For the School Colours Part 25

"Stand round and listen, and look intelligent and appreciative, and all the rest of it, I suppose. We'll have to be saints during the ceremony, but we'll have some fun afterwards. D'you know the school's to be thrown open to all sorts of visitors? Not only old fogies who make speeches, but other people. The day girls may each ask three friends, and they can bring brothers if they like."

"You don't say so! Miss Thompson _is_ coming on. Are you certain?"

"It's quite true," confirmed Avelyn. "I was allowed an invitation card too, and I've asked Mother and Daphne and David, and I've got Pamela to ask Anthony with one of her spare invitations."

"What sport!"

"We'll all have to wear our best dresses," said Janet.

"Rather! You bet we do!"

In preparation for the coming event, a wave of what Miss Hopkins would have dubbed "worldliness" swept over the Cowslip Room. The girls reviewed their frocks critically. Laura implored Miss Kennedy to allow hers to be sent to the dressmaker, to be lengthened two inches. Janet borrowed the last drops of Ethelberga's before-the-war bottle of benzoline, to remove a stain left by the dropping, b.u.t.ter-side down, of a piece of m.u.f.fin. Avelyn brushed her hair every night with eau de Cologne to make it glossy. Ethelberga, in defiance of food saving, begged oatmeal from the cook, and rubbed it on her face to improve her complexion. Irma, after criticizing the costumes of her friends, sprang a surprise on them.

"I've sent home for a new dress," she announced carelessly.

"You haven't!"

"Yes, I have, and what's more, I expect it to-morrow. Mother wrote that she was telling Barclays to post it to me direct."

"Well, I do think you might have told us before."

The other girls felt as if Irma had stolen an advantage. If the idea had occurred to them they might also have written home for new dresses. It was unfortunately too late now. Irma alone, of the Cowslip Room, would attend the festival in the glory of a new gown. She gave herself airs in consequence. It was an unfortunate characteristic of Irma that she was apt to get swelled head on occasion. Her room-mates were constantly on the look-out for symptoms of this complaint, and generally applied drastic measures before things went too far. In a dormitory it does not do to allow a girl to maintain too exalted an opinion of herself.

"Irma's sw.a.n.king no end!" affirmed Ethelberga.

"Putting on side galore!" agreed Janet tartly.

"We ought to do something to take the wind out of her sails a little,"

said Laura, looking pensive.

Avelyn's eyes suddenly sparkled.

"I've got it!" she chuckled. "We'll play a rag on her this afternoon.

It'll be ever such fun! Oh, I've thought of a perfectly gorgeous plan.

No, I don't think I'll tell you what it is yet; but stroll up to the dormitory as soon after four as you can, and make Irma come too on some excuse. Then I'll have a little surprise for you."

"You might tell us!"

"No, no! Not a word! It would spoil the surprise."

The members of the Cowslip Room were always ready for some diversion.

They wondered what kind of a practical joke Avelyn was going to play on Irma. They took particular care to decoy their victim upstairs at four o'clock. As a bait, Ethelberga offered to lend Irma her manicure set.

They were rubbing pink powder on Irma's almond-shaped nails when a rap came at the door.

"Entrez!" shouted Janet casually.

It was a demure-eyed junior who made her appearance, carrying a large parcel.

"This has just come, and it's for your room, so I brought it up," she announced, dumping it down on the bed, and leaning over to read the address. "Miss Irma Ridley. Wish it had been Miss Dorothy Elston. I've no luck. Ta-ta!" and she waved a rather impertinent hand, and trotted away.

Irma jumped up, upsetting the box of manicure powder, and scattering the other implements over the floor.

"It's never my box!" she exclaimed.

At that psychological moment Avelyn entered the room.

"I didn't expect it until to-morrow," rejoiced Irma. "They must have sent it by carrier instead of by post. Lend me your scissors, Janet. Oh, I'm just dying to look!"

The parcel was a large cardboard box done up in rather untidy brown paper. It had evidently suffered considerably on the journey. Irma cut the string with the utmost haste, and began to tear off the wrappers and open the box.

"I know Mother will have chosen me something pretty," she purred.

"Mother's got such lovely taste, and she wrote that she'd seen the very thing, and was sure I should like it."

"It's well wrapped up," remarked Janet.

Irma was removing sheet after sheet of tissue paper with a pleased giggle. At last she reached the core of the package, and unfolded--not a smart new frock, but her own ordinary school evening dress. Her stare of blank astonishment was comical.

"What's this? What have they sent me?" she gasped.

But her room-mates were collapsing in various att.i.tudes of mirth, and she understood. For a moment two red spots flared in her cheeks, then she had the sense to take the joke with a good grace. If she was angry, the others shouldn't have the triumph of seeing her annoyance.

"You geese!" she remarked. "I might have known the box couldn't arrive to-day. So this is why you hauled me upstairs, is it? Oh, go on and laugh if you like! It doesn't hurt me. I don't mind."

She hung the dress up again in her wardrobe, and folding the sheets of tissue paper, appropriated them.

"I've been wanting some tissue paper," she said airily.

The girls restrained themselves and sobered down.

"You're a trump, Irma!" declared Avelyn.

"It was too bad, but we couldn't help laughing," murmured Janet.

"Poor old Irmie, you took it sporting!" sympathized Ethelberga.

"You'll like your dress all the more when it really comes," comforted Laura.

When Irma's parcel arrived the next day her room-mates, having played their joke upon her, had the grace to be nice and to admire the new frock, which was a charming creation in blue, and suited its owner admirably. They went out of their way to be pleasant about it, and Avelyn lent a hair ribbon which exactly matched the shade of colour, while Laura offered a chain of Venetian beads. They all felt, as they dressed for the festival, that if Irma's costume eclipsed the rest of them, she deserved her little triumph for keeping her temper.

"It's a shame to have to put a coat over it," said Ethelberga.

"Well, she certainly can't stand outside in the cold with only that thin dress on," decreed Laura.

The ceremony was to take place at three o'clock, and shortly before that hour all the school, in hats and coats, were marshalled outside to the spot where the new hall was to be erected. It was a cold, grey January afternoon, with one or two snowflakes floating down, and everybody stood and s.h.i.+vered. Some of the invited guests were keeping warm in the house, and others strolled out to the scene of action. The girls, drawn up in line, nodded and smiled to many friends from the town. They were cold, and impatient for the proceedings to begin.

Waiting is weary work on a January afternoon. Their talk, which at first had been low and subdued, began to buzz, and rose higher and higher.

"What a disgraceful noise!" said Adah. "It's all those wretched Hawthorners. If Miss Thompson brings out the Bishop while all this clamour is going on she'll be thoroughly ashamed of the school. Less noise, girls! Do you hear?"

The girls heard perfectly well, but they did not heed, and the hum of unrestrained conversation continued. Adah waxed desperate.