The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Bravest Girl in School, by Ethel Talbot This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Bravest Girl in School Author: Ethel Talbot Release Date: April 30, 2021 [eBook #65205] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 Produced by: Al Haines, Chuck Greif & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRAVEST GIRL IN SCHOOL *** CASSELL’S NEW GIRLS’ LIBRARY FEN’S FIRST TERM By Dorothea Moore A DAUGHTER OF THE LEGION By Violet M. Methley THE PLUCKY PATROL: A GIRL GUIDE STORY By Nancy M. Hayes JILL THE OUTSIDER By Christine Chaundler THE GIRLS OF CLANWAYS FARM By May Wynne Uniform with this Volume “The three went off to the hockey-ground as gaily as though moods and mysteries had never been!” (See page 134.) The Bravest Girl in the School By ETHEL TALBOT With Four Illustrations in Colour and Black-and-White CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne First published 1924 {i} {ii} {iii} {iv} Printed in Great Britain To HILDA SKAE Contents CHAPTER PAGE 1. A Secret 1 2. Going to School 12 3. New Arrivals 23 4. Scrambled Eggs 34 5. Rules 46 6. The Hope-Scott Prize 58 7. Hermits and Horses 68 8. Plans for Being Brave 78 9. Mainly About Hockey 87 10. A Holiday Adventure 96 11. To the Rescue 107 12. The House on the Cliff 117 13. A Rebellious Plan 127 14. The Hockey Match 135 15. An Old Acquaintance 145 16. Sybil Returns 155 17. The “Little House” 164 18. Margot’s Story 173 19. News for Gretta 183 20. Gretta at Home 196 21. The Hope-Scott Shield 204 List of Illustrations “The three were off to the hockey-ground as gaily as though moods and mysteries had never been!” Frontispiece FACING PAGE “‘I’m coming to that,’ declared Stella, ‘if you’ll only wait’ ” 102 “‘Long Jake—why, it is you!’ cried Margot’ ” 134 “Helen made an unexpected and brilliant stroke, thus winning the match by a single goal” 160 The Bravest Girl in the School {v} {vi} {vii} {viii} {ix} {x} {1} “H CHAPTER I A SECRET OW soon will you know it, Sybil?” The speaker turned anxious eyes in the direction of her younger sister, who sat kicking her heels on the faded carpet, and tilting her chair backwards and forwards as she chanted a French verb in a sing-song voice. “I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Sybil, throwing down her book and speaking in an aggrieved tone. “You’ve given me too much to learn, I’m sure, Gretta. I can’t possibly get it done by tea-time. Oh—bother!” She was interrupted by the entrance of a dishevelled, slatternly-looking maid who, capless and excited, burst into the untidy room. “And what am I to do now, Miss Gretta, I’d like to know? Here’s master bringing in a visitor, and if she stays to tea there’s not a scrap of butter in the house. I tell you plainly I’m not going to stand it, and——” “Perhaps it’s only a patient——” began Gretta timidly. “Patient? Not likely!” snorted the maid. “Why, she’s in the drawing-room at this instant, and, what’s more, she’s your auntie, and you’d best be going straight up to see her!” At the sound of this extraordinarily unexpected announcement both little girls opened their eyes in amazement and stared. Sybil, after an instant’s pause of incredulity, recovered herself first. “Why, whatever do you mean, Ann?” she asked excitedly. “Dad didn’t say anyone was coming. Oh!” and here she turned in amazement to her sister. “Gretta, can it be Auntie Tib from Australia? And can she have brought Margot, too? Oh, hurrah! hurrah!” and she began to dance wildly round the room. “Oh, Sybil, do stop and come and help,” cried Gretta distractedly. “If it is Auntie Tib she must be coming to tea, and everything’s so untidy! Here, come and help me, do!” But Sybil still danced on regardless of entreaties. “Put away your things yourself,” she shouted. “You spend all your time playing your precious fiddle, instead of housekeeping; now you can just clear up alone!” “Here, for goodness’ sake don’t be so selfish, Miss Sybil,” said Ann, her good temper suddenly returning. “Look, now, my dears, you pop up and talk to your auntie while I’m off down to the grocer’s for a pound of Best Fresh. I’ll make buttered toast in no time. Maybe she won’t have tasted any for years, if she’s just back from foreign wilds!” Her words were interrupted by the sound of the opening drawing-room door, and then came their father’s footsteps along the passage. “Gretta! Sybil! Where are you?” he began in an irritated voice, then stopped as the two little girls nearly fell into his arms. “Didn’t you get my message?” he continued fretfully. “Can’t you children come any quicker when I specially send for you? Here’s your aunt who has been travelling thousands of miles to see you, and——” “We didn’t——” Sybil was beginning, but the sound of rapid, flying footsteps cut her short. “My darlings!” said a voice; a “perfectly new voice,” as Sybil said afterwards. “Come and let me see both of you! Why, John, this one is the living image of Margaret!” Gretta found herself hugged by two motherly arms, and, as her aunt kissed her, found tears on her cheeks in memory of the mother who had died a year ago, and who had been Auntie Tib’s only sister; then, recovering a little from the shock of the unexpected embrace, she had time to survey the new relation, who had now turned all her attention to Sybil. She was a tall woman, dressed in rich furs. She had removed her gloves already, and Gretta noticed the bracelets and rings that she wore, and wondered. Truly, it was ages since such magnificence had come to the doctor’s house! But the new-comer did not seem at all concerned with her own grandeur. She sat down in the little drawing-room, and did not appear to notice that not only was there no fire in the grate, but that Ann had neglected to remove the ashes since last Sunday. She drew the children to her again, kissed her namesake, Sybil, and carried on a flow of conversation with her, at once sympathetic and gay. Sybil, a host in herself, made up for the shyness and consequent shortcomings of the rest of her family by her excited chatter. “But we never knew you were coming, auntie,” she