04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (8 page)

“Couldn’t they have little expeditions of their own? They love Spartz. If we could get them down there they could have a good time in the gardens, and there is a good
conditorei
where they could have cakes and coffee. Then they couldn’t do as much as we could in one day, so they might take two or even three over Innsbruck.”

“It isn’t so much the getting them there as getting them back,” said Grizel thoughtfully. “It’s a long pull up the mountain, and they would be tired to begin with. Even if two of the staff and a pre. and a sub-pre. were with them it would he a business getting them home again. People like the Robin and Paula’s little sister would be done, and the staff won’t agree to anything that’s going to keep them in bed all next day – which is what would happen.”

Things were at an impasse, so they decided to leave the question alone and get on to the next business, which was settling duties for the term. Here the first dispute arose. Grizel as head-girl had so much on her hands that beyond taking her turn at prep. and cloakroom duty she had no other. Gertrud was Captain of the Games, and that would keep her occupied. Rosalie Dene agreed to undertake stationery, a task which just suited her, for she was orderly and methodical – two very necessary qualities for the work.

“Then, if I may, I will see to break, Grizel,” said Lisa. “As I am here during school hours only, it will be as well for me to do that.”

“It’s a good deal of work,” said Grizel doubtfully. “Oughtn’t you to take turns with someone?”

But Lisa refused to hear of it. She had no evening duties, she said, and no morning work. She would rather do the break duties herself. It meant no more than seeing that every girl got her milk and biscuits, and that the monitress for the week took the staff coffee to the staff-room. Still, it would mean that she would be tied for at least half of every break. However, she was very urgent, so Grizel gave way at last, and it was arranged so.

“Then, Luigia, will you do library?” asked Grizel. “Joey will help you as usual, I suppose. And Vanna, you had better be music prefect again. You learn with Herr Anserl, and know just how he likes things. Plato needs looking after too,” she went on, referring to their somewhat eccentric singing-master. “Mary, you had better see to the form-rooms. I think, and also the staff-room, if you don’t mind. That leaves hobbies for you, Deira.”

Mary and Vanna had agreed with nods to the duties she assigned them, but Deira was not pleased, and took pains to let them all know at once.

“I don’t want to be hobbies prefect,” she said. “It’s the most tiresome job of the lot, and you never get a chance to get on with your own work. I don’t like it at all, at all!” The others stared at her in undisguised amazement. So far, no one had ever objected to any duty given her by the head-girl. It was not the tradition of the school. You simply accepted what was given you, and did your best with it. When Grizel had recovered her breath she said so.

“I don’t care what you’ve always done,” said Deira calmly. “A change is a good thing sometimes, and I’m not liking the work. Why shouldn’t I be music pre.?”

“‘Cos Vanna is,” Grizel told her. “She knows Herr Anserl, and you scarcely do – you don’t even have lessons with him. If you did you’d not be talking rubbish about wanting to have more to do with him than you could help!”

“Deira can have form-rooms if she likes, and I’ll do hobbies,” said Mary, who was by way of being a peace-maker, and who saw that both Deira and Grizel were likely to have a quarrel if left long to themselves. “I don’t mind least, Grizel. I’m not doing anything special this term – only going on with my stamps. You know the babes take a lot of time sometimes, and if Deira has anything extra she wants to do it would be rather a trial.”

“Have you?” asked Grizel of Deira.

“No, I haven’t,” said Deira sulkily.

“Then you can’t change, Mary. I’m sorry you don’t like being hobbies pre., Deira, but all the other jobs are settled. Besides, anyhow, I don’t see why you want to argue about it. The rule here is that the head-girl settles the work, and the others simply take on.”

“‘Tis a rotten rule, it is, then!” responded Deira with spirit. “I’m not agreeing with it at all, at all, Grizel Cochrane! Why should you choose for us, as if we were kids?”

“Because I happen to be head-girl,” Grizel told her firmly.

“Don’t be silly, Deira,” said Rosalie. “We’ve always settled things this way, and no one ever made a fuss about it before! You didn’t object last term yourself.”

“Ah, Bette was head-girl then,” said Deira.

“So you’re making this fuss just because
I’m
head-girl now?” said Grizel. “Well, you can go on making a fuss, but you’ll he hobbies pre. till the end of term. And so I tell you!”

