The Madcap of the School

  CHAPTER II

  The Mystic Seven

  "D'you know," said Morvyth, flopping down disgustedly on to a form,and addressing an interested audience of three; "d'you know, mychildren, that I consider these two new girls the very limit?"

  "Absolute blighters!" agreed Raymonde hastily, "I was thinking somyself only this morning. I can't decide which is the worst."

  "Not a pin to choose between them!" commented Aveline with a yawn.

  "I gave Cynthia Greene credit for shyness during the first twenty-fourhours," continued Morvyth. "I thought in my own mind, 'the poor thingis suffering, no doubt, from home-sickness and general confusion, andwe must be gentle with her', but I kept a wary eye upon her, and I'vecome to a conclusion. It's not shyness--it's swank!"

  Ardiune nodded her head approvingly.

  "Swank, and nothing else," she confirmed. "I know something about ittoo, for I heard her expounding to her own Form this morning. Italmost made me ill. I had to take a run round the garden before I feltfit again. It seems she's come from some much smaller school, whereshe's been the head girl and show pupil, and the rest of it. She saidthe younger ones had all looked up to her, and the Principal hadtreated her as a friend, and that she'd always worked hard to keep upthe tone of the place."

  "O Sophonisba!" ejaculated Raymonde. "Well, it strikes me we've gotthe tone of this school to look after. We can't allow Fourth Form kidsto bring those notions and run them here. She won't find herself queenof this establishment!"

  "Hardly!" chuckled Aveline.

  "Aren't her own Form attending to the matter?" enquired Morvyth.

  "Naturally. They're giving her as bad a time as they know how, butthey don't make much headway. She tells them she fully expects to beragged, and she simply won't believe a word they say. They haven'ttaken her in once yet."

  "That's because they're not skilful," said Raymonde thoughtfully."They don't do the thing artistically. There's a finesse required forthis kind of work that their stupid young heads don't possess. I'm notsure if it wouldn't be philanthropic to help them!"

  "Set your own house in order first!" grunted Ardiune. "You'll haveyour hands full with Maudie Heywood."

  "I'm not going to neglect Maudie; don't alarm yourself! She's the bestspecimen of the genus prig that I've ever come across in the course ofmy life. She ought to have a Form all to herself, instead of beingplumped into the Fifth. I see dangerous possibilities in Maudie. Doyou realize what she did this morning? Learnt the whole of thatwretched poem instead of only the twenty lines that were set us."

  "I heard Gibbie complimenting her, and thought she'd get swelledhead."

  "Swelled head indeed! It's the principle that's involved. Don't yousee that if this girl goes and learns whole poems, Gibbie'll think wecan do the same, and she'll give us more next time. It's raising thestandard of work in the Form."

  "Great Minerva! So it is!"

  "We'll have to put a stopper on that," urged Aveline indignantly.

  "There are a good many things that have given me spasms since I cameback," proclaimed Raymonde. "They're things that ought to be setright. What I vote is, that our set form ourselves into a sort ofWatch Committee to attend to any little matters of this sort. It wouldbe a kindness to the school."

  Ardiune chuckled softly.

  "By all means! Let us be the Red Cross Knights, and go out to rightthe wrong. We'll attack Duessa straight away, and teach her to mendher morals. You'll let Val be in it?"

  "Rather! And Fauvette and Katherine. Seven's a mystic number. You knowthere were the Seven Champions of Christendom, and there are the SevenAges of Man, and the Seven Days of Creation, and seven years ofapprenticeship, and--and----"

  "Seven deadly sins!" suggested Aveline cheerfully. "And the SevenVials--and----"

  "Well, anyhow it's always seven, so we'll make ourselves into asociety. We'll have a star with seven rays for our secret sign. It hasa nice occult kind of smack about it. When we chalk that mark uponanybody's desk, it means we've got to reform her, whether she likesit or whether she doesn't."

  "She probably won't," twinkled Ardiune.

  "Then the sooner she submits the better. She'll find it's no usefighting against fate--otherwise the Mystic Seven!"

  "We'll start business with Cynthia Greene to-morrow," decidedAveline.

  Fauvette, Valentine, and Katherine were duly informed of the existenceof the new society and their initiation thereinto. They offered noobjections, and indeed would have been prepared at Raymonde's requestto join a Black Brotherhood, or a Pirates' League with a skull andcross-bones for its emblem. A special committee meeting was held todiscuss the matter of Cynthia Greene.

  "It needs finesse," said Morvyth. "She's been to school before, andshe's up to most dodges. Naturally she comprehends that her own Formare trying to rag her."

  "That's where we come in," agreed Raymonde. "We're going to pose asphilanthropists. One or two of us have got to take Cynthia up. We'llmake her realize, of course, how very kind it is of Fifth Form girlsto befriend a lonely junior."

  "And having taken her up--what then?" queried Fauvette.

  "Bless your innocence, child! Why, we'll let her down with a run!"

