EachForm at Briarcroft had its own teacher, but in addition there were a certain number of visiting masters and mistresses who came out from Greyfield to give lessons at the school. A few were popular, some were tolerated, and one or two were cordially disliked. Among those who had the ill fortune to encounter strong opposition was Fräulein Hochmeyer, the singing mistress. She was a most conscientious teacher and a clever musician, but so intensely German in both accent and methods that she offended the British susceptibilities of her pupils, and inspired more ridicule than respect. Poor Fräulein meant so well, it was really very hard that her efforts did not meet with better results. She treated her classes exactly as she would have dealt with similar ones in Germany; but what might have pleased apple-cheeked, pig-tailed Gretchens did not at all suit the taste of the Briarcroft-ites, particularly the members of the Lower School. They refused even to smile at her heavy Teutonic jokes, mocked her accent, rebelled at the numerous German songs they were expected to learn, whispered, giggled, and talked during the lesson, andgenerally made it extremely difficult for her to keep order. In vain she alternately pleaded, conciliated, flustered, fumed, and even threatened. The girls would not behave seriously, and though they did not deign to laugh at her attempts at humour, they treated her as a joke. As she was decidedly stout and rosy they nicknamed her "German Sausage", and made fun of her almost to her face.
A part of Fräulein Hochmeyer's system of voice production which her pupils much detested was learning the proper position of the mouth. It was of course a most important and necessary part of the lesson, but owing to the way it was enforced the silly girls turned it all into ridicule. Fräulein would stand upon the platform giving a practical demonstration to show how the lips must be well drawn back, revealing the teeth parted about the third of an inch, so as to offer no obstruction to the free passage of the voice; and she would require her pupils to stand at attention with their mouths thus fixed before beginning the preliminary exercises.
"We look like a set of grinning imbeciles!" complained Lennie Chapman, "with Sausage for the arch-lunatic of us all. I wish to goodness we had a decent English teacher! I don't like these foreign ways."
"You'd like it still less if you were turned into a pattern pupil like me!" grumbled Gipsy. "I hate making an exhibition of myself."
Gipsy, being an apt copyist, was able to set her mouth at exactly the right angle, and in consequenceher approving teacher would frequently beckon her on to the platform with the invitation:
"Dear friendt, com here and show ze ozers how you do open ze mouz."
The letters "th" were an impossibility to Fräulein's German tongue, and the girls giggled continually at the "z's" that replaced them. Gipsy was not at all proud of being forced to set an example to the class, and would ascend the platform with an ill grace, and look the reverse of flattered at the encouraging pats that were bestowed upon her shoulders. Really Fräulein had the kindest heart in the world, and tried, in her heavy fashion, to be on excellent terms with her pupils, but she did not in the least comprehend the mind of the British schoolgirl.
"She treats us exactly as if we were kindergarten babies!" sneered Hetty Hancock. "I don't know how German girls of our age would enjoy her silly jokes, but I think she's a rotter!"
"And she's so sentimental!" hinnied Daisy Scatcherd. "I nearly had a fit when she began to troll out that love song, with her hand laid touchingly on her heart."
"That sort of rubbish may go down in the Fatherland, but it doesn't here."
The girls had waxed restive at many of theLiederwhich they were obliged to learn, but when Fräulein turned up one morning with a volume of songs of her own composition, their discontent verged towards mutiny.
"Ze original vords are, of course, in German," explained Fräulein, "but I have had a translation madefor you by a friendt of mine, and it is sehr gut. Ze first it is a cradle song. Now, I ask has any girl in ze class got at home a leetle, leetle brozer or sister?"
"I have," volunteered Mary Parsons bluntly. "A brother."
"And how old?"
"Six months."
"Ach! Zat is beautiful! You shall sing zis song to ze leetle baby in ze cradle, vile you rock him gently, gently, till he sleep!" and Fräulein gazed ecstatically at Mary, as if calling up a mental picture of her sisterly attention.
"He'd soon squall if I did!" grunted Mary to her neighbour, who exploded audibly.
"You, who are not so all-fortunate as to have a baby in ze home, must sing it to ze child of a neighbour," went on Fräulein, evidently determined that the value of the lullaby should receive a practical trial.
"And what are we boarders to do?" enquired Lennie Chapman ironically.
"Sing it to the cat!" whispered Hetty, whereat the bystanders tittered.
"You've stumped her there!" murmured Fiona.
Fräulein certainly for a moment looked a little at a loss, but she soon recovered her presence of mind.
"Vait till ze holidays, zen you sall see!" she returned with an engaging smile. "I shall now sing von or two of ze lieder to you, to show you vat zey are like."
The music of the songs was beautiful, that wasallowed by even the most unappreciative of the girls. There was a joyous lilt and a true melody about them that put them high in the rank of composition, and the accompaniments played with Fräulein's delicate touch were harmonious and suitable. The words, unfortunately, were childish in the extreme, and more fit for youngsters of five than girls of eleven to fourteen. Even the members of the Lower Third turned up supercilious noses. They were further marred by Fräulein's accent, and when she unctuously rendered
"Hush, my baby, sweetest, best,Little mousie's gone to rest",
as
"Hosh, my baby, sveetest, best,Leetle moozie's gone to rest",
a ripple of mirth passed round the class.
