A Pair of Schoolgirls: A Story of School Days

  CHAPTER IV

  Dorothy makes a Friend

  Dorothy set off for school on the morning after the election in a verysober frame of mind. Aunt Barbara had made her acquainted with most ofthe facts mentioned in our last chapter, and she now thoroughlyunderstood her own position. To a girl of her proud temperament the newshad indeed come as a great humiliation. Instead of bringing a copy ofher pedigree to convince Agnes Lowe that she was one of the Sherbournesof Devonshire, she would now be obliged to ignore the subject. She didnot expect it would be mentioned openly again, but there might be hintsor allusions, and the mere fact that the girls at school should know wassufficiently mortifying.

  "Agnes was perfectly right," she thought bitterly. "I am a waif, anobody, with no relations, and no place of my own in the world. Isuppose I am exactly what she called me--a charity child! I wonder howshe heard the story? But it really does not matter who told her; thesecret has leaked out somehow, and no doubt it will soon be bruited allover the College. It was time I knew about it myself; but oh dear, howdifferent I feel since yesterday!"

  Thus Dorothy mused, all unconscious that the shuttle of Fate was alreadybusy casting fresh threads into the web of her life, and that the nextfew minutes would bring her a meeting with one whose fortunes wereclosely interwoven with her own, and whose future friendship would leadto strange and most unexpected issues. The train had reached Latchworth,where a number of passengers were waiting on the platform. The door ofDorothy's compartment was flung open, and a girl of about her own ageentered, wearing the well-known Avondale ribbon and badge on her strawhat. Dorothy remembered noticing her among the new members who had beenplaced yesterday in the Upper Fourth, though she had had no opportunityof speaking to her, and had not even learnt her name. A pretty,fair-haired lady was seeing her off, and turned to Dorothy with an airof relief.

  "You are going to the College?" she asked pleasantly. "Oh, I am so glad!Then Alison will have somebody to travel with. Will you be good-natured,and look after her a little at school? She knows nobody yet."

  "I'll do my best," murmured Dorothy.

  THE NEW GIRL]

  "It will be a real kindness. It is rather an ordeal to be a completestranger among so many new schoolfellows. Birdie, you must be sure tocome back with this girl, then I shall feel quite happy about you. Youhave your books and your umbrella? Well, good-bye, darling, until fiveo'clock."

  The girl stood waving her hand through the window until the train wasout of the station, then she came and sat down in the seat next toDorothy. She had a plump, rosy, smiling face, very blue eyes, andstraight, fair hair. Her expression was decidedly friendly.

  Dorothy was hardly in a genial frame of mind, but she felt bound toenter into conversation.

  "You're in the Upper Fourth, aren't you?" she began, by way of breakingthe ice.

  "Yes, and so are you. Aren't you Dorothy Greenfield, who was put up forthe Lower School election?"

  "And lost it!" exclaimed Dorothy ruefully. "I don't believe I'll evercanvass again, whatever office is vacant. The thing wasn't managedfairly. You haven't told me your name yet."

  "Alison Clarke, though I'm called Birdie at home."

  "Do you live at Latchworth?"

  "Yes, at Lindenlea."

  "That pretty house on the hill? I always notice it from the train. Thenyou must have just come. It has been to let for two years."

  "We removed a month ago. We used to live at Leamstead."

  "How do you like the Coll.?"

  "I can't tell yet. I expect I shall like it better when I know thegirls. I'm glad you go in by this train, because it's much jollier tohave somebody to travel backwards and forwards with. Mother took meyesterday and brought me home, but of course she can't do that everyday."

  Dorothy marched into school that morning feeling rather self-conscious.She could not be sure whether her story had been circulated or not, butshe did not wish it to be referred to, nor did she want to enter intoany explanations. She imagined that her classmates looked at her inrather a pitying manner. The bare idea put her on the defensive. Herpride could not endure pity, even for losing the Wardenship, so she keptaloof and spoke to nobody. It was easy enough to do this, since HopeLawson was the heroine of the hour, and the girls, finding Dorothyrather cross and unsociable, left her to her own devices. At themid-morning interval she took a solitary walk round the playground, andat one o'clock, instead of joining the rest of the day boarders in thegymnasium, she lingered behind in the classroom.

  "What's wrong with Dorothy Greenfield?" asked Ruth Harmon. "She's sogrumpy, one can't get a word out of her."

  "Sulking because she missed the election, I suppose," said Val Barnett.

  "That's not like Dorothy. She flares up and gets into tantrums, but shedoesn't sulk."

  "And she doesn't generally bear a grudge about things," added GraceRussell.

