CHAPTER II
Brackenfield College
Brackenfield College stood on the hills, about a mile from theseaside town of Whitecliffe. It had been built for a school, andwas large and modern and entirely up-to-date. It had a gymnasium,a library, a studio, a chemical laboratory, a carpentering-shop,a kitchen for cooking-classes, a special block for music andpractising-rooms, and a large assembly hall. Outside there weremany acres of lawns and playing-fields, a large vegetable garden,and a little wood with a stream running through it. The girls livedin three hostels--for Seniors, Intermediates, and Juniors--knownrespectively as St. Githa's, St. Elgiva's, and St. Ethelberta's.They met in school and in the playgrounds, but, with a few exceptions,they were not allowed to visit each other's houses.
Marjorie and Dona had been separated on their arrival, the former beingentered at St. Elgiva's and the latter at St. Ethelberta's, and it wasnot until the afternoon of the day following that they had anopportunity of meeting and comparing notes. To both life had seemed abreathless and confusing whirl of classes, meals, and calisthenicexercises, with a continual ringing of bells and marching from one roomto another. It was a comfort at last to have half an hour when theymight be allowed to wander about and do as they pleased.
"Let's scoot into that little wood," said Marjorie, seizing Dona by thearm. "It looks quiet, and we can sit down and talk. Well, how are yougetting on? D'you like it so far?"
Dona flung herself down under a larch tree and shook her headtragically.
"I hate it! But then, you know, I never expected to like it. You shouldsee my room-mates!"
"You should just see mine!"
"They can't be as bad as mine."
"I'll guarantee they're worse. But go on and tell about yours."
"There's Mona Kenworthy," sighed Dona. "She looked over all my clothesas I put them away in my drawers, and said they weren't as nice as hers,and that she'd never dream of wearing a camisole unless it was trimmedwith real lace. She twists her hair in Hinde's wavers every night, andkeeps a pot of complexion cream on her dressing-table. She always usesstephanotis scent that she gets from one special place in London, and itcosts four and sixpence a bottle. She hates bacon for breakfast, and shehas seventeen relations at the front. She's thin and brown, and her nosewiggles like a rabbit's when she talks."
"I shouldn't mind her if she'd keep to her own cubicle," commentedMarjorie. "Sylvia Page will overflow into mine, and I find her thingsdumped down on my bed. She's nicer than Irene Andrews, though; we had asquabble last night over the window. Betty Moore brought a whole box ofchocolates with her, and she ate them in bed and never offered a singleone to anybody else. We could hear her crunching for ages. I don't likeIrene, but I agreed with her that Betty is mean!"
"Nellie Mason sleeps in the next cubicle to me," continued Dona, bent onretailing her own woes. "She snores dreadfully, and it kept me awake,though she's not so bad otherwise. Beatrice Elliot is detestable. Shefound that little Teddy bear I brought with me, and she sniggered andasked if I came from a kindergarten. I've calculated there areseventy-four days in this term. I don't know how I'm going to livethrough them until the holidays."
"Hallo!" said a cheerful voice. "Sitting weeping under the willows, areyou? New girls always grouse. Miss Broadway's sent me to hunt you up anddo the honours of the premises. I'm Mollie Simpson. Come along with meand I'll show you round."
The speaker was a jolly-looking girl of about sixteen, with particularlymerry blue eyes and a whimsical expression. Her dark curly hair wasplaited and tied with broad ribbons.
"We've been round, thanks very much," returned Marjorie to thenew-comer.
"Oh, but that doesn't count if you've only gone by yourselves! Youwouldn't notice the points. Every new girl has got to be personallyconducted by an old one and told the traditions of the place. It's asort of initiation, you know. We've a regular freemasons' code here ofthings you may do or mustn't. Quick march! I've no time to waste. Tea isat four prompt."
Thus urged, Marjorie and Dona got up, shook the pine needles from theirdresses, and followed their cicerone, who seemed determined to performher office of guide in as efficient a fashion as possible.
"This is the Quad," she informed them. "That's the Assembly Hall and theHead's private house, and those are the three hostels. What's it like inSt. Githa's? I can't tell you, because I've never been there. It's forSeniors, and no Intermediate or Junior may pop her impertinent noseinside, or so much as go and peep through the windows without gettinginto trouble. They've carpets on the stairs instead of linoleum, andthey may make cocoa in their bedrooms and fill their own hot-water bags,and other privileges that aren't allowed to us luckless individuals.They may come and see us, by special permission, but we mayn't returnthe visits. By the by, you'd oblige me greatly if you'd tilt yourchapeau a little farther forward. Like this, see!"
"Why?" questioned Marjorie, greatly astonished, as she made the requiredalteration to the angle of her hat.
"Because only Seniors may wear their sailors on the backs of theirheads. It's a strict point of school etiquette. You may jam on yourhockey cap as you like, but not your sailor."
"Are there any other rules?" asked Dona.
"Heaps. Intermediates mayn't wear bracelets, and Juniors mayn't wearlockets, they're limited to brooches. I advise you to strip thosetrinkets off at once and stick them in your pockets. Don't go in to teawith them on any account."
