The Madcap of the School Part 19

"As if every girl in the school didn't know that!" chafed Ardiune impatiently. "Haven't we all given our s.h.i.+llings towards her present ages ago? Really, Ray, what more chestnuts are you going to bring forth?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, my good child! I haven't finished yet. I should have thought you could have trusted your grannie by this time.

My remark, though no doubt stale, was only one of those preliminary announcements with which a chairman always has to begin--like 'Glad to see so many bright young faces collected here', or 'Gratified to be allowed the pleasure of saying a few words to you'. But don't look so scared, I'm not going to prose on like a real chairman at a prize-giving; I'm going to get to the point quick. Being the b.u.mble's birthday--if you grin, Ardiune Coleman-Smith, I'll pinch you!--Being, as I have observed, the b.u.mble's birthday, it seems only right and fit and proper that the other bees in the hive should buzz in sympathy, and take a holiday, and go and sip nectar. Let us copy Nature's methods!"

"Copy Nature, by all means," sneered Ardiune, "only don't suggest that b.u.mble-bees live in hives, or you'll be a little out of it!"

"Oh, you're so literal! It's only for the sake of the metaphor. Mayn't I talk about 'the busy bee' and 'the s.h.i.+ning hour'?"

"For pity's sake, don't get flowery!" snapped Morvyth.

"'How doth the little busy bee Delight to bark and bite; She gathers honey all the day, And eats it up at night!'"

misquoted Aveline with a giggle.

"Stop frivolling, and let me get to my point!" commanded Raymonde.

"For the third time, let me remind you that it is the b.u.mble's birthday on Friday, and that it's only decent and seemly and becoming that the school should do something to celebrate so joyous an occasion."

"Stop a minute!" interrupted Katherine. "Are we rejoicing that she came into this world to gladden us, or are we counting one more year off towards the time when we'll have done with her? I'm not quite clear which."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'GRACIOUS, GIRL! TURN OFF THE WATERWORKS!'"]

"Whichever you like, so long as you look congratulatory and happy-in-our-school-days and love-our-teachers, and all the rest of it. What you want is to spread the b.u.t.ter on thick, then, when there's an atmosphere of smiles, ask for a holiday and suggest the river. Yes, my children, I said the river. You didn't misunderstand me; I speak quite clearly."

"Whew! She'll never let us! Might as well ask for the moon. Why, our river expedition was knocked off after that little business of the Zepp scare!"

"All the more reason why we should have it now."

"Ray, you're the limit!"

"Hope I am, if it means getting what we want. I propose a deputation to the b.u.mble, to state that the grat.i.tude and devotion of the hive can only work itself off on water. Yes, Ardiune Coleman-Smith, I did say 'the hive', my sense of poetry being more highly developed than my love of exact science. You needn't lift your eyebrows, it's not a pretty habit."

"Who's going to make the deputation?" asked Fauvette.

"You, for one. You're our strongest point. You look naturally affectionate and clinging and docile, and ready-to-be-taught-if-taken-the-right-way, and easily led, and all the rest of it. You'll burble forth something pretty about wanting to have an expedition with our Princ.i.p.al in our midst, and mention what a wet day it was last year, and how disappointed we all were."

"Look here, I'm not going to do all the talking, so don't think!"

"Oh, we'll support you! But I'm just giving you a few leading lines to work upon. We'll take Maudie Heywood with us; she got ninety-five marks out of a hundred last week, which ought to go for something!"

"Then Magsie and Muriel had better come too. It won't do to let the b.u.mble think the whole idea has originated with us."

"Right you are! The more pattern pupils we can sc.r.a.pe together, the better."

At five o'clock the deputation presented itself at the door of the study, and was received graciously by the Princ.i.p.al, though she declined to commit herself to an immediate answer, promising to think the matter over and to let them know later on.

