The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSchoolgirl rivalsThis 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 atwww.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: Schoolgirl rivalsAuthor: Brenda PageIllustrator: P. B. HicklingRelease date: December 16, 2024 [eBook #74919]Language: EnglishOriginal publication: London: Cassell and Company, Limited, 1927Credits: Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOLGIRL RIVALS ***
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 atwww.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: Schoolgirl rivalsAuthor: Brenda PageIllustrator: P. B. HicklingRelease date: December 16, 2024 [eBook #74919]Language: EnglishOriginal publication: London: Cassell and Company, Limited, 1927Credits: Al Haines
Title: Schoolgirl rivals
Author: Brenda PageIllustrator: P. B. Hickling
Author: Brenda Page
Illustrator: P. B. Hickling
Release date: December 16, 2024 [eBook #74919]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Cassell and Company, Limited, 1927
Credits: Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCHOOLGIRL RIVALS ***
"'Good game, Kitty, wasn't it?'" (see page 44)"'Good game, Kitty, wasn't it?'" (see page44)
By
BRENDA PAGE
With Frontispiece in Colour andThree Black and White IllustrationsBy P. B. HICKLING
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITEDLondon, Toronto, Melbourne, and Sydney
First Published 1937Printed in Great Britain
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1.First Impressions2.The Seniors of Carslake's3.The P. Squareds4.The Richoter Science Prize5.Trial by Jury6.The Richoter ResultS7.Sports Day8.Carslake's v. The Rest9.The Cycling Expedition10.A Night on the Downs11.The Truth of it All
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Good game, Kitty, wasn't it?'"... Frontispiece
"She swung round quickly as the Principal said sharply: 'Has someone been interfering with your balances, Constance?'"
"'What rubbish is all this?' Duane asked"
"Crouched in a forlorn heap upon the floor, they found the runaway"
Schoolgirl Rivals
"Good-Bye, my dear child. You are quite sure you will be all right and have everything you want? It's a straightforward run now to Easthampton."
"Oh yes, I shall be quite all right, Mrs. Wade, and thank you very much for all the trouble you've taken with me. I'll sure never forget it."
Mrs. Wade nodded and waved as the train moved out of the junction. She had arrived in London off an Australian boat only the day before and had been in charge of the Australian girl during the voyage over. She had not seen her native country for twenty-five years, and so was naturally feeling rather excited. She turned away with her conscience at rest, having successfully fulfilled her obligation. To be sure, her charge was a very sensible and practical girl, with a mind and will of her own, and had given her no trouble. Now she was safely in the train that would carry her straight to her destination, and Mrs. Wade could leave off worrying about her, and turn her attention to the relations she had not seen for twenty-five years.
Left "on her own" for the first time in her life, Kitty Despard, Australian born and bred, settled herself in her corner seat with an inward feeling of mingled excitement and trepidation, but outwardly with firmly set lips and resolute air. She was a stranger in a strange land, but Australians are not noted for either nervousness or backwardness.
Staring out at the flying green landscape with unseeing eyes, she was wondering for the hundredth time since her departure from home what an English boarding-school would be like. In the old-fashioned story-books they were the most awful places; they had "crocodiles" and "backboards" and lessons in "deportment." But schools had changed in later years. She knew that English girls, as a whole, were fond of sports, and in that, at any rate, she could hold her own, for she had been brought up with half a dozen brothers and sisters in a bush "township," where opportunities for tennis and cricket were unlimited.
There was the question of lessons, of course. Kitty had gone daily by the school train to the High School in a neighbouring town. She had dodged as much work as she could, it is true, but she had one strong point. Jim and Billy always declared that she was as good as they were at mathematics.
No doubt there would be some "snobs" at Easthampton, for Mrs. Wade's sister, who had recommended the school to Kitty's father, had said that all the scholars were the children either of well-to-do or well-born families. But there were sure to be some good sorts, too.
The train was a slow one, stopping at every station. One of these was apparently a junction of a small kind, for there was quite a little bustle as a crowd of passengers from another train swarmed across the platform. Kitty's carriage was invaded by five or six girls who clambered noisily in with the happy air of owning the whole train. Kitty realized with a start that they were evidently Easthampton College girls, for they wore the same scarlet hatband badge as she did.
"Van's further down," remarked one who was craning her neck out of the window.
"We pick up Salome at the next station," added the tallest of the party. "Oh, here comes Paddy, late as usual, tearing down the steps like mad. She'll never do it."
The girl at the window had flung open the door and was shouting, "Hi, hi, Paddy!" at the top of her voice, and gesticulating frantically. As the train began to move, the late-comer rushed up to the carriage door. Half a dozen helping hands seized hold of various parts of her person and she was hauled in, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the carriage. She picked herself up and subsided panting into the seat next to Kitty.
"Your usual method of catching trains, Paddy!" remarked the tall girl.
"Never mind. I did catch it, and that's all that matters, sure," returned Paddy cheerfully. "Cheer-oh, girls, how d'you like coming back to the grindstone? Never ye mind; summer's before us, and cricket and tennis. Oh, the merry, merry month of May!" she began to sing in a tuneless voice.
"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" sang somebody else; and there was a general chorus, "Oh don't, Paddy!"
"Always optimistic. You're very refreshing, Paddy, my child," remarked the tall girl when the hubbub had subsided. "I came down on the other line with Van, and she could talk of nothing but matriculation."
"When every prospect pleases, and only man is vile," sighed Paddy. "Hallo!" as her sharp eyes caught sight of Kitty's school hat resting on the rack. "Here's a new girl. Youarea new girl, aren't you? I'm sure I've never seen your face before."
Kitty replied in the affirmative, and the tall girl broke in:
"Are you really? I'm so sorry I didn't notice it. My name's Eileen Gilbert, and as I happen to be a prefect it's very reprehensible conduct on my part. Do you come from far?"
"From Australia," replied Kitty.
There were exclamations from the listening girls.
"Begorrah!" said Paddy. "But there's a way to come to school for you! Have you been in England long?"
"I only landed at Tilbury yesterday. I came over in charge of a friend of ours. She saw me safely in the train for Easthampton and has promised dad she'll keep an eye on me while I'm here."
"Poor thing," said Paddy sadly, "and won't she be feeling the loss of it now!"
"The loss of what?" Kitty's wits were not quite so sharp at that moment as they usually were.
"Her oie, to be sure."
"Stop ragging, Paddy," interrupted Eileen. Paddy, a girl with bright black eyes, a merry face and untidy dark hair, merely laughed and turned again to Kitty, who had already taken a great fancy to her.
"I don't believe we've ever had an Australian girl at Easthampton before. How old are you?"