  "I believe I can guess," said Mavie Morris. "I heard yesterday that sheisn't really Miss Sherbourne's niece at all; she was adopted when shewas a baby, and she doesn't even know who her parents were."

  "Well, she can't help that."

  "Of course she can't; but you know Dorothy! She's as proud as Lucifer,and Agnes Lowe called her a waif and a nobody."

  "Agnes Lowe wants shaking."

  "Well, she didn't mean Dorothy to overhear her. She's very sorry aboutit."

  "I'm more sorry for Dorothy. So that's the reason she's looking so glum!Isn't she coming to the meeting?"

  "I don't know. She's up in the classroom."

  "Someone fetch her."

  "I'll go," said Mavie. "It's a shame to let her stay out of everything.She's as prickly as a hedgehog to-day, and will probably snap my headoff, but I don't mind. She may have a temper, but she's one of thejolliest girls in the Form, all the same."

  "So she is. It's fearfully hard on her if what Agnes Lowe says is reallytrue. I vote we try to be nice to her, to make up."

  "Any girl who refers to it would be a cad."

  "Well, look here! Let us try to get her made secretary of our'Dramatic'."

  "Right you are! I'll propose her myself."

  Mavie ran quickly upstairs to the classroom.

  "Aren't you coming, Dorothy? It's the committee meeting of the'Dramatic', you know. The others are all waiting; they sent me to fetchyou."

  "You'll get on just as well without me," growled Dorothy, with her headinside her desk.

  "Nonsense! Don't be such a goose. I tell you, everybody's waiting."

  "Dorothy's jealous of Hope," piped Annie Gray, who, as monitress, wasperforming her duty of cleaning the blackboard.

  "I'm not! How can you say such a thing? I don't care in the least aboutthe Wardenship."

  "Then come and show up at the meeting, just to let them see you're notsulking, at any rate," whispered Mavie. "Do be quick! I can't wait anylonger."

  Dorothy slammed her desk lid, but complied. Though she would rather havepreferred her own society that day, she did not wish her conduct to bemisconstrued into jealousy or sulks.

  "Go on, Mavie, and I'll follow," she replied abruptly, but notungraciously.

  As she strolled downstairs she noticed Alison Clarke standing ratheraimlessly on the landing, as if she did not quite know where to go orwhat to do. Dorothy's conscience gave her a prick. She had quiteforgotten Alison, who, as a new girl, must be feeling decidedly out ofthings at the College. She certainly might have employed theeleven-o'clock interval much more profitably in befriending thenew-comer than in mooning round the playground by herself, brooding overher own troubles. However, it was not too late to make up for theomission.

  "Hallo!" she exclaimed. "Not a very breezy occupation to stand readingthe Sixth Form timetable, is it?"

  "I've nothing better to do," replied Alison, whose rosy face looked atrifle forlorn. "I don't know a soul here yet, or the ways of theplace."

  "You know me! Come along to the gym.; we're going to have a committeemeeting."

  Alison brightened visibly.

  "
What's the meeting about?" she asked, as she stepped briskly withDorothy along the passage.

  "It's our 'Dramatic'. You see, we who stay for dinner get up littleplays among ourselves. Each Form acts one or two every term. They'renothing grand--not like the swell things they have at the CollegeDramatic Union--and we only do them before the other girls in the gym.,but they're great fun, all the same."

  "I love acting!" declared Alison, with unction.

  "Ever done any?"

  "Rather! We were keen on it at the school I went to in Leamstead. I was'Nerissa' once, and 'Miss Matty' in _Scenes from Cranford_, and 'TheMarch Hare' in _Alice in Wonderland_. I have the mask still, and the furcostume, and Miss Matty's cap and curls."

  "Any other properties?"

  "Heaps--in a box at home. There are Miss Matty's mittens and cross-over,and her silk dress."

  "Good! I must tell the girls that. We requisition everything we can.Where are they having the meeting, I wonder? Oh, there's Mavie beckoningto us near the horizontal bar!"

  The day boarders belonging to the Upper Fourth were collected in acorner of the gymnasium, waiting impatiently for a few last arrivals.They made room for Dorothy and Alison, and as Annie Gray followed in amoment or two, the meeting began almost immediately. Hope Lawson, byvirtue of her Wardenship, took the chair. The first business of thesociety was to choose a secretary.

  "I beg to propose Dorothy Greenfield," said Grace Russell, putting inher word before anyone else had an opportunity, and looking at RuthHarmon.

  "And I beg to second the proposal," said Ruth, rising to the occasion.

  Nobody offered the slightest opposition, and Dorothy was electedunanimously. Very much surprised, but extremely pleased, she acceptedthe notebook and stump of pencil that were handed her as signs ofoffice.