Having gone through one or two as specimens, Fräulein selected the lullaby and set the girls to work at it. I am afraid that, instead of doing their best, they only sang in mockery. Fiona Campbell made a pretence cradle of her arm, and rocked it for Mary Parsons' benefit; and Gipsy put an amount of sham sentiment into her execution calculated to convulse the others. At the end of the lesson the class trooped away in a state of frank rebellion.
"Really, this is too much!" protested Dilys Fenton. "We can't be expected to sing her silly songs."
"It's just baby nonsense!" exclaimed Norah Bell.
"The music's pretty," said Joyce Adamson.
"Oh, yes, the music—but look at the words!" scoffed Gipsy, turning over the pages of the new copies. "Didyou ever see anything so absolutely idiotic in all your life as this?
"'Old hare's little sonIs up to good fun,And skipping and prancingHe's bent upon dancing.Just see how he spinsOn his dear little pins!'"
"It's an affront to ask us to learn such rubbish!" declared the outraged girls. "We shall really have to speak to Poppie about it."
"Yes, a good idea! Let's complain to Poppie."
"If she'll listen."
"She's not generally so ready to hear our grievances."
"Well, something will have to be done, for we can't go on week after week with this baby stuff. It's like turning back to one's ABC. I declare we'd more sensible songs when I was in the Kindergarten."
"I'll take my book home, and perhaps I can get my mother to write a letter to Poppie about it," suggested Mary Parsons.
"You! Why, you're the one who's to sit serenading over your infant brother's cradle!"
"Perhaps Sausage will bring a doll to school next week and make us practise with it in turns! She'd be quite capable of it," sniggered Maude Helm.
Nobody plucked up sufficient courage to interview Miss Poppleton on the subject. It is one thing for schoolgirls to growl, and quite another to venture to remonstrate with the Principal about the lessons. Miss Poppleton was not an approachable person, and exceptin extreme cases her pupils did not venture to get up deputations. Gipsy voiced the opinions of the class, however, in airing their grievances to Miss Edith, and gave her an animated account of their special bug-bear, the new song book.
"Oh, dear me, Gipsy! I'm very sorry!" said Miss Edith, puckering up her forehead anxiously. "I'm afraid you girls behave very badly in the singing class. You ought to have more respect for Fräulein Hochmeyer. I hope Mary Parsons' mother won't write about it. It puts Miss Poppleton in a most awkward position when parents make complaints. We don't want to change our singing mistress, Fräulein's system of voice production is so very good. She was a pupil of Randegger, I believe. There's no other first-class teacher in Greyfield either except Mr. Johnson, and he doesn't take half the trouble with his pupils that Fräulein does. I wish you girls would try to appreciate her more."
Gipsy screwed up her mouth and looked humorous in reply.
"But she's a beautiful character, if you only knew!" urged Miss Edith. "She's so simple and kind-hearted; and she works so hard! She has an invalid father to keep. He's quite dependent on her, I believe. They live in lodgings in Greyfield. I'm sure I'm often sorry for her, going about to her pupils in all weathers. It's too bad of you girls to make such fun of her! She's a stranger in a strange land, poor thing, with no friends here, and her living to make. Girls are a thoughtless set, as I've found out long ago. You might try tohave a little more consideration for her, Gipsy. Just imagine yourself in her place, and fancy you were teaching a class of German girls! Yes, as I said before, I'm sorry for Fräulein Hochmeyer. She has a hard time of it."
Gipsy said nothing, but she retired with ample food for thought. It had never struck her before to take the view of Fräulein that Miss Edith had just presented. The little foreign peculiarities and eccentricities had excited her mirth, but she had quite missed the sterling good qualities that lay underneath them. "'A stranger in a strange land, with no friends here'—I know what that means!" muttered Gipsy to herself. "It's brave of her to work to keep her father! Don't I just wish I—" but here she sighed, for the unuttered wish seemed so entirely hopeless and futile.
After revolving the matter carefully, Gipsy made up her mind that Fräulein Hochmeyer deserved to be helped instead of hindered.
"Though how I'm to do it when she insists on forcing those absurd baby songs upon us, I can't tell. Stop! I've an idea. Oh, I don't know whether I can, but I mean to have a jolly good try! No time like the present. I've half an hour before tea." And furnishing herself with pencil and paper, she ran up to her attic, and was soon puckering her brows in the agonies of composition. As the result of that and several other half-hours of work, she covered two pages of foolscap; then, seeking out Miss Edith, she unfolded her scheme and begged for help.
