A Fourth Form Friendship Part 8

"Where are your manners? Please to remember you're visitors. You're not to ask; you must wait until we bring the things on to the table."

Three hostesses and five guests seemed to completely fill the tiny sitting-room.

"It's so delightfully minute!" declared Phbe Stanhope. "When I was a little girl, I always longed to make myself small, like Alice in Wonderland, and have tea in my own dolls' house. Now I feel as if I were really doing it at last!"

"There isn't room for us all at the table," said Mabel. "Dora, you had better let down that side leaf."

"It's an afternoon calling tea, not a sit-down schoolroom tea,"

explained Aldred.

"Three of you must sit in the cosy corner," commanded Dora, "and the other two may have the arm-chairs."

"But mayn't we help to bring in the things?"

"No, you mayn't! Agnes, I wish you'd sit down! If you were paying a real call, you wouldn't bounce up and try to peep into the kitchen."

"You came too early," said Mabel reproachfully. "We were going to have everything exactly ready for half-past four."

"Well, you might at least tell us how you've been getting on. Has it been fun spending the day here?"

"Simply scrumptious!" replied the trio.

"I'd like to do it again next week!" added Dora.

"It's the Fifth Form next Sat.u.r.day, and after that it's my turn, with Phbe and Myfanwy. When's this wonderful tea coming in? We're all waiting!"

"We'll make it now," said Mabel. "Aldred, will you put out the spoons?"

Dora had laid the best embroidered linen cloth on the table, set cups and saucers, and brought in the milk and a plateful of bread and b.u.t.ter.

It only needed the teapot and the scones and cakes, therefore, to complete the feast.

"I hope you've made enough to go round twice!" said Ursula.

"Beautiful cakes, so rich and brown, Oh, how quickly you'll go down!

Who for such dainties does not ache?

Cake of the evening, beautiful, beautiful cake!"

sang Phbe, trying to out-Alice _Alice_.

"How disgustingly greedy you are! I call it quite indecent. You don't deserve anything, except plain bread and sc.r.a.pe."

Mabel crossed the pa.s.sage laughing; but as she opened the kitchen door her mirth was changed to mourning. There, with his fore-paws upon the table, stood Raggles, the s.h.a.ggy yard dog, devouring scones as fast as he could gulp them down his capacious throat. Mabel uttered a cry of dismay, and, catching up the rolling pin, which was the nearest thing at hand, flung it at the intruder, who s.n.a.t.c.hed a last mouthful, and bolted hastily through the back door.

"Oh, Dora! Aldred! Come and see what's happened!" cried poor Mabel, bursting into the sitting-room, oblivious of the fact that a model hostess ought not to air such domestic catastrophes in public. The visitors did not stand on ceremony, however, but seized the opportunity to make a dash for the kitchen, into which they had been longing to peep.

"I never dreamt of Raggles coming in! I thought he was tied up!" wailed Dora.

"We oughtn't to have left the back door open," said Aldred.

"It was so hot; one can't have the place all stuffy! Oh, the wretch! I wish they'd choked him!"

"Has he taken every one?" asked the disconsolate guests.

"All except three, and as he seemed to be licking the whole plateful, I don't suppose anybody would care to try what he's left!" replied Mabel.

"My lovely scones! And I had split them and b.u.t.tered them!" moaned Dora, almost in tears.

"Well, we have the potato cakes, at any rate. Luckily, I put them on the top of the stove, to keep hot, and Raggles didn't find them out."

"We'd better eat them quick, before any more accidents happen," advised Aldred, hastily pouring the water on the tea, and heading the procession back into the sitting-room.

The potato cakes were a huge success. That was the universal verdict.

They were light, and hot, and b.u.t.tery, and the only fault to be found was that there were not nearly sufficient of them. Mabel handed the plate round with impartial justice, and there were only two apiece.

"Just enough to make one want more!" sighed Ursula, consuming the last delicious crumb.

"There's plenty of bread and b.u.t.ter, if you're hungry."

"But I'm not bread-and-b.u.t.ter hungry!"

"I'm sorry we've no jam!" apologized Dora.

"Oh, don't!" begged Aldred, who still felt humiliated at the fate of the blackberries.

"She didn't mean it!" interposed Mabel the peacemaker. "I vote we have some b.u.t.tered toast, and anybody can hold it who likes to volunteer."

When Miss Drummond arrived at six o'clock she found the visitors gone, the tea-things washed, and the whole of the wee establishment in apple-pie order; while three flushed, rather tired little maids-of-all-work stood at attention, ready for her tour of inspection.

"Housekeeping isn't quite so easy and simple as it appears on the surface, is it?" she remarked. "In its own way, it has as many difficulties as Latin or mathematics, and needs as much learning. It's a very useful art, however, and worthy of cultivation. You'll have gained a little experience even in this one brief experiment, and your mistakes will teach you what to avoid next time. You have done very nicely, though, and I shall give you each a good report. Have you enjoyed your day at the cottage?"

And all three girls answered: "Immensely!"

CHAPTER V

Out of Bounds

Aldred had never been to school before, but she was so happy at the Grange that she was sure no other place in the United Kingdom could be half so nice. Miss Drummond was certainly a delightful head mistress, and the model cottage was only one of her many original ideas. Following her theory of training her pupils in useful home arts, she allowed them to do many little things in the house that do not always come within the province of schoolgirls. Each cla.s.sroom was provided with vases, and it was the monitresses' duty to keep these replenished, using leaves and berries when the garden supply failed. The prefects always arranged the flowers for the dinner-table, and the top girl in each Form had the privilege of attending to those in the drawing-room and in Miss Drummond's study. Those girls who gained ninety per cent in the monthly examinations were invited to the Princ.i.p.al's Wednesday afternoon "At Home", and helped to pa.s.s cups and entertain visitors, the one with the highest score being asked to pour out tea.

Miss Drummond encouraged the girls to talk to her, and tried to make the whole atmosphere as homelike as possible, allowing a tolerable amount of liberty, so long as it did not degenerate into licence. She would discuss topics of the day, books, music, art, or any other subject with her pupils, trying to make them talk easily and naturally, and take an intelligent interest in what was going on in the world.

"Conversation is like a game of ball," she would sometimes say; "it must be thrown backwards and forwards from both sides. There is nothing so aggravating as to be obliged to talk to a person who will persist in only answering with a negative or an affirmative. I have racked my brains sometimes to think of fresh topics, when all my leading remarks have been received with a 'Yes' or a 'No'. That is what I call dropping the ball. When you see people are making an effort to entertain you, it is only fair to play your part as well. I know you plead shyness, but shyness can be conquered if we try to forget ourselves, and think only how we can give pleasure to others. It is really a form of self-consciousness, and ought to be fought against as well as any other fault."

Games were not compulsory at The Grange, though Miss Drummond liked all to take part in the weekly matches. But she considered it was inadvisable to train girls to care for nothing but cricket and hockey, and wished them to take up a number of small interests, such as they could carry on afterwards at home. During recreation time she allowed specially chosen recruits to help her in superintending the garden and greenhouse, the poultry yard, and the bee-hives that were her particular hobby. These country occupations proved very popular, and to be one of Miss Drummond's "outdoor helpers" was an honour much sought after and keenly appreciated.