  "The next thing is to choose a play," said Hope, "and I think we can'tdo better than take one of these _Scenes from Thackeray_. _MissPinkerton's Establishment for Young Ladies_ is lovely."

  "Who'd be Miss Pinkerton?"

  "It depends on the costume. She ought to have curls, and a cap andmittens, and a silk dress."

  "Can we fish them up from anywhere?"

  "Didn't you say you'd had them for Miss Matty?" whispered Dorothy toAlison; adding aloud: "This new girl, Alison Clarke, has the completecostume at home, and she's accustomed to acting. I say she'd better takeMiss Pinkerton."

  "One can't give the best part to a new girl," objected Annie Gray.

  "It's not the best part; it's nothing to Becky Sharp."

  "Well, it's the second best, anyhow."

  "Oh, never mind that! Let her try. If you find she can't manage it, youcan put in somebody else instead. Give her a chance to show what she cando, at any rate," pleaded Dorothy.

  "We'd destined Miss Pinkerton for you," murmured Grace Russell.

  "Then I'll resign in favour of Alison. Let me take Miss Swartz, or oneof the servants--I don't mind which."

  It was characteristic of Dorothy that, having reproached herself forneglecting Alison, she was at once ready to renounce anything andeverything for her benefit. She never did things by halves, and,considering that she had made a promise in the train, she meant to keepit; moreover, she had really taken a fancy to the new-comer's beamingface.

  "So be it!" said Hope. "Put it down provisionally--Miss Pinkerton,Alison Clarke. Now the great business is to choose Becky. Oh, bother!There's the dinner bell! It always rings at the wrong minute. No, wecan't meet again at two, because I have my music lesson. We must waittill to-morrow."

  Dorothy escorted her protegee to the dining-room, and, when dinner wasover, spent the remaining time before school in showing her the library,the museum, and the other sights of the College.

  "You don't feel so absolutely at sea now?" she enquired.

  "No, I'm getting quite at home, thanks to you. It's such a comfort tohave somebody to talk to. Yesterday was detestable."

  At three o'clock the Upper Fourth had a literature lesson with MissTempest. It was held in the lecture hall instead of their own classroom,and just as the girls were filing in at the door, Dorothy made thehorrible discovery that in place of her Longfellow she had brought anEnglish history book. It was impossible to go back, for Miss Pitman wasstanding on the stairs.

  "What am I to do?" she gasped. "How could I have been so idioticallystupid?"

  "Can't you look on with somebody?" suggested Alison, who was walkingwith her.

  "Miss Tempest will notice, and ask the reason. She's fearfully down onus if we forget anything. I'm in the front row, too, worse luck!"

  "Then take my Longfellow and give me your History. Perhaps I shan't beasked to read. We'll chance it, anyhow," said Alison, changing the twobooks before Dorothy had time to object.

  "No, no; it's too bad!" began Dorothy; but at that moment Miss Pitmancalled out: "What are you two girls waiting for? Move on at once!" andthey were obliged to pass into the lecture hall and go to their seats.

  Fortune favoured them that afternoon. Miss Tempest, in the course of thelesson, twice asked Dorothy to read passages, and completely missed outAlison, who sat rejoicing tremulously in the back row.

  "You don't know from what you've saved me," said the former, as shereturned the book when the class was over. "I should have been utterlyundone without your Longfellow."

  "It's like the fable of the mouse and the lion," laughed Alison. "I mustsay I felt a little nervous when Miss Tempest looked in my direction. Ithought once she was just going to fix on me. All's well that ends well,though."

  "And I won't be such a duffer again," declared Dorothy.

  * * * * *

  "Mother, dearest," said Alison Clarke that evening, "I didn't think theCollege half so horrid to-day as I did yesterday. I like DorothyGreenfield, she's such a jolly girl. She took me all round the place andshowed me everything, and told me what I might do, and what I mustn't.We went to the Dramatic meeting--at least, it wasn't the real CollegeDramatic, but one in our own Form--and I got chosen for Miss Pinkerton.Dorothy's going to be Miss Swartz, I expect. We've arranged to traveltogether always. She's going to wave her handkerchief out of the windowthe second the train gets to Latchworth, so that I can go into hercarriage; and we shall wait for each other in the dressing-room afterschool."

  "I thought she looked a nice girl," said Mrs. Clarke. "She has such abright, intelligent face, and she answered so readily and pleasantlywhen I spoke to her. I'm glad to hear she took you under her wing, andshowed you the Avondale ways. You'll soon feel at home there now,Birdie."

  "Oh, I shall get along all right! Miss Tempest is rather tempestuous,and Miss Pitman's only tolerable, but the acting is going to be fun. Asfor Dorothy, she's ripping!"