"I'm afraid you'll think it fearful cheek of me,"she began, "but you see the trouble at present in the singing class is that we all abominate those silly little songs. They really sound foolish for girls of our age. Of course Fräulein's composed them herself, and the tunes are very nice. Do you think she'd mind changing the words? It wouldn't matter to her what we were singing so long as the music was the same, would it? But it would make all the difference to us. I made up a few verses that go with the tunes just as well. They're here, if you don't mind looking at them," and Gipsy modestly unfolded her manuscript. "This one's instead of
"'Old hare's little sonIs up to good fun.'
I've called it 'The End of the Term'
"'Now classes are doneAnd vacation's begun,Of fun and of leisureWe'll have our full measure.For it's hip, hip, hoorayFor a long holiday!"'So to lessons goodbye,While to pleasure we fly.No rules now need bind us,All care's cast behind us.For it's hip, hip, hoorayFor a long holiday!'"
Then there's one instead of that dreadful
"'Little Freddie had run to his nurse,Because his poor headache was worse,'"
continued Gipsy. "I've called it 'Briarcroft'.
"'There's a school near the edge of the fell,That all of us girls know full well,For at Briarcroft HallThere's a place for us all,And the tale of its fame we would tell.
Chorus
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!We'll make it a general ruleThat we Briarcroft-itesShall stand up for its rights,And be true to the dear old School!"'There are teachers we love and revere,And customs and ways we hold dear.Give a clap for each one,And a cheer when you've done,For all who have worked with us here.
Chorus
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!We'll make it a general ruleThat we Briarcroft-itesShall stand up for its rights,And be true to the dear old School!'"
"Very creditable, Gipsy. Really not at all bad," commented Miss Edith.
"I know they're not up to much," said Gipsy apologetically, "but oh! Miss Edith, I believe the girls would much rather sing them than the other words. They're about the school, you see. I daren't ask Fräulein myself; do you think you could?" and Gipsy turned quite red at the boldness of her own suggestion.
"It might be a good idea. Give me the paper, and I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, thanks so much! I hope Fräulein won't be offended."
Miss Edith's gentle tact could often accomplish things where other measures might have failed. Nobody ever heard how she explained the situation and persuaded Fräulein Hochmeyer to adopt the alterations, but before the next singing lesson all the obnoxious song books were collected and Gipsy's versions, neatly printed by hand on slips of paper, were pasted over the old words of the two songs in question.
"I hear you not like to sing about hares and babies?" commented Fräulein. "So! It must be all about school? Yes. You have among you von who can write in verse" (nodding cheerily to the abashed Gipsy). "My friendt, you shall make for us some more verses to suit ze ozer songs!"
Having determined to act as Fräulein's champion, Gipsy tried her utmost to sway popular opinion in favour of the luckless singing mistress. It was a far harder task, though, than she had anticipated, and put her powers of leadership to a severe test. It had been easy enough to induce the Juniors to stand up for their own rights, but it was considerably more difficult to make them realize anybody else's claims to consideration.
"Do let's be nice to her!" pleaded Gipsy. "She's really a very decent sort on the whole. She can't help being a foreigner and talking with a queer accent."
"Why, you were the first to make fun of her last week," objected some of the girls.
"I know, but it was rather horrid. Her story's quite romantic, don't you think?"
"Can't see much romance about our homely German Sausage!" giggled Daisy Scatcherd.
"Put a bunch of forget-me-nots in her hair, and she'll look a heroine!" tittered Norah Bell.
"Yankee Doodle, when you ride a hobby you ride it to death! What's induced you to take such a sudden and violent affection for the Sausage?"
"You'll be standing perennially on the platform now, holding your teeth like a dentist's advertisement, to show us how to 'open ze mouz'!"
"I wish you'd revise the schoolbooks and cut out the difficult parts!"
"Go on! Rag me as much as you like. I don't care!" retorted Gipsy sturdily.
"I've brought this picture of a sausage," piped one of the smaller girls. "I'm going to pin it on to the piano. She knows we call her 'Sausage'! She'll be in such a rage!"
"You little horror!" said Gipsy, seizing the picture and tearing it into shreds before the eyes of its enraged owner.
On the whole, though her championship was treated as a joke, Gipsy's influence had a beneficial effect, and the general behaviour in the singing class began steadily to improve. Her Briarcroft songs were appreciated, and the girls sang them lustily and trolled out the chorus with vigour. The tunes were very catchy and bright, and everybody seemed constantly to be humming them, in season or out of season.
"Your 'Hurrah! for the dear old School!' has got in my brain, Yankee Doodle," said Mary Parsons. "It haunts me all day long, and I can't get rid of it."
"We'll sing it in the lecture hall on the last day of the term. Poppie'd be quite flattered," said Hetty Hancock.
"With a special cheer for Fräulein Hochmeyer, then!" added Gipsy.
