The Girls of St. Cyprian's A Tale of School Life

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Title: The Girls of St. Cyprian's

A Tale of School Life

Author: Angela Brazil

Illustrator: Stanley Davis

Release Date: August 22, 2011 [EBook #37161]

Language: English

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The Girls of St. Cyprian's

A Tale of School Life

BY ANGELA BRAZIL

Author of The School by the Sea, The Leader of the Lower School,

The Youngest Girl in the Fifth, &c. &c.

Illustrated by Stanley Davis

BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED

LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY

'SO I'VE WON, EVEN WITHOUT YOUR VOTE,' SAID LOTTIE TO MILDRED WITH A SPICE OF TRIUMPH IN HER TONE

Contents

Illustrations

THE GIRLS OF ST. CYPRIAN'S

CHAPTER I

The United Schools Alliance

If there's one slack, slow business in this wide world, said Bess Harrison, stretching her arms in the exigencies of a combined sigh and prodigious yawn, it's coming back to school after the Easter holidays. Tame isn't the word for it! It's absolute milk and water. September start is some sport, because one's generally in a fresh form, and there are always changes; and even January is fairly lively; but now! Why, there's scarcely even a new girl to make a small excitement, and altogether it's about as stale as beginning again after half-term week-end.

Worse, agreed Maggie Orton. At half-term one hasn't had time to get out of things. One feels a little sorry for oneself, but that's all. But when one's had nearly three weeks off it's far harder to fall into harness again.

And the burden's heavier! urged Mona Bradley. I've just told Miss Pollock so. We don't start in September with such a grind. No! They keep laying straw after straw on our unfortunate backs, here an exercise and there a problem, or some bit of extra prep., till in the aggregate it's more than mortal girl can bear! We're victims of over-pressure—that's what it is!

You don't look a victim—with cheeks like two streaky red American apples! laughed Maudie Stearne.

Appearances are deceptive, my good child! You'll often find the thin, wiry sort of folk can stand more than the nice, plump, rosy ones. As for me, I contend that this special botany class is the last straw. The camel's back is bending visibly, and I mean to throw over either Latin or music.

Not music, surely! said Kitty Fletcher. Why, you'd miss half the fun of the school! You'd be out of all concerts and choral meetings, and you needn't flatter yourself the Dramatic would take you up instead. No, you'd just have to squat with the kids, and act audience, and I don't think that's much in your line, Mona Bradley! You're not the one to covet a back seat, as a rule.

Why, of course I didn't intend to be out of the concerts, protested Mona plaintively. I only thought I might drop my lessons and give up practising for a while—just during the tennis season, you know.

Oh! I dare say! And you think Miss Jackson will let you play at recitals when you've never practised a note? Happy are the ignorant, indeed! Don't you know she wouldn't allow Margaret Hales a part in that trio, when poor old Mag had only been away ten days with 'flu'? As for putting on a girl who actually wasn't having lessons, why, the idea's preposterous! No, take your granny's advice, and knock off maths, or chemistry, or anything you can induce Miss Cartwright to let you throw overboard, but stick tight to your piano.

True, O Queen! Yours are the words of wisdom, I admit. It's the half-hour's practising before breakfast that I so particularly loathe and abhor.

Well, now the mornings are light, you needn't growl!

"What a Mentor you are! You'll be quoting Dr. Watts to me next:

"'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I heard him complain,

'You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again!'

I don't mind confessing that I hate getting up in the mornings; however sunny they are, it makes no difference. And to have to do it every day for a whole term, and peg away at scales and arpeggios! Ugh! I sometimes wish I'd been born a savage in Central Africa!"

Then they'd have made you learn the tom-tom, and no doubt that's an instrument that needs perseverance. You can't get out of it, Mona mine! I see nothing for you but a dreary prospect of early rising, and the pursuit of five-finger exercises. It's your hard, cruel, inexorable fate, the chain from which you can't escape.

Mona laughed rather unwillingly: her mirth was never very spontaneous.

I know it's slavery! Well, I suppose I must live for the summer holidays! They let me lie in bed as long as I like, and it's my ideal of bliss.

Then keep it, you old slacker! said Bess Harrison. We'll leave you to your dreams of a Mahomet's paradise. I like something livelier, and to go back to my original proposition, I think every school ought to provide a new sensation after the Easter holidays, just to wake us up, and keep us from stagnating.