said, snuggling herself nearer to her new-found relation. “And, oh! where is Margot?” “Oh, Margot’s coming presently; and, darling, I sent a telegram,” exclaimed her aunt. “Have you not had it?” The doctor wheeled round suddenly at the sound of her last words. “Telegram!” he ejaculated; “but when?” Gretta slipped out of the room, and returned, looking rather perturbed, with a yellow envelope. “Here it is, dad!” she said timidly. “I didn’t know that——” “Tut—tut!” said the doctor irritably. “You should know when things come. You’ve nothing else to do, child.” He tore open the envelope, while Auntie Tib’s eyes turned towards Gretta, into whose cheeks a sudden flush had risen. She noticed the girl’s shabby outgrown frock, her patched slippers, and the clumsy darns on her stockings. Then she drew her little niece towards her and kissed her again. “So you’re the housekeeper, are you, Gretta?” she said tenderly. “Oh, isn’t she lovely!” said Sybil half an hour later, as the two girls made their way back towards the drawing-room again, after tidying themselves for tea. “I never could have thought she would be such a lovely auntie. Do you know, Gretta, I thought she would perhaps be quite brown, or talk a different language, or something, as she was coming from Australia. Oh, I do wonder if Margot will come in time for tea. Auntie said she’d be here in about three-quarters of an hour!” A loud ring at the front door interrupted her, and the chuff-chuff of a departing motor was suddenly heard outside. “It’s Margot! It’s Margot!” exclaimed Sybil in the wildest excitement, racing into the drawing-room with the news, while her older sister followed almost as quickly. The two grown-ups within stopped in the midst of a very earnest conversation and turned to listen, as the opening of the front door by Ann was followed by the sound of an eager voice outside. {2} {3} {4} {5} {6} “Y “I’ll go right in, thank you,” said a very assured voice, and then someone opened the drawing-room door very firmly, and entered. Sybil, and even Gretta, too, rose to their feet and gazed open-mouthed at the visitor as she embraced her mother, talking in an animated voice all the time. “Oh, mother,” she said, “I guessed, somehow, that this would be the room, and I couldn’t wait, so I just didn’t. Dad’s driven on with the car to the hotel garage, and I told him to put me down here because I wanted to see the cousins just at the very earliest minute, and——” She turned towards Gretta and Sybil with a friendly expression of countenance, and held out her hand. This must be Margot, their cousin, of course; but, dressed as she was in a plain leather topcoat and motoring goggles, she was— to say the least of it—quite unlike the cousin of the children’s imaginings. However, when, at the suggestion of her mother, these impedimenta had been removed, the real Cousin Margot emerged. She was taller than Sybil, whose senior she was by six months, and weedier. Her mouse-coloured hair was thick and rather short, cut straight across her forehead and tucked away behind her ears; her grey eyes looked out very straight and clear at the world from under dark eye-lashes, and her mouth was a good-humoured and a capable one. Add to this a determined, rather self-willed little chin, and you have a fairly good picture of the Australian cousin, to the making of whose acquaintance the children had been so greatly looking forward. Both of them fell in love with her at once in their own respective ways. Sybil, talking sixteen to the dozen in no time, asking questions that needed no answers, making comments, and compelling attention; and Gretta, content to sit and watch and listen, making up her mind, nevertheless, very firmly the while. Tea followed almost at once, and with the tea Uncle Bob arrived. It was during the course of the unusually cheery meal that the new uncle made his very unexpected announcement. “Margot thought we’d better come over to fetch her mother back in the car after her conversation with you,” he said, addressing the doctor, “and take the chance of seeing you all at the same time. There’s plenty of room for the children, if you like to spare them to us for a day or two. We could pack them both into the back seat, and take them with us. Margot wants to have them.” “And we’d like to have you, too, of course, you know,” remarked that damsel cheerfully, turning to her uncle with a friendly smile and nod, “only, mother says that you can’t take a holiday.” “No, I can’t easily do that, young lady,” said the doctor, surprised and rather amused by the assured ways of his Australian niece. “But if your parents like to shoulder the responsibility, there’s no reason why your cousins shouldn’t take advantage of the offer.” “Oh!” Sybil was almost inarticulate in her entreaties. Never could she have imagined that such good fortune would come her way. “Oh, it would be too, too lovely! Auntie, darling, do take us!” “And what about you, Gretta?” said Mrs. Fleming, turning to the older girl; “will you come, too?” “No, thank you,” said Gretta steadily. “I think I’d rather stay with dad.” There was a moment’s silence, and the doctor got up from his seat. “Well, I must be off. Sorry, but there’s a patient who can’t be left. Settle it with your aunt, children. She’ll do what’s right.” “Think it over, Gretta,” said her uncle when the doctor had left the room; “your father will be safe enough.” “I think I’ll stay, thank you,” said Gretta hesitatingly. Margot slipped her hand under the table and pressed her cousin’s fingers in a friendly way for a minute. Evidently she understood what was passing in Gretta’s mind. After tea there was a tremendous bustle and hurry. Sybil’s little bag had to be packed, and soon she was standing, pink-faced and tremendously excited, waiting for the reappearance of the car that was to take her away. “Good-bye, Gretta darling. I understand why you want to stay,” said Auntie Tib, hugging the rather lonely looking little figure that stood on the step to see them start. “But I shall see you again very soon, because——” She bent down and whispered: “Ask your father, to-night, when