TheSpring Term was passing rapidly, and Gipsy had now been nearly six months at Briarcroft. It felt a very, very long time to her since the first evening when she had introduced herself in so sprightly a fashion to her fellow boarders, and had given them a graphic account of the shipwreck. The old Gipsy of last October and the new Gipsy of the present March seemed like two different people, with a whole world of experience to divide them. The well-conducted regime of Briarcroft had had its due effect, and had considerably toned down her unconventional Colonial ways; while the trouble through which she was passing, like all seasons of adversity, had made her older and more thoughtful than before. There was still no news of any kind from her father, and no answer had yet been received from the cousins in New Zealand. Miss Poppleton's manner towards Gipsy hardened a little more each week that mail day arrived and brought no solution of the problem where her school fees were to come from. At present her attitude was that of grim acceptance of a most unwelcome burden. She was not actively unkind,and no doubt thought she was behaving very generously in keeping Gipsy at Briarcroft at all, but in a variety of small ways she made the girl feel the humiliation of her position.
To poor Gipsy the difficulties appeared to accumulate more and more. The clothes which her father had bought for her in Liverpool were fast wearing out, and there seemed not the slightest prospect of renewing any of them. In a school where the girls were always well, if simply dressed, it was not pleasant to be the only one in worn skirts, washed-out blouses, patched boots, mended gloves, and faded hair ribbons. Gipsy had never before been stinted in either clothing or pocket-money, and it hurt her pride sorely. But in spite of her shabby attire she looked a distinguished little figure, with her straight, upright habit of carriage, and quick alertness of manner. The sadness in her dark eyes gave her a new dignity, and though a few girls might pass ill-natured remarks about her clothes, her general prestige in the school remained the same. There was an individuality about Gipsy which marked her out, and raised her above the ordinary level. She was full of original ideas, and had a persuasive way of stating her views that invariably won her a following. The girls were becoming accustomed to consult her on any important topic, and tacitly if not openly regarded her as the Captain of the Lower School. With some the fact that she was "down on her luck" invested her with a flavour of romance, more especially as she was very reserved on the subject.
"I never dare ask Gipsy a word about her father,"said Hetty Hancock. "She shuts up like an oyster if one throws out the faintest hint."
"Do you think she still believes in him?" queried Mary Parsons.
"Rather! And I admire her for it. She's shown splendid spirit all this time, and never once given in. She's a real Spartan."
"Yes, Gipsy's as game as can be," commented Dilys. "She never looks beaten, however hard Poppie snubs her, and Poppie's just abominable sometimes."
"I'm often dying to help Gipsy," said Hetty. "But one can't help her. She'd be desperately offended if one offered to lend her pocket-money, or anything."
"You'd better not try! No, I believe Gipsy's pride wouldn't let her borrow so much as a yard of hair ribbon, however badly she needed it."
"Rather different from Leonora, who borrows everything she can persuade people to lend her."
"Don't speak to me of Leonora! I rue the day she came into our dormitory. She snores at night till I have to get up and shake her. We call her 'Snorer' now, instead of 'Leonora'. I wish Poppie'd put her in the attic, instead of Gipsy."
"Trust Poppie not to banish the millionairess! She's ever so proud of having her at the school."
"H'm! Her company's a doubtful privilege, in my opinion."
"Yet Poppie had the cheek to suggest that we ought to make her a Guild officer."
"No! Did she?" exclaimed the girls. "It's not Poppie's business to interfere in our affairs. We'llmanage them for ourselves, thank you! We've got rid of the Seniors, and we're not going to let her dictate what we must do."
Under Gipsy's fostering care the various branches of the United Guild had prospered exceedingly. She was a most zealous and enterprising secretary, sparing no trouble to make things a success, and capable of organizing all kinds of new departures. She had got up a photographic exhibition, and collected quite a nice little show of snapshots, neatly mounted on brown paper, and pinned round the play-room. She persuaded Miss White to allow the Form to start a museum in an empty desk that stood in a corner, and spurred on the day girls to bring specimens for it of birds' eggs, stones, pressed flowers, and any curiosities with which they would consent to part. She made a neat catalogue of the exhibits, with the names of the donors, and then broached a scheme for a series of museum lectures; but at that even her stanchest adherents turned tail.
"Got too many irons in the fire already to find time to write learned papers on Natural History, Yankee Doodle," objected Lennie. "One would have to cram it all up out of the encyclopædia, and that's too hard work for this child!"
"Wait till we have a museum anniversary, then we'll appoint you curator, and you shall spout for the occasion," suggested Hetty.
A sketching club among the artistically disposed members of the Lower School met with some response, especially as it developed into a monthlycompetition. Gipsy boldly begged some attractive prints from the drawing mistress to serve as prizes, and, having chosen a subject to be illustrated, pinned up the various attempts, signed with pseudonyms, and took the voting of the whole of the Juniors to decide the awards—an exciting occasion which everybody considered worthy of repetition. Gipsy's restless, energetic temperament was her salvation at this particular crisis of her career. If she had allowed herself to brood over her troubles, she would have been wretched indeed; but by throwing herself heartily into schemes for the general good of the community she succeeded in being, if not exactly happy, at any rate a useful and cheerful addition to the school.