“And I won’t do it. And so I tell
you
!” retorted Deira. “‘Tis a tyrant you are, Grizel Cochrane! I’m not going to put my neck under your heel!”

“Nobody asked you! Don’t be so absurd!” said Grizel crossly. “And if you won’t be hobbies pre., then you won’t have any job at all! You can either take it or leave it! You’ll be the only one of us left out, anyway.”

Fire flashed in Deira’s grey eyes, and her face was flushed with passion. What might have happened next there is no saying, but just then the Robin knocked at the door. “Please, it is
Kaffee
, and Miss Durrant says will you have it up here, or have you finished your meeting, and will you come downstairs?”

“We’ll have it up here, Robin,” said Grizel. “Will two of you go and fetch it, please? Now, Deira,” she went on, turning to the girl as Mary and Vanna followed the Robin out of the room, “I’m sorry I didn’t know before you disliked being hobbies pre., but it can’t be helped now. Next term, if you
still
want it, you can have a shot at music, if you like. For this term the duties are arranged, and will have to stay put. I showed the list to Mademoiselle last night when Madame was down, and they both saw it, and said it was all right.

Of course, they couldn’t know how you would object. If they had, I dare say they would have asked me to alter it! As it is, they didn’t, and it’s signed. Madame won’t be down for a fortnight now, so it will have to stay.
Don’t
do your duty if you feel all that bad about it. I dare say we can manage. But it’ll be rotten of you if you don’t!”

Deira turned white, and her eyes gleamed black with rage. She felt the sarcasm that edged Grizel’s voice throughout this last speech, and she also knew that the head-girl had the whip hand. Mrs. Russell was no longer working Head of the school, but she still took part in it, and all lists were signed by her, and all big arrangements had to be discussed with her. Mademoiselle Lapattre had insisted on that before she had agreed to become the nominal Head. If Madame, as they still loved to call her, were not coming from the Sonnalpe for a fortnight, then the lists must remain as she had passed them. All the same, Deira was very angry. She had protested, not so much because she disliked the work, as because she objected to Grizel’s rather dictatorial manner. Her protest had not worked, but she loved Grizel none the better for that.

“If I must, I must,” she choked out at length. “All the same, Grizel Cochrane, I’ll be even with you yet!”

“Rats!” said Grizel briefly, and began to discuss prep. and cloakroom duties with them as if nothing had happened. Deira made no attempt to listen. She was too angry.

Mary and Vanna brought in
Kaffee und Kuchen
, their afternoon meal, and they were all too busy settling days and work to notice how silently the Irish girl sat through their discussion. She agreed mechanically to taking Saturday duty, which was the lightest of the lot, without noticing which day was hers. She drank her coffee and ate the cakes they passed her without realising what she was eating or drinking. Her temper was aroused, and she was resolved to make Grizel Cochrane smart for what she had said before many hours were over.

When the meeting had ended, and Lisa had gone home with her father, who had called to fetch her, most of the prefects went off to their dormitories to change into light frocks, as they were going to dance that evening. Grizel was left behind, and Gertrud stayed with her.

“I wish you had not spoken to Deira quite as you did, Grizel,” said the Austrian girl rather nervously, for she did
not
like speaking about it at all to Grizel, who was quite likely to turn on her. But Gertrud felt that Deira was up to something, and she ought to warn Grizel.

Grizel looked at her frowningly. “I rather wish I hadn’t myself,” she owned; “but she does rile me so! After all, Gertrud, I couldn’t have given in. It isn’t the way we do.”

“No; but you were very sarcastic,” said Gertrud bravely. “She is angry, Grizel.”

“Well, let’s hope she gets over it quickly,” said Grizel. “Oh, Gertrud, I wish Bette had stayed on! I didn’t want to be head-girl one bit! But if I’m it, I’ll
be
it!” she added.

Gertrud said nothing. There seemed to be nothing to say.

Grizel slipped an arm through hers. “Gertrud, I couldn’t alter things like that! You
do
agree with me there, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes; I agree with that,” said Gertrud readily. “But, Grizel, Deira is very angry, and she does bad things when she is angry. She is sorry after, I know; but it never stops her from doing them the next time she is – how do you call it? – upset.”

Grizel stood still, a funny look on her face. This description might have fitted her, and she knew it. “Well, it’s done now,” she said finally. “But I will try to keep out of her way and not make things worse.”

