04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (6 page)

“Who to?” demanded Joey as they all moved to the barrier.

“A young officer in her father’s regiment.”

“Gee! How priceless! Fancy Wanda engaged! That makes two of our old girls! First Gisela, and now Wanda! When’s she to be married?”

“In the summer. I met him while we were there, and he is a charming young man. He adores Wanda, and she him, so I think they will be very happy.” Madge Russell, happily married herself, smiled reminiscently.

“You will hear all about it from Maria when term begins. She was wildly excited about it. Wanda is very sweet, and is longing for the spring to come. They mean to pay us a visit at Briesau then. She wants to show him her English school, and he is very anxious to see it.”

Joey sighed. “It’s awfully nice for them, of course – I mean Gisela and Wanda. But it does seem as though we were all growing up frightfully quickly! Don’t you think they are too young, Madge?”

“Gisela is twenty and Wanda is nineteen. Girls marry young out here, Joey. And at least we shall have Gisela fairly near us. I am so glad Gottfried Mensch decided to join Jem at the Sonnalpe. I shall like to have my first head-girl living next door, so to speak.” She smiled at the new head-girl as she spoke, but Grizel looked very grave. She was wondering whether she would be allowed to follow in the footsteps of Gisela Marani now. Luckily the Robin tugged at Mrs. Russell at that moment, so the girl’s expression passed without comment for the moment, though Madge Russell had noticed it, and wondered what it meant.

“Tante Guito” – the Robin sometimes abbreviated the longer name this way - “are we to stay with Onkel Riese and Tante Gretchen?”

Madge laughed at the “Uncle Giant,” a name of Joey’s bestowing on the kindly father of two of the Chalet School girls, who had been a great friend of theirs ever since the school had been opened. Then she nodded,

“Yes, littlest and best! They would have come to meet us, but they thought I should like you to myself at first.”

“Where’s Jem?” asked Joey.

“He had to go back to the Sonnalpe at once,” explained his wife as she tucked the Robin into the big sleigh which was awaiting them in the Bahnhof Platz, and which they had reached by this time. “He is looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow. You are to come to us for the rest of the week, you know.”

“Good!” Joey heaved a rapturous sigh, and then sank down into her corner on the other side of her sister.

“Has Mademoiselle come back yet?” asked Miss Maynard as she took her seat facing them, with Grizel by her side.

“Yes; she arrived yesterday. Simone is with her, but Renee has a sprained ankle, so Madame Lecoutier is keeping her at home till half-term. Then she will bring her, and see the school for herself. Cosy, Robin?”

“Yes, thank you,” replied the Robin, slipping her hand into the slender one at her side. “Tante Marguerite, have Gisela and Gottfried arranged for their wedding yet?”

“Yes; that’s another piece of news for you. But Gisela was to he at Maria Hilfe to welcome you, so I am going to leave her to tell you all about it. She wants you three to be her bridesmaids, with Frieda and Maria, I know. Wanda is to be married in August too.”

“Shall we go to Wien for that?” asked Joey anxiously. “I hope it won’t be late, or it will cut up my time with Elisaveta. Have you any idea of the date, Madge?”

“It will he during the first week,” said Mrs. Russell. “As for cutting up your visit to Belsornia, Elisaveta will be there too, and I expect you will go back with her. At least the King said so when he wrote to tell me about it.”

“That’s good; I suppose Wanda will have a very swish wedding. Where will Gisela be married, do you think? In the Hof-Kirche?”

Madge refused to commit herself. She had no idea where Gisela’s wedding was likely to take place. Joey must wait and find that out from the bride-elect herself.

By this time they were driving down the Friedrich-Hertzog Strasse, making for the bridge, for the Maria Hilfe is a suburb across the river, at some little distance from the actual city. Joey looked out at the busy streets, where sleight were going about crunching the crisp snow under their shining runners and filling the air with the silvery jangle of bells. The celebrations of Christmas and New Year were over, but the shops still had a gay appearance, and the good-natured Tyroleans still wore a festive aspect. The snow lay thick on the ground and the steep roofs, and gave what the English girls were wont to call a “Christmas card” air to the town. It was early afternoon, but already the short winter day showed signs of fading into dusk, and some of the shop windows were already lighted up. They turned down the Markt-Platz, and in a few minutes they were going smoothly along by the side of the Inn, which lay still and black under its coating of ice.

