"What sort of prizes do they give you--books?"
"Books, of course. Improving books. Poets, with nice soft backs, and Dutch Republics in calf, and things like that. The sort of book you are awfully proud of, but hardly ever read. You put it carefully in a bookcase, and admire the binding. You can always tell a prize a yard off, it looks so smart and gilt, and unopened. I"ve seen rows of them in some houses, all ranged together with their little silk markers hanging out at the bottom, as smooth and uncrumpled as if they had never been moved; and the owners take them down and show you the inscription on the first page, to prove how good and clever they were when they were at school!"
"Ah!" Pixie drew a rapturous sigh, seeing herself be-capped and shawled, in the act of exhibiting her own spoils to a bevy of admiring grandchildren. The great point seemed to be to have the inscription as striking as possible, so she inquired anxiously if the cla.s.s prize was the highest that could be obtained.
"She"s ambitious, girls, isn"t she? The cla.s.s prize isn"t enough for her, you notice!" cried Ethel, splashing her face with cold water, and interposing her remarks with audible shudderings. "Yes, there"s one thing higher--the "Alice Prize," we call it, because it is given by the father of a certain Alice who used to be at school here, and who died at the end of her last term. She was Lottie"s sister; but Lottie is not in the least like her, for she was very shy and nervous, and the girls teased her a great deal, and she took it to heart and made herself miserable. After her death it was found that she had kept a diary, and written down all her troubles; and her parents read it, and tried to think what they could do to prevent any other girl suffering as she had done. At last they thought of offering this prize--it is given every year--five pounds" worth of books, which you can choose for yourself.
You can get a lot of books for five pounds, and it is given to the girl who is kindest and most considerate to others. She has to be nice to new girls, and answer their questions, and be patient with them, as I am being with you, my dear, at the present moment, and dry their little eyes when they weep, and cheer them up when they are low in their minds.
And she has to be careful not to hurt other people"s feelings, and to use her influence to stop a joke when it is going too far. Oh, and a dozen other things which you can imagine for yourself! The girls know best who deserves the prize, and they vote at the end of the year, and whoever gets most votes gets the prize."
"Who got it last year?"
"Margaret, of course. So she would every time, but the same person is not allowed to have it two years running. A good thing, too, for we should all feel that it was no use competing with her, and so give up trying."
"And who do you think will get it this year?"
"Oh dear me! How many more questions? Myself, of course, for answering you so kindly. If you don"t vote for me, young woman, there"ll be a coldness between us, and so I tell you. Flora thinks she will get it, but it won"t be fair if she does, for she is so fat that she couldn"t be anything else than good-natured if she tried. Now I have really a violent temper, but I keep it in check. I can"t answer any more questions, though. Time"s up. I give you all two minutes more, and then I must put out the light."
"Let me do it! I"ll put it out! You get into your bed and keep warm, and I"ll wait upon you!" cried Pixie eagerly; and, to her dismay, there came a simultaneous burst of laughter from all three listeners.
"She"s Alicing," they cried--"she"s Alicing! Nothing like beginning in time, and making the most of your opportunities. So you want that prize too, do you, as well as the cla.s.s one? It"s a bad lookout for the rest of the girls. There won"t be anything left for us to try for."
Pixie stood transfixed within her cubicle, staring before her with bewildered eyes. As it had been her delight to wait upon her beloved sisters, it had come naturally to wish to help these girls who, for the time, had taken their place in her life. She had made her offer in all good faith, and her heart swelled with bitterness at the injustice of the accusation. A rush of honest Irish pride forbade an answer; but the tears came to her eyes as she lay down in bed, and the loneliness of exile fell upon her. Bally William, oh, dear Bally William, how are you looking to-night? Is everything going on as usual, though Pixie O"Shaughnessy is far away in a cold, cruel land where no one knows her, and her best motives are misjudged and derided? Beautiful old castle, standing among your luxuriant green, are the lamps lit in your rooms, and twinkling like so many stars into the night? And there, where the red curtains are drawn so snugly, are the boys and girls gathered round the fire, the flames lighting up Bridgie"s sweet face and Esmeralda"s stormy beauty? Oh, boys and girls, are you thinking of Pixie--your own little Pixie?