"Sixteen—and a half."
"A little older than me. I am only just sixteen."
"Do tell us your name," interrupted one of the smaller girls.
"Kitty Despard."
"Are you fond of sports?" asked Paddy eagerly. "I've heard all Australians are."
"Yes, very much," replied Kitty.
"Oh, good! What house are you in?"
"Miss Carslake's."
"Oh!" Paddy's tone expressed volumes.
"That mouldy show! What an impression of Easthampton you'll get! Now, it ought to have been Sheerston's——"
"Or Prince's," said Eileen quickly.
"Well, Prince's isn't so bad, though it's not up to Sheerston's——"
"Yes, it is. It'll be top house this term, you'll see."
"No, it won't. But—Carslake's! It's a filthy hole."
"What do you mean?" inquired Kitty, feeling a little startled.
"Well, it's easily bottom house, and has got a most awful reputation for slacking—which it deserves."
Eileen nodded. "Yes, and it used to be top house once. Now it's out of the running even for third place. Only two senior and a few junior prizes went to it last year."
"And only one colour in the whole house," added Paddy. "That's Duane, of course, for hockey. I should think she's safe to get her tennis and cricket colours too, this term. But just think of it! Only one in the whole house! Slackers isn't the word for that lot. Miss Carslake sets the example and the girls follow the sheep."
"Of course you heard the rumour that Doreen was leaving?"
"Not really? Won't it be funny if she does! What with Betty leaving suddenly at the beginning of the year, and now Doreen—why, there won't be one sixth-former left in the house this term. It's the queerest thing I ever heard of. What'll they do about a head prefect?"
"Here's the next stop," said Eileen.
"Look out for Salome. We'll ask her if Doreen really has left. She's sure to know."
At the next station another addition was made to the party, a tall girl with delightful hair, dark and wavy and bobbed, an active-looking figure and eyebrows that were noticeable for their straightness. A remarkable girl—and she certainly had a remarkable name, unless it was a nickname. Paddy was obliging enough to whisper to the new girl:
"That's Salome Hope, the head prefect of my house, Sheerston's; frightfully clever at lessons and a triple colour—hockey, cricket and tennis. There isn't a girl to touch her in the school."
The whisper was a very audible one, like all Paddy's whispers. Salome heard it quite plainly, and looked across at Kitty with a laugh.
"One of the school celebrities, in fact. Paddy is too, though she refrains from mentioning it. Are you a new girl?"
"Yes," answered Eileen. "Kitty Despard, from Australia. They've put her into Carslake's. Isn't it a shame!"
"Well, Carslake's is in need of seniors, it seems," said Salome.
"Is it true that Doreen has left?"
"Yes, unfortunately. It puts the house into an unprecedented position, having to descend to the Upper Fifth for a head prefect."
"Quite unprecedented. Fortunately it'll only be for a term. But surely there are only a few seniors of any sort in Carslake's now?"
"Let me see. Margaret, Sonia and Bertha in the Lower Fifth; Duane, Hilary and France in the Upper—that's all."
"It's a pity Hilary is so delicate, and of course France would be hopeless as head prefect. I suppose it'll be Duane."
"Yes. She's been chosen already."
"The best of the three," remarked Eileen, "and rather clever in her way, I should think. But a bit of a slacker, isn't she?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. But she's got her hockey colour. That's always a help."
"Rather," put in Paddy. "And I remember her at tennis last year. If she had bucked up a bit she might have got her tennis colour as well. She could bat too, in cricket. Only she's so beastly erratic."
"That's it," agreed Salome, "you can't depend on her. She's a queer sort."
"Anyway, Carslake's can't come down any lower," said Eileen philosophically. "That'll be one comfort to her."
Then the conversation turned on other subjects, and a few minutes later the train began to draw up.
"Easthampton!" cried Paddy, who thought she had been silent long enough. "Tumble out, everybody. I'll look out for the school truck. All light luggage is here, being only Easter vac.—except Kitty's, of course."
Eileen, as a prefect, took the new girl under her wing.
"Run down to the luggage van and have your trunks brought up here. Then they can go up to the school with ours. There's plenty of time. Paddy will be some while fetching Orpheus along with the truck; he always crawls about like a snail."
As Kitty obediently went off down the platform with her long strides, many of the girls turned round to stare after her as she passed, for she was far from being an insignificant girl. She was tall, long-legged, and at a rather bony and angular stage of growth. Her face was very tanned after the sea voyage and, like the majority of Australian girls, her complexion was nothing to boast about; she had cropped, bright brown hair and alert grey-blue eyes; there was something in her carriage and the active swing of her walk that betrayed an outdoor life with plenty of exercise.
"This is yours, miss," said the porter obligingly. "For the school, miss? Here's another one for the school. Take them both up the platform, Tom."
The second trunk, as Kitty noticed with a quick observant glance, was very smart and expensive looking; and painted in white very conspicuously across the top, in great contrast to Kitty's humble initials, were these words: "The Hon. Duane l'Estrange Estevan."
Kitty was immensely tickled.
"My gracious!" she said to herself. "What a name! If it were mine I should want to drown it. An Honourable, too. I sort of think, if I run across her, I shan't hit it off with the Hon. Duane l'Estrange Estevan. That is to say, if she's anything like her trunk, or her name."
Australians are far less tolerant in their criticisms than the English, and Kitty was no exception, you see.
Returning to Eileen and her party, she found that a little shambling man was loading a truck with the girls' hand luggage.
"Come along now," said Paddy. "We can leave these things to Orpheus. We call him Orpheus," she explained to Kitty, "because he blows the chapel organ. He's got an undeveloped cerebrum, you know, poor chap."
"Please, Paddy," remonstrated Salome. "We're not in school yet!"
"Well, dippy on the dome then, if that's more suited to your intelligence," retorted Paddy recklessly.
They set off from the station, Salome and Eileen leading the way, Paddy and Kitty following, and the younger ones trailing along behind. They passed through the small town of Easthampton and after half a mile's walk they arrived at Easthampton College. Kitty's first glimpse of that famous school was an imposing pair of iron gates with a view beyond of trim shrubberies and lawns, a curving drive, a pleasant red-bricked house, and a background of green fields. The gates were open.
"Easthampton is quite a little colony of itself," said Salome, turning to Kitty with a smile. "There are nearly three hundred girls in the school, quite two hundred being yearly boarders."
"How many houses are there?"
"Four. This is Sheerston's near the gate, my house and the biggest. Carslake's is a little farther on down the drive. Prince's and Green's are the other side of the quadrangle, side by side. The school building is at the back of the quad, and beyond are the playing-fields and the kitchen garden. We have two big fields. We call them Big Side and Little Side, because one is used by the seniors and one by the juniors. The swimming-bath and gym are in the playing-fields."