Of course there are tennis and cricket this term, suggested Maggie Orton, half apologetically.

That I admit—but so far at St. Cyprian's we've only carried them on rather languidly. I wouldn't for the world confess it outside, but between ourselves I don't mind saying that we're far and away behind other schools at games. In music I grant you we can give anyone the lead, in languages we're fair, but at athletics we're a set of duffers.

We oughtn't to be, then! exploded Nell Hayward. We're surely as physically fit as most girls, and if we laid ourselves out to train we'd astonish people. It's merely a matter of management. No one's bothered much about it before, or tried to keep us up to the mark, so of course we slacked. It's not our fault!

But the fact unfortunately remains the same!

We want some new life, certainly, put into the tennis and cricket, said Maudie Stearne. Something to make it go. It's never been the same since Miss Pritchard left.

She was A1.

We shan't get another Miss Pritchard!

None of the Sixth seem over-keen.

We may make up our minds that St. Cyprian's is no good at games!

Cease these jeremiads! interposed Kitty Fletcher. I'll tell you something to cheer you up. Yes, it's news—real, creditable, veritable news! Why didn't I tell it before? Because I've been keeping it up my sleeve for the pleasure of giving you a complete surprise.

Are we to have a professional to coach us?

Or a special games mistress?

Are several female athletes going to join the school?

Go on, Kit, and tell, can't you?

I haven't heard of either athletes or games mistress, but Miss Cartwright has a grand scheme on hand. We and five other schools are to join together in an alliance, and to meet each other for all kinds of things—hockey, cricket, tennis, concerts, debates, photography, gymnasium, arts and crafts, everything that's going, in fact.

A kind of Olympic contest? Oh, what sport!

Exactly. You see, one school's generally keen on one thing, and another on something else. This is supposed to spur us on, and make us more 'all roundish'.

Hem—a little wholesome competition! quoted Maudie, with a fair imitation of Miss Cartwright's rather scholastic voice.

You put it in a nutshell. We won't call it rivalry, but it would certainly touch us up to be beaten in anything by Newington Green or Marston Grove!

Ra—ther!

And no doubt they'd feel the same, so it will put us all on our mettle.

I think it's a gorgeous idea; but how's it going to be run?

That's just the point. Each school is to have its own separate committee, and then send delegates to a general committee. There are to be five departments: Musical, Dramatic, Arts and Handicrafts, Literary, and Games, and we're to choose two delegates for each.

Who's to do the choosing? Miss Cartwright?

No, it's to be put to the vote of the upper school. One must be from the Sixth and one from the Fifth, each form to vote for its own delegate.

That sounds fair enough.

Can we choose the same delegate for two subjects?

I shouldn't think so.

Let me see—Musical, Dramatic, Arts and Handicrafts, Literary, and Games, said Maudie Stearne, ticking them off on her fingers. Yes, I have somebody in my mind's eye for each. Mildred Lancaster, of course, for music.

Mildred Lancaster? No, Lottie Lowman.

She's not in it with Mildred.

But she's a better organizer. There's no comparison, in my opinion.

Nor in mine.

Talk of people and they're sure to turn up! Here they both come.

And as different as chalk from cheese! murmured Maudie under her breath.

The two class-mates who entered the room at that moment were certainly entirely unlike as regards personal appearance, and the dissimilarity went deeper. Lottie Lowman, the elder by six months, was a brisk, alert-looking girl with a fresh complexion, a rather long, pointed nose, a thin mouth, and a square, determined chin. Her forehead was broad and intelligent, her light hazel eyes were very bright and sparkling, and her brown hair held just a suggestion of chestnut in the warmth of its colouring. Lottie's general effect was one of extreme vivacity. She loved to talk, and could say sharp things on occasion—there was hardly a girl in the Form who had not quailed before her tongue—and above all she adored popularity. To be a general favourite at once with mistresses, companions, and the Lower School was her chief aim, and she spared no trouble in the pursuit. Her flippant gaiety appealed to a large section of the Form, her humorous remarks were amusing, even though a sting lurked in them, and if her accomplishments were superficial, they made a far better show than the more-solid acquirements of others. She could do a little of everything, and had such perfect assurance that no touch of shyness ever marred her achievements. She knew absolutely how to make the best of herself, and she had a savoir faire and precocious knowledge of the world decidedly in advance of her sixteen years.