The Sale of Work took place in March, and though she had not a single penny to spend on it, she contributed excellent service in other ways. She was indefatigable in assisting to arrange stalls, write programmes, or do any of the necessary drudgery that a bazaar always entails. Even the Seniors acknowledged her helpfulness, and Helen Roper admitted that "if one wanted a thing done quickly, Gipsy Latimer was worth a dozen of those other kids". In the matter of the Sale of Work the hatchet had been buried between the Upper and the Lower Schools, and both co-operated to make the affair a success. Now that the rights of the Juniors were fully established, and their claims to consideration recognized, Gipsy was only too pleased to help the older girls, and ran about holding step-ladders, handing tacks, fetching articles wanted, and generally doing odd jobs.Encouraged by the conciliatory attitude of the Seniors, she ventured to propose a scheme suggested by her foreign experience.
"Why shouldn't we turn the tea-room into a café chantant?" she said. "We should get far more money in that way than if people only went in for refreshments. Charge them an admission, and then tea extra. They'll stay far longer, and take more things, if music and singing are going on all the time. It's really better than a separate concert, too, because you can't always get people to go to the concerts, but hardly anyone can resist tea at four o'clock."
After talking it over, the Seniors were graciously pleased to adopt Gipsy's idea, and began to draw up a programme for the café chantant. Their struggle of the past had taught them a lesson in fair play, and they therefore proposed to admit a certain number of Juniors as performers, instead of, as formerly, keeping the whole thing in their own hands.
"I've put you down for two solos, Gipsy Latimer," said Helen Roper magnanimously. "What would you like to sing?"
Gipsy thought for a moment before she replied:
"I wonder if it would be possible to borrow a banjo? I used to play one out in America, and I know some very pretty Creole songs, and one or two Spanish ones."
"My brother has a banjo that he'd lend, I'm sure," said Lena Morris.
"Good! We'll rig you out as a Spanish gipsy," agreed Helen. "There are lots of things in ourdramatic property box that would come in. You'd look the part no end!"
"I'll send the banjo this evening, so that you can practise it," volunteered Lena.
Naturally the afternoon of the bazaar was a great event at Briarcroft. Stalls had been put up in the lecture hall, and were prettily draped with muslin, while the walls of the room were decorated with flags, festoons of laurel leaves, and Chinese lanterns hung from wires stretched across the platform. The flower stall was a particular success, with its great bunches of daffodils, narcissus, violets, and other spring blossoms, and pots of tulips, lily of the valley, and hyacinths. Leonora had for once risen to the occasion. She had written home to her mother for contributions, and Mrs. Parker had responded generously, sending a quantity of beautiful flowers and pot plants to be sold, and lending some of the finest palms in her conservatory to help to deck the room.
By three o'clock everything was in order for patrons, and really the arrangements reflected great credit upon the Committee. All the stalls were well laden with articles. Some of the Seniors had been busy making beautiful things. Doreen Tristram, who was taking lessons in china painting, brought some charming little teacups and saucers, painted with sprays of flowers. Helen Roper sent some excellent woodcarving, and there was every description of needlecraft—traycloths in fine drawn threadwork, doilys, cushions, tea cosies, nightdress cases, table centres, and other dainty bits of embroidery. By the appointed hour, groupsof parents and friends began to arrive, and the hall was soon full. The Lady Mayoress of Greyfield had consented to open the sale, and made an excellent speech, explaining the object for which the money was being raised, and urging the claims of the home for waifs and strays. She herself set a good example by purchasing a number of articles at various stalls, and the visitors followed suit liberally.
The girls hovered about, picking and choosing what they should buy, according to the state of their purses or their individual tastes. A novel feature, much patronized by the Juniors, was a Surprise Packet table. All kinds of tempting little articles were wrapped up in gay tissue paper, and purchased somewhat on the system of "buying a pig in a poke", an arrangement that at any rate afforded great amusement when the parcels were untied. The stalls soon began to exhibit a welcome bareness, and the stall-holders felt the fullness of their bags with satisfaction. Towards four o'clock everybody showed a tendency to migrate in the direction of the café chantant. This had been arranged in the largest of the classrooms. Tea was served at small tables while a concert proceeded, the guests being expected to retire after about ten minutes, so as to make room for others.
Helen Roper had got together quite a good programme. Irma Dalton, a Second Form day girl, a dainty, fairy-like child, gave a graceful performance of step dancing, Doreen Tristram played the violin, and there were piano solos and songs from other members. Everyone acknowledged, however, thatGipsy was the star of the occasion. She was dressed specially for her part in a kind of half-Spanish costume, with a red skirt, a black velvet bodice over white sleeves, and a muslin fichu trimmed with lace. Her rich dark hair was allowed to hang loose, and a gold-embroidered gauze scarf was twisted lightly round the top of her head, the long ends falling below her waist. She wore sequin ornaments and a quantity of Oriental bangles, which enhanced the fantastic effect, and gave her the appearance of a true Romany. She was not at all afflicted with shyness, and performed her share of the entertainment with a zest that charmed her audience. Her southern songs, with their crooning refrains, seemed to bring visions of moonlit lagoons and the luscious scent of tropical flowers. She accompanied herself quite prettily on the banjo, and had a stock of encores ready to meet the demands for a further exhibition of her skill. She was such a success that her fame spread over the bazaar. People came into the café chantant specially to hear her, and everyone was asking who that bonny, gipsy-looking girl was that sang the charming Creole melodies.