With that she dragged Gertrud off to change, but though she seemed to be one of the gayest that night she couldn’t help thinking over Gertrud’s words: “She is very sorry after, but it never stops her from doing them the next time she is upset.”

She wished she had kept her temper, and
not
been sarcastic about those lists.

Deira Gets Her Own Back

“HAS ANYONE seen my manuscript book?” asked Grizel Cochrane abruptly, coming into the big form-room on Sunday afternoon.

The middles, who were all there, stared at her.

“Your manuscript book, Grizel? No, I haven’t,” said Margia Stevens at length, since Grizel was looking at her. “When did you have it last?”

“It was in my music locker on Friday,” replied Grizel. “I put it away just before afternoon school, and, as I was in a hurry, I slipped a letter from home into it. Now I can’t find it, and I want it – at least I want that letter.”

“Did you have a letter? Lucky you!” said Margia.

“It was an old one,” said Grizel briefly. “Don’t any of you know where the wretched thing is?”

They all assured her that they did not, so she left them to their devices and went off to hunt through all the lockers in case she had slipped her book into the wrong one. Mademoiselle came along while she was engaged, and stopped in sheer astonishment at the sight. “Grizel!” she cried in her own language, “what are you doing here?”

“I am looking for my manuscript book, Mademoiselle,” explained Grizel, lifting a flushed face.

“But this is Sunday! You cannot do harmony on Sunday!” protested Mademoiselle.

“Oh, it wasn’t for that I wanted it,” said Grizel, rising from her knees to stand before the nominal Head of the school. “I left a letter in it, and I want the letter. I thought I had put the book into my locker, but it isn’t there, so I was looking to see if I had made a mistake and put it into someone else’s, as I was in rather a hurry.”

“Yes, ma petite; in that case you may look for the book,” said Mademoiselle, passing on and leaving Grizel to go on with her hunt – a fruitless hunt as it proved to be.

Wherever that book was, it wasn’t in the music lockers. Finally Grizel gave it up and went to turn out her desk, though she was certain she had not carried her harmony into form with her. Gertrud came in as she was busy, and opened her eyes widely.

“It’s my wretched manuscript book,”‘ explained Grizel once more as she ran through a pile of exercise books. “I simply can’t find the thing! It seems to have vanished off the face of the earth!”

“But harmony!” protested Gertrud.

The rule about work on Sunday was strictly kept at the Chalet School. No lessons at all might be done then. In the mornings the girls went to the little Roman Catholic chapel if there was a service – all of them that were Catholics, that is. The rest had a little service of their own in one of the form-rooms. In the afternoon they were free to amuse themselves with books, puzzles, or painting. The little ones had to lie down for an hour, and any girl who seemed to need it was also sent off. After Kaffee und Kuchen Mademoiselle took the Catholics, and Miss Maynard had the English Church girls for an hour, and they had quiet talks together. After that they were free once more till bed-time. Margia Stevens in her first term at the school had told her mother that they had “such gentle Sundays.” The quaint epithet best describes the day too. The girls were never likely to forget their Sundays at the Chalet School. Hence Gertrud’s surprise at Grizel’s statement.

The head-girl knew what was passing in her mind, and laughed. “Oh, it isn’t harmony, my dear; only I left a letter of Grannie’s – the last she ever wrote me – in it, and I want that letter.”

Gertrud’s pretty face softened. Everyone knew that Grizel had loved her grandmother, who had died two years previously and who had adored and petted her. The Austrian, emotional as most of her race are, felt a deep sympathy with the English girl, though she knew better than to say so. Grizel was not sentimental, and hated any show of sentiment. She kept that particular letter because in it was a good deal of gentle, loving advice which she very seldom followed, it is true, but which she liked never the less.

“Perhaps the book has been taken to our room,” suggested Gertrud practically, that being the only sort of sympathy Grizel would permit. “Shall I go and see?”

“It’s awfully good of you, but I think I’ll go myself. Come, though, if you like.”

Gertrud slipped an arm through her friend’s, and they went upstairs together. In the prefects’ room they found Vanna, who was writing letters, and Deira, who was reading. The Irish girl scowled as the two came in, and turned her back on them. Vanna, deep in her home letter, took no notice of them as they hunted through the cupboard, and then went through the long, low book-shelves that ran along the wall at one side.