he comes home, to tell you the secret that he has for you. Don’t forget. And I do hope that it will please you!” “Good-bye! Good-bye!” The car was starting. With waving of hands, and kisses from Sybil, it turned the corner and was lost to sight. Gretta was free to go into the house again, and went, but with a feeling as though somehow everything was changed. She went into the lonely drawing-room, from which Ann was removing the remains of the meal, and sat down to wait for her father’s return, while Auntie Tib’s last words rang in her ears. What, oh, what could be the secret that she was to hear? CHAPTER II GOING TO SCHOOL OUR aunt wishes to send you both to the school where she has arranged to send Margot.” It was the doctor who was speaking, and Gretta clutched the coffee-pot and stared with amazement at his surprising announcement. To go to school! She, Gretta! So this was auntie’s secret! At first the shock of surprise at the unexpected news held her speechless, almost breathless; then the shock was followed by an overwhelming wave of delight. The great wish of her life, that she had never voiced to anyone before, was really to come to pass: she was to go to school—to school! She sat silent, almost stunned with excitement and joy. “You would like to go, of course?” said her father. At the sound of his voice she glanced up, and a whole set of new feelings took the place of the delighted ones that had filled her mind a moment before. “How selfish I am!” she said to herself. “I’d quite forgotten that I’m dad’s housekeeper. Oh, I can’t go and leave him all alone with Ann! How lonely he’d be! And he might even get ill. Sybil can go, but I don’t see how I can!” {7} {8} {9} {10} {11} {12} {13} “Well! Well!” said her father irritably. “Have you nothing to say? Your aunt has been most generous; wants you both to get the advantage of good teaching—even suggests that she will pay for violin lessons for you——” “Oh!” Gretta’s face crimsoned with pleasure at the idea. “Dad,” she ventured, “but could you spare me?” “Spare you! Why not?” said her father. “It’ll be the making of you. I could never have afforded the school she has chosen, and the best thanks you can give her is to make the most of her offer. It is generous in the extreme.” “But, dad,” ventured Gretta. “What would you do? Wouldn’t you miss us?” “Well, yes,” said her father. “But we can’t get good things for nothing in this world, and it’ll be worth while to be lonely at times if I know that you and Sybil are being turned out as your mother would have liked.” He opened his paper again, and Gretta said no more. So seldom did he speak of her mother that the child knew by his last remark that the arrangement was settled, and that he did not wish to say any more about it. “But talk it over with your aunt when she brings back Sybil to-morrow,” he remarked, as he brushed his hat in the passage preparatory to starting on his rounds. “Good-bye, child; you mustn’t turn into a woman too soon, you know.” He kissed her and banged the front door, and Gretta was left to a maze of excited thoughts: she was to go to school; the decision had been taken out of her hands! How much she longed to go she believed that no one in the whole world knew. No one? Well, perhaps her fiddle did, the child thought to herself; for Gretta, since her mother’s death, had been thrown very much upon her own resources, and she would have felt even more solitary and companionless had it not been for the hours she spent with her beloved violin. Could auntie have discovered all this, Gretta wondered—she was lovely enough for anything! For, as she had offered the violin lessons, too, she surely must have guessed how her elder niece had longed and longed for proper ones! Gretta’s mother had played and had taught her, herself, but when mother died, a year ago, there had been no one to help the child with her music, and she had been forced to muddle along alone. “How did Auntie Tib know about my violin?” she inquired of the doctor at dinnertime that day. “I don’t know, my dear. Probably your mother wrote to her about your music,” said the doctor, who could not distinguish one note of music from another. “She seems to wish you to keep it up at school.” “Where is it? The school, I mean?” ventured Gretta timidly. “Oh, a most healthy, bracing spot; sea-air and fine views, I believe. The house is built on a sandy soil, and there is every modern convenience conducive to health; sanitary arrangements splendid; you’re a pair of lucky children!” Gretta was used to streams of eloquence that she only half understood. She waited patiently until this one was over. Evidently none of the details dear to the hearts of children were to be elicited through conversation with the doctor; she was thrown back upon her own imaginings, and waited patiently for the advent of her aunt and Sybil on the following day. It was with a face of unusual excitement that she rushed to open the front door to them when the time arrived, and the first glance at the child’s eager face reassured Mrs. Fleming, who had feared that Gretta might have demurred against the arrangement for her father’s sake. “You’re looking forward to school, then, Gretta?” she inquired, when Sybil had flown to acquaint Ann with the details of her visit. “Dad says we’re to go, and he seems to think he can manage without me, and thank you very much,” said Gretta, unwontedly demonstrative in the excitement that she was feeling. “Auntie, darling, do you really mean it?