"How silly!" objected Dona, unclasping her locket, with Father's photoin it, most unwillingly.
"Now, look here, young 'un, let me give you a word of good advice at thebeginning. Don't you go saying anything here is silly. The rules havebeen made by the Seniors, and Juniors have got to put up with them andkeep civil tongues in their heads. If you want to get on you'll have toaccommodate yourself to the ways of the place. Any girl who doesn't hasa rough time, I warn you. For goodness' sake don't begin to blub!"
"Don't be a cry-baby, Dona," said Marjorie impatiently. "She's not beento school before," she explained to Mollie, "so she's still feelingrather home-sick."
Mollie nodded sympathetically.
"I understand. She'll soon get over it. She's a decent kid. I'm going tolike her. That's why I'm giving her all these tips, so that she won'tmake mistakes and begin wrong. She'll get on all right at St.Ethelberta's. Miss Jones is a stunt, as jinky as you like. Wish we hadher at our house."
"Who is the Head of St. Elgiva's?"
"Miss Norton, worse luck for us!"
"Not the tall fair one who met us in London yesterday?"
"The same."
"Oh, thunder! I shall never get on with her, I know."
"The Acid Drop's a rather unsweetened morsel, certainly. You'll have tomind your p's and q's. She can be decent to those she likes, but shedoesn't take to everybody."
"She hasn't taken to me--I could see it in her eye at Euston."
"Then I'm sorry for you. It isn't particularly pleasant to be in Norty'sbad books. If you missed your train and kept her waiting she'll neverforgive you. Look out for squalls!"
"What's the Head like?"
"Mrs. Morrison? Well, of course, she's nice, but we stand very much inawe of her. It's a terrible thing to be sent down to her study. Wegenerally see her on the platform. We call her 'The Empress', becauseshe's so like the pictures of the Empress Eugenie, and she's sodignified and above everybody else. Hallo, there's the first bell! Wemust scoot and wash our hands. If you're late for a meal you put a pennyin the missionary box."
Marjorie walked into the large dining-hall with Mollie Simpson. She feltshe had made, if not yet a friend, at least an acquaintance, and in thiswilderness of fresh faces it was a boon to be able to speak to somebody.She hoped Mollie would not desert her and sit among her own chums (thegirls took any places they liked for tea); but no, her new comrade ledthe way to a table at the lower end of the hall, and, motioning her topass first, took the next chair. Each table held about twenty girls, anda mistress sat at either end. Conversation went on, but
in subduedtones, and any unduly lifted voices met with instant reproof.
"I always try to sit in the middle, unless I can get near a mistress Ilike," volunteered Mollie. "That one with the ripply hair is MissDuckworth. She's rather sweet, isn't she? We call her Ducky for short.The other's Miss Carter, the botany teacher. Oh, I say, here's the AcidDrop coming to the next table! I didn't bargain to have her so near."
Marjorie turned to look, and in so doing her sleeve most unfortunatelycaught the edge of her cup, with the result that a stream of tea emptieditself over the clean table-cloth. Miss Norton, who was just passing toher place, noticed the accident and murmured: "How careless!" thenpaused, as if remembering something, and said:
"Marjorie Anderson, you are to report yourself in my study at 4.30."
Very subdued and crestfallen Marjorie handed her cup to be refilled.Miss Duckworth made no remark, but the girls in her vicinity glared atthe mess on the cloth. Mollie pulled an expressive face.
"Now you're in for it!" she remarked. "The Acid Drop's going to treatyou to some jaw-wag. What have you been doing?"
"Spilling my tea, I suppose," grunted Marjorie.
"That's not Norty's business, for it didn't happen at her table. Youwouldn't have to report yourself for that. It must be something else."
"Then I'm sure I don't know." Marjorie's tone was defiant.
"And you don't care? Oh, that's all very well! Wait till you've had fiveminutes with the Acid Drop, and you'll sing a different song."
Although Marjorie might affect nonchalance before her schoolfellows, herheart thumped in a very unpleasant fashion as she tapped at the door ofMiss Norton's study. The teacher sat at a bureau writing, she looked upand readjusted her pince-nez as her pupil entered.
"Marjorie Anderson," she began, "I inspected your cubicle this afternoonand found this book inside one of your drawers. Are you aware that youhave broken one of the strictest rules of the school? You may borrowbooks from the library, but you are not allowed to have any privatebooks at all in your possession with the exception of a Bible and aPrayer Book."
Miss Norton held in her hand the sensational novel which Marjorie hadbought while waiting for the train at Rosebury. The girl jumped guiltilyat the sight of it. She had only read a few pages of it and hadcompletely forgotten its existence. She remembered now that among therules sent by the Head Mistress, and read to her by her mother, thebringing back of fiction to school had been strictly prohibited. As shehad no excuse to offer she merely looked uncomfortable and saidnothing. Miss Norton eyed her keenly.
"You will find the rules at Brackenfield are intended to be kept," sheremarked. "As this is a first offence I'll allow it to pass, but girlshave been expelled from this school for bringing in unsuitableliterature. You had better be careful, Marjorie Anderson!"