"Will you take Kitty along to Carslake's, Salome?" asked Eileen. "No Carslake's prefects came down in our train."
"Right-oh," replied Salome. "It's not so far for me. Come along, Kitty."
They went off down the drive, past Sheerston's, till they came to a somewhat smaller though similarly built building.
"Now, I'll hunt you out a senior and leave you in her charge," said Salome. "Your luggage will arrive presently and will be put in the vestibule. Then you unpack and carry your things up to your dormitory. Hi," seizing hold of a small girl who was in the vestibule unpacking; "run up to the dormitories and unearth a senior of some sort. Isn't your head prefect knocking around somewhere?"
"I don't think she's come yet," replied the child.
"Then she ought to have," said Salome, "to look after her troublesome young charges. Never mind. Anybody will do."
The girl disappeared, returning in a few minutes with the desired senior.
"Hallo, Salome!" the new-comer exclaimed. "What brings you in this direction so soon?"
"A new girl. Kitty Despard, all the way from Australia. Kitty, this is Hilary, one of your seniors," and after exchanging a few more words Salome departed.
Kitty's new acquaintance was a rather small, slight girl with soft, fair hair, pale, irregular features and dark, hazel eyes. Her manner, as she showed Kitty her cubicle and told her where to put her things, was courteous and considerate, but quiet and self-contained. Kitty had hardly finished unpacking before a bell rang and they went down to tea in a big, cheery room, containing four or five long tables. The new girl was rather dazed by the chatter and laughter and crowd of new faces. She gathered little save that most of the girls were smaller than herself, but that there was either a mistress or a senior girl at the head and foot of each table. She herself sat next to Hilary, who presided at the foot of one of them.
The rest of the evening seemed still more dreamlike. There was a brief interview with the house mistress, Miss Carslake, who welcomed her kindly, shook hands rather limply, asked her a number of questions in a pleasant voice, and gave her hints on what she might expect to find in her new life.
At eight o'clock another bell rang, and she was astonished when somebody remarked, "Chapel." She thought vaguely of Wesleyans and Baptists, and looked to see what the others were doing. Everybody made for the vestibule and donned hats and wrappers of some sort. Hilary considerately took Kitty in charge again.
"Get your hat. It's chapel. We only have morning chapel usually—just a short service—but we always have evening chapel the first and last night of term."
They crossed the quad with the others to the pretty little chapel that adjoined the school building, meeting converging streams of girls from the other houses. Kitty, as if in a dream, knelt, rose, and sat with the rest of the two hundred and fifty girls, but there was something strangely impressive in the hearty chanting of the solitary psalm, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills ... the Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in," and the still heartier rendering of the hymn:
Lord receive us with Thy blessing,Once again assembled here.
Kitty was sitting near the organ and could not help noticing the player, evidently one of the girls, for her bright chestnut hair hung in a heavy mass down her back. Kitty was so absorbed in examining her aristocratic profile and admiring the elegant way in which she wore her clothes, that she missed a considerable part of the lesson.
Afterwards came supper, an informal meal of hot cocoa and "pavement" (a slice of cake), then bed bell and lights out, for the seniors, at ten o'clock. In spite of the strangeness of being enclosed in the white-panelled walls of a daintily furnished cubicle, Kitty was so tired and drowsy that before long her eyelids closed and she was sound asleep.
With the clang of the everlasting bell in her ears Kitty awoke, wondering for a few minutes where she could be, and almost thinking she was back in her little bunk on board theWallaroon.
Then she heard a yawn, and a sleepy voice, "Oh, bother! Was that rising bell?" and Hilary's voice in answer, "Yes, Peggy my child, it was. What's more, I can see it raining out of my window."
"Oh, blow!" said another voice. "Shan't get up then. Wake me by twenty to eight, somebody, please, if I fall asleep again."
"Get up, you lazy kids," said Hilary sternly. "It's disgraceful, the way you lie in bed when you might have a run round the field before breakfast or a turn in the gym. No wonder we never get represented in gym displays. You know it's the rule to turn out when rising bell goes."
"Bother the bell!" said the voice of Peggy. "And you can't make us, Hilary. Duane is head of this dormitory, not you."
"Well, you ought to have a mistress sleeping next door, like the other dormitories. You'd have to alter your ways a little then. Are you awake, Kitty?"
"I should hope so," replied Kitty promptly. "I couldn't very well stay asleep with all this talking going on."
"Bless you, there are plenty who do. Are you getting up?"
"Yes," answered Kitty, jumping out of bed with a spring.
"Good. I'll take you along to the gym for a look-round before breakfast. Be ready by a quarter to eight, won't you?"
"All right," answered Kitty at once. "Where do I get water from?"
"Oh, one of the juniors will get you hot water from the bathroom, if you put your jug outside your cubicle."
Kitty was quite ready when Hilary knocked for admittance. By that time, the rest of the dormitory, from the noise they were making, had evidently turned out.
"Half a tick," said Hilary. "I must perform my usual morning's task." She raised her voice.
"Duane, are you awake?"
A sleepy voice made reply:
"No. 'Tisn't time to get up yet."
"Yes, it is," replied Hilary firmly. "Hurry up and turn out."
"What's the time?" said the same drawling voice.
"A quarter to eight."
"Oh well, I can just do it in ten minutes. Call me at ten to."
"I'm just going. You'll be late one of these days. You know last term you were hardly ever properly dressed for breakfast."
"I'll count three and jump out on the 'three.'"
"Hurry up then."
"One——" began the speaker with the tired voice, and paused.
"Two——"
A still longer pause.
"Two and a half."
Another pause, then:
"Two and three quarters."
"Oh, go on," said Hilary. "Two and seven eighths! I'm going now, anyway," and patience evidently not being her strong point, she walked out of the dormitory, throwing a "Come along, Kitty," over her shoulder as she did so.
Now Kitty's cubicle was next to the one belonging to the tired individual. She had been listening to the conversation with a feeling of mingled pity and contempt, for slacking of any sort made no appeal whatever to the vigorous, active Australian girl. As Hilary walked out, Kitty's glance fell on her wet sponge, lying on the washstand. Catching it up, she sprang lightly on to the edge of the bed, caught hold of the top of the partition, and judging the whereabouts of the invisible speaker's face by careful guesswork, squirted the contents of the sponge over the partition. Apparently the shower of water found its mark, for there was the sound of a gasp and a violent creak of the bed. Kitty, judging discretion to be the better part of valour, hastily dropped the sponge and slipped swiftly out of the dormitory, catching Hilary up in the passage outside.
