain could betrusted to invent puzzles and competitions; neat-fingered Norah Bellcontributed an article on "How to make Paper Boxes"; and Gipsy herselfundertook the "Library Shelf" and "Answers to Correspondents". FionaCampbell provided some dainty illustrations, and her example wasemulated by members of other Forms, who were also invited to submitarticles, stories, nature notes, and puzzles. Gipsy, with the oligarchyof the Seniors fresh in her memory as a warning, did not wish the UpperFourth to monopolize the Magazine by any means, and the younger girlswere strongly urged to try their 'prentice hands at the art ofcomposition. She herself was busy with the opening chapter of a serial,in which she intended to set forth all her adventures in the Colonies,embroidered by the aid of her imagination. Fortunately Miss White waskind, and, sympathizing with the idea of a magazine, allowed theduplicator to be used in its production, so that Gipsy was able tostrike off six copies, for the First, Second, Lower Third, Upper Third,Lower Fourth, and Upper Fourth respectively. Each Form undertook toproduce its own cover, the younger children being helped by the drawingmistress, who was much interested, and allowed a special afternoon to bedevoted to the purpose. The designs were painted on brown paper, andvaried from sprays of flowers to conventional patterns, according to thetaste of the Form, though each bore in large letters the sameinscription: _Briarcroft Juniors' Journal_.

  It was a proud day for Gipsy when she completed her arrangements, andall the six copies were ready in their artistic covers. The contributorshad really done their best in the brief time at their disposal. Therewere two or three short stories, an article on pet dogs, some recipesfor sweets and toffee, including Gipsy's favourite American Fudge, andquite a long page of nature notes, the latter being contributed mostlyby the day girls. Gipsy had not had time to write any book reviews, butshe had enjoyed herself over the answers to correspondents. She hadposted up a notice inviting letters when first the scheme for theMagazine was accepted, and quite a budget had been delivered at the"editorial office"--otherwise her school desk. Some were couched inrather a facetious vein, but she answered them as if they were intendedto be serious, sometimes with a comic result. A correspondent who signedherself "Honeysuckle" had enquired: "Can you tell me how to stop my feetfrom growing any bigger? I take fives in shoes and I am only eleven." Towhich Gipsy replied: "You are evidently eating too much, Honeysuckle!Limit your diet to water and crusts, and abstain from sweets, cakes, andtoffee in any form. You will then probably stop growing at all in anydirection, either up or down."

  Gertie Butler, of the Lower Third, had blossomed into poetry, and hadcomposed an "Ode to the Magazine", the opening lines of which ran:

  "Hail, literary gem of Briarcroft Hall! Thou com'st to be a blessing to us all".

  The exchange column was voted "ripping", and resulted in the transfer ofseveral families of white mice, some foreign stamps, a variety ofpicture post-cards, and other treasures. The first instalment of Gipsy'sserial, "The Girl Pioneer of Wild Cat Creek", was so thrillinglyexciting that its readers could hardly wait for the second chapter, andpressed the authoress for details of "what was coming next"; but asGipsy had not made up any more, they were obliged to curb theirimpatience. Altogether the Magazine was a brilliant success; and if itlacked anything in composition and grammar, it made that up in otherways. Miss Poppleton, who examined a copy, expressed her entireapproval, and the teachers greatly encouraged the girls to persevere andcontinue this new branch of the Guild. The Seniors affected to ignorethe whole affair.

  "But that's just put on," said Hetty Hancock. "They know all about it. Isaw Helen Roper and Doreen Tristram sneak into our classroom yesterdaywhen no one was there, at dinner-time. The Mag. was lying on MissWhite's desk, and they took it up and began to read it. They simplyshrieked with laughing."

  "What cheek! Let them write one of their own then!" exclaimed theindignant editress. "I'll undertake to say it wouldn't be half asinteresting as ours!"

  "Not one ten-millionth part as nice. Ours is just too scrumptiouslyripping!" agreed Hetty.