"We've taken exactly three times the money by the refreshment room that we did last year," said Helen Roper, counting up the gains afterwards.
"It was a ripping idea of Gipsy's to add the music!" said Hetty Hancock, always anxious to put in a good word for her friend.
"Yes, I'll give Gipsy the credit that's due to her," allowed Helen. "She's worked hard over this affair,and behaved more decently than I expected. I think she's improved. She's not nearly so perky and cheeky as when she first came. She may turn out quite a nice girl yet."
"Wonders will never cease! Praise for Gipsy from Helen Roper!" gasped Hetty to Lennie Chapman.
Gipsy, in her editorial capacity, wrote a most vivid report of the bazaar for theJuniors' Journal, putting in a variety of grand words and flowery turns of speech calculated to impress her readers. She had taken special pains with this number of the Magazine. The chapter of her serial story was longer and more exciting than ever; under the heading of "Our Library Shelf" she had reviewed several books; she had written a leading article on the tennis and cricket prospects for the forthcoming season; and by ceaseless urging had kept her contributors, who were apt to slack off, up to the mark in respect of literary matter. Fiona Campbell had been persuaded to illustrate Norah Bell's storyette; Blanche Russell had sent an account of a winter holiday ski-ing in Norway; the Exchange and Mart had been fuller than ever of offers of silkworms, garden plants, and miscellaneous possessions; and Gipsy had appended a catalogue of the Museum, with an appeal for more donations of specimens.
"Our journal now seems a going concern, and a well-established feature of the Lower School; it is earnestly to be hoped that everyone will make a supreme effort to ensure its success, and that more members will take their share in swelling its pages. Criticisms and suggestions are freely invited, and willbe discussed at the General Meeting to be held next Friday, 21 March, at 4 p.m., in the dressing-room."
So wrote Gipsy, and thought no more about the matter. This portion of her editorial address, however, was seized upon by several of the girls, and led to results which she had certainly not expected.
"Wants criticisms, does she?" said Maude Helm. "Well, I'll guarantee she'll get them for once."
"And suggestions too!" giggled Gladys Merriman. "She's had it her own way too long. The fuss people made about her at the bazaar was absurd."
"You weren't even asked to sing at the café chantant, Gladys!" commented Alice O'Connor.
"There's been far too much of this favouritism lately. It's time somebody took the thing up, and others had their fair turn. I was speaking to Leonora about it, and she quite agreed with me."
"Yes; Poppie gave a strong hint she'd like Leonora pushed to the front rather than Gipsy."
"Poppie barely tolerates Gipsy."
"I agree with you there. She'd rejoice to see her shelved."
"Well, look here, we've no time to stand gossiping. If anything's to be done, we'd best go and canvass among the kids."
It was exactly at this crisis that Meg Gordon returned to school. She had been absent since the week before Christmas, when her brother had developed measles. She herself had caught the infection, and one after another various brothers and sisters had sickened with it, so that for about three months thewhole family had been in quarantine. In her case the old adage "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was undoubtedly true. She came back more devoted to Gipsy than ever, ready to hang upon her words, and yield her somewhat the same fealty as a squire of the Middle Ages rendered to the knight to whom, by the laws of chivalry, he was bound. It was well for Gipsy to have so firm an adherent, for her present position in the school caused her to be greatly in need of stanch friends.
Gipsyhad called the General Meeting of the Magazine department of the Guild because she honestly wished her journal to be a representative organ for the whole of the Lower School. A member of each Form was on the Committee, but she thought suggestions would probably be offered by others, and could then be discussed and settled by popular vote. At four o'clock on the Friday afternoon all the Juniors flocked to the dressing-room, for there was a whisper abroad that changes were in the wind, and that it behoved everybody who had an interest in the subject to be present and take sides. Dilys Fenton, as President of the Guild, opened the proceedings with a few introductory remarks; then Gipsy, as editress, read her report on the Magazine.
"Members are invited to suggest any fresh features that they consider would be advantageous for the forthcoming summer term, and to offer any criticisms on the past number." So she concluded.
"I think we may all declare ourselves perfectly satisfied with this report," commented Dilys. "Our editress has worked hard, and theJournalis a uniquesuccess, which speaks for itself. Personally I can suggest no improvements, but members are of course invited to give their opinions."
There was a moment's pause, then Maude Helm stood up.