—about violin lessons, too?” “Why, of course, my dear,” said Mrs. Fleming. “Your mother told me in her letters, as you know, that you had quite a special gift in that direction. She played so beautifully herself that I should like you to have the advantages she had. Perhaps, too, Gretta, you know, you might use it in years to come. It means hard work, but—the practising, I mean.” “Practice!” repeated Sybil, entering the room in high feather. “Is that what you’re talking about? What a stupid thing! Aren’t you telling Gretta about the hotel breakfast, auntie, and all the lots of different things the waiters brought! But she’s sure to talk about that old violin if anyone’ll listen; she’s just half-crazy about it. She twangs it from morning to night when dad’s out, and last month she gave up sugar in her tea because she’d no pocket-money and she wanted to buy a new string, and——” The child paused, breathless. Gretta blushed crimson, but as much with pleasure at what the future held, as with annoyance at Sybil’s speech. Everything in her world seemed changed; school, music-lessons, were to come her way; she was feeling that she already had as much pleasure in prospect as a princess in a fairy-tale, when Mrs. Fleming’s next speech made her gasp. “And we’ve got all your clothes to get, you know.” Clothes! Gretta hadn’t given them a thought; but evidently Sybil had. “I’m to have some jumper dresses just like Margot’s,” she announced grandly. “We’ve both been measured! And brown stockings, Gretta—brown!” Evidently with brown stockings the summit of Sybil’s happiness had been reached. Gretta could only turn her eyes wonderingly towards her aunt. “Oh, auntie, how lovely! But—ought she to have them? She has some quite good black ones, only, of course, they’re darned.” “Oh, Gretta, you spoil-sport! But you can’t change it, for they’re bought, aren’t they, Auntie Tib?” and she danced a jig round Mrs. Fleming’s chair. “I spoke to your father, Gretta,” said that lady, when Sybil’s excitement had subsided, “and asked him if I might think of you three little girls as sisters while you were at school. He agreed, and understood why I wanted it, and I think you are old enough to understand, too.” Gretta said no more after that; she did not find it so easy as Sybil did to express herself in words, but Mrs. Fleming could read the feelings in her face and felt well repaid for all that she was doing for the children. When she left again that afternoon it was with the promise that, during the fortnight that remained before the new term at the Cliff School commenced, she would undertake the buying of the children’s wardrobes, and see that all things were in readiness for the twenty-first of January. {14} {15} {16} {17} {18} “O That fortnight went by in a whirl of delight. Ann worked with a will, excited with the idea that she was to be the doctor’s housekeeper and factotum and “see if she could manage to make him really comfortable,” as Mrs. Fleming put it. The doctor forgot his worries and fell in with all the plans. Auntie came and went like a good fairy, cheerful and kind, and Sybil was in such a state of wild delight at the pleasures that school must hold for her that she could hardly wait patiently until the eventful day should arrive. “But you’ll be as glad to get home for the holidays as you are to get away, Miss Sybil, and that’s a fact,” quoth Ann sententiously, on the last evening. “You’ll have to behave yourself where you’re going; see if you don’t!” “That’s all you know about it!” said Sybil grandly. But when the day had dawned at last—the twenty-first of January, and the first day of school—the throb that the little girl’s heart gave as she woke from her dreams somehow or other did not feel as though it was quite due to joyful excitement, and even Gretta was conscious of very mixed feelings, the most pronounced of which seemed to be a positive disinclination to saying good-bye to the doctor. The children’s father appeared to be the most cheery member of the group that met at the breakfast-table. Sybil found herself for once quite unable to eat, and if it had not been for Ann’s I-told-you-so expression of countenance when she entered the room with hot plates, the child would probably have dissolved into tears before the end of the meal. Her older sister was fully occupied with her own thoughts; turning and re-turning over in her mind every possible dreadful thing that might happen! Suppose Ann should not make dad comfortable; suppose he should get ill! Suppose—suppose! It was a relief to all when the postman’s knock sounded and Sybil raced to the letter-box, taking the opportunity to mop her eyes in the loneliness of the passage as she went. The only letter proved to be from auntie, and was merely a repetition of the plans already decided upon for the comfort of the children on their journey. “Margot and I will meet you both for lunch at York,” she wrote. “Then I will see you into the Cliffland train, and you three will travel down together.” The words came like the welcome sound of Mrs. Fleming’s cheery voice; somehow things began to feel different, and by ten o’clock, when the children were ready to start for the station with their father, Sybil’s tongue, at least, was loosed once more. “Good-bye, Ann. When I come back I’ll tell you all about school.” Sybil was dressed in her new navy-blue suit and sported the cherished brown stockings. Her hair was plaited and tied with a ribbon bow. She felt an experienced schoolgirl already. “Good-bye, Miss Sybil, and if they treat you badly, you just come straight back ’ome; I ’ates them schools!” and Ann, whose knowledge was altogether derived from sensational and impossible story-books, wiped her eyes with her apron in anticipation of the troubles her pets were to endure. “Pooh!” said Sybil; “school’s not like that! Just you wait! I may come back with heaps of prizes, and even medals for all you know!” Upstairs Gretta was clinging to her father, and wishing very hard indeed that she needn’t go. “Dad, if you want me, you’ll promise to send for me?” “I’ll promise,” said the doctor, with a trace of a smile at her words. “And you’ll really change your boots when they’re wet, and not catch cold! I’ve told Ann always to warm your slippers, but she’s certain to forget after the first day; and you will say if she makes the tea properly hot when you write, won’t you?” Her last injunctions were broken in upon by Sybil, who burst upstairs in a frenzy of excitement. “The cab’s coming, and my elastic’s off my perfectly new hat! And it’s all pussy’s fault; she would play with me when I was saying good-bye to her, and I had to snap it at her!” In the excitement of putting the finishing touches to Sybil’s wardrobe the last few minutes