The two walked on together.
"Who's the girl you called Duane?" inquired Kitty, wondering why the unusual name sounded familiar, till, the next instant, she remembered the trunk at the station and its flaunting lettering. Wouldn't the boys at home laugh when she told them in her letter that one of her first acts in England was to squirt water over a member of the British aristocracy!
"Oh, you'll soon get to know who Duane is," replied Hilary. "She's just been appointed head prefect of our house. She's in my form, the Upper Fifth."
"Oh!" said Kitty, remembering the conversation in the train between Eileen and Salome. So this was the girl they had been discussing so freely! Somehow or other, though she had not seen her yet, Kitty was quite sure she was not going to like her head prefect.
When breakfast was over, Miss Carslake announced that the Principal wanted to see all the school prefects in her room that morning. "She also wishes to see all the senior girls of the house," the mistress added; "so those who are not prefects must also be ready after chapel."
Of course there was a certain amount of excitement at this unusual proceeding, and many reasons were suggested for it.
"Shall I have to go?" inquired Kitty.
"Oh, yes. Come along. You're sure to be in the Upper or Lower Fifth, so you must look upon yourself as a senior."
Consequently, about ten o'clock, Kitty found herself with the six other senior girls of her house in the sanctum of Miss St. Leger, Principal of Easthampton College. She was very popular with her girls, who were wont to declare that they could not imagine Easthampton without her.
The seniors sat gravely on chairs in a little semicircle. Kitty, through hearing them address one another, had already learned their names, and surveyed them interestedly, for these were to be her future companions. There was, first of all, the slight, fair Hilary, insignificant in appearance but ready of tongue and decidedly shrewd of brain. Then there were the Lower Fifth-formers sitting side by side. Margaret Batt was liked by everybody; she was a nice, simple, unaffected English girl, not brilliant in any way, but always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed it. Sonia Edwards was a pretty, golden-haired, smartly dressed girl, inclined to be vain and rather empty-headed, though not ill-natured. Kitty rather sweepingly described her to herself as a "fluffy-haired, dressed-up doll." Bertha Salter was not very prepossessing in appearance. She had straight, carroty hair, a sturdy but stockily-built figure, and a rather heavy, sullen expression. Kitty fancied she looked rather sly, then quickly reproved herself for an unkind thought about a total stranger. The girl was very likely quite a decent sort. She couldn't help her looks.
There remained the other two Upper Fifth-formers. The second of the three prefects was the chestnut-haired girl who played the organ for chapel services. She was not exactly pretty, but there was something distinctive about her carriage and dress. Later, Kitty discovered that Francesca Kent had a natural taste for art, and was firmly and proudly convinced that she had what she called an "artistic temperament," though in reality she had the sweetest of tempers. She was quite a character in the school.
Last, but not least, was the Hon. Duane l'Estrange Estevan. Kitty decided that there was nothing insignificant about her looks, at least. She was as tall and long-limbed as Kitty herself, but there the resemblance stopped. She was rather broader of shoulder, and there was nothing awkward or angular about her. Her hair was black and thick and cut in a straight mediæval bob; her complexion was inclined to be sallow; her eyes were very grey and formed a curious contrast to her black hair and eyebrows, looking remarkably vivid and luminous in their dark setting. She lounged, rather than sat, in her chair and listened with a blasé, preoccupied indifference to what the revered Principal was saying. Duane's voice was curiously soft, with a decided drawl in it; her movements, too, were listless and deliberate. She was an English aristocrat from head to foot, Kitty told herself, and Kitty had all a self-respecting Australian's contempt for the English aristocracy.
Now the Principal was speaking to them, and Kitty's whole attention was fixed on her words.
"I wanted specially to say just a few words to the older girls in Miss Carslake's House. I expect you can guess what I want to say. To put it frankly, girls, I don't like to see one of the houses so hopelessly below all the others in both school work and sports."
"Well, somebody must be bottom, Miss St. Leger," remarked Frances Kent brightly. Francesca loudly and frequently proclaimed that she was not really interested in anything except art.
"True, Frances," replied Miss St. Leger, "but not always—nor in everything—nor so easily."
"Oh, but surely, Miss St. Leger," protested Duane in her tired voice, "it is not so bad as that."
Miss St. Leger smiled. "Perhaps I was exaggerating a little, for your own good. I want to see you girls rouse yourselves, and make up your minds that your house isn't going to take bottom place in everything. Let us look at a few facts fairly. Last year this house only carried off two prizes among the seniors, Frances first in drawing, and Hilary second in English. Neither did your juniors earn the number they could have done. You have plenty of intelligent juniors, if they would only make up their minds to try.
"Now look at sports. You are going to be bottom this year if you don't make a big effort this term. Are you going to win any cricket or tennis matches, or any of the events on Sports Day? As you are a long way behind the others at present, you will have to make a big effort to catch up."
"We are handicapped, Miss St. Leger," said Duane. "We are so few numerically."
"Yes, I know your house is smaller than Sheerston's or Prince's, but no smaller than Miss Green's, and they are making quite a plucky fight for scholastic honours and the House Sports Shield."
"I did not quite mean the number of girls in the house, Miss St. Leger," the head prefect defended herself. "I was referring to the number of seniors. After all, it is the seniors who form the backbone of the house teams. There are only seven of us; Sheerston's, for example, have over twenty."
"True again. Of course you have been unfortunate in losing three senior girls in the middle of the school year—a most unusual occurrence. That is why I put the only new senior girl this term in your house. But it is quality, as well as quantity, that counts." She looked at the listening girls, and a smile flashed over her face, smoothing out its lines and wrinkles. "You were studying Henry V last term in the Upper Fifth, weren't you, girls? Accept his point of view, then—the fewer fighters, the greater share of glory," and with a few more parting words of encouragement, she dismissed them.
Kitty found the rest of that day one whirl of "settling down." First of all, with half a dozen other new girls, all younger, she was put through a searching oral examination by Miss Sheerston, in order to be "placed." Kitty, whose nerves hindered her, acquitted herself more creditably than she had hoped.
Miss Sheerston was a queer, masculine-looking person, with a shirt blouse, high collar, and grey hair strained back from her face, but her manner was brisk, kindly, and invigorating in the extreme; her own girls thought the world of their house mistress. She praised Kitty's mathematics, declared her French to be appalling, and finally said, "You are sixteen, you say. Well, I don't see why you shouldn't make a shot for removal into the Sixth Form next term. Only you would have to give up any idea of taking extra classes, for the present, and devote extra time to your French."