"Our lady chairman and fellow members!" she began airily, "I am glad to have this opportunity of raising a protest against an abuse which I consider is beginning to creep into our Guild, and which, unchecked, may be liable to lead to very serious results. You will remember that this Guild was founded in consequence of the very unjust and unfair treatment of the Lower School by the Seniors. This tyrannical attitude of the monitresses had been long resented by the Juniors, and though one new girl happened to seize upon the matter and voice the discontent, it was felt in many quarters that her action had been given undue prominence, and that the real credit belonged to those who had slowly and surely influenced the general opinion. These members, though they stood aside and waived their claims to gratitude, anxious only for the welfare of the Lower School, feel strongly that the whole conduct of the Magazine should be now revised and placed upon a more representative basis. I am not wishful to disparage the work of one who has no doubt done her best for theJournal, but I should like to suggest that there are others among us equally capable of undertaking office, and, if they had the chance, of running the affair with possibly even greater success. It seems to me undesirable for one person to take everything upon hershoulders, and as a question of fair play I beg to propose that the editorship should be changed for each issue of the Magazine, with a standing provision that nobody be elected more than once in twelve months."
If a bombshell had suddenly exploded, some of the girls could not have been more surprised. Dilys Fenton stared at Maude as if marvelling at her amazing impudence, Hetty Hancock flushed pink with annoyance, and Meg Gordon's eyes sought the face of her idol. A few of Maude's following clapped vigorously, notably Leonora, and there was an echo of support among some of the younger ones. Gipsy, though she had been quite unprepared for such a mutiny in camp, bore the attack with admirable coolness and self-possession.
"I may perhaps be allowed to state," she remarked calmly, "that any office which I hold at present was not self-sought, but was given me as the result of the general vote. To the members themselves, therefore, I appeal, if they consider they've anything against me."
"Maude's perfectly right!" interposed Gladys Merriman, rising hastily. "This Magazine business has been a 'one man show' all along. Nobody else has had even a look-in. It's been 'Gipsy Latimer' from beginning to end."
"Oh! Oh! Who's had a story in every number?" cried a voice from the back.
"The editress oughtn't to be allowed to monopolize the chief parts!" called out Alice O'Connor.
"She didn't!"
"How can you say so!"
"Go it, Alice! Pitch it strong! I'm with you!"
"Order! Order!" commanded Dilys. "This question must be discussed from both sides. We'll take one at a time, please."
"Maude! Let Maude speak, then!" shouted a band of sympathizers from the opposition.
Maude, who had waxed warm, was only too ready to speak, and seized upon the opportunity.
"I want to know," she demanded aggressively, "why one girl expects to take the top seat in this school, and dictate what's to be done all round? Newcomers used to be kept in the background, but it seems all that's changed now. However, if new girls are the fashion, Leonora Parker's newer still, and why shouldn't she be editress?"
"Because she couldn't!" piped somebody.
"Who's that says she couldn't?" shouted Gladys.
"Give her a chance to try!" called out Alice O'Connor.
"Likely!"
"You want to try yourself, I suppose!"
"Look here, we don't want everything turned topsy-turvy to suit a few like you."
"Order! Order!" cried Dilys again—a very necessary command, for the members were growing excited, and instead of stating their proposals in the orthodox, conventional language which they prided themselves upon always using at meetings, were descending to personalities.
"Oh, do let me speak! I'll give it them hot!" beggedHetty. But Meg Gordon had already caught the President's eye, and began:
"If this is to be a representative meeting, it's time some reply was made to Maude Helm's insinuations. The main object of Maude's remarks seems to be to cast a slur upon Gipsy Latimer, and to imply that she's taken an unfair advantage in coming to the fore. Every girl in this room knows that Gipsy Latimer refused the Presidency of the Guild, and only accepted the editorship because it was forced upon her. Did any one of those who are so ready to run the Magazine now it's started think of originating it? Of course they didn't! It was Gipsy, and Gipsy alone, who suggested the idea, drew up the plan, asked for contributions, and made the thing the success it is. There isn't another girl at Briarcroft who could have done it, or if there is, why didn't she? Where's your gratitude? Gipsy got us our own Guild, and theJournal'sthe organ of the Guild. She's the only one who's really qualified to be editress. I ask you, do you think anyone else could do it equally well? No, you know very well they couldn't, and wouldn't take the trouble either!"
"Hear, hear!" shouted a number of voices, as Meg stopped from sheer lack of breath.
"I thought this meeting was to be conducted in strict order!" sneered Maude. "I made a proposal a while ago, and instead of its being allowed to be seconded and put to the vote, everybody began to talk separately. I beg to propose again that the editorship of the Magazine be changed each time,and nobody be eligible for office again within twelve months."
"And I beg to second the proposal," cried Gladys.
"Those in favour, kindly signify!" said the President.
"Put it to the ballot!" suggested Alice O'Connor eagerly.
"No, we'll have a show of hands," returned Hetty grimly. "We want to know which among you are answerable for this business. In all common sense, how do you suppose a magazine can be run properly with a different editress each time? But it's evidently a question of Gipsy Latimer versus Maude Helm as leader of the Lower School. Which will you choose, girls?"
Several hands that were on the point of going up wavered at that, and went down again. Maude was not a general favourite, and though she had contrived to raise a spirit of envy against Gipsy, nobody was anxious to claim her as a leader.