quickly passed, and before they could realize that they were actually off, the children found themselves kissing their hands frantically to their father, who was standing on the fast receding platform waving his handkerchief. Really and truly they were off to school! CHAPTER III NEW ARRIVALS H, I’m so glad we’re off,” said Sybil. She settled herself more comfortably into a corner of the carriage, then turned to see with amazement that her elder sister was crying—crying as though she were twelve years old instead of being fourteen, and a housekeeper at that! “Why, Gretta!” exclaimed the surprised child in horror. Then the corners of her own mouth turned down, her eyes opened wider and wider, and in another moment they would certainly have overflowed in sympathy had not the older girl, with a mighty effort, pulled herself together. “It’s all right, Sybil, don’t take any notice of me. I was only so afraid that dad would miss us.” “Well, I wish you wouldn’t look like that,” half sobbed Sybil. “I hope school isn’t going to be horrid, after all. Ann said it would be, and now you’re crying about it. It’s unkind of you to frighten me, and if the girls are going to be nasty I shan’t stay. I shall write and ask auntie to take me away!” It was rather a miserable little couple who peered out of the carriage window at York station and looked anxiously for their aunt and cousin, who were standing on the platform awaiting the incoming train. Margot herself, the self-reliant Margot, was looking a little forlorn, too, though she would not have owned to it for worlds, and even Auntie Tib had a lonely feeling at the bottom of her heart at the idea that she and Margot were to be parted for the first time. But she did not show it. That was not Mrs. Fleming’s way. All was laughter and bustle, and under her genial influence the children’s spirits began to reassert themselves. “Have you got everything, dears? Gretta, where’s that fiddle? Now, Sybil, Uncle Bob has sent you these chocolates for the {19} {20} {21} {22} {23} {24} journey, but don’t make yourself ill, you know, for that would be such a bad beginning——” “Oh, auntie, how lovely!” Sybil grasped at the box. “And don’t our clothes look nice! It’s the first time we’ve worn them, you know. Do you think the girls at school will like them?” “They’ll have far too many other interests to think about your clothes, you may be sure,” said auntie. “We must hurry; it wouldn’t do to miss the train.” Only a very few minutes after that they were bustled into the Cliffland carriage, and Margot, looking very serious, was hanging out of the window and exchanging last words with her mother. “I’m going to write to-night, mother, so look out for a letter to-morrow morning. Give father my love, and don’t let him miss me.” “All right, darling.” Mrs. Fleming kissed Margot again, but her last words were for Gretta, and it was almost as though she could read the thoughts that were passing in the child’s mind. “Uncle Bob and I are going to take the car over to Redgate to-morrow, dear,” she said, just as the guard was lifting his whistle to his lips. “I shall have a talk with Ann, and will write and tell you how your father gets on.” There was no time for the child to express her thanks, the train was off. Sybil and Margot were both hanging out of the window, waving their handkerchiefs, and Gretta could only assure herself that auntie would know how grateful she was. “And now we’re really going to school!” announced Sybil in a conversational tone of voice, settling herself comfortably with the chocolates and looking admiringly at her own brown legs. “Do you think all the girls will come and meet us?” “Very likely they won’t be there yet,” answered Margot, looking perhaps a little pale-faced, but trying to talk unconcernedly; “or there may even be some of them in this train. I wonder if we shall like them. I always used to long to go to school in Australia, but, of course, we lived too far out.” “Who taught you?” asked Gretta, admiring her cousin’s pluck, and proceeding to imitate her by entering herself into the conversation. “Was it auntie?” “Well, she did when I was little, but she was very busy, you know. When I was nine she stopped, because Long Jake taught me then.” “Long Jake!” exclaimed Sybil, looking up from her chocolates. “Whoever was that?” “Oh, it wasn’t really his name, of course,” laughed Margot. “He is called Mr. Courtney in England, and he was at Oxford University before he came to Australia. He came out and did farming, you know; and he was champion sheep-shearer afterwards. Oh, I can tell you it was wonderful to watch him. In three minutes he could shear a sheep all over, and he never made a single slip with his shears. People came from all parts to watch him.” “But how did you know him?” asked Gretta. “Oh, he was one of father’s men at first, and they were great friends too. He taught me in the evenings, just for fun. He was awfully clever. When dad went to the diggings he looked after mother and me.” “I’d like to see Long Jake,” said Sybil “What’s he like?” “He’s very big; that was why they gave him his name, of course; and he’s coming to England soon, I know. He’ll be sure to come and see me when he does, so perhaps you’ll see him, too. When we lived in the Bush he and I used to ride together for miles. He taught me lots of things.” “What kind of things?” Gretta was beginning, but Sybil broke in animatedly: “Oh, look! There’s the sea and the cliffs! Is it Cliffland? And what a funny, tiny house! Can it be the school?” The other children followed her pointing finger with their eyes. There, in the distance, stood a little one-storied bungalow-like habitation in the shadow of the cliffs. “What a strange place!” said Gretta. “Why, Margot, look! It hasn’t any windows, has it?” “Not that I can see,” began her cousin, peering out, but even while they watched the house was lost to view as the train took a sudden curve. “There! It’s gone!” said Sybil petulantly. “How stupid!” “It couldn’t have been the school, anyway,” laughed Margot, “it’s too small. Never mind, we’ll go and have a look at it some day. Here, the train’s stopping. I believe this is Cliffland!” The appearance of a lady at the door of the carriage, who looked in and nodded at them and then proceeded, as the train drew up, to open the door, confirmed their suspicions. “You’re for the Cliff School, aren’t you?” she said cheerfully. “Jump out, and be quick! The porter will see to all your things, so leave them behind—the pony will be waiting!” Gretta obediently advanced to the stranger’s side, leaving all but her beloved fiddle. Sybil followed her sister, feeling friendly disposed, but shy. Margot, with alacrity, jumped on to the seat, and began pulling down her leather suit-cases from the rack. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” remarked the new-comer pleasantly. “Leave your bags. The porter has his orders, and this is a terminus.” She looked up and down the platform as she spoke and then, with a parting “Wait a minute, girls!” made her way to the other end of the train. “Whatever did she mean?” said Margot, standing by her bags on the platform and addressing Gretta in mystified tones. “I’d far rather see after these myself.” “Oh, it’s just school ways,” said Gretta comfortingly. She turned her eyes as she spoke in the direction of the cheery lady, and watched her as she received into her keeping a small girl about Sybil’s size, who was being handed over by an anxious mother, evidently obliged to catch the next train back. “It must be another new girl,” said Sybil excitedly. “I like that lady. I suppose she’s a teacher; and she smiled at me!” “I’m Miss Read,” said that capable person, returning with the small girl in tow. “Come along, girls, the trap is outside. We have an hour’s drive to the Cliff. This is Adela Greaves; you will soon know each other quite well.” {25} {26} {27} {28} {29} {30} T Sybil, bent on making friends with all and sundry, advanced to the side of the child. “I like the name of Adela,” she said. “I had a doll called that once. I named her after a queen in history,” she added, with a side glance at Miss Read, vaguely hoping that she might gain favour by such a display of learning. She was doomed to disappointment, however. “Come along quickly,” said the lady, who, if she heard the speech, was evidently quite unimpressed by it. “I don’t want to keep the pony standing.” It was a very tight squeeze in the trap. Margot, who, loaded with her suit-cases, was the last to try to climb in, found entrance difficult. “I believe I see what you meant,” she said, after a few struggles, as Miss Read took the reins from a boy at the pony’s head. “That was why you told us to leave the bags.” “Yes, and you’ve given yourself two journeys, I’m afraid,” said the lady with a smile, “for you’ll have to take them back, now, won’t you? The porter always brings all luggage to the school, for everything’s labelled, you know.” Without a word, Margot, the independent, did as she was told—there wasn’t anything else to do—but, as she made her way back to the waiting trap, after handing over her goods to the station-master, she wondered to herself whether she liked Miss Read or whether she didn’t. Sybil, very much on the alert, was certainly conscious that here was a power that must be conciliated. She tried her most ingratiating smiles, and even ventured on a congratulatory speech. “How nicely you drive!” she said. “We’ve never had the chance of learning, but Margot——” Here her well-meant effort was balked by Miss Read herself, who pointed energetically with her whip. “Look, girls! There’s the sea. You can just catch a glimpse of it through that break in the cliff!” “And, why, there’s that little house we saw from the train!” exclaimed Margot, brightening considerably. “Look, Gretta!” Yes, there it was, right on the cliff, not a quarter of a mile away. “Oh, yes, you’d see that from the train, of course,” said Miss Read. “But we shall lose sight of it again almost at once. It’s a lonely little place.” “I wonder who lives there,” said Margot. “It seems very strange. For one thing, we couldn’t see any windows. I thought when we passed it in the train that I would go there one day.” “I’m afraid you won’t do that!” said Miss Read briskly. “It’s altogether too far for the school walks, but it’s an interesting little place—very!” “Have you ever been inside, Miss Read?” inquired Sybil, in a friendly tone. “No, indeed,” said that lady, “and I know very little about the house. It was built by an eccentric old man who lives there still, or so I believe. It wouldn’t do at all to call upon him. To say the least of it, it would be a most unwise proceeding.” The pony had carried them out of sight of the little house, and they were soon on the high road. “We’re not far from the school now,” said Miss Read. “In five minutes we shall be there. You will all be glad of your tea.” Gretta experienced an uncomfortable feeling as she realized how soon they were to be ushered into the new and unknown world. She looked first at Sybil and then at Margot, and wondered. And, as she wondered, the road took a turn. A huge red house, standing on the cliff in the midst of a large garden, came into view. Here, at last, was the Cliff School! CHAPTER IV SCRAMBLED EGGS HE sound of the wheels on the drive brought a gardener from the lawn, who took charge of the pony and led it away, while Miss Read ushered the four new children through the front door, and up the stairs that led to the dormitories. Here, on the top step, was standing an imposing person in a stiffly-starched uniform, who surveyed the approaching group with an interested air. “How are you, nurse?” said the house-mistress. She advanced with an outstretched hand. “Yes, we’ve got here, you see. I arrived ten minutes before these girls’ train came in, so I’ve brought them all up. Will you——” “Just leave them to me,” said nurse. “They’ll be glad to get their coats off. Come along, all of you. You’ll like to see your cubicles. You won’t be upstairs in your boots again, of course, after you’ve once unpacked, but it can’t be helped for once. Keep off the polish as much as you can.” Thus adjured, and as much awed by the astonishingly high cap of this personage as by her commanding manner, the four new girls stepped warily behind her. “Nurse!” whispered Sybil—the only one of the quartette who cared to open her lips—“Gretta, is she a nurse? We’re not babies!” “Sssh!” said her sister urgently, as the uniformed personage drew up at one of the doors. “Two of you will have your cubicles here,” she said. “Margot Fleming—oh, that’s you, is it?”