Mildred Lancaster, though only six months Lottie's junior, seemed a baby in comparison, where mundane matters were concerned. She was slightly built and rather delicate-looking, with a pale, eager face, a pair of beautiful, expressive brown eyes, and a quantity of silky, soft, dull-gold hair, with a natural ripple in it. The far-away look in the dark eyes, and the set of the sensitive little mouth, suggested that highly-strung artistic temperament which may prove either the greatest joy or the utmost hindrance to its possessor. Mildred was dreamy and unpractical to a fault, the kind of girl who in popular parlance needs to be well shaken up at school, and whose imagination is apt to outrun her performance. Gifted to an unusual degree in music, at which she worked by fits and starts, her lack of general confidence was a great impediment, and often a serious handicap where any public demonstration was concerned. The feeling of having an audience, which was like the elixir of life to Lottie, filled Mildred with dismay, and was apt to spoil her best efforts.

The two girls, who had already heard of Miss Cartwright's scheme, came into the room full of the exciting news, and anxious to discuss it with their class-mates.

The very thing for St. Cyprian's! declared Lottie. I'll undertake we'll give the other schools points! 'Nulli secundus,' second to none, shall be our motto. We'll practise and rehearse till we're tiptop, and can take the shine out of anybody. The five departments give such splendid opportunities. When's the election, by the by?

To-day at four, said Mildred. And Miss Cartwright has just made up her mind that Vb is to vote. She says it will be fairer, and give a better representation of the school.

Oh, goody! We shall have to hurry up about canvassing.

Is there to be canvassing? objected Mona Bradley. I thought Miss Cartwright didn't like it?

We can't get on without it, said Lottie promptly. Why, how else are you going to put the candidates' points to the electors? There are so many things to be considered if you take an all-round view. Besides, the fun of it! We'll have speeches!

Tub oratory's a cheap way of catching the crowd! growled Kitty Fletcher.

You shall give us a deep discourse, then! flared Lottie. No doubt you'll convince Vb with some learned remarks. Well, if anything's to be done, we'd better be doing. Nell, old girl, you'll be on my side? Let's come and organize a plan of campaign. O jubilate! Here are the others!

About seven more girls entered the room at the moment, all hotly engrossed in the new scheme, and anxious to discuss it. The company broke into groups, representing fairly well the various sets of the Form, and began eagerly to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of the various members proposed for the delegateships.

It's a responsibility, said Kitty Fletcher, because a good leader is half the battle. Don't let's allow any personal feeling to creep in. Vote for your enemy, if she's 'the man for the job'.

May we vote for ourselves? chirruped Eve Mitchell. Oh, there! I was only in fun! as the general scorn of the Form descended upon her. Don't utterly spiflicate me! I'm not going to write 'Eve Mitchell' on all my five papers! Honest, I'm not!

You've a good chance for the Music, Mildred, whispered Kitty to her friend. There isn't a girl in the school can play like you, and they know it. I'll back you up for that, if you'll put in a word for me at Games—that's all I'm good for!

And enough too, replied Mildred, considering we can only be a delegate for one subject. I'll do my very best, Kit. I'll go at eleven and harangue some of those slackers in Vb. Joan Richards and you would make an ideal couple; you'd work well together, and pull up the standard to what it was before Miss Pritchard left. Trust me to do all I can!

There was little time for canvassing if the election were to take place at four o'clock on that very day. Perhaps Miss Cartwright had intentionally arranged it so, wishing to avoid too great seeking for favour among the girls. Competition she considered wholesome, but she did not want it to degenerate into rivalry. At eleven o'clock break, and during the dinner interval, the supporters of the various prospective delegates worked hard, impressing the merits of their particular candidates upon the electors, and trying to secure promises of votes. The poll was only to be among the members of the Upper School, who, in the Principal's opinion, were likely to be better judges of each other's capabilities than would the younger girls. Juniors, she argued, might be swayed too easily by influence, but she trusted to her seniors to take an open-minded and unbiased view of the situation.

Soon after four o'clock, therefore, Forms VI, Va, and Vb assembled in the lecture hall. A monitress dealt out papers, and in a moment or two Miss Cartwright, the Principal, stepped on to the platform.

I should like to remind you, girls, of the few essential rules of our election, she began. They are very simple. No one, of course, must vote for herself. Each girl is put on her honour not to be influenced by personal bias, but to choose for the good of the school. On your papers you will find five divisions—Musical, Literary, Dramatic, Arts and Handicrafts, and Games. Opposite each you are to write the names of one member of the Sixth Form and one of the Fifth. You must sign your own name to the paper, but this will be treated as confidential. I shall myself count the results.

You vote for me, Mildred, for the Musical, and I'll vote for you, whispered Lottie Lowman, who happened to be sitting next to Mildred Lancaster. We can't vote for ourselves, so exchange is no robbery, is it?

Mildred coloured with embarrassment. She had already scribbled Maudie Stearne on her paper, not Lottie Lowman, and it was tiresome to be thus cornered.

These are the secrets of the confessional! she murmured, trying to pass it off as a joke.

Nonsense! We can't be so strict as all that. See, I've put 'Mildred Lancaster'. Let me look at yours.

As Lottie advanced her paper, Mildred hastily snatched hers away, but not before her companion had obtained a glance which told her of its contents. The slight rustle attracted the notice of Miss Cartwright, who fixed such a glare upon the two girls that each at once sat at stiff attention, and as if unaware of the other's existence. In dead silence the voting was finished, the papers carefully folded, collected, and handed in.

It will take me about ten minutes to count, said the Principal. You can all go to the dressing-room I will pin the result on the notice board as soon as I possibly can.

The girls filed from the lecture hall with a sense of relief. To sit waiting for the news would have been a sore trial of patience; it was far more satisfactory to spend the interval in donning hats and coats. Besides, in the dressing-room they could talk, and they certainly did not neglect the privilege. No sooner were they clear of the silence bounds than they broke into a perfect babel of chatter, discussing the pros and cons of the election. Some openly avowed how they had voted, some stuck to their privilege of secrecy, but all were ready to debate the chances of others. Mildred sat lacing her boots and listening to the various scraps of conversation that reached her. She hardly dared to hope for her own success, yet among the whole Form no one more ardently desired a delegateship than herself. To be a representative of the musical side of St. Cyprian's particularly appealed to her. She felt it was almost in the nature of a sacred trust.

Close by Lottie Lowman and a few satellites were washing their hands.

Some people's meanness is hardly to be believed! Lottie was saying. I'd voted for her, and told her so, so she hadn't the excuse of not knowing, and I think the least she could do was to vote for me—it only seemed fair!

Mildred abandoned the neat tennis knot in which she was tying her bootlace, and sprang up in defence of her character.

You'd no right to look! she protested. Surely I could put any candidate I liked? There was no coercion!

Not for those who weren't candidates themselves, said Sheila Moore; but when you were standing for the Musical, you were in rather a different position.

It was ever so generous of Lottie to vote for you! urged Nora Whitehead.

I certainly call it stingy not to vote for her! added Eve Mitchell. I should have thought it an obligation!

Oh, it's too bad of you! I can't see where the obligation comes in. Our votes were to be quite private. I think you're horrid!

Horrid yourself! retorted Eve, and would have added more, but at that moment a scout announced that Miss Cartwright was in the very act of pinning the results upon the notice-board, so there was a general stampede for the corridor. As it was impossible for everyone to see the precious paper at once, the news was proclaimed aloud for the benefit of those on the outskirts of the crowd.

Musical.—Ella Martin, Lottie Lowman.

Literary.—Phillis Garnett, Laura Kirby.

Dramatic.—Dorrie Barlow, May Thornett.

Arts and Handicrafts.—Alice Lightwood, Freda Kingston.

Games.—Joan Richards, Kitty Fletcher.

So I've won, even without your vote! said Lottie to Mildred, with a spice of triumph in her tone.

I'm very glad, I'm sure. I congratulate you heartily! replied Mildred, turning back to the dressing-room for her books, and hurrying away, professedly in urgent quest of a tram-car.

Most of the others lingered, and started more slowly for home.

I'm at the tiptop of bliss to have won the Games, said Kitty Fletcher to Bess Harrison. I thought Mildred would have got the Musical, though. I can't understand it. She's miles ahead of Lottie, really.

"Yes, but I'm not sure if Lottie won't make the better delegate. Oh! I grant you Mildred has ten times the music in her, but I doubt if she'd get up a concert so well. She hasn't enough push and go—she's always dreaming. She'd play her own piece divinely, but she'd probably