"How that child does snort!" muttered Ethel impatiently. "It seems to be our luck to have all the snorers in this room."
CHAPTER SIX.
A NOVEL AMUs.e.m.e.nT.
During the weeks which followed, "Pixie"s Prep" became a by-word among her companions, for no amount of goading seemed sufficient to keep her attention from roaming from her books during the hours when it was most necessary that she should give them her undivided attention. However st.u.r.dily she might begin, in ten minutes" time her eyes were wandering about the room, she was scribbling on the margin of her book, or twisting her handkerchief into a new variety of rag doll. The well- meaning Kate, finding frowns and nudges losing their effect, resorted to more drastic measures, such as the p.r.i.c.k of a pin, or a tug of the elf- like locks; but the victim"s howls and protestations not only disturbed her companions, but took so long to pacify that the experiment had to be abandoned.
How Pixie managed to sustain even her very low place in the cla.s.s was a wonder to her companions; but in truth she had an unusually quick brain, so that when she chose to apply herself she learnt as much as slower girls would do in twice the time, while her Irish wit enabled her to place her sc.r.a.ps of knowledge in the most advantageous light, and rescued her from awkward questionings. Nowhere was this faculty more marked than in French, of which she knew least, yet in which subject she made the most rapid progress. It was clear to a pair of uncommonly sharp eyes that Miss Phipps"s leniency would some day come to an end, and that she would then find herself in the position of being obliged either to speak French or not to speak at all. To a born chatterbox the latter alternative seemed the acme of misery, so it behoved her to prepare for speech before the dread verdict was given, which she did in a manner astonishing to her companions. Of French grammar she had the poorest opinion, but she was sharp as a magpie to pick up the phrases of others and store them for her own use. The morning after Mademoiselle had suffered from a headache, Pixie"s handkerchief was soaked with offerings of eau-de-Cologne, from the various girls to whom she had repeated e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of distress; she discoursed exhaustively upon the weather to every one who could be induced to listen, and recited exercise phrases to the school cat until her tongue grew quite nimble over the words.
Mademoiselle was an object of intense interest and curiosity to her new pupil. She was the first foreigner whom Pixie had known, and there was something in her dark, eager face which arrested the child"s attention.
Mademoiselle was quick and nervous, subject to fits of unreasonable irritation; but at other times there was a sad, far-away look in her eyes, and then her voice would take a softer cadence, so that when she said "Cherie," one pupil at least forgot all the scoldings which had gone before. Pixie felt irresistibly drawn to Mademoiselle in her hours of depression. She could not have explained the attraction, but in her heart she felt that they were both exiles, and that Mademoiselle pined for her own sunny land, even as she pined for the dear green isle which seemed so far away. She longed for Mademoiselle to notice her, to show her some special mark of favour, but longed in vain, until at last a day dawned which brought her into notice in a manner which was scarcely to her liking.
It was a wet Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and wet Sat.u.r.day afternoons are abominations to every boarding-school girl, and the cause of endless grumblings and repinings. Ethel and Kate had gone out to tea with an old maiden lady who lived in the neighbourhood, and had still further deepened their friend"s depression before departing by drawing a most roseate picture of the joys before them.
"She is awfully kind," they had explained of their hostess; "she gives you the most galumptious teas, and the best part of it is, she has an e- normous appet.i.te herself, so you can eat as much as you like, without fear of looking greedy!"
No wonder the poor stay-at-homes looked glum after this; no wonder they sighed with envy as they thought of the thick bread-and-b.u.t.ter in store for themselves. The elder girls provided themselves with books, and sat in rows before the fire, while artistic spirits set themselves copies, and filled up page after page of their sketching-books. Flora st.i.tched on a table-centre destined to be a birthday present for her mother, and the younger girls cl.u.s.tered round Pixie, and besought her to think of some new means of amus.e.m.e.nt.