—as Margot took a step forward—“and Margaret Grey. The other two are over there,” and she pointed to an opposite door, through which might be seen a row of white beds. “Aren’t I going to sleep with Gretta, please?” inquired Sybil. “No, you and Adela Greaves will sleep here. Make haste, girls; it is getting late, and Miss Slater will see you all before tea.” Gretta presently, therefore, found herself at the side of a small, white bed looking at Margot, who was tearing off her gloves. “Glad to get these off, anyway,” she said cheerfully. “I say, how do you think you’ll like it, Gretta?” “It’s awfully strange, of course,” replied her cousin, “but somehow I believe it’s going to be most awfully nice.” It did not take long to remove their outdoor garments, and by the time they were ready, nurse had disappeared. It was not very plain to either of them whether they were to descend to regions unknown or to wait for a guide. “Come along, Gretta,” said Margot. “We can’t stay here for ever. I believe that nurse-person took the others down; let’s go {31} {32} {33} {34} {35} {36} too.” “Suppose they mean us to wait?” suggested Gretta, feeling somehow that the best thing, at first, would be to walk warily. “Wait—how silly!” exclaimed her surprised cousin. “We’re ready, you see.” So, feeling dreadfully ill at ease, Gretta followed the independent Margot and, as neither of them was very sure whither they were bound, it was small wonder that in a very short time they were quite lost amidst the passages. “Let’s try any door,” said Margot cheerily, “then, if anyone’s inside, we can ask them where we have to go! Fun, isn’t it?” Gretta didn’t think so. She stood nervously by while her cousin turned the handle of the first door. It opened into a dormitory lined with white beds. So did the next, and the next. “Oh, come on,” said Margot, “we’ll be late for tea, and I’m hungry. Let’s go downstairs, and explore there.” “But suppose there’s rules, or something?” objected Gretta. “There couldn’t be a rule about such a stupid thing,” said her young cousin complacently. “How could there; this isn’t a prison!” She had reached the bottom of the stairs by this time, and Gretta was behind her. The first door leading from the passage was shut. “We’ll try this first,” said Margot. “It can’t be a bedroom, so we needn’t knock.” She turned the handle firmly as she spoke, and entered. A lady, who was engaged in writing busily at a table, looked up in surprise. “Oh, we’re so sorry. I beg——” Gretta began in alarm as the stranger gazed up at them; but Margot burst cheerily in. “Oh, I’m glad we’ve found someone at last!” she exclaimed. “There was no one in the bedroom they took us to, and so we’ve come down to explore. If you’re one of the governesses, please where is the dining-room?” During this well-meant speech Gretta had time to study the features of the lady whose work they had so abruptly interrupted. Her face was “young and yet old,” as the child said to herself; for the expression in the grey eyes was full of humour as well as determination, and, while the mouth and chin were strongly moulded, there were few lines or wrinkles in the forehead of the stranger. She would have passed in the opinion of many as a woman of less than middle-age had it not been for the crown of white hair that surmounted her well-shaped head. Her words, when she spoke, were hardly a surprise to the older girl. “You made a mistake, my dear,” she said, laying down her pen and holding out her hand to Margot, “in not knocking at the door. I am Miss Slater. I had quite intended to send for you, for I am very anxious to make the acquaintance of my new girls.” She rose as she spoke and advanced towards Gretta. “I expect you are Margaret Grey,” she said, “for I have already spoken to your little sister. I hope, my dear, that you will be happy at school.” “Thank you,” replied Gretta shyly, “and I’m so sorry we——” “So am I,” declared Margot, “for I suppose you’re awfully busy. But, you see, we couldn’t know where to go, could we?” Miss Slater volunteered no direct answer to the question. “I think there’s no doubt that you are Margot Fleming—the little girl from Australia,” she said with a smile. “Why, however can you guess that!” exclaimed Margot in mystification, then stopped to listen as the head mistress opened the heavy door that separated her rooms from the boarders’ quarters, and the sound of laughter and cheerful conversation met the children’s ears. “I think you should have no difficulty in finding your way, now,” she said, smiling at the two girls. “But I will take you myself and introduce you; then you will feel at home very soon.” She turned the handle as she spoke, and instantly, as though by magic, the noisy babel of conversation ceased, there was a scrambling as the girls jumped up hurriedly from their seats, and a whisper, deferential, yet delighted, ran round the room. “It’s Miss Slater!” “I have brought two new girls, Helen,” said the head mistress, smiling at the group, and then turning to a tall and responsible- looking damsel with merry eyes and a thick plait of hair, who advanced as she was addressed. “Margaret Grey and her cousin, Margot Fleming; they will sleep in Dormitory 3, with Stella and Josy. Look after them, please, and do what you can to make them feel at home.” “Yes, Miss Slater,” said the head girl. Then a scrap of a child, who seemed all pigtail, ran forward to hold the door, and to shut it as the head mistress withdrew. As it closed the uproar of merry voices broke out again with redoubled vigour. “And she’s been practising strokes all the hols.,” announced someone from the fireplace. “We went to the meet on our bicycles twice,” screamed a shrill voice from the