The Fortunes Of Philippa Part 2

I had now been nearly two years in England, and the keen edge of the remembrance of my southern home was beginning to fade slightly from my mind, though never my love for my father. Spanish I had utterly forgotten, scarcely a word remaining in my memory, and I think the foreign ways which Aunt Agatha had objected to had vanished along with it. It was decided that the time had come to send me to school, and the particular establishment to be chosen was a subject for much discussion between Aunt Agatha and her friends.

Lucy and I were sometimes allowed to have afternoon tea in the drawing-room, "to improve our manners", and on these occasions I found that my education was the main topic of conversation.

"Send her to Fairfield College, my dear," said Mrs. Montgomery, whose own daughters were the champion hockey-players of the neighbourhood.

"It is splendid for games. Compulsory cricket, Swedish gymnastics every day, and a thoroughly healthy and active out-of-door existence. Just the life for a rather delicate child."

"Now _I_ think they overdo athletics at most schools," said Mrs.

Buchanan Smith, the gay widow of an officer. "Give me the French system of education. My Stella is at a convent in Paris. I consider the Sisters teach the most _adorable_ manners, and the girls return home with a finish that is very different from the hoydenish ways they learn at _some_ of our colleges."

"If you ask me, I have no opinion at all of foreign schools," said Mrs.

Northby, the doctor's wife. "My husband says the sanitary arrangements are generally most defective, and that English children, accustomed to plenty of fresh air and ventilation, would be very liable to contract typhoid. I think, too, that the French 'jeune fille' is brought up in an atmosphere of falsehood and deceit, and without any idea of rational enjoyment, and I prefer to send my little girl to a day-school, where she can get a sound education, while I can keep her under my own eye. I do not like the plan of sending children away to boarding-schools just at the time when their health needs most attention, and they are forming their strongest opinions."

"I'm afraid I don't agree with you," said Mrs. Montgomery. "I consider a boarding-school is the world in miniature, and it helps a girl to find her own level. She will learn many other things besides her lessons, and will no doubt make some pleasant friends.h.i.+ps; but the school must be a good one, for inferior companions are worse than none."

"It is no question of terms," said Aunt Agatha. "My brother-in-law is anxious for her to have every advantage. It's simply a matter of choosing the best, and I feel the responsibility of my position."

"If you will take my advice, you will send her to The Hollies," said Mrs. (Archdeacon) Carrington, who had listened silently so far to the conversation. "Mrs. Marshall only receives forty pupils, but I consider she turns out the best-informed and best-mannered girls of my acquaintance. She has so many applications, that it is sometimes difficult to secure a vacancy, but I think on _my_ recommendation it might be arranged."

The Archdeacon's lady was the leader of society among Aunt Agatha's friends, and her opinion carried weight.

"We all know how particular she is," said Mrs. Buchanan Smith afterwards. "And any school which _she_ recommends must be _most_ select, both as regards education, and the girls who are there. Indeed, if Stella had not already returned to Paris, I think I should have seriously considered the possibility of sending her to The Hollies."

My aunt was inclined to take the same view, and when on further inquiries it was found that Mrs. Marshall was equally highly thought of in other quarters, and that Mrs. Winstanley's only daughter Catherine was already a pupil at the school, the question was considered settled.

I was to be sent after the Easter holidays, and Uncle Herbert determined that Lucy should accompany me. We were full of the importance of our departure.

"We're to learn German and dancing," said Lucy. "And music from an Italian master. Our school clothes won't be made by Miss Jenkins; Mother is going to take us to her own dressmaker. We're each to have a new trunk, and umbrellas with silver tops."

Aunt Agatha escorted us herself to The Hollies, for she had not yet seen either the school or the neighbourhood, though she had had an interview with Mrs. Marshall in London. It seemed a long journey into Derbys.h.i.+re, and our pent-up excitement had plenty of time to cool while the train ran through the rather uninteresting scenery of Northampton and Leicester, but it burst out again with renewed vigour when we at length drew up at the little station of Helston Spa.

