04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (7 page)

The door opened at that moment, and Grizel herself came in. She had slipped away from the others, and had come to learn her fate, if possible. She came across the room with lagging steps, her cheeks burning.

“Has Miss Maynard told you, Madame?” she faltered.

“Told me what?” asked Mrs. Russell.

“About my running away to Schaffhausen? I know it was a mad thing to do, but I wanted to see the Falls of Rhine so much, and I didn’t think.”

Miss Maynard got up and left the room. She felt that it would be easier for Grizel to make her confession if she were alone with the Head – for so they all thought of Mrs. Russell, though she had left the school a term before.

That lady now nodded as she looked keenly at the girl. “Yes, Grizel. She has told me. I am very disappointed in you.”

Grizel’s lips quivered. “I’m awfully sorry, Madame. I just didn’t think.”

“That is the trouble with you, Grizel,” said Madge gravely as she drew the girl down on a chair beside her.

“You
don’t
think; and so you give everyone endless trouble. Do you think that a girl who doesn’t think in this way ought to be our head-girl?”

Grizel shook her head. She couldn’t speak, for she was fighting desperately for self-control. If she had spoken, she must have cried.

“I want you to have another chance,” said Mrs. Russell quietly. “Miss Maynard and I are going to talk it over with Mademoiselle. If she agrees, we will try you for this term. But remember, Grizel, if it should be decided to try you, it will really be your last chance this time. I dare not hurt the school for the sake of one girl.”

She dismissed the girl after that, but Grizel went away happier that she had come. She knew that kind-hearted Mademoiselle Lapattre would agree to giving her this chance and she felt that she would not be degraded this time. But she knew that she must be very careful. Also, she felt more thoroughly ashamed of herself than ever before. Mrs. Russell had said little, but that little had gone home.

The Prefects’ Meeting

IN THE PRETTY prefects’ room, Grizel sat alone. It was Saturday afternoon – the first Saturday of term, and she was to hold her first prefects’ meeting. She had been looking forward to it, but now that it was here she felt sudden doubts as to whether she would be able to manage as well as her predecessors had done.

Sitting there by herself, she went over them in her own mind. Tall, graceful Gisela, with her wide commonsense and her quiet tact, which had helped to bring her through that first test year; big, steady Juliet, who had been the Head’s right hand, and the beloved of all the juniors; pretty Bette, who had had only one term of office, but had proved in that term that she, too, possessed the something which goes to make leaders. Yes; they were a fine trio to follow, and she must work hard if she meant to rise to their level. For once in her life Grizel saw herself with open eyes; saw how her actions really looked. She did not like it. Something foreign to it came into her charming face as she sat there, looking unseeingly out of the window that gave on to the long narrow valley which runs into the mountains from the shores of the Tiern See. She vowed to herself that she would make good in this term of trial. She would not let Miss Bettany -the old name persisted in spite of the fact that Miss Bettany had been Mrs. Russell for nearly six months now – Miss Maynard, or Mademoiselle down, come what might. In her grim determination she clenched her hands and squared her jaw, robbing her face of half its beauty, but giving it an added character.

Well might Rosalie Dene, the second prefect, who entered the room just then, exclaim, “Grizel! What in the world has happened?”

Grizel’s face resumed its normal appearance as she said hastily, “Nothing! What should have happened?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Rosalie, pulling up a chair to the table and sitting down. “You looked as if –as if – oh, I don’t know! As if you were declaring war on someone.”

“What nonsense!” Grizel laughed, albeit she coloured.

“Well, that’s what you looked like,” insisted Rosalie. “Who’s been upsetting you?”

“No one. What an imagination you’ve got, my child!”

Rosalie shot a quick glance at her, then she decided to change the subject. “Where do you think the others are? They’re late!”

“Here they are,” said Grizel, whose quick ear had heard the sound of light footsteps on the stairs. “Come along, you people! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about it!”

“I am sorry,” said Gertrud Steinbrucke, still as pretty as she had been at the time of another journal of the school. “I was talking with Mademoiselle about the library, and had not noticed how late it was.”