corner. “I say, has anyone read ‘The Trail’? It’s the most ripping book. It’s simply thrilling, and my brother says——” declared someone else in piercing tones that broke off suddenly as the speaker flew to answer some question addressed to her by the head girl. Gretta almost gasped. The room seemed full of voices and swinging legs, and pigtails that varied only in length and thickness. She wondered what was going to happen next. “Do you like scrambled eggs?” said a voice in her ear solicitously. She turned suddenly, and almost jumped at the unexpectedness of the question. Beside her was a short girl of about her own age, whose curly hair was strained back into the inevitable plait, and whose face would have looked exceedingly demure had it not been for the expression in the eyes which was suggestive of hidden depths of mischief. “I’m Josy,” said the new-comer, “or Josephine Mary Pope, if you like that better. Isn’t it a name to have! Helen’s taken your cousin over to Stella, and I thought you looked a bit bored, so I just came. Are you awfully clever? You look it. But for goodness’ sake don’t tell me that you’ll want to bring lesson-books up to our dormer. For one thing I’m head this term, and it’s not allowed; and, for another, it’s such silly swank!” Gretta’s breath was fairly taken away. She had understood enough of the speech, however, to realize that she mustn’t be branded for ever as “clever,” when she knew herself unable to live up to the character. “I’m not a bit clever; I’m perfectly stupid,” she {37} {38} {39} {40} {41} “A hastened to reply as emphatically as she could. “Margot is, I expect, though. And I don’t really know about Sybil—you see, she’s my sister.” “Is that funny new kid, Sybil, your sister!” inquired the stranger in an amused tone. “I must say she’s not like you. She’s not shy, whatever she is. Look at her!” Gretta turned her eyes towards a far corner of the room, and there, in the centre of a laughing group of girls, stood her little sister, flushed, excited, and evidently enjoying herself hugely. “I’ve never had brown stockings before, but auntie said——” The words, uttered in Sybil’s shrill treble, floated above the babel. “Oh, how can she?” said Gretta, aghast. “Sybil!” She took an ineffectual step forward. “It’s no good, she wouldn’t hear you in this racket,” said Josy, who was evidently exceedingly amused; “and, if she did, she doesn’t look as though she’d take much notice. Not bad for a new kid, is it? But she’ll shake down. Now, do you like scrambled eggs?” Gretta turned from the vision of Sybil, who was still supplying a fund of amusement to a delighted group, and faced the question for its second time of asking. “What a funny thing to say,” she remarked shyly. “It’s like ‘Alice in Wonderland’ somehow, isn’t it? Yes, I think so”—here visions of Ann’s inferior cookery rose before her—“that is, if they’re not burnt or cooked all wrong, or cold, or something.” Her new friend gave a shout of merriment. “There, didn’t I say you were clever! Excuse me laughing, and I’ll tell you why. We always have scrambled eggs for tea on the first night of term, so we always ask new boarders that question. It makes a kind of beginning to conversation, and somehow or other you can find out by the way they answer what kind of girls they’ll be. It’s really rather fun, but I’ve never heard anyone answer like you! How do you know when they’re cooked wrong? You must be clever; I said so, remember, to begin with, and I always knew I was good at character reading!” Gretta blushed to the roots of her hair. She had hoped so much that she wouldn’t be different from other girls, and here she was on the very first evening at school—yes, even in the very first hour!—convicted of being old-fashioned, and of knowing things that other girls didn’t know. Her discomfiture would have been complete had not a look of contrition in Josy’s face served to reassure her. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said her new friend. “You didn’t mind, did you?” Gretta made an effort, and tried to smile. “Have you asked Sybil?” she said. “Oh, rather! at least someone else did, and she was killing. ‘I simply love them!’ she said, and looked all round as though a big helping would at once appear! I say, she’s a jolly little thing, isn’t she? And with those legs she should be a good runner, too. I wonder how she’ll shape for hockey.” “Do you play hockey here?” ventured Gretta. “I mean, shall we?” “Rath-er!” declared her friend. “We’d a ripping match here on our ground, last day of last term. Top-hole! Pity you couldn’t have seen some of Helen’s strokes. And all the team played well, Miss Carter said. We beat the Lees girls hollow. But it’s hockey this term, too, of course, so——” The last sentence was interrupted by the ringing of a deep-toned tea-bell, at the first sound of which, as if by magic again, silence fell on the entire group, and, in an orderly file, they marched quietly along the passage into a large room at its farthest end. Here two long tables were spread. At the head of one of them stood Miss Read, and nurse, still resplendent in cap and apron, was busy pouring out cups of tea at the second. Then, in less time and with less noise than Gretta would have imagined possible, the girls seated themselves in their respective places, and the meal began; she, herself, at Miss Read’s direction, having found a place between Margot and Josy. Sybil was at nurse’s table, seated on the left-hand side of that dignitary, of whom she seemed very much in awe. Conversation, spirited enough, if not so loud as that carried on in the sitting-room, began again at once, and Gretta, after several plates had passed rapidly on their way up the table, found herself in possession of a liberal helping of the said scrambled eggs, and—a very good appetite! CHAPTER V RULES RE they ‘cooked all wrong, or cold, or anything?’ ” asked Josy mischievously from Gretta’s right-hand side. “No, they’re very nice,” said her table-companion, determined not to show she minded being teased. “Margot”—turning to her cousin, who sat eating bread-and-butter, and wearing a...