"Which means she daren't say 'yes' till she's asked leave from Gibbie!" declared Raymonde, when the delegates were out of ear-shot of the sanctum. "Fauvette, child, you did splendidly! I'd give five thousand pounds to have your big, pathetic, innocent blue eyes! They always bowl everybody over. I envy you at your first grown-up dance.

You'll have your programme full in five minutes, like the heroine of a novel."

Raymonde's supposition was not altogether mistaken, for that evening, after the school had gone to bed, Miss Beasley, Miss Gibbs, and Mademoiselle sat up talking over the proposed expedition. Miss Gibbs vetoed the idea entirely.

"The girls have not been behaving well enough to justify any such indulgence," she maintained impressively. "Their conduct on the stairs yesterday was disgraceful. Better make them stick to their lessons."

Mademoiselle, whose mental scales always tipped naturally towards the side of pleasure, thought it was a beautiful idea of the dear girls to want to give their headmistress a fete on her anniversary. So sweet to go upon the water, and while the weather was so pleasant! It would be an event to be remembered for ever in their young lives, when sterner lessons might be forgotten; at which remark Miss Gibbs sniffed, but restrained herself. Miss Beasley vibrated for some minutes between the practical and the ideal aspects thus presented to her, but finally decided in favour of the latter.

"It seems ungracious to refuse when they wish it to be my birthday treat," she said rather apologetically. "The poor children would be so disappointed. We might make a clear mark-book a necessary condition."

"Yes," Miss Gibbs grudgingly conceded. "They'll miss their Latin preparation that evening," she added.

"And their French," sighed Mademoiselle. "But what will you?" with a little shrug. "It is not every day that our Princ.i.p.al makes a birthday! As for me, I am glad I bought my new sunshade."

The announcement of the forthcoming water excursion was received with great rejoicings. Ever since the beginning of the term the school had thirsted to go upon the river. They had been taken for an occasional walk along its banks, and had greatly envied the young men and maidens who might be seen punting up its willowy reaches.

"That's what I'm going to do directly I'm grown up!" Fauvette had confided to her chums. "I'll buy a white boating costume, exactly like that girl's with the auburn hair, and lean against blue cus.h.i.+ons while HE rows. He'll have to have brown eyes, but I've not quite decided yet whether he shall have a moustache or not. On the whole I think I'll have him clean shaven."

"And tall," prompted Raymonde, to whom Fauvette's prospective romances were a source of perennial interest.

"Yes, tall, of course, with several military crosses. He's the one I'm going to like the best, though there'll be others. They'll all want me to go and row with them--but I shan't. I don't mean to flirt."

"N--no!" conceded Raymonde a little dubiously. "Don't you think, though, it might be rather good for him not to let him see you were too keen? Of course I don't want you to break his heart, but----"

Fauvette shook her yellow curls.

"It's not right to trifle with people's hearts," she decided, with all the authority of an experienced reader of magazine stories. "If you pretend you don't care for them, they drive their aeroplanes recklessly and smash up, or expose themselves to the enemy's fire, or get submarined, before you've had time to tell them you didn't really mean to be cold. I'm not going in for misunderstandings."

Raymonde glanced at her admiringly. With those blue eyes and fluffy curls it all seemed so possible. She felt that she should look forward to her chum's inevitable engagement almost as much as Fauvette herself. It would be as good as a Shakespeare play, or one of the best pieces on the kinema. But these rosy prospects were still in the dim and distant future; the present was entirely prosaic and unromantic.

Whatever punting excursions Fauvette might enjoy in years to come, this particular water party would be quite unsentimental, conducted under the watchful eyes of Miss Beasley and Miss Gibbs, with boatmen well over military age to do the rowing. For the first time for four years the Princ.i.p.al's birthday morning was gloriously fine. The pupils placed the usual bouquet of flowers opposite her seat at the breakfast table, together with a handsomely bound volume of Ruskin's _Stones of Venice_. She thanked them with her customary surprise and grat.i.tude, and a.s.sured them, as she did annually, what a pleasure it was to her to receive so kind a token of their esteem.

This preliminary business being over, breakfast and cla.s.ses proceeded as usual, a more than ordinary atmosphere of decorum pervading the establishment, for Miss Gibbs had announced that the afternoon's excursion depended upon the mark-book, and the girls knew that she would keep her word. The veriest slackers paid attention to lessons that morning, and even Raymonde for once did not receive an order mark.

Lunch was served early, and directly the meal was finished all the girls flew upstairs to change their attire. During hot weather the school was not kept strictly to the brown serge uniform, and the girls blossomed out into linen costumes, or white drill skirts and muslin blouses. For the credit of the Grange they made careful toilettes that afternoon; Fauvette in particular looked ravis.h.i.+ngly pretty in a pale-blue sailor suit with a white collar and silk tie. She made quite a sensation as she came down the stairs.

The mistresses had also turned out suitably dressed for the occasion: Miss Beasley was dignified and matronly in blue voile with a motor veil; Miss Gibbs, who intended to row, was in practical blouse and short skirt; while Mademoiselle was a dream of white muslin, chiffon ruffles, and pink parasol.

It was about half an hour's walk to the river, down shady lanes and across lately cleared hayfields. There was a little landing-place close to the weir, with a boat-house, a refreshment room, and rows of benches and tables under the trees, where visitors could sit and drink tea or lemonade. Miss Beasley had engaged boats beforehand, and these were drawn up ready, with their boatmen, a rheumatic and elderly set, waiting about smoking surrept.i.tious pipes among the willows. There was a great deal of arranging before everybody was settled, and many injunctions to sit still, and not to change places, or to grab at water-lilies, or lean too far over the side, or play any other foolish or dangerous prank likely to upset the equilibrium of the boat and endanger the lives of its occupants. At last, however, the whole party was stowed safely away, and the little procession set off up the river.

All agreed that it was quite delightful. The banks were covered with trees, and tall reeds, and ma.s.ses of purple willow herb, and agrimony, and yellow ragwort, which were reflected in the dark waters of quiet pools. In the centre the suns.h.i.+ne made little gleaming, glinting ripples like leaping bars of gold, and here and there patches of water-lilies spread their white chalices open to the sky. There was a delicious breeze, most grateful after the hot walk across the hayfields, and the smooth gliding motion was ideal. The girls trailed their hands in the river, and dabbed their faces, and said it was topping, and began to sing boat songs which they had learnt at school, and which sounded very pretty and appropriate to an accompaniment of oars and lapping water.

The great event of the afternoon was to be a picnic tea. Hampers of provisions had been brought, and Miss Beasley proposed that they should land at one of the numerous little islands, light a fire, and boil their big kettles. The selection of the particular island was, of course, in her discretion, and she had a conference with her old boatman on the subject.

"Island? I knows of the very one to suit you. I've taken parties there before, and there's a good spot to land, and a place to tie the boats to, which there isn't on every one of them islands. It's just an hour's row up from the weir, and less time to go back because of the current."

After gliding onward for what seemed to the girls all too short a s.p.a.ce of time, but no doubt appeared considerably longer to their rheumatic rowers, the island in question was at last reached. It looked most attractive with the willows and bulrushes and tangly interior. A tree-stump made quite a good landing-place, and everyone managed to scramble out successfully without planting a foot in the water. The first business was to explore, and to hunt up sufficient wood for a camp fire. Luckily the weather had been dry, so that all available sticks would be suitable for fuel. The girls dispersed in various directions, on the understanding that they were to rea.s.semble when Miss Beasley blew her whistle as a signal.

"I call this a great stunt!" observed Morvyth, as the Mystic Seven moved off in company.

"Even Gibbie's in spirits, bless her!" murmured Aveline fatuously.

"So she is. But all the same, I'd rather wander off alone than be tied to her ap.r.o.n-strings; so come along, quick! Remember you're to earn your living by picking up sticks, so don't slack!"