"Think of something, Pixie-doo! It"s so dull, and we are sick of the stupid old games. What did you do at home when it rained and you couldn"t go out?"
"I"ve never seen it rain hard enough to keep me indoors if I wanted to be out," returned Pixie, with a toss of the head; "but I"ve had fine fun indoors sometimes when I didn"t feel disposed for exertion. Ratting in the barn is good sport, or grooming the pony, or feeding the animals, and pretending it is the Zoo; but you can"t do those things here. It"s hard to think of anything amusing when you are shut up in one room."
"We can go out on the landing, if we like; I vote we do, and be by ourselves. The fifth forms are sure to tell us not to, the moment we have thought of something nice. Come along now, before they notice us!"
No sooner said than done. The little band of conspirators slipped from the room, and stood without on the square landing, five short-frocked girls all gazing eagerly, confidently, into the face of their leader.
"Pixie, what shall we do?"
Pixie racked her brains in despair, for not a single idea would come to her aid, and yet to acknowledge such a want of invention would have been to forfeit her position, and therefore not to be thought of for a second. Her eyes roamed from side to side, and lit upon a table on which some working materials happened to be lying. A basket, a folded length of cloth, and a roll of wide green binding such as was used to edge old-fashioned window-curtains. Pixie looked at it thoughtfully, fingered it to ascertain its weight, shook it out to discover its length, and cried eagerly--
"Just the thing! Might have been made for it. Would you like to see me la.s.so the next person who comes upstairs?"
"La.s.so!" The girls were not quite sure of the meaning of the word, but Pixie explained it, suiting the action to the word.
A la.s.so was a rope with a noose at one end--so! and it was used to catch wild horses, or anything else you happened to chase. You stood with the rope gathered up in your hand--so! and then took aim and sent it flying out suddenly--so! Pat could do it beautifully, and he had taught her too, but she could not always manage very well. If you caught a girl from above, she would be startled out of her wits, and squeal like anything. It would be splendid fun. The next one, then, who came upstairs!
The girls were divided between horror and delight. Dared she? Really!
Would it hurt? What would Miss Phipps say? Did she really think she ought? But their agitation acted as fuel to Pixie"s determination, and she would only laugh and lean over the banisters, experimenting with the long green rope, and altering the length until it met with her approval.
Five minutes pa.s.sed, and n.o.body appeared; ten minutes, and the conspirators were beginning to grow impatient, when from below came the unmistakable sound of an ascending footstep. The orders of the chief had been that when this happened her attendants were to withdraw to a safe distance, so that no movement nor sound of m.u.f.fled laughter should warn the victim of her peril; so the girls retreated obediently, leaving Pixie to crouch on the floor until the eventful moment when a head appeared on the landing six steps below. It came--the top of a smooth, brown head, and on the moment out flew the rope, whirled into s.p.a.ce with a skilful jerk which sent the noose flying wide, and with an accuracy of aim which brought it right round the neck of the new-comer. She squealed indeed, but horror of horrors! she squealed in French, with such staccato "Oh"s" and "Ah"s" of astonishment as could only have come from one person in the house. It was Mademoiselle herself! and lifting her glance she beheld six horrified faces peering at her over the banisters, six pairs of startled eyes, six mouths agape with dismay.
She looked, and then, as it seemed with one stride, was in their midst, with her hands gripping Pixie by the shoulders.
Now it happened that Mademoiselle was in her most irritable mood this afternoon, for all day long she had been struggling against what, for convenience" sake, she called a headache, but which might more honestly have been described as a heartache instead. A teacher cannot explain to thirty pupils that she has received a letter from home which has seemed to drop a veil before the sky, but such letters come all the same, and make it difficult to bear the hundred and one little annoyances and trials of temper which fall to her lot. Mademoiselle"s letter had told of the illness of a beloved father, and as she dared not sit down and have a good cry to relieve her feelings, she was an a pent-up state of nerves which made her the worst possible subject for a practical joke.
The rope in Pixie"s hand marked her out as the princ.i.p.al offender, and she was called to order in a breathless stream of French which left her dumb and bewildered.
"I--I can"t understand!" she stammered, and Mademoiselle struggled to express herself in sufficiently expressive English. "You bad girl! You rude, bad girl! What "ave you done? What you mean playing your treecks on me? I will not "ave it. I will complain to Miss Phipps. How dare you throw your strings about to catch me as I come upstairs!
Impertinent! Disobedient!"
"P-please, Mademoiselle, it was a la.s.so! I didn"t know it was you. I said I would do it to the first person who came, and I didn"t see your face. It was only a joke."
"A joke! You catch me by the throat, you "ang me by the neck, and you call it a joke! You wicked, impertinent girl, you shall be punished for this!"
Pixie heaved a sigh so sepulchral that it might almost have been called a groan instead.
"It"s just my luck!" she said dismally. "When I tried to show off before Pat and the girls, I couldn"t do it one time in a hundred, and just now, when I"d have no credit, but only get into trouble, I caught you the very first try!"
Did she mean to be impertinent? Mademoiselle looked down with sharp suspicion, but even in her excited condition she could not mistake that downcast look, and troubled, disconsolate frown. Her voice grew a trifle less sharp, but she was very angry still.
"You ought to be ashamed playing such treecks! It is always the same thing--there is no peace since you "ave come. These girls were quite good and mild, but you make them as wild as yourself. I will teach you to be"ave better. You will come with me to the schoolroom and write out a verrrb!"
"I will, Mademoiselle," said Pixie meekly, so meekly that her companions fondly hoped that such exemplary submission would win forgiveness; but no, Mademoiselle flounced downstairs, and Pixie followed at her heels, to seat herself in solitary state at one end of the deserted schoolroom, while Mademoiselle took possession of the desk and began to correct a pile of exercise books.
To write out a verb is not, as a rule, a very lengthy matter, but Mademoiselle"s punishment verbs had invariably a phrase attached which gave to them an added appropriateness, but very much lengthened the task. "I am sorry that I was rude to Mademoiselle" was the verb which poor Pixie was to-day condemned to conjugate, and the big straggling sentences amplified the statement until it seemed impossible to express it in any other way. "I am sorry that I was rude to Mademoiselle--I was sorry that I was rude to Mademoiselle--I shall or will be sorry that I was rude to Mademoiselle."
At intervals of every two or three minutes Mademoiselle glanced from her work to the little figure at the other end of the room, but each time Pixie"s head was bent over her task, and the wandering eyes were glued to their task. Such industry seemed so unnatural that the onlooker became first puzzled and then uneasy, and at last resorted to coughing and moving about in her chair in order to satisfy curiosity. In vain!
Pixie"s head went down lower than ever, and the pen scratched away without a moment"s cessation, for she was enduring that unreasoning panic of fear which sensitive children suffer when they are in disgrace with their elders. She had been brought up in an atmosphere of tender indulgence, had been the adored baby of the household, who had never heard the sound of an angry voice, so that now, to sit alone in a room with a person whom she had displeased, reduced her to a condition of trembling fear. Her eyelids felt weighed down, a lump rose in her throat, and she trembled as with cold, and then presently the dreaded voice spoke again, and Mademoiselle said--
"Pixie, come here. Bring your verrrb!"
The wretched scribe had not yet finished her conjugation, being about imperatively to command herself to be sorry that she had been rude to Mademoiselle, but she was too nervous to explain, and stood twisting her hands together and staring at the carpet, while Mademoiselle turned over the pages. She bit her lips once or twice as she read, and her eyes twinkled, but Pixie did not see that, and the voice which spoke sounded alarmingly stern.
"It is ver" badly written. You make your letters too big; and such blots! I cannot "ave such blots. What "ave you been doing to make such blots as these?"