CHAPTER XIX
A Surprise
The storm-clouds that had gathered round the mystery of the lost pendantseemed to clear the air, and sunshine once more reigned at TheWoodlands. The juniors were on their very best behaviour; they indulgedin no more surreptitious expeditions and abandoned their truculentattitude towards the elder girls, who, while careful to preserve theirdignity as seniors, were ready to wipe off old scores and start afresh.Some manoeuvres in connection with the Camp-fire League proved a bondof union, for here there was no distinction between Upper and LowerSchool, since all were novices to the new work and had to learn alike.None, indeed, had any time at present to get into mischief. As the endof the term, with its prospects of examinations, drew near, even themost hardened shirkers were obliged to put their shoulders to the wheel,and show a certain amount of intimacy with their textbooks. A noddingacquaintance with French verbs or the rules of Latin Grammar mightsuffice to shuffle through the ordinary lessons in form, but would be apoor crutch when confronted with a pile of foolscap paper and a set ofquestions, and likely to lead to disparaging items in their reports.
In every department, therefore, there was a flood-tide of effort.Nature-study diaries, roughly kept, were neatly copied; lists of birdsand flowers were revised; the geological specimens in the museum wererearranged and labelled, the art treasures in the studio touched up,while pianos seemed sounding from morning to night. The school was onits mettle to appear at high-water mark. Miss Bowes had latelyinstituted an Old Girls' Union for The Woodlands, the first gathering ofwhich was to be held in conjunction with the breaking-up festivity.Quite a number of past pupils had accepted the invitation, and people ofinfluence in the neighbourhood were also expected to be present.
"You must show the 'old girls' what you can do," said Miss Bowes, whowas naturally anxious to make a good impression on the visitors. "I wantthem to think the standard raised, not lowered. Some of our ways will benew to them, and we must prove that the changes have been for thebetter."
It certainly seemed a goal to work for. Even the most irresponsiblejunior would feel humiliated if the "old girls" were to consider thatthe school had gone down, and all took a just pride in keeping up itsreputation.
"Noelle Derrington and Phyllis Courtenay have accepted"--it wasStephanie who volunteered the information. "They have both beenpresented. And Irene Vernon has promised to come. She's been out twoyears now. I do hope those wretched kids in IV B will behave themselves.Manners have gone off at The Woodlands in my opinion, even if thework's better. When my sister was a junior, she says, they would as soonhave thought of ragging the mistresses as of cheeking the seniors."
"O tempora! O mores!" laughed Addie. "When you're an old lady, Stephie,you'll spend all your time lamenting the good old days of your youth,and telling the children just how much better-behaved girls used to bewhen you were at school."
"I shan't say so of our juniors, at any rate," snorted Stephanie.
"Have you heard yet who's coming from the neighbourhood?" Beth enquired.
"Mr. and Mrs. Arnold, of course, and Colonel and Mrs. Hepworth, and theMowbrays, and the Langtons."
"Lord and Lady Glyncraig have accepted; Miss Harding told me so justnow," remarked Christine.
"Oh, what luck!" Stephanie's eyes sparkled. "It will just give thefinishing touch to the affair."
"Did you say that Lord and Lady Glyncraig are coming to our breaking-upparty?" asked Rona quickly. She had joined the group in company withWinnie and Hattie.
"So I understand; but you needn't excite yourself. It isn't likelythey'll notice juniors, though they'll probably speak to a few seniorswhom they already know."
"Including Miss Stephanie Radford, of course," scoffed Winnie. "Weshall expect to see you walking arm in arm with them round the grounds."
"And hear them giving you a most pressing invitation to Plas Cafn,"Hattie added. "You don't get asked there as often as one would suppose,considering you're so intimate with them."
"The cheek of juniors grows beyond all bounds!" declared Stephanie,stalking away. "I'm afraid I know what Irene Vernon will think of theschool."
It was of course impossible for all the parents of the girls to come tothe "At Home", but a certain proportion had promised to be present.There was a good hotel at Llangarmon, and they could put up there, anddrive over for the occasion. The neighbourhood was so beautiful thatseveral would take the opportunity of spending a few days insightseeing.
"I've news to tell you," said Ulyth to Rona one morning, her faceradiant as she showed a letter. "Who do you think are coming to theparty? Motherkins and Oswald! Ossie'll just be home in time, so they'rejaunting off to Elwyn Bay like a pair of honeymooners. Motherkins hasn'tbeen very well, and Dad says the sea air will do her good--he can'tleave business himself, more's the pity! Won't it be glorious to seethem here! I could stand on my head, I'm so glad."
The prospect of meeting any members of the Stanton family again was agreat pleasure to Rona, who treasured the memory of the Christmasholidays as her happiest experience in England. Mrs. Fowler was also tobe present, so she would see the friend who had been kind to her atEastertide as well.
"I'm glad my mother's coming," said Winnie. "When most of the othergirls have somebody, its so horrid to be left out. Poor old Rona! I wishyou'd got some relations of your own who could be here. It's hard luck!"
A shade crossed Rona's face. She hesitated, as if about to speak, then,apparently changing her mind, kept silence.
"What an idiotic duffer you are!" whispered Hattie to Winnie. "Youneedn't be always reminding her what a cuckoo she is."
"The Cuckoo's got its feathers now, and has grown a very handsome bird,"said Winnie, watching Rona as the latter walked away.
The At Home was to be chiefly a gathering for the Old Girls' Union, butthe present pupils were to provide a short programme, consisting ofmusic and recitations, to occupy a portion of the afternoon. Only thebrightest stars were selected to perform.
"The school's got to show off!" laughed Gertie. "It's to try and takethe shine out of the old girls. Miss Bowes doesn't exactly like to sayso, but that's what she means."
"No inferior talent permitted," agreed Addie. "Only freshwater oystersmay wag their tails."
"Metaphor's a little mixed, my hearty. Perhaps you'll show us anoyster's tail?"
"Well, they've got beards, at any rate."
"To beard the lion with?"
"If you like. I suppose Lord Glyncraig will be the lion of theafternoon. We shall have to perform before him."
"Oh, I'm so thankful I'm not clever enough to be on the programme!"
After careful consideration of her pupils' best points, Miss Ledbury,the music-mistress, had at last compiled her list. She put Rona down fora song. Rona's voice had developed immensely since she came to school.For a girl of her age it had a wonderfully rich tone and wide compass.Miss Ledbury thought it showed promise of great things later on, and,while avoiding overstraining it, she had made Rona practise mostassiduously. There was rather a dearth of good solo voices in the schoolat present, most of the seniors having more talent for the piano thanfor singing, otherwise a junior might not have obtained a place on thecoveted programme.
"But of course Rona's not exactly a junior," urged Ulyth in reply toseveral jealous comments. "She's fifteen now, although she's only in IVB, and she's old for her age. She's miles above the kids in her form. Ithink Teddie realizes that. I shouldn't be at all surprised if Ronaskips a form and is put into the Upper School next term. She'd managethe work, I believe. It's been rather rough on her to stay among thosebabes."
"Well, I say Miss Ledbury might have chosen a soloist from V B,"returned Beth icily. She was not a Rona enthusiast.
"Who? Stephie's playing the piano and Gertie's reciting, Merle croakslike a raven, you and Chris don't learn singing, Addie's no ear fortune, and the rest of us, as Leddie says, 'have no puff'. I'm glad Ronacan do something well for the school. She's been here three terms, andshe's as much a Wood
lander now as anyone else."
Rona herself seemed to regard her honour with dismay. The easyconfidence which she had brought from New Zealand had quite disappeared,thanks to incessant snubbing; she was apt now to veer to the side ofdiffidence.
"Do you think I'll break down?" she asked Ulyth nervously.
"Not a bit of it. Why should you? You know the song and you know you cansing it. Just let yourself go, and don't think of the audience."
"Very good advice, no doubt, but a trifle difficult to follow," poutedRona. "Don't think of the audience, indeed, when they'll all be sittingstaring at me. Am I to shut my eyes?"
"You can look at your song, at any rate, and fancy you're alone withMiss Ledbury."
"Imagination's not my strong point. I wish the wretched performance wasover and done with."
There were great preparations on the morning of 29th July. Outside, thegardeners were giving a last roll to the lawns, and a last sweep to thepaths. In the kitchen the cook was setting out rows of small cakes, andthe parlour-maid in the pantry was counting cups and spoons, andpolishing the best silver urn. In the school department finishingtouches were put everywhere. Great bowls of roses were placed in thedrawing-room, and jars of tall lilies in the hall. The studio, arrangedyesterday with its exhibits of arts and handicrafts, was furtherdecorated with picturesque boughs of larch and spikes of foxgloves. Twocurators were told off to explain the museum to visitors, andtea-stewards selected to help to hand round cups and cakes. A band ofspecial scouts picked raspberries and arranged them on little greenplates. Chairs were placed in the summer-house and under the trees inview of the lawn. The rustic seats were carefully dusted in the glade bythe stream.
By three o'clock the school was in a flutter of expectation.
"Do I look--decent?" asked Rona anxiously, taking a last nervous peep ather toilet in the wardrobe mirror.
"Decent!" exclaimed Ulyth. "You're for all the world like a Sir JoshuaReynolds portrait. I'd like to frame you, just as you are, and hang youon the wall."
"You wouldn't feel ashamed of me if--if you happened to be my relation?I've improved a little since I came here, haven't I? I was a wild sortof goose-girl when I arrived, I know."
"The goose-girl is a Princess to-day," said her room-mate exultantly.
Ulyth thought Rona had never looked so sweet. The pretty white dresstrimmed with pale blue edgings suited her exactly, and set off herlovely colouring and rich ruddy-brown hair. Her eyes shone likediamonds, and the mingled excitement and shyness in her face gave apeculiar charm to her expression.
"She's far and away the prettiest girl in the school," reflected Ulyth."If there were a beauty prize, she'd win it."
Everybody was waiting in the garden when the guests arrived. The scenesoon became gay and animated. There were delighted welcomings ofparents, enthusiastic meetings between old school chums, and a heartygreeting to all visitors. Mrs. Stanton and Oswald had driven in a taxifrom Elwyn Bay, and were received with rapture by Ulyth.
"Motherkins! Oh, how lovely to see you again! I must have you all tomyself for just a minute or two before I share you with anybody--evenRona!"
"Is that Rona over there?" asked Oswald, gazing half amazed at thefriend who seemed to have added a new dignity to her manner as well asinches to her stature since Christmas-tide.
"Yes, go and fetch her to speak to Motherkins."
"I hardly like to. She looks so stately and grown-up now."
"What nonsense! Ossie, you can't be shy all of a sudden. What's comeover you, you silly boy? There, I'll beckon to Rona. Ah, she sees us,and she's coming! No, I'm afraid she can't sit next to us at theconcert, because she's one of the performers, and will have to be in thefront row."
The ceremonies were to take place in the hall, after which tea would beserved to the company out-of-doors.
"Lord Glyncraig is to act as chairman," whispered Addie. "Stephie is sofearfully excited. She means to go and speak to him and Lady Glyncraigafterwards. I hope to goodness they won't have forgotten her. She'd beso woefully humiliated. She wants us all to see that she knows them.She's been just living for this afternoon, I believe."
Rona, her hands tightly clasped, watched the tall figure mount theplatform. Lord Glyncraig, with his clear-cut features, iron-grey hair,and commanding air, looked a born leader of men, and well fitted to takehis share in swaying a nation's destiny. She could picture him a powerin Parliament. It was good of him to come this afternoon to speak at agirls' school. Lady Glyncraig, handsome, well-dressed, and aristocratic,sat in the post of honour next to Miss Bowes. Rona noticed her graciousreception of the beautiful bouquet handed to her by Catherine, andsighed as she looked.
There were no prizes at The Woodlands this year, for the girls had askedto devote the money to the Orphanage; but the examination lists and theannual report were read, and some pleasant comments made upon the scopeof the Old Girls' Union. Lord Glyncraig had a happy gift of speech, andcould adapt his remarks to the occasion. Everybody felt that he had saidexactly the right things, and Principals, mistresses, parents, andpupils past or present were wreathed in smiles. These opening ceremoniesdid not take very long, and the concert followed immediately.
Marjorie's Prelude, Evie's Nocturne, Stephanie's Mazurka, and Gertie'srecitation all went off without a hitch, and received their due rewardof appreciation. It was now Rona's turn. For a moment she grew pale asshe mounted the platform, then the coral flushed back into her cheeks.She had no time to think of the audience. Miss Ledbury was alreadyplaying the opening bars:
"Come out, come out, my dearest dear! Come out and greet the sun!"
Mellow and tuneful as a blackbird's, Rona's clear rich young voice rangout, so fresh, so joyous, so natural, so full of the very spirit ofmaying and the glory of summer's return, that the visitors listened asone hearkens to the notes of a bird that is pouring forth its heart froma tree-top in the orchard. There was no mistake about the applause.Guests and girls clapped their hardest. Rona, all unwilling, wasrecalled, and made to sing an encore, and as she left the platformeverybody felt that she had scored the triumph of the occasion.
"Glad the juniors weren't excluded. It's a knock-down for Steph,"whispered Addie.
"Trust Miss Ledbury not to leave out Rona. She'll be our championsoloist now," returned Christine.
The rest of the little programme was soon finished, and the audienceadjourned to the garden for tea. Stephanie, with a tray of raspberriesand cream, came smilingly up to Lord and Lady Glyncraig, and,introducing herself, reminded them of the delightful visit she had paidto Plas Cafn. If they had really forgotten her, they had the goodmanners not to reveal the fact, and spoke to her kindly and pleasantly.
"By the by," said Lord Glyncraig, "where is your schoolfellow who sangso well just now? I don't see her on the lawn."
"Rona Mitchell? I suppose she is somewhere about," replied Stephaniecasually.
"Do you happen to know if she comes from New Zealand?"
"Yes, she does."
"I wonder if you could find her and bring her here? I should like verymuch to speak to her."
Stephanie could not refuse, though her errand was uncongenial. She couldnot imagine why an ex-Cabinet Minister should concern himself with agirl from the backwoods.
"Lord Glyncraig wants you; so hurry up, and don't keep him waiting," wasthe message she delivered, not too politely.
Rona blushed furiously. She appeared on the very point of declining toobey the summons.
"Go, dear," said Mrs. Stanton quietly. "Perhaps he wishes tocongratulate you on the success of your song. Yes, Rona, go. It would bemost ungracious to refuse."
With a face in which shyness, nervousness, pride, and defiance strovefor the mastery, Rona approached Lord Glyncraig. He held out his hand toher.
"Won't you bury the hatchet, and let us be friends at last, Rona?" hesaid. "I'm proud of my granddaughter to-day. You're a true chip of theold block, a Mitchell to your finger-tips--and" (in a lower tone) "withyour mother's voice thrown i
nto the bargain. Blood is thicker thanwater, child, and it's time now for bygones to become bygones. I shallwrite to your father to-night, and set things straight."
* * * * *
"How is it that you've actually been a whole year at The Woodlands andnever let anybody have the least hint that Lord Glyncraig is yourgrandfather? Don't you know what an enormous difference it would havemade to your position in the school? Stephie is quite hysterical aboutit. Why was it such a dead secret?" asked Ulyth of her room-mate, asthey took off their party dresses, when the guests had gone.
"It's rather a long story," replied Rona, sitting down on her bed. "Inthe first place, I dare say you've guessed that Dad was the prodigal ofthe family. He never did anything very bad, poor dear, but he was packedoff to the colonies in disgrace, and told that he might stay there. AtMelbourne he met a lovely opera singer, who was on tour in Australia,and married her. That made my grandfather more angry than anything elsehe had done. I'm not ashamed of my mother. She was very clever, and sanglike an angel, I'm told, though I can't remember her. When she died, Dadwent to New Zealand and started farming. Mrs. Barker was hardly an idealperson to bring me up, but she was the only woman we could get to stopin such an out-of-the-way place. I must have been an awful specimen of achild; I don't like to remember what things I did then. When I was aboutten, Father went away for a few weeks to the North Island, and while hewas gone, Mrs. Barker went off in the gig to have a day's shopping atthe nearest store. She left me alone in the house. I wasn't frightened,for I was quite accustomed to it. No one but a chance neighbour evercame near. Yet that day was just the exception that proves the rule.Early in the afternoon a grand travelling motor drove up, and a lady andgentleman knocked at the door, and enquired for Dad. I was a little wildrough thing then, and I was simply scared to death at the sight ofstrangers. I told them Dad was away. Then they asked if they might comein, and the gentleman said he was my grandfather, and the lady was hisnew wife, so that she was my step-grandmother. Now Mrs. Barker hadalways rubbed it in to me that if I was left alone I must on no accountadmit strangers. That was the only thing I could think of. I was in apanic, and I slammed the door on them and bolted it, and then ran to thewindow and pulled faces, hoping to make them go away. They stood for aminute or two quite aghast, trying to get me to listen to reason throughthe window, but I only grew more and more frightened, and called themall the ugly names I could.
"'It's no use attempting to tame such a young savage,' said the lady atlast. Then they got into their car again and drove away.
"By the time Mrs. Barker arrived I was ashamed of myself, so I saidnothing about my adventure, and I never dared to tell Dad a word of it.I suppose his father had come to hunt him up; but he was evidentlydiscouraged at the reception he had received at the farm, and went backto England without making another attempt at a meeting. I don't believehe and Dad ever wrote to each other from year's end to year's end. Itried to forget this, but it stuck in my memory all the same. Time wentby, my friendship with you began, and it was decided that I should besent to The Woodlands. I knew my grandfather lived at Plas Cafn, for Dadhad told me about his old home, but I did not know it was so near to theschool. You ask why I did not tell the girls that I was related to LordGlyncraig? There were several reasons. In the first place, I was reallyvery much ashamed of my behaviour the day he had come to our farm. Ithought he had cast us off completely, and would not be at all pleasedto own me as granddaughter. I would not confess it to any of you, but Ifelt so rough and uncouth when I compared myself with other girls that Idid not want Lord Glyncraig to see me, or to know that I was in theneighbourhood. Perhaps some day, so I thought, I might grow more likeyou, if I tried hard, and then it would be time enough to tell him of mywhereabouts. Then, because he had disowned us, I felt much too proud toboast about the relationship at school. If you could not like me formyself, I wouldn't make a bid for popularity on the cheap basis ofbeing his granddaughter. I'm a democrat at heart, and I think peopleought to be valued on their own merits entirely. I'd rather be anoutsider than shine with a reflected glory."
"You'll be popular now," said Ulyth. "Are you to spend the holidays atPlas Cafn?"
"Yes. Miss Bowes says I must, though I'd far rather have accepted yourinvitation. Lady Glyncraig was very kind and sweet; she kissed me andsaid she hoped so much that we should be friends. They have promised toask Dad to come over for next Christmas and have a big family reunion."
"You won't let them take you away from The Woodlands? We don't want tolose you, dear. You must stay here now--for the sake of the school."
"For my own sake!" cried Rona, flinging her arms round her friend."Ulyth, I owe everything in the world to you. I understand now how goodit was of you to take me into your room and teach me. I was a veritablecuckoo in your nest then, a horrid, tiresome, trespassing bird, asavage, a bear cub, a 'backwoods gawk' as the girls called me. It'sentirely thanks to you if at last I'm----"
"The sweetest Prairie Rose that ever came out of the wilderness!"finished Ulyth warmly.
For the Sake of the School Page 19