Across the fine stone bridge they turned, and then they drove up the long Mariahilf Strasse to the door, where two tall, pretty girls of twenty or thereabouts were standing, eagerly awaiting them.

“Here at last!” exclaimed the taller and fairer of the two as the sleigh stopped, and Joey scrambled out to be seized and kissed warmly by both. “And our little bird! How well thou art, m
ein blumchen
!”

The Robin, well accustomed to endearments, held up her face for a kiss before she ran into the house, and began to skip up the stairs. It was a long way up, for the Mensches’ flat was on the third floor, and the stairs were steep and narrow. At length she was there, and springing into the arms of a slight, fair girl of fifteen.

Frieda Mensch was much smaller than the rest of her family, typically German, with long flaxen plaits on her shoulders, blue eyes, and an apple-blossom skin. She was very pretty, though by no means as attractive looking, as her elder sister, who followed a minute or two later with Joey. Bernhilda, with her corn-coloured hair in a coronal of plaits round her head, was charming enough to have stood for one of the princesses in
Grimm’s Tales
. She was a good head taller than her sister, and carried herself with the same easy grace so noticeable in Joey and Grizel. A door opened at Frieda’s joyful exclamations, and Frau Mensch, very fat, very fair like her daughters, and with one of the kindest faces in the world, rolled out and caught the visitors in a close embrace. “But how we have missed you, my children! There seemed to be something lacking in our joy this Christmas.
Die Grossmutter
has wearied for your return; she is in the salon now. Come, my children, and greet her.”

She led the way to the long narrow salon where a tiny old woman, Herr Mensch’s mother, was sitting by the big white porcelain stove. Old Frau Mensch was only two years short of her century, and she was very frail, but her eyes still snapped with aliveness, and she made herself felt in the little household. Joey went up to her, curtseying first in the pretty, old-fashioned way the old dame liked, and then offering her hand. The Robin followed her example, but she was kissed and crooned over. Nearly seventy years had passed since Frau Mensch had lost her one little daughter, and the Robin possessed the same rosy face and dark eyes and hair of baby Natalie, who had gladdened the world for seven short years before she had gone to the Paradise of little children.

Then the others came in, and there was a general rejoicing for the next few moments. But once that was over Frau Mensch the younger – Tante Gretchen, as the girls had learned to call her – swept them all off for a meal, which she was sure they needed after their journey.

Joey heaved a sigh of joy as she settled down to a bowl of soup and a big slice of rye bread, which she loved. “English food’s all very well,” she said, “but I love what we have here. I used to get so bored with the white bread. I
love
this!” She took a large bite out of her slice, and beamed on them all.

“Joey, you needn’t act so like a little pig,” said her sister severely. “Even if you are glad to get back, I think you might have a little less to say about your food! I hope she didn’t behave like this in England, Grizel?”

She purposely included the elder girl in the conversation. That there was something wrong with Grizel was patent to anyone. What it was, Mrs. Russell had made up her mind to find out before they were all very much older. Now, as the girl shook her head, she bit her lips. What
could
be the matter? However, it was no time to ask questions now, so she turned to Miss Maynard with some idle remark about the journey.

“Quite simple,” was the answer. “Paris was delightful, and we had a good time seeing the shops at Basle.”

“I thought you meant to stay longer,” said Mrs. Russell. “Why did you leave it so soon?”

“It was pouring with snow,” said Joey hastily. “You never saw anything like it! If it’s going to be bad weather, it’s best to be at home, I think!”

Madge frowned. Then she decided to say nothing, though Jo’s rudeness in bursting in like this on her conversation with Miss Maynard was both unusual in her and outrageous. As for Grizel, she had no more to say, but ate her soup and bread, and drank the coffee which Bernhilda set before her. The meal was a compromise between
Mittagessen
and
Kaffee,
since it came at three o’clock – fifteen, if you are going to count time as the Continentals do. When it was over, the girls went off together for a chat, and the Robin, who was sleepy, was tucked up on the sofa to take a nap. Frau Mensch had some household tasks to see to, so she went out, leaving the other two together after excusing herself. She had barely closed the door behind her when Madge Russell turned eagerly to the other. “Mollie! What is the matter? What happened at Basle?

I’m sure something did, or you would never have come off so suddenly. Why on earth did you go to Schaffhausen at this time of year? I got the shock of my life when I got your wire from there saying you were coming back at once. And what is wrong with Grizel? Has she been doing anything she ought not?”

Miss Maynard frowned. “It’s difficult to tell you, my dear. Yes, Grizel has been as mad as usual. I thought she was cured of wanting to go off on expeditions of her own, but evidently she isn’t. As for Schaffhausen, it was her doing we went there. The monkey ran away to see the Falls of Rhine yesterday morning without saying anything about where she was going, though she and Joey had had a battle royal over it the night before. At least, as far as I can gather, that’s what happened. Jo seems to think that it was partly her fault that Grizel went off as she did. I don’t know. There may be some truth in it. She’s not exactly tactful on occasion. It’s quite possible she did say things that put Grizel’s back up. At the same time, Grizel has no excuse for going off as she did. If it hadn’t been for what Jo was able to tell me, I shouldn’t have known where she had gone. Then, when she was half-way there, the silly child seems to have repented, and turned back – without wiring to let us know that she was returning. The result was that I packed up and took the other two off to Schaffhausen to seek her, and was met on the platform by a wire from Frau Betts saying that Grizel was there, and asking what they were to do. I wired them to send her on by the next train. She was very penitent, I must say, and has behaved very well since then. But honestly, my dear, I think we shall have to reconsider making her head-girl. It seems to be impossible to place the smallest reliance on her.”

Madge sighed. “Poor child! That’s what’s wrong with her, of course. She’s dreading being degraded. I can’t decide yet; Mollie; it’s altogether too big a thing. And it’s quite true that Jo can be horribly tactless when she is roused. I wish I knew what to do!” She got up, and began to pace backwards and forwards.

Miss Maynard watched her. She saw the difficulties, of course; but she was not blessed with much imagination, and she did not know Grizel so well as the ex-Head did. To her way of thinking, it would be very unwise to risk having such a girl as head-girl of the school. “It’s hard luck on Grizel,” she agreed; “but what else are you to do?”

“I can try her again,” said Mrs. Russell briefly.

“My dear, how often have we done that already? Grizel has always been a problem. It seems to be the most difficult thing in the world for her to submit to authority! And this isn’t the first time she’s run away to gratify her own self-will, remember!”

“The trouble with Grizel is that she had far too much authority over her for four years. The second Mrs.

Cochrane always resented her existence, you know, and she scarcely allowed the child to call her soul her own. I think it’s that which makes her difficult at times now; and when I’m tempted to be angry with her, and deal strictly with her I remember that. It’s often the only way I’ve been able to make allowances for her.”

“But other children are made to be obedient,” Miss Maynard reminded her. “Where would you find parents expect more unquestioning obedience than with the Maranis? The Mensches are pretty strict, but Gisela and Maria have been taught the most unquestioning and absolute obedience. And it’s the same with most of our girls – the Continental ones, at any rate. Evadne is a handful, I admit, and the Stevens are not as instantly obedient as most of the others. Still, it’s no bad thing for a child. I like it better than the calm disregarding of orders that one gets nowadays from children.”

“So do I,” returned her friend. “The trouble is that Grizel was thoroughly spoilt by her grandmother for five years before her father’s second marriage. Then, though our girls have been taught to obey on the word, they aren’t nagged at. That’s bad for anyone, and it is Mrs. Cochrane’s chief failing.”

“Well, what are we to do? I know that she expects to be degraded. If you think we ought to try her again, I am quite willing. Only I do hope she’s learnt her lesson this time, and will play no more such wild pranks.

I know you think me very hard, but I
cannot
see how any girl of nearly eighteen can be so mad!”

Mrs. Russell nodded. “I know. But it’s just Grizel. I will have a talk with her, and see what she says, and, of course, we must consult Mademoiselle. Then, if you and she agree, I think we must give the child a last chance. I don’t want to degrade her. That sort of thing sticks, and it might harm her more than it would do her good. She is a difficult girl. These complex characters always are.”