“And we were getting the middles and juniors started with their hobbies,” added Mary Burnett, a sturdy English girl, with a pleasant face and downright manner. “Jo, Paula, and Marie are looking after the little ones, and the middles are with Eva and Dorota. Jo says, Grizel, do you want to discuss the magazine at all?

Because if so she’ll come. But if you don’t she’ll stay where she is.”

Grizel thought. “No; I don’t think we shall need her this afternoon,” she said slowly. “We must have a meeting of the committee soon, though. Do you mind running down and telling her, Mary, old thing? Ask her to find out from the others if they can have a meeting after tea, will you?”

“Righto!” Mary went off on her errand, and the rest of the prefects and sub-prefects settled down.

They made an attractive group as they sat there. There were eight of them. Grizel was head-girl, and looked it in her place at the head of the table. Next her was Rosalie, fair, quiet, and very English-looking. On her other hand was Gertrud, who had taken her place as games captain, and below her, Luigia di Ferara, an Italian girl, who was the eldest of them all, since she would be eighteen in three weeks’ time. Below these grandees sat the sub-prefects – Vanna di Ricci, another Italian girl, and a great favourite with everybody; Lisa Bernaldi, the only day-girl to be a prefect; Mary Burnett, when she should come; and Deira O’Hagan, a wild Irish girl from County Cork, whose glowing, dark prettiness told of her Spanish grandmother. Deira was something of a firebrand in the school, for she was hot-tempered, haughty, and very nearly as strong-headed as Grizel herself. The two always sparred when together. They were too much alike in character to get on well. Deira had several good points, however. She might have a quick temper and sometimes sulked, but she was strictly truthful and honourable to a degree, and at least she was not vain. Of the rest, Rosalie was always strongly on the side of law and order, and Mary, who was her cousin, backed her up on all occasions. Gertrud was only anxious to have things as “English” as possible; Luigia was almost as quiet as Rosalie, and Vanna and Lisa were pleasant girls enough, but they were apt to follow the strongest person present. In Grizel’s present mood that was as well. If only the mood would last things should be all right.

Mary came back presently and took her seat, and Grizel stood up to open proceedings. “This is the new term,” she said slowly. “We have, unfortunately, lost Bette Rincini, who made such a splendid head-girl last term, and I’ve got to do my best to carry on the tradition she has left. I will, of course, and I hope you’ll all help me.” She paused and looked round at them all, but even Deira was smiling and nodding approval. She went on: “We had better have the report of last term now, I think, and then we can decide what we are to do this term. Rosalie, will you please read it.”

She sat down, and Rosalie stood up and read out the following report. “‘Last term was a good term. The snow did not come till half-way through November, so we were able to have hockey and netball nearly the whole of the term. Inter-form matches were played, and the Sixth Form came first, with the Fourth second, the Fifth third in hockey. In netball, the Lower Fourth were first, the Second second and the Third third.

During October a party of English schoolgirls were staying at the Stephanie, and they made up a team and challenged us. The game was won by three goals to one.’ – That was in hockey,” she added, turning to the others for a minute. “They also challenged us at netball, and won by seventeen goals twelve. ‘In the Hobbies Club good work was done in handcrafts, and an exhibition was held on the last Saturday of term.

The cup offered by the staff to the form that did the best and most original work went to the Fifth Form, who gained it through Frieda Mensch’s dolls of all nations, and Josephine Bettany’s marionette theatre which she had made herself. In the Guides, two girls, Grizel Cochrane and Mary Burnett, won the all-round cord, and Gertrud Steinbrucke, Deira O’Hagan, Josephine Bettany, Paula von Rothenfels, and Marie von Eschenau passed the First Class test. Other Guides did well in the tests exams. held at the end of term, ninety-two per cent. passing in these for which they had entered. In folk-dancing we all worked hard, and we learned several new dances, and also began sword-dancing. We did Flamborough, and hope to do Kirkby this term.

The eighth number of our magazine, the
Chaletian
, appeared, and was better than ever. It has been decided to have a copy of each number bound and placed in the school library so that girls may see how we have progressed since we began it. It was also decided to hold an Old Girls’ Day once a year, and this was fixed to come in the summer term, and, if possible, on Madame’s birthday, the fourth of July. Our annual Nativity play was given in the new hall, which Herr Braun had built for us during the last summer holidays, and was a great success.’ That’s all,” went on Rosalie, closing the exercise book from which she had been reading.