"I suggested Leonora as editress," corrected Maude, rising angrily. "Miss Poppleton herself proposed it!"
But at that there was a scornful laugh. Maude had made a fatal mistake. Miss Poppleton's championship, far from being a recommendation, was exactly the reverse. The girls resented her interference in their private concerns, and did not intend to allow her the least voice in their councils.
"We don't want Poppie's pet, thanks!"
"She's not going to manage our Guild for us!"
"We can make our own choice!"
So few hands went up in favour of Maude's proposalthat its rejection was obvious at once. Meg Gordon started up immediately with a counter motion.
"I beg to propose that Gipsy Latimer continue to be editress until the end of the summer term."
"And I beg to second that motion," agreed Lennie Chapman heartily.
This time the hands went up in earnest, and there was no doubt about the majority.
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted Gipsy's supporters, turning in much triumph upon the opposition as the meeting broke up. Maude and her friends, finding the point carried, had no more to say, and were obliged to drop the subject. Leonora affected a sublime indifference.
"I'm sure I didn't want to be editress. I can't think why they suggested it," she said, in her stolid, bored fashion.
"To carry favour with Poppie, and spite Gipsy!" declared Lennie Chapman. "I don't blame you: they made you a cat's-paw, that's all."
"It's a victory for Gipsy, but I'm sorry it's happened at all," fretted Hetty. "It's annoyed her dreadfully, and I believe she's ready to throw the whole thing up and resign office."
"That she can't and shan't and mustn't do! We won't allow her!"
The struggle made a great sensation in the Upper Fourth. Some of the girls openly twitted Maude with her defeat, an unwise and ungenerous proceeding which bore ill fruit. Maude was not a girl to let bygones be bygones; she turned sulky, brooded overher grievances, and bore Gipsy a deeper grudge than ever. She was determined that she would not let the latter go entirely unscathed, and looked about for some further opportunity of flinging a dart.
"I'll pay her out somehow—see if I don't!" she grumbled to her chum Gladys. "Wish I could think of some really good way!"
"I know!" cackled Gladys suddenly. "It's only struck me this second. Oh! It's an inspiration! No, I daren't tell you here, with all those kids about eavesdropping. Come outside into the playground, and I'll explain. Have you any used South African stamps in your collection? Good! Then it's as simple as ABC."
"What are the Triumvirate up to?" asked Lennie Chapman a few days later. "I'm absolutely certain they've some mischief brewing."
"Do you mean Maude, Gladys, and Alice? I call them Korah, Dathan, and Abiram," said Dilys. "They're always hatching plots of some kind. I suppose they've a fresh grievance against the Guild."
"I believe they'd like to start a rival magazine of their own."
"Let them, then! There's no reason why they shouldn't. We should have a chance to prove who's the best editress. But I don't believe they'd take the trouble when it came to the point. They only make a fuss because they enjoy growling."
"I can stand growls, but Maude's apt to stick in pins as well. I should like to find out what she's evolving just at present."
Maude kept her secret well, however, and evenLennie's watchful eyes could discover nothing beyond the ordinary schoolgirl nonsense that generally went on among the three chums. She decided that she must have been mistaken after all.
March, with its boisterous winds, was passing fast away, and an early spring was bringing on green buds, and opening out venturous blossom on pear and plum trees. It was the first time Gipsy had seen an English spring, and she enjoyed the experience. The thrushes and blackbirds which carolled all day in the Briarcroft garden especially appealed to her.
"They're little plain birds to look at, but they just sing their hearts out," she said. "I learnt Browning's piece about the thrush when I was at school in Australia, and I always wanted to hear a real English one. I don't wonder he was enthusiastic about it."
March had arrived like the traditional lion, but went out like the orthodox lamb, and the 1st of April was ushered in by most appropriate showers. The time-honoured festival was kept up in rather a languid fashion at Briarcroft. The Upper School discountenanced it as childish and foolish, but a few of the Juniors indulged in jokes at one another's expense. These were mostly confined to the First and Second Forms, and the Upper Fourth as a rule scorned them equally with the Seniors.
On this particular morning the girls had just taken their places in their classroom, and were waiting for Miss White, when Maude handed Gipsy a letter, with the casual enquiry: "I say, Yankee Doodle, is this meant for you?" It was a thin foreign envelope, andbore a South African stamp, and it was addressed to "Miss Latimer, Briarcroft Hall, Greyfield, England". Gipsy glanced at it at first idly, then seized upon it as a starving man clutches at food. Her heart was beating and throbbing wildly, and her shaking, trembling fingers could scarcely tear it open. Was it at last the news for which she had been yearning, craving, sickening for so many weary, weary months? It was not her father's writing, but it might possibly contain tidings of him. She could scarcely control her violent excitement; her cheeks were white, her lips were quivering, and she drew her breath with little, short, painful jerks. In frantic anticipation she dragged the letter from its envelope, and unfolded it. It was only a single sheet of foreign paper, and it bore but one sentence: