The Leader of the Lower School.
by Angela Brazil.
CHAPTER I
Gipsy Arrives
ONE dank, wet, clammy afternoon at the beginning of October half a dozen of the boarders at Briarcroft Hall stood at the Juniors" sitting-room window, watching the umbrellas of the day girls disappear through the side gate. It had been drizzling since dinner-time, and the prospect outside was not a remarkably exhilarating one. The yellow leaves of the oak tree dripped slow tears on to the flagged walk, as if weeping beforehand for their own speedy demise; the little cla.s.sical statue on the fountain looked a decidedly watery G.o.ddess, the sodden flowers had trailed their heads in the soil, and a small rivulet was running down the steps of the summer house. As the last two umbrellas, after a brief and exciting struggle for precedence, pa.s.sed through the portal and the gate was shut with a slam, Lennie Chapman turned to her companions and heaved a tragic sigh.
"Isn"t it withering?" she remarked. "And just on the very afternoon when we"d made up our minds to decide the tennis championship, and secured all the courts for the Lower School. I do call it the most wretched luck! I"m a blighted blossom!"
"We"ll never persuade the Seniors to give us all the courts again!"
wailed Fiona Campbell. "They said so emphatically that it was only to be for this once."
"I believe they knew it was going to be wet!" growled Dilys Fenton.
"You don"t think if it cleared a little we might manage just a set before tea?" suggested Norah Bell half hopefully.
"My good girl, please to look at the lawn! Do you think anyone in her senses would try to play on a swamp like that?"
"It"s getting too late in the year for tennis," yawned Hetty Hanc.o.c.k.
"Don"t believe we shall get another game at all. We"d better resign ourselves."
"Resign ourselves to what?" asked Daisy Scatcherd.
"Why, to leaving the championship till next summer, and to not going out to-day, and to sitting stuffing here and moaning our bad luck, and feeling as cross as a bear with a toothache--at least, that"s how I feel: I don"t know what the rest of you do!"
"I should like to have gone home with the day girls," sighed Dilys Fenton.
"No, you wouldn"t!" snapped Norah Bell. "You know it"s jollier to be a boarder; we do have some jolly times, even if it does rain. You can"t expect it always to keep fine, and as for----"
"Oh, Norah, don"t preach! We must have our growls--it lets off steam. I think it"s the wretchedest, miserablest, detestablest, most altogether sickening afternoon that ever was--there!"
"If only something would happen, just to cheer us up a little!" said Lennie Chapman, opening the window rather wider and putting her head out into the rain.
"What do you want to happen?"
"Why, something exciting, of course--something interesting and jolly, and out of the common, to wake us up and make things more lively."
"You"ll fall out of the window if you lean over like that, and that would be lively, in all conscience, if you were picked up in fragments.
Come in; you"re getting your hair wet."
"Let me alone! I shan"t! I say, what"s that? There"s a cab turning in at the gate; it"s coming up the drive!"
Five extra heads immediately poked themselves out of the window regardless of the rain, for the Juniors" sitting-room commanded an excellent view both of the carriage drive and of the front steps.
"It is a cab!" murmured Dilys excitedly.
It certainly was a cab, just an ordinary station four-wheeler, with a box on the top of it, bearing the initials G. L. painted in large white letters. As the vehicle came nearer they could see a girl"s face inside, and--yes, she apparently caught sight of the row of heads peering out of the window, for she smiled and turned to somebody else who sat beside her. There was a grinding of wheels on the gravel, the cab drew up at the steps, the door opened, and out hopped a dark-haired damsel in a long blue coat. She gave one hurried glance at the window, smiled again and waved her hand, then vanished inside the porch, where she was instantly followed by her companion, a middle-aged gentleman, who carried a bag. The cabman began to take down the box, and the sound of the front door bell could be heard plainly--a loud and vigorous peal, forsooth--enough almost to break the wire! The six Juniors subsided into their sitting-room. Here, at least, was something happening.
"Who is she?"
"Where"s she come from?"
"Is she a new girl?"
"Haven"t heard of anybody new coming. Have you?"
"She looks jolly."
"I hope she"s going to stay."
"I say, let"s go downstairs and ask if anyone knows anything about her,"
said Hetty Hanc.o.c.k, suiting her action to her words, and hurrying out of the room with her five schoolmates following close at her heels. But n.o.body knew; not even the Seniors could give the least information.
Indeed, the six who had seen the newcomer from the window had the advantage, for none of the others had witnessed the arrival. The girls were consumed with curiosity. A scout, who ventured ten steps into the forbidden territory of the front hall, came back and reported that talking could be heard in the drawing-room.
"A big, deep voice, like a man"s, and Poppie"s saying "Yes". I daren"t stop more than a second; but somebody"s there, you may be sure of that.
And the box is standing in the vestibule too."
"I believe she"s come to stay!" said Dilys.
"The cab"s waiting at the door still, though," objected Norah Bell. "She may be going back in it."
At tea-time Miss Poppleton"s accustomed place was empty, and speculation ran high among her pupils. All kinds of wild rumours circulated round the table, but there was no means of verifying any of them, and the girls were obliged to go to preparation with their curiosity still unsatisfied. At seven o"clock, however, when the Juniors had finished their work and trooped back to their own sitting-room, they found the mystery solved. In front of the fire, warming her hands between the bars of the high fender, and looking as comfortably at home as if she owned the place, stood the stranger who had skipped so quickly out of the cab that afternoon. She was a girl who, wherever she was seen, would have attracted notice--slim and erect and trim in figure, and a decided brunette, a real "nut-brown maid", with a pale olive complexion, the brightest of soft, dark, southern eyes, and a quant.i.ty of fluffy, silky, dusky curls, tied--American fashion--with two big bows of very wide scarlet ribbon, one on the top of her head and one at the nape of her neck. She smiled as the others entered, showing an even little set of white teeth, and four roguish dimples made their appearance at the corners of her mouth. She seemed to have a.s.sumed proprietorship of the room so entirely that the Juniors stopped short in amazement, too dumbfounded for the moment to do anything but stare. The stranger stepped forward with almost an air of welcome and, dropping a mock curtsy, announced herself.
"Glad to make your acquaintance!" she began. "Miss Poppleton said she"d introduce me to the school, but I guessed I"d rather introduce myself--thought I"d do the thing better than she would, somehow. I don"t like stiff introductions--I"m not at all a starchy sort of person, as I dare say you can see for yourselves; and I prefer to make friends after my own fashion. My name"s Gipsy Latimer, and I"m American and British and Colonial and Spanish all mixed up, and I"ve travelled half round the world, and been in seven different schools, and I was fourteen last birthday, and I arrived here this afternoon, and I"m going to stop on a while, and I just adore cricket, and I detest arithmetic in any shape, and I"m always ready for any fun that"s on the go. There! I"ve told you all about myself," and she curtsied again.
The girls laughed. There was something decidedly attractive and breezy about the newcomer. Her dark eyes danced and twinkled as she spoke, and there was an unconventional jollity in the very high-pitched tone of her voice, and an infectious merriment in her dimples.
"What did you say your name was?" asked Hetty Hanc.o.c.k, by way of making the first advances.
"That"s right--fire off your questions! I"ve been at seven schools before this, and everybody starts with the same catechism. I"m ready to answer anything within reason, but perhaps I"d best take a seat while you"re at it. No, thanks! I prefer the table--always like the highest place, you see! I"ve sat on the mantel-piece before now. Yes, I said my name was Gipsy--G--I--P--S--Y."
"But it"s not your real name, surely?"
"You weren"t christened that?"
"Only wish I had been! No, my G.o.dfather and G.o.dmothers didn"t know their business, and they went and gave me the most outlandish, sentimental, ridiculous, inappropriate name you could imagine. You might try a dozen guesses, and you"d never hit on it. Don"t you want to guess? Well, I"ll tell you, then--it"s Azalea."
"Azalea--why, I think that"s rather pretty," ventured Lennie Chapman.
"Pretty enough in itself, perhaps, but it doesn"t suit me. Do I look like an "Azalea" with my dark hair and eyes? They should have had more sense when they christened me. Why, an Azalea ought to be a little, pretty, silly thing, with blue eyes and pink cheeks and golden hair--all beauty, you know, and no brains, like this girl! What"s your name?
You"re more an Azalea than I am."
"I"m Barbara Kendrick!" gasped that flaxen-headed member of the Upper Third, not quite knowing whether to be flattered or offended.
"There you are--not a bit like a Barbara! Nothing in the least barbarous about you. I think there ought to be a law against naming a girl till she"s old enough to choose for herself. Well, as I told you, I was christened Azalea, but everybody saw from the first it didn"t fit.