“It was a fairly full term, though nothing like
some
we’ve had!”

“No dashing off after kidnapped princesses!” laughed Gertrud, with a reminiscence of the happenings of the summer term, when Princess Elisaveta had been kidnapped by her father’s cousin, Prince Cosimo, and Joey had gone after them and rescued her with the assistance of Rufus, the big St. Bernard dog, who was part of the Chalet School as much as anyone.

“No floods,” added Grizel; “nor any fires or raging thunderstorms. It was a dull term on the whole, wasn’t it? We’ve got so into the way of expecting these little accidents that it seems weird when they don’t occur!

All right, Rosalie, I can’t think of a single thing you’ve left out. Shall we sign it, you people?”

They all agreed, so the book was passed round, and the eight people signed the report.

The next thing was to decide what they were going to do about games for that term. Easter was always rather a difficulty for them. The first few weeks gave them ice sport, but March generally brought the spring thaw with it, and everything was muddy, and skating, ski-ing, and snowball fights had to be taken off the programme. On the other hand, neither netball nor hockey was possible, as the field was more or less a swamp. This meant that something else had to be provided, and it was the prefects’ duty to make suggestions. They bent their minds to this task with great goodwill, for it appealed to them all.

“What about tracking games?” suggested Gertrud.

“All right if the thaw is quick. If it isn’t, well, it’s all wrong,” replied Grizel. “You know what it’s like then

– knee-deep in mud! Matey would have a fit if we brought the babes into anything of the kind. As far as that goes, she’d have a fit over any of us. The cleanest person can’t help looking like a tramp after tracking through mud and puddles.”

“What about rounders?” suggested Mary.

“Where’s the use? If we could have rounders, we could have hockey and netball – netball, anyhow.”

“I suppose it’ll resolve itself into our usual walks,” said Rosalie. “The middles hate them, but it can’t he helped, I suppose. That’s the only drawback to living here.”

“Well, it’s a jolly small drawback!” declared Deira. “I’d a million times rather be at school here and put up with the thaw than be in a town – even Innsbruck!”

“All the same, I think we ought to try to think of
something
fresh,” insisted Grizel. “As Rosalie says, the middles hate walks, even when they can break rank and wander. Can’t anyone think of something?”

“I have thought of something,” said Lisa shyly, “but I do not know if we may do it.”

“Well, let’s have it, anyway,” said Grizel.

“It is that perhaps we might make expeditions for geography and history at the week-end. Do you think it would he possible? We could not go every week-end, of course, but if the middles knew that they would have a trip to Hall one Saturday to see it, and to learn all they could from it of history, do you not think they would make fewer objections to a walk the other Saturdays?”

“It’s an idea,” said Grizel slowly. “There’s a good deal we could see. We ought to do Innsbruck thoroughly, you know. And then there’s Salzburg. And the Stubai glacier. It would be gorgeous if we could.

The only thing is, it would cost rather a lot, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if we made a large party,” said Vanna, joining in for the first time. “Surely we could manage it then.

The big difficulty to me is how we should get to Spartz. The railway does not open till May. We should have to walk down the mountain-side, and in thaw time that would not be pleasant. Also, we could not take the juniors.”

“No, there’s that to think of too. If expeditions can be arranged for the rest of the school, we must manage something for the babes,” said Grizel slowly. “They could manage Innsbruck, perhaps – even Hall, they might do. But Salzburg is a longish train journey, and would tire them; and the Stubai is out of the question, of course. But it is an idea, and a jolly fine one. We’ll see what the staff say, anyway.”

“Then what can we arrange for the little ones?” asked Rosalie. “We must have something ready for them, you know, or the other idea will he squashed at once.”

There was truth in what she said, and the eight girlish faces wore heavy frowns in their endeavours to settle this difficulty. One or two suggestions were made, but all had to be rejected. Some of the little ones were very little – no older than the Robin. One or two were delicate; and there was always the fear of Matron before their eyes. “Matey” was a good sort, but she waged war on mud and dirt o all kinds. It was Mary who made the best suggestion.