Kitty, feeling that she would have quite enough to cope with in the Upper Fifth, and then in the Sixth, as it was, hastily disclaimed any desire to take special classes, and so it was settled that she should join the ranks of the most elevated members of her own house in the Upper Fifth.
In her few leisure moments she was busily arranging her part of the study she was to share with Hilary. All Sixth-formers were entitled to studies, of which they were very proud, sharing one between two. As there were now no Sixth-formers at Carslake's, the four studies were handed over to the Fifths, Upper and Lower.
Kitty rather wished she had been put in one of the other houses, not because Carslake's was the bottom house and bore rather a poor reputation, but because she was not particularly drawn to any one of her companions there. They were nice girls in their way, but there was not one of them whose tastes were sufficiently in common with Kitty's to make her desirable as a special chum. Hilary was quiet and reserved; besides, she was not allowed to play games, and half Kitty's enjoyment and interest in life came from games and outdoor exercises. Frances Kent was a being from another world altogether. So was the head prefect; her queer personality made no appeal to Kitty, who liked people who said what they meant and called a spade a spade and not a garden implement.
"If only jolly Paddy or that clever-looking Salome girl had been in this house," she thought, regretfully, "they would have made things hum between them. But these are evidently a hopeless lot."
On the evening of the second day, Hilary came into the study with the announcement, "All seniors to be in Cato's study at three-thirty to-morrow."
Afternoon lessons finished at three-fifteen, and from then till tea-time, at five, everybody was free to play games, go for a walk, or, if it were very wet, amuse themselves indoors.
"Who's Cato?" inquired Kitty, looking puzzled.
"Cato? Why, the Hon. Duane of course. Nearly everyone gets a nickname of some sort. The meeting is to talk over Prinny's little welcoming lecture."
"I don't see much good in talking," retorted Kitty. "It's doing that matters."
"Well, as far as sports are concerned, I don't see there's much we can do. Duane is the only one who is much good at them. I'm forced to be a looker-on, worse luck. Somebody wants to explode a bomb-shell in our midst and wake everybody up."
The seven seniors duly met. Hilary and Kitty were the first arrivals. They found Duane sprawling in the easy-chair with a book in her lap, and Frances, enveloped in an overall of bird-of-paradise hue, busily dabbing at a large sheet of paper mounted on an easel.
"Come in, come in," called out the head prefect, in her soft drawl. "I know France is taking up all the room with her horrible mess, but you'll just have to sit down where you can—so long as you don't sit down on tubes of paint. You see what I have to put up with every day! Lumps of putty—I mean clay—everywhere."
"Don't rot, Duane," said France. "Art's a serious matter. There's nothing funny about it, as some people seem to think."
"'Tisn't the art that's funny, my dear," returned Duane. "It's the artist."
"'But what is it supposed to be?" inquired Hilary, surveying the artist's work with puzzled face.
The others, who had now all arrived, proffered various suggestions.
"A storm at sea," said Margaret.
"A futurist—or is it a cubist?—portrait of a lady," suggested Bertha.
"No. I've got it!" exclaimed Hilary. "One of those puzzle thingummies. Little Red Riding Hood walking through the wood. Find the wolf."
"Don't talk rot," said the artist again. "You know it isn't any of those things."
"But seriously, France," argued Hilary, "it's like nothing on earth that I've seen, anyway."
"Of course it isn't," said France, impatiently. "You see, it's upside-down. It's a new idea; to paint a picture upside-down so that you can visualize upside-down. Don't you understand?"
"Well, who on earth wants to visualize upside-down?"
"Turn it up," said Duane, "so that we can see what it's meant to be."
France did so. They all gazed at it in silence, till at last Margaret said hesitatingly:
"Don't—don't you think you've got it a bit mixed up, France, and the—the other way was the right way up after all? That looked more as if it might be something than—than this does."
The artist's face was a study of mingled feelings. Everybody burst into a roar of laughter, so that in the noise nobody heard the sound of a knock, or became aware of Paddy's entry until they heard her voice behind them.
"I say, is this France's upside-down picture? Why couldn't you stand on your heads and look at it, instead of turning it round? 'Twould seem more worth-while painting it, if you did that."
Kitty could no longer hold herself modestly in the background, as became a new girl.
"Let's try," she cried excitedly, and proceeded to balance herself on her hands, feet in the air. Of course, Paddy tried to follow her example, till the indignant artist tumbled her over with a sounding thump. When the confusion had somewhat subsided Duane wanted to know what Paddy was doing "trespassing on hallowed ground."
"How unkind it is of you, Duane," said Paddy, reproachfully, "when I'm saving you a little journey. Salome's sent over a copy of the rules you head prefects drew up at the meeting."
"Same old rules, I suppose?" inquired Bertha.
"Oh yes," said Duane, carelessly. "They're practically unaltered, needless to say."
"Still," put in Paddy, "as you've a new girl here, I'd better read them out for her benefit."
"You can if you like," returned Duane, indifferently, but with a faint smile twitching the corner of her mouth. She knew Paddy of old.
So Paddy picked up the paper, cleared her throat and began:
"No. 1.—No junior is allowed blacking on her boots more than once a month.
"No. 2.—Juniors must wash at least once a day.
"No. 3.—Only members of house elevens allowed to wear carpet slippers at hockey.
"No. 4.—Juniors must shut their eyes properly at grace, but seniors can keep theirs open to see the juniors don't.
"No. 5.—Only members of the school first elevens allowed to wear their sports blazers unbuttoned.
"No. 6.—Only girls with gym colours allowed to slide down the banisters.
"No. 7.——"
"Here, stow it," interrupted Hilary, laughing. "I should think Kitty is of the opinion that that's enough for one go."
"Quite enough to convince me that Paddy has a very fertile imagination," retorted Kitty, promptly.
"Sure," said Paddy, with a sigh. "I was afraid my efforts would be wasted on you. You've lived long enough in the world to know a little too much. Never mind," brightening up, "we've a couple of new juniors in our house, quite youngsters; I really think it's my duty to instruct them in the rules of the school. So I will, as sure as eggs is meat," and she departed, chuckling.
"What about our meeting?" said Duane, when Paddy had disappeared. "Seems to me we've got a pretty big job on, if we take on all Prinny's little hints."
"Too late to do much this year," said France. "If I take my first in art again, I shall be quite satisfied."
"What about you others?" said Hilary, slowly. "Let's see what we can muster up in the way of prizes."
"Precious little, I bet," returned Duane. "I'm in the running for second prize in science, but Salome will take the first. I can't beat her."
"And of course I'm in the running for an English prize again," remarked Hilary. "But one can never be certain."