With what curiosity we viewed every other girl upon the platform, wondering whether she were bound for the same destination as ourselves, and how soon we should get to know her. We looked rather longingly at an omnibus laden with a jolly, laughing crew, who seemed to be in charge of a teacher; but my aunt bustled us into a cab, and we drove away along a white limestone road, bordered with tall crags on the one side and a brawling stream on the other.

The Hollies proved to be an old-fas.h.i.+oned red-brick house with a trim garden, and playing-fields beyond.

"It's a nice open situation, and the air feels bracing," said Aunt Agatha, sniffing the breeze as if to test its quality. "I notice that it faces south, and there's a pretty view over the woods and hills. It ought to be healthy, I'm sure, so far away from London smoke and fog."

Lucy and I looked with delight at the gray hills in the distance, and the line of fresh green trees which fringed the river; after the long, dull streets of our suburban home, it was pleasant to feel that our school was in the country.

Mrs. Marshall received new arrivals in the drawing-room, and when we had bidden a rather hasty good-bye to Aunt Agatha, who was returning to town by the next train, and had unpacked our boxes in the pretty little bedroom which we were to share together, we were ushered down to the play-room by a teacher, to make the acquaintance of our school-fellows.

There was a pause in the loud hum of conversation as the door opened, and I caught the words "new girls". Miss Buller, the governess, seemed busy, and not able to waste any time upon us, so she merely announced: "Lucy and Philippa Seaton. I hope you will make them welcome, girls;"

and hurried away, leaving us standing shyly by the door, not quite knowing what to do next.

The little group collected round the fire moved slightly so as to make room for us, and a pretty fair-faced girl, with a mop of frizzy pale-gold hair, came forward.

"Come along," she said brightly, "and I'll tell you who we all are. I'm Doris Forbes, and this is my sister Janet, and these are Ellinor Graham, Millicent Holmes, Blanche Greenwood, and Olave and Beatrice Milner,"

pointing to each as she spoke. "Most of the others are still upstairs unpacking their boxes, and a few of us haven't arrived yet. Now as you're new girls, we want to know all about you. To begin with, which is Lucy, and which is Philippa? Are you sisters, and have you ever been to school before?"

"I'm Philippa," I replied, "and this is my cousin Lucy. We've never been to school before; we had a governess at home."

"All the better for you," put in the tall girl in the blue dress whom the others called Millicent Holmes. "Mrs. Marshall never likes girls who come from other schools. She says she has to teach them everything all over again."

"That's just to make you think her ways are better than anyone else's,"

said Ellinor Graham. "I've had five music masters, and every one has put me back to the beginning, and told me the others didn't know how to teach."

"Then you'll get put back again this term," laughed Blanche Greenwood.

"For Herr Goldschmidt has gone home to Germany, and we're to have an Italian, named Signor Salviati, instead."

"No!" cried the girls with thrilling interest. "Have you seen him?

What's he like?"

"Oh, don't excite yourselves! He's not a romantic-looking Italian, with long curls and a twisted moustache; he's a nasty little fat oily kind of a man, with a pointed beard, who looks as if he could be horribly cross if you played wrong notes."

"How disgusting!" cried the others. "Are there any other changes?"

"Miss Buller is to have the fourth cla.s.s," said Blanche, who seemed to be the general fund of information. "Janet, Beatrice, and Olave are on the early-morning practising list for this month" (groans from Janet, Beatrice, and Olave at the bad news), "the Simpsons have the bedroom at the end of the pa.s.sage, with the balcony, and Miss Percy is to take the sewing this term."

"What a nuisance!" lamented Janet. "She's _so_ particular! I can never make my st.i.tches small enough to satisfy her. I hate poking over sewing.

I wish we went to Ecclestone, where our cousins go, it's exactly like a boys' public school; they have a matron to do all the mending, and the girls play football."

"I know they do," said Millicent, "and Mother says it is _most_ unladylike. We know several girls who go there, and they behave so badly, sitting on the edges of the drawing-room tables, and gulping their tea, and bolting their cake, and talking the most atrocious slang."

"My sister goes to St. Chad's," said Ellinor Graham, "and they weigh the girls every time they go back. They won't let them do any work if they're not 'up to standard', and Patty's so thin that she's always 'turned out to gra.s.s', as they call it, for at least a fortnight at the beginning of each term. I think she has a lovely time."

"Yes, but you have to wear the school costume at St. Chad's, even in church," put in Doris. "And it's ever so ugly--a blue serge dress with no shape in it, a plaid golf-cape, and a cricket-cap. I shouldn't like that at all!" and she smoothed down her pretty dress with evident satisfaction.

"You haven't yet told us what cla.s.s you're to be put in," said Blanche Greenwood, turning to Lucy and myself, who had been listening with much interest to the conversation.

"In the fourth, I believe," said Lucy. "Mrs. Marshall said she expected we could both manage the work."

"The fourth! That's to be Miss Buller's. Janet and Olave and I are in the same cla.s.s, and Catherine Winstanley is to be monitress for the month. By the by, where is Cathy? Has no one seen her?"

"Here!" said a voice from the door, and a slender girl of about thirteen came forward to join the group. She was a pretty girl, with long, curling brown hair, and a very graceful way of holding herself. Her pleasant manner and bright winning smile attracted me to her at once.

Her dark eyes seemed familiar, and I wondered where I had seen them before, till in a sudden flash of remembrance I recalled how eyes just the same had looked into mine when Mrs. Winstanley had held me close in her arms, and told me she was my mother's friend. So this was the little daughter of whom she had spoken, and as I watched her I hoped with all my heart that we, too, might become friends. She seemed to be a general favourite, for there were many affectionate greetings between her and the other girls, and numerous interchanges of home and school news, but at length she turned to where Lucy and I were standing.

"I think," she said, speaking to me, "that you must be Philippa Seaton.

Mother told me you would be here, and that I was to look out for you. I suppose this is your cousin Lucy. I'm so glad that we're all to be in the same cla.s.s. I hope your bedroom is near mine. Oh! there's the tea-bell, and we must go, but I shall see you again afterwards."

She walked away, with her arm linked in that of Janet Forbes, and Lucy and I followed the others to the dining-room, where tea was being dispensed in an informal manner by Miss Buller and one of the under teachers. For this first meal there were no special places, and I found myself sitting at table next to a rather stout, rosy-cheeked girl, perhaps a year older than myself, whose name appeared to be Ernestine Salt.

She moved very grudgingly to make room, but she did not speak to me, nor take any further notice. Lucy and I sat silently watching our thirty companions. It was all new and strange to us--the fresh faces, the school-girl chaff, the jokes and allusions to things of which we as yet knew nothing, and we wondered how long it would be before we could take our part in that lively conversation.

"I never can eat anything the first night," declared one of the girls, mopping her eyes rather ostentatiously with a lace-edged pocket-handkerchief. "I'm always so terribly homesick, and they cut the bread so thick!"

"Nothing spoils my appet.i.te," proclaimed Ernestine Salt. "I'm so frightfully hungry, I shall eat your share. I didn't have half enough sandwiches on the journey, though I bought three oranges and two jam-tarts at the railway-station as well. Where is the bread-and-b.u.t.ter?"

As the plate was within my reach, I handed it to her. She looked me coolly up and down, as if she were taking in every detail of my appearance, but she did not thank me.

"Oh, never mind manners, just help yourself and shove it on," she said carelessly. "We do as we like the first evening. Mrs. Marshall will come down to tea to-morrow, and then it'll have to be prunes and prism."

"Not so loud, Ernestine, I can hear your voice above all the others,"