The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER III

  The Wearing of the Green

  Chessington College stood on a breezy slope midway between the hillsand the sea, and about a mile from the rising watering-place ofDunscar. It was a famous spot for a school, as the fresh winds comingeither from the uplands or from the wide expanse of channel weresufficient to blow away all chance of germs, and to ensure a thoroughlywholesome and bracing atmosphere. The College prided itself upon itsrecord of health; Miss Cavendish considered no other girls were sostraight and well-grown as hers, with such bright eyes, such clearskins, and such blooming cheeks. Ventilation, sea baths, and suitablediet were her three watchwords, and thanks to them the sanatorium atthe farther side of the shrubbery scarcely ever opened its doors toreceive a patient, while the hospital nurse who was retained in case ofemergencies found her position a sinecure.

  The buildings were modern and up-to-date, with all the latestappliances and improvements. They were provided with steam heat andelectric light; and the gymnasium, chemical laboratory, and practicaldemonstration kitchen were on the very newest of educational lines. Theschool covered a large space, and was built in the form of a square. Inthe middle was a great, gravelled quadrangle, where hockey could bepractised on days when the fields were too wet for playing. At one endstood the big lecture-hall, the chapel, the library, and the variousclassrooms, the whole surmounted by a handsome clock tower; whileopposite was the School House, where Miss Cavendish herself presidedover a chosen fifty of her two hundred pupils. The two sides of thesquare were occupied by four houses, named respectively St. Aldwyth's,St. Hilary's, St. Chad's, and St. Bride's, each being in charge of amistress, and capable of accommodating from thirty to forty girls.Though the whole school met together every day for lessons, the membersof each different house resembled a separate family, and were keenlyanxious to maintain the honour of their particular establishment. MissCavendish did not wish to excite rivalry, yet she thought a spirit offriendly emulation was on the whole salutary, and encouraged matchesbetween the various house teams, or competitions among the choral anddebating societies. The rules for all were exactly similar. Everymorning, at a quarter to seven, a clanging bell rang in the passagesfor a sufficient length of time to disturb even the soundest ofslumbers; breakfast was at half-past seven, and at half-past eighteverybody was due in chapel for a short service; lectures and classesoccupied the morning from nine till one, and the afternoon was devotedto games; tea was at four, and supper at half-past seven, withpreparation in between; and after that hour came sewing and recreation,until bedtime. It was a well-arranged and reasonable division of time,calculated to include right proportions of work and play. _Mens sanain corpore sano_ was Miss Cavendish's favourite motto, and the cleanbill of health, the successes in examinations, and the high moral tonethat prevailed throughout pointed to the fulfilment of her ideal. Mostof the girls were thoroughly happy at Chessington College, and, thoughit is in girl nature to grumble at rules and lessons, there wasscarcely one who would have cared to leave it if she had been given theopportunity.

  It was to this new, interesting, and exciting world of school thatHonor unclosed her eyes on the morning after her arrival. She openedthem sleepily, and, I regret to say, promptly shut them again, andturned over comfortably in bed, regardless of the vigorous bell thatwas delivering its warning in the passage. Punctuality had not beencounted a cardinal virtue at Kilmore Castle, and she saw no specialnecessity for rising until she felt inclined. She had just dropped offagain into a delicious doze when once more her peace was rudelydisturbed. The curtain of her cubicle was drawn back, and three livelyfaces made their appearance.

  "Look here! Don't you know it's time to get up?" said Maisie Talbot,administering a vigorous poke that would have roused the Seven Sleepersof legendary lore, and caused even Honor to yawn.

  "You'll be fined a penny if you're late for breakfast," added Lettice,"and that's a very unsatisfactory way of disposing of one'spocket-money."

  "And makes Miss Maitland particularly irate," said Pauline Reynolds.

  "Honor Fitzgerald! do you intend to get up, or do you not? Because ifyou don't, we shall have to try 'cold pig'!" Then, as there were nosigns of movement, Lettice carried out her threat by dabbing a wetsponge full in Honor's face, while at the same moment Maisie wrenchedback the bed-clothes with a relentless hand.

  "We're doing you a real kindness, so you needn't be cross, Miss PaddyPepper-box!" said Lettice. "Just wait till you've seen Miss Maitlandscowl at a late-comer, and you'll give us a vote of thanks."

  "I'm not cross," said Honor, laughing in spite of the violation of herslumbers. Lettice spoke so merrily, it was impossible to take offence,even at the nickname. "But I think you use rather summary measures. Thesponge was horribly cold and nasty."

  "It's the only way to get people to bestir themselves," said Letticecomplacently. "I've had experience with sleepy room-mates before."

  "We always try the water cure at St. Chad's," added Maisie. "We'vegiven you quite mild treatment, as it was a first case; we might haveused your bedroom jug, instead of a sponge."

  Owing to her companions' efforts, Honor was in time for breakfast--afortunate circumstance for her, as, after the episode at the tea-tableon the preceding evening, her house-mistress would not have been readyto overlook any deficiency in punctuality.

  There was always a short recess between breakfast and chapel, which thegirls called a "breathing space", and during which they could reviseexercises, sharpen lead pencils, and take a last peep at lessons. Thismorning everybody seemed to be assembling in the dressing-room for thisbrief interval, and there Honor repaired with the others.

  "I hear you've been put in the Lower Third, Paddy," said LetticeTalbot. "Vivian Holmes told me so just now. It's my form. Maisie andPauline are in it too."

  "Isn't Maisie above you?" asked Honor, looking at the sisters, theelder of whom overtopped the younger by nearly a head. "She is ininches, at any rate."

  "I'm only a year older than Lettice, though I am so much taller,"explained Maisie. "I suppose I ought to be in a higher form, but shealways manages to catch me up. I make up my mind every term I'm goingto win a double remove and leave her behind, yet somehow it neverhappens to come off. I'm much better at cricket and hockey than atFrench and algebra. But after all, it's rather convenient to have herin the same form: she's sure to remember what the lesson is when Iforget, and I can borrow her books if I lose my own."

  "Yes, I have to work for both," complained Lettice. "Maisie won't evencopy her exercise questions; she always relies on me."

  Maisie certainly made her younger sister useful. She expected her tofetch and carry, tidy both their cubicles, and generally maintain avery subservient and inferior position. On the other hand, though shetyrannized over Lettice herself, she would not allow anybody else to doso, and was ready to take her part and fight her battles against thewhole school.

  "I'm glad we're in the same class," remarked Honor, with an approvingglance at Lettice's round, smiling face. "Perhaps I shall ask you tocopy the exercise questions too. My memory is not particularly goodwhere lessons are concerned. Who else is in the Lower Third?"

  "Ruth Latimer, my greatest chum."

  "We allow ourselves chums," put in Maisie, "but we're not at allromantic at Chessington. We don't swear eternal friendships, andexchange locks of hair, and walk about the College with our armsclasped round each other's necks, and write each other sentimentalnotes, with 'sweetest' and 'darling' and 'fondest love' in them. That'swhat Miss Maitland calls 'early Victorian'. We're very matter of facthere. Still, when we choose a chum we generally stick to her, and don'tgo in for all that nonsense of 'getting out of friends', or notspeaking, as they do at some schools."

  Honor was about to ask more questions, but at that moment VivianHolmes, the monitress and head girl of the house, came bustling intothe room.

  "You haven't got your sailor and jersey yet, Honor Fitzgerald," shesaid. "Miss Maitland asked me to give them to you. Here they are, bothmarked wi
th your name, so that they needn't be mixed up with anybodyelse's. You're to take this hook, and this compartment for your shoes,and this locker to keep your books in. I've put labels on them all."

  Honor looked without enthusiasm at the knitted woollen coat, and withmarked disfavour at the white sailor hat, with its band of orangeribbon.

  "I can't wear that!" she ejaculated.

  "Why not?" enquired Vivian, in surprise.

  "There's an orange band round it."

  "Orange is the St. Chad's colour," explained Vivian. "We all haveexactly the same hats at Chessington, but each house has its ownspecial ribbon--blue for the School House, pink for St. Aldwyth's,scarlet for St. Hilary's, and violet for St. Bride's. I thought youknew that already."

  "If I had, I'd have insisted upon going to another house," declaredHonor tragically. "You ask me to wear orange? Why, the very name of'Orangeman' sets my teeth on edge. I'm a Nationalist to the last dropof my blood; we all are, down in Kerry."

  Vivian smiled.

  "Don't be absurd!" she said, in rather an off-hand manner. "Our hatshave nothing whatever to do with politics. Here are two long pins, butif you prefer an elastic you can stitch one on," and without deigningto argue further she walked away.

  Honor stood turning the hat round and round, with a very queerexpression on her face. She was a devoted daughter of Erin. Hercountry's former glories and the possible brilliance of its future as aseparate kingdom could always provoke her wildest enthusiasm; to beasked, therefore, to don the colour which in her native land stood asthe symbol of the union with England, and for direct opposition tonational independence, seemed to her little short of an insult to herdear Emerald Isle. There were still five minutes left before she needstart for chapel, so, making up her mind suddenly, she rushed upstairsto her bedroom. She would show these Saxons that she was a true Celt!They might compel her to wear their emblem of bondage, but it should bewith an addition that would proclaim her patriotic sentiments to theworld.

  Hurriedly hunting in her top drawer, she produced a yard of vivid greenribbon and the bunch of imitation shamrock that old Mary O'Grady hadgiven her as a parting present. Then she set to work on a piece ofamateur millinery. There was little time to use needle and thread, butwith the aid of pins she managed to twist the ribbon into severalloops, and to fasten the shamrock conspicuously in front. She looked atthe result of her labours with great approval.

  "One could almost imagine it was St. Patrick's Day," she said toherself. "Nobody could possibly mistake me now for a Unionist. I'mlabelled 'Home Rule' as plainly as can be." Then, hastily pinning onher hat before the mirror, she ran downstairs, humming under her breath:

  "So we'll bide our time; our banner yet And motto shall be seen, And voices shout the chorus out, 'The Wearin' o' the Green'!"

  The girls at Chessington College were all dressed exactly alike, in auniform costume of blue serge skirts, with blue or white cotton blousesfor summer, and flannel ones for winter. On Sundays they wore whiteserge coats and skirts, and for evenings white muslin or nuns' veiling.They were allowed a little latitude in the way of embroideries withrespect to best frocks, but their everyday, ordinary clothes wererequired to be of the school pattern, with the addition of sailor hatsand knitted coats, for use in running across the quadrangle on wet orcold days. Miss Cavendish considered that this rule encouragedsimplicity, and provided against any undue extravagance in the matterof dress. She did not allow rings or bracelets to be worn, and the solevanity permitted to the girls was in the choice of their hair ribbons.

  Punctually at twenty-five minutes past eight each morning the bell inthe little chapel began to give warning, and by half-past every memberof the school was expected to have taken her seat, and to be ready forthe short service held there daily by the senior curate of the parishchurch at Dunscar. In twos and threes and small groups the girls camehurrying in answer to the call of the tinkling bell. Though theylaughed and talked as they ran across the quadrangle, they sobered downas they neared the door, and, each taking a Prayer Book from a pilelaid ready in the porch, passed silently and reverently into thechapel. Every house had its own special rows of seats, and the sailorhats that mingled like a kaleidoscope in the grounds were here dividedinto their several sets of colours, though sometimes varied by a gleamof ruby or amber falling from the stained-glass windows above. Thesinging was musical and the responses hearty, while into his fiveminutes' explanation of the lesson for the day the clergyman generallymanaged to compress much helpful thought, sending away some, at least,of his hearers braced up for the duties that awaited them.

  On this particular morning anyone accustomed to the ordinary atmosphereof the place might have been aware that something of an unusualcharacter was in the air.

  There was an undercurrent of unrest, a turning of heads, a subduedrustling, even an occasional whisper; and the head mistress, realizingat last that some outside cause must be distracting the minds of herpupils, glanced up, and, following the direction of all eyes, saw asight that filled her with unfeigned astonishment. Among the neat rowsof orange-banded sailor hats in the benches marked "St. Chad's" was onetrimmed with large and obtrusive knots of emerald-green ribbon, whichdrooped over the brim, while a bunch of imitation shamrock finished thefront. It seemed to stand out so conspicuously from its fellows that itresembled a succulent palm tree growing in the midst of a sandy desert,and could not fail to attract the attention of the whole school. Howsuch an irregularity had crept in amongst the uniforms of the collegeMiss Cavendish could not comprehend; it must form the subject of anafter enquiry, and in the meantime, stilling with a reproachful glancea faint whisper in her vicinity, she joined in the singing of a psalmwith her usual clear intonation. When the service was over, however,and the girls began to file away in orderly line, she spoke a few,rapid words to a monitress, who at once passed quickly out by a sidedoor.

  As the extraordinary green hat made its appearance in the quadrangle itwas greeted with quite a buzz of excitement by the girls assembledoutside. Only a few of them, comparatively, knew Honor by sight, andthe rest were asking who she was, and to which house she belonged. Thecommon feeling was distinctly unfavourable. Apart from the unseemlinessof such an exhibition in a sacred place, new girls were not expected tomake themselves conspicuous, or to introduce innovations; either wasconsidered an impertinence on their part: so the general verdict wasthat Honor had done a dreadful thing, and public opinion was deadagainst her. She, however, held up her head as proudly as though herabsurd hat had been the latest creation from Bond Street.

  "It's a tribute to my native land!" she said airily, in response to achorus of questions. "Sorry you don't like it, but it's my firstattempt at hat-trimming, and I flattered myself it wasn't bad for abeginner. St. Patrick for ever! I made up my mind before I started thatI'd keep up the credit of the shamrock on this side of the water, andI've done my best. Hurrah for old Ireland!" Then, as if her feelingswere absolutely too much for her, she took her skirt in her hands, andbegan to dance an old-fashioned Kerry hornpipe, humming a lively Irishtune to supply the music.

  The girls stared in amazement at the mad performance. "She's showingoff!" declared some, but others laughed, and watched with a kind offascination, for the dance was striking and original, and the movementswere unusually graceful.

  Honor's triumph, however, was short-lived. Vivian Holmes forced her waythrough the crowd, and, laying her hand on the shoulder of theobstreperous new-comer, told her to report herself at once in MissCavendish's study. The lookers-on scuttled away to their classeswithout being told; they were half-ashamed of having taken so muchnotice of a new girl. Lettice Talbot, turning round, caught a glimpseof Honor walking blithely away, with a jaunty smile on her face.

  "As if a visit to the head mistress meant nothing at all!" she gasped.

  "She'll soon find out her mistake," replied Ruth Latimer grimly. "MissCavendish can reduce one to a quaking jelly when she feels inclined."

  Honor was in one of her wildest,
most reckless moods, and the prospectof a passage of arms with the principal of the College was as the callof battle to a knight of old. In her conflicts with her governesses athome she had invariably come off best, and it pleased her to think shehad now the opportunity of trying her will in opposition to that of theruler of this little kingdom.

  Miss Cavendish's study was a beautiful and unusual room. It was builtin accordance with an old-world design, and in shape resembled anancient chapter-house. The richly carved chimney-piece, the darkpanelling of the walls, and the straight-backed oak chairs helped tocarry out the prevailing note of mediaevalism, which was furtherenhanced by a large, stained-glass window, filled with figures ofsaints, that faced the doorway. To enter was like going into the peaceand serenity of some old cathedral, and, notwithstanding her defiantframe of mind, a feeling of something akin to reverence crept overHonor as she crossed the threshold. Her impressionable Celtictemperament could not fail to be influenced by outward surroundings:she had a great love of the beautiful, and this room satisfied heraesthetic tastes.

  AN INTERVIEW WITH MISS CAVENDISH]

  The head mistress was standing beside the hearth, which, though devoidof fire at this season of the year, was piled up with newly cut logs.In her long, clinging black dress, the light from the halo of St.Aldwyth in the window falling on her regular Greek features, andtouching with a ruddier gleam the pale gold of her rippling hair, MissCavendish looked an imposing and commanding figure. Born of a goodfamily, the daughter of a high dignitary of the Church, she was bynature a student, and after a brilliant career at Girton she had for atime devoted herself to scientific research, arousing much interest byher clever articles in various periodicals; but feeling that her truevocation was teaching, she had turned her attention to education, and,gaining a reputation in the scholastic world, had in course of timebeen elected as the principal of Chessington College, a post which shefilled with dignity, and greatly to the satisfaction of both governorsand parents. Not a remarkably tender woman, she was perhaps morerespected than loved by her pupils; but she had great powers ofadministration, and managed to impress upon her girls a strict sense ofduty and responsibility, a love of work, a fine perception of honour,and a desire to keep up the high tone and prestige of the school.

  She turned her clear, cold blue eyes on Honor, as the latter enteredthe room, with a scrutinizing gaze, so comprehensive and so full ofauthority that, despite her intention of showing a bold front, the girlinvoluntarily quailed.

  "Come here, Honor Fitzgerald," began Miss Cavendish, in a calm,measured tone. "I wish you to explain to me why you have taken it uponyourself to alter the costume which, you are well aware, is obligatoryfor all attending the College."

  "I can't wear orange," replied Honor, plucking up her courage for thebattle; "it's against my principles."

  "There are right principles and wrong principles; we will decidepresently to which class yours belong. On what grounds do you raiseyour objection?"

  "I'm Irish," said Honor briefly, "so I prefer green."

  "That is no reason. We have many nationalities here, and do you imaginethat every girl can be permitted to carry out her individual taste?Tell me why you suppose such a rule was framed."

  "I don't know," returned Honor rebelliously.

  "Then you must think, for I require an answer."

  Honor stared at the fireplace, at the bookcase, with its richly boundvolumes; at the window, where the red robe of St. Hilary made such aglorious spot of colour; at the table, covered with books and papers;and finally her glance went back to the head mistress, whose eyes werestill fixed on her with that steady, embarrassing gaze.

  "Was it to make everybody look alike?" she replied at last, almost asif the words were dragged from her lips.

  "Exactly! Then, to return to my original question, why, knowing thisfact, did you presume to break the rule?"

  Honor was again silent. Somehow her intended bravery seemed to deserther.

  "I met your father, Major Fitzgerald, yesterday," continued MissCavendish. "I understand that he held a command in the Royal MunsterFusiliers, and did splendid service in the Boer War. Kindly tell mewhat explanation he would have given to his general if he had appearedat church parade minus his uniform."

  "Oh, but he wouldn't have done that!" exclaimed Honor in horror.

  "Why not?"

  "Why! because he is a soldier. How could he? The uniform is part of theservice."

  "And what is the first duty of a soldier?"

  "To obey orders," answered Honor, with a spark of apprehension in hereyes.

  "You are right. Now, what would happen to a regiment if eachindividual, instead of obeying his superior officer, were to follow hisown inclinations?"

  "It would go to pieces."

  "And what occurs when a soldier commits any breach of regulations?"

  "He is court-martialled and punished."

  "Is that just?"

  "Yes."

  "But why?"

  "Oh, because--because--it's the Army, and they must! There couldn't beany discipline without."

  "Exactly! You are an officer's daughter, and you evidently appreciatethe vast importance of good discipline. Now, we are a little army here.Every girl, as a member of this community, is bound to preserve itsrules, which have been wisely framed, and deserve to be faithfullykept. You have been guilty of a very grave breach of our regulations,and by your own showing you merit punishment. Do you consider this tobe just?"

  "Yes," returned Honor, meeting the head mistress's look firmly.

  "We have an esprit de corps at the College," continued Miss Cavendish,"which makes each girl anxious to keep up the credit and prestige ofthe school. When you have been here a short time, and have learnt thetone of the place, I believe and trust that you will be truly ashamedof the remembrance of your appearance in chapel this morning. It is forthis reason I shall not punish you, though you have yourselfacknowledged that punishment would be only an act of justice. As forthe matter of principle to which you referred, so far from advancingthe good fame of your country, you were bringing it into disrepute. Ifyou imagine it was a particularly patriotic deed to flaunt the shamrockin a wrong place you are much mistaken. We have had Irish girls herebefore, and I have always been able to rely upon them for themaintenance of our high standard. You may go now, Honor, and removethat foolish trimming from your hat; and remember that, as you havebeen christened 'Honor', I shall expect you to live up to your name."

  Honor left the room more subdued than she would have cared toacknowledge. The calm, well-balanced arguments had completely disarmedher. She had entered in a reckless mood, almost anxious to be scolded,that she might have the chance of showing how little she cared; andnow, for perhaps the first time in her life, she had been compelled tothink seriously and sensibly upon a subject.

  Very few teachers would have taken the trouble to reason thus with apupil, but Miss Cavendish had her special method of education, andbelieved in paying particular attention to each girl's individuality."Different plants require different cultivation, if you are to obtaingood results," was one of her axioms. "You cannot successfully growroses and carnations with the same treatment." She had seen at once,partly from her own observation and partly as the result of a talk withMajor Fitzgerald, that Honor was an unusual and difficult character;and she wished to obtain a hold over the girl's mind from the veryoutset. It was part of her system to train her pupils to keep rulesrather from a recognition of their justice and value than from a fearof punishment; therefore she regarded the ten minutes spent in thestudy as, not wasted time, but an opportunity of sowing good seed onhitherto neglected ground.

  Vivian Holmes was waiting for Honor outside the door of the study.After conducting her to the school dressing-room, she produced a pairof scissors and ripped the offending green trimming from the hat instony silence.

  "May I keep them?" Honor ventured to ask, for it went to her heart tosee her bunch of cherished shamrock torn ruthlessly from its place andflung asid
e.

  "As you like," replied Vivian, "so long as they are not seen hereagain." Then, with a look of utterly crushing scorn, she burst out:"You needn't think that what you have done is at all clever. It's notthe place of a new girl to show off in this way, and you'll gainnothing by it. I am responsible for St. Chad's, and I don't mean tohave this kind of nonsense going on there; so please understand, HonorFitzgerald, that if you give any more trouble, you may expect to findyourself thoroughly well sat upon!"