Margaret declared she would try for a history prize and Bertha for an arithmetic prize, but neither really thought much of their chances of success.
"Lively, isn't it?" said Hilary, reflectively. "We shall have to stir up our juniors a bit if we want anything done."
"They're too busy squabbling amongst themselves," said Duane. "You know they have two rival societies on the go. The Budmushes and the something else—I forget what."
"The P. Squareds, whatever that may mean. Sounds like an algebraic formula. Can't we put an end to it and get them to join forces?"
"Put an end to their blessed societies, you mean?" said Duane. "They wouldn't hear of it. They're free to have as many secret societies as they like, so long as they don't break rules. By the by, there'll be our usual inter-house cricket and tennis matches this term. I shall soon have to see about drawing up our teams."
Another silence. The head prefect appeared on the point of dropping off to sleep, and as nobody seemed to have anything to offer in the way of suggestions or ideas, the girls made their departure in ones and twos. Kitty thought it had been a very feeble, ineffectual affair altogether. After the invigorating atmosphere brought into the room for a few minutes by Paddy, it had seemed very flat and lifeless. Hilary alone had made some attempt to get a definite plan fixed, and she had not succeeded.
Kitty hated the idea of belonging to such a slack house. Couldn't she do something herself? She knew she was a good tennis and cricket player, and later on she would play for all she was worth. But the playing of one girl wouldn't make such a great deal of difference unless well supported. As the week slipped by she turned things over in her mind, until suddenly an idea flashed into it. Of course, they would think it frightful conceit on her part, but she didn't care about that. At least, it would give Carslake's the shock that was necessary to wake up the house from its lethargy....
By the end of the first school week, Kitty was beginning to feel at home. She and Hilary were invariably the first to turn out in the mornings, while the head prefect was equally certain to be the last. Kitty never attempted to repeat her venture of the first morning, leaving it to Hilary to arouse her lackadaisical head prefect. She wondered at first if Duane were aware of the identity of the perpetrator of the outrage, but was not certain until one dinner-time half-way through the week. Dinner that day began with soup. In passing a plateful to the next girl, Kitty's arm was accidentally jolted, the plate tipped up, and a liberal half of its contents poured over the cloth and into the lap of her unfortunate neighbour. The girl gave a loud exclamation, which drew everybody's attention to Kitty's table, and there was a hush in the buzz of talk. In the silence, the voice of the head prefect, with its unmistakable drawl, was heard all over the room.
"It's all right. Merely a little accident with the soup. Our friend Kitty is evidently of the opinion that shower-baths are good for people. In fact, it has become quite a generous habit of hers to treat people to them gratis!"
There was a general laugh, especially from the girls of Dormitory A who remembered the previous incident. Kitty, blushing somewhat at finding the public amused at her expense, laughed also, to cover up her confusion, and mopped up the mess with her serviette. So Duane did know who it was! Well, she certainly didn't blame her for getting her own back when the opportunity occurred.
On Monday morning Hilary cheered up the dormitory with the information that for once it was not raining. There were more cheerful faces that day than there had been all the week. When morning school was over, as the girls were idling around waiting for the dinner bell to go, Carslake's, on looking at its notice-board, received quite a shock. There, boldly written for all and sundry to see, was a notice to the effect that Kitty Despard, as an Australian girl who had just come from the Dominion, challenged any English girl in the house who cared to accept, to a singles tennis match.
All through the dinner-hour the house, juniors and seniors alike, could think of nothing but this audacious move on the part of a new girl. The news spread rapidly to the girls in the other houses, and they were not slow to offer their criticisms when they all met at afternoon lessons. The Upper Fifth were really moved for once. A few gazed upon Kitty coldly; a few, who belonged to the other houses, treated it as a huge joke; the majority looked somewhat askance at the challenger. Of course, it was pure, unadulterated cheek on her part, but it required a good deal of nerve, and they rather admired her for possessing so much As soon as the interval came, Paddy agilely clambered over half a dozen desks to Kitty's side.
"Hallo, kid! You've started well, say with a regular flourish of trumpets. I do admire your nerve though. Carslake's wants shaking up a bit."
"That's why I've done it," Kitty confided upon a sudden impulse, for here was a kindred spirit. "But don't tell anybody. They think it's just showing off on my part."
"Bless you, they'll forget all about that you put up a good enough game to win your match," said Paddy consolingly.
Meanwhile others were attacking the Carslake girls.
"I say, Duane, I suppose somebody will accept the challenge, or else it will look as though you've nobody good enough."
"You'll have to do it yourself, Cato. There's nobody else who can play decently in your house, is there?"
"There's Francie. Now then, France, show what you're made of. You could stand on your head and serve, you know, and receive upside-down."
"I'm going to have a try, anyway," retorted France, with spirit. She was quite indignant at this conceit on the part of the new girl, and would not admit that in her inmost soul she rather admired her for it. But if Kitty hoped to move the head prefect, she was doomed to disappointment. That worthy was as imperturbable as ever, blinked lazily once or twice, then murmured, "Oh, I don't mind having a friendly game with her if she wants one. I dare say it will be quite a good match."
"We'll all be there to see the fun if it does come off," Paddy promised.
The sun continued to shine; a spell of fine spring weather had evidently set in, and by the following Wednesday summer sports had begun at Easthampton.
The first event in which everybody was interested was the playing of the challenge games between the new Australian girl and her own house. Carslake's decided that France and Duane, their two best tennis players, were sufficient to uphold the dignity of the house, and told themselves with satisfaction that if Kitty could beat them upon their own courts, she would indeed be a welcome acquisition to their ranks.
There was quite a crowd to see the first game, between Kitty and Frances. By mutual consent it had been agreed that both matches should consist of twelve games, unless there was a tie, when a decider should be played. Vanda West, head prefect of Prince's, and the school tennis captain, was umpiring.
The result was a foregone conclusion after the first two games. France played with elegance and style, and showed an astonishing fleetness of foot, but her strokes lacked force. She put up a gallant fight to the end, but she was helpless against Kitty's lightning movements, smashing strokes and accurate placing. She only succeeded in winning one game out of twelve, a fact which did not seem to trouble her in the least, for she smiled happily as she congratulated the winner, then hurried off to her organ practice.
The next day, Vanda, as she joined the waiting group by the court, said to Kitty, half jokingly, half earnestly:
"Play up, my child. I've got one or two empty places to fill in the school tennis eight, and Carslake's will have to supply me with somebody to fill one of them. You've a chance to get your tennis colour, like everyone else, you know."
Kitty's second match was a far harder struggle. Duane, who was a picture of elegance in her short white tennis frock and scarlet "colour," played with considerable skill, some of her strokes being extremely powerful, particularly her service. The spectators were kept interested, for Kitty's game—especially her volleying—was really spectacular. In spite of her ability to retrieve nearly everything Duane sent over the net, the first six games were ding-dong ones, each player winning her service. Duane, not so quick and dashing as Kitty, at first held her own, returning Kitty's deliveries by good anticipation and a wonderful reach. Then Kitty seemed to be playing on the very top of her form and gradually drew ahead. In the end her amazing vigour and lightning quickness gained the upper hand, and she finished the victor by seven games to five.
"Well played, Kitty," said Vanda appreciatively.
Duane donned her blazer and sauntered across to the winner. Kitty was hot and panting and flushed; Duane showed no signs of exertion, save that she was breathing more deeply than usual.
"Good game, Kitty, wasn't it!" she said, in her emotionless way. "You're a fine player. Can't think how you can fly about the court at the rate you do, though."
"Oh, I like plenty of exercise," returned Kitty, feeling a little shy and embarrassed at the congratulations showered upon her from all sides. She made her escape from the field as quickly as possible, while the spectators gradually drifted back to their own quarters, still discussing the match and the outstanding points of the play.
Kitty rolled over in bed and opened her eyes with a start. What was that? She was sure she had heard someone moving stealthily down the dormitory. The next instant she heard the sound of a smothered giggle and drew a breath of relief. Of course it was only those harum-scarum juniors up to some prank; and by the scuffling noise, thought Kitty, nearly the whole of the dormitory seemed astir.
Just as the sounds diminished Kitty heard a bed creak, as if someone had sat up suddenly, and a voice, which she recognized as Duane's, saying:
"Who's that? Is there anything the matter?" Kitty gave a little chuckle, then answered softly, "Couldn't say exactly, only I should guess most of the juniors of this dormitory are taking a little nocturnal airing."
"Oh, indeed! Well, I'll soon make sure of that."
The bed creaked once again as Duane turned out of it. Kitty, now wide awake, and feeling rather amused and curious, slipped quietly out too. The head of the dormitory, looking very tall and striking in a vividly-red dressing-gown, emerged at the same time, a lighted candle in her hand. She crossed to the opposite cubicle and, without ceremony, drew back the curtain. The cubicle was empty. Quickly she made a round of the dormitory; the nine cubicles occupied by juniors were all deserted. The only occupants of the dormitory at that moment were herself, Kitty and Hilary, who could be heard breathing deeply and steadily, soundly asleep.
"Shall we follow them, and see what they're up to?" asked Kitty eagerly, only too willing for an adventure.
"No fear!" replied Duane with a yawn. "Bed for me. They'll only be gorging themselves in the common-room, I expect. Little wretches! It'll do in the morning. Good night." Yawning again, she went off into her cubicle, carrying the light with her.
Kitty hesitated, disappointed, but not caring to switch on one of the lights, and at last decided that, under the circumstances, the most discreet thing to do was to follow Duane's example. In ten minutes, the latter was breathing as regularly and as evenly as Hilary. Kitty, lying awake, heard the delinquents return, and grinned to herself as she thought of their surprise in the morning. The head prefect, for once, evidently intended to exert her authority and enforce discipline.
Directly after morning lessons were over, at half past twelve, the nine juniors who slept in Dormitory A were summoned to their head prefect's study. Here they found Duane, Hilary and Kitty. The last named had much ado to refrain from smiling as the nine sheepish-looking juniors endeavoured to squeeze themselves into the little room. In the foreground was Peggy O'Nell, always the chief spokesman for the juniors. She was in the Fourth, an active, mercurial girl with a mop of thick black curls, sparkling blue eyes and a mischievous smile. She had won her position as leader of the juniors through sheer force of personality, and perhaps enjoyed a larger share of popularity than any other girl in the house. Close behind her was her faithful follower and shadow, little Erica Salter, Bertha's sister.
The friendship between the two was a curious one, for Erica was several years Peggy's junior and in the lowest form. She was a slim, fair-haired, fairy-like child, of rather a timid nature. In no respect did she resemble her sister Bertha. She adored the high-spirited, masterful Peggy with a slavish devotion; in her eyes Peggy could do no wrong. On the other hand, Erica was petted and made much of by the rest of the dormitory, because she was the youngest, the "baby."
"You'll find standing room, if there's nowhere to sit down," remarked Duane, in an affable drawl. "Would you mind shutting the door behind you? Thanks so much. Now we can get to business. I suppose you won't deny the fact that all nine of you left your dormitory in the middle of last night?"
"Wouldn't be much good, would it?" replied Peggy, somewhat impudently.
Duane ignored the impudence, and went on in the same tone:
"I also presume you are aware that, since a girl broke her leg last year at that same trick, it is one of the strictest house rules that girls are not to leave their dormitories after lights out, except in cases of necessity."
"Yes," said Peggy, "but I've heard you say yourself that rules are like piecrust—made to be broken."
"True, my child, but that was before I was made a prefect."
"Well, we're not prefects—yet."
"Then allow me to point out that, if you wish to indulge in rule-breaking you must so manage it that prefects don't get to know of it."
"Perhaps," interrupted Hilary, "you wouldn't mind enlightening us as to the reason for this midnight excursion?"
Silence!
The nine exchanged glances and glowered at the tall figure of their head prefect with sullen determination. Duane waited a few moments, then said, with bland deliberation:
"Of course, if you are going to refuse to make a clean breast of the whole affair the matter is beyond me. I shall simply have to report it to Miss Carslake and let her deal with you."
The juniors started, and exchanged frightened glances. Lines or order marks from prefects were not unusual punishments and could be put up with, but "reported to house mistress" was a far more serious affair, and a rare occurrence.
Duane crossed her arms behind her head and lounged back comfortably in her chair, with the agreeable sensation of being mistress of the situation.
"Well?" she said, serenely. "Peggy, you seem to be the leader of the party."
Peggy gulped. "We—we—were only having a supper down in the common-room."
"Oh, I see. That was what I surmised. There's generally some light refreshment attached to your little affairs. Most thrilling! Barbara, suppose you tell me what were the eatables in this repast of yours."
Barbara giggled. It seemed to be an incurable affliction with her. "Oh—er—sandwiches and cakes and—and lemon jelly. We took our soap dishes down to eat it from and made it in a Moab—I mean a wash-jug. And—and," here Barbara, rather singularly, hesitated and blushed furiously, "pork pies."
"H'm. Quite a feast! I almost wish I had been invited," murmured the head prefect. "Pork pies, too! Now, I wonder—" she paused, as a sudden thought struck her, and repeated again, "pork pies! Of course, there isn't any connexion between the—er—title of your society and that article of diet? I have often wondered what P. Squared stood for."
The faces of the juniors were a study. Peggy boiled over with rage.
"Yes, that's where we did get the title from," she flung out defiantly, "and—and—it's beastly mean of you to get it out of us like this. I half believe somebody told you."
"No, no, merely intuition—aided by Barbara's self-conscious blush," assured Duane. "I suppose the eating of pork pies at the beginning of each meeting constitutes a sacred ceremony. Oh well, I was young myself once. You do great credit to Miss Green's teaching. I must congratulate you on the intelligent way in which you have learnt algebra. Correlation of subjects, too, is one of the modern crazes."
She rose to her feet.
"Well, thank you for your frankness. I will think the matter over and decide on the sentence. There's dinner bell, so you'd better clear," and at the words of dismissal from the head prefect, who had become aware that the other two seniors were no longer able to control their merriment, the nine juniors gladly made their escape. As they disappeared Hilary's face sobered suddenly. She turned to Duane.
"You'll report 'em, I suppose? It's the only way to stop these silly societies. One wouldn't mind them, of course, but these kids are far more enthusiastic over a cricket match between P. Squareds and Budmushes than one between Carslake's and another house, and when they actually cut school matches because their blessed society is running a picnic or has a jape on against the other one, it's getting more than a joke."
Such was the point of view of the seniors.
Among the juniors there was great indignation when Miss Carslake called them together and, as a punishment for rule-breaking and rowdyism, forbade the formation of secret societies among themselves. Rarely did Miss Carslake arouse herself to such severity, but perhaps she also was beginning to realize the backslidings of her house.
The juniors were treated to a long lecture in which the house mistress advised them to devote their energies to more worthy and less childish objects, and especially to endeavour to raise the "tone" of the house and its prestige in the school. This could only be done by combining, with their seniors, to form a united house. Then complaints from form mistresses of careless preparation, reports from prefects of disciplinary troubles would cease, and both the work and the play of the house would reach a higher level.
She left behind her an audience simmering with indignation, wrath and outraged pride.
"Back up the prefects indeed!" cried Peggy. "Prefects like ours? No fear! Duane is a beastly sneak, that's what she is. Other prefects don't report little things like that. She did it on purpose to put a stop to the P. Squareds and Budmushes."
Daisy Carteret, leader of the Budmushes, was as indignant as Peggy. An indignation meeting was held until the descent of an irate mistress upon the common-room, demanding what their prefects were doing not to put a stop to the din, summarily put an end to the proceedings. Thus nothing came of the indignation meeting, but after Miss Carslake's drastic measures the atmosphere in the house was charged with a good deal of electricity.
Duane took no notice of the hostility of the juniors, apparently believing it the wisest—and easiest—plan to let their indignation burn itself out, as no doubt it would do in time. She said nothing, even when one evening, on passing through the common-room in the company of three other Upper Fifth-formers, there was an audible hiss from one of the juniors. Duane walked on with her usual leisurely gait, Hilary flushed crimson, and France, who had been thinking out a colour scheme for a design, looked round in a bewildered fashion.
But Kitty stopped dead, then swung round and spoke curtly and coldly. "May I ask who that was meant for?"
"It's all right, Kitty. That wasn't meant for you, nor for France. You're a sport all right."
"I'm glad of that—for your sakes," said Kitty, still curtly, "and I should be still more obliged if it wasn't meant for anyone else, not when she's inmycompany, at any rate," and she passed on, leaving the juniors a little taken aback.
As she caught the others up in the passage, she said involuntarily, lowering her tone, "if I were a prefect I'd never allow them to do that to me. Why do you, Duane?"
Duane looked at her. Kitty had quite a shock when she saw the unmistakable, and for once unconcealed, hostility in the other's sleepy grey eyes.
"You happen to enjoy their popularity, you see," Duane replied, coldly. "Besides, you're not a prefect. It isn't all jam to be head prefect—at least, the jam's only there to hide the bread underneath."
"A sort of gilded pill," laughed Kitty, to hide her discomfiture, but Duane walked on without reply. Kitty felt a little miserable as she brushed out her thick brown crop that night. "I was right from the beginning," she thought. "I knew the Hon. Duane and I would never hit it off. It's rotten having your own head prefect for an enemy."
Girls in the other houses raised expressive eyebrows when, next Wednesday afternoon, on the important occasion of the tennis match between Carslake's and Prince's, while there was a goodly proportion of the juniors of the latter house in attendance to support their players, the Carslake juniors were chiefly conspicuous by their absence.
"Sulking," explained France airily to Vanda. "Had a row with 'em last week. They'll come round in time."
"Seems to me you are always having rows in Carslake's," retorted Vanda, dryly.
Carslake's lost the match, but they put up a better fight than was expected. Kitty, indeed, played brilliantly again, and as a result received her first colour from the hands of Vanda. She was delighted at the honour of being chosen to represent the school, though her pleasure was rather spoilt when several of the juniors were heard to rejoice openly that she had been given the preference over Duane.
May passed in a blaze of sunshine and ended on a more hopeful note for Carslake's, the house gaining their first and most welcome cricket victory over Green's. They had previously lost to Sheerston's (who possessed a very strong side), leading into the field a team that had perforce to be composed largely of juniors, for Bertha was in bed with a severe cold, and Sonia was but a broken reed where games were concerned. After the dismissal of Duane and Kitty, except for a dogged stand by Daisy Carteret, the rest of Carslake's innings was a mere "procession," so that when the house next took the field against Green's, Paddy could be heard loudly propounding an original riddle to the scorers in the pavilion.
"Why is Carslake's cricket team like a tadpole?"
"Because one day it'll be a frog," hazily returned Hilary, who was in her usual post as scorer for her house.
"No, silly, because it's chiefly tail," retorted Paddy, triumphantly.
"You mean, 'and thereby hangs a tale,'" said Hilary, solemnly, refusing to see the point since it was made against her side.
However, although Carslake's only succeeded in making a moderate total themselves, Kitty's bowling was more successful this time. She not only bowled overhand with remarkable accuracy for a girl, but managed to make the ball break in a formidable fashion; and supported by some really smart ground fielding and catching on the part of the juniors, she dismissed Green's for a more moderate total still, leaving Carslake's victors by about a dozen runs.
This triumph acted as a badly needed tonic, and when, a week later, the house also defeated Green's at tennis, the seniors began to congratulate themselves that the "bad time" was over and the house was at last looking up. Alas! no one had the slightest presentiment of the trouble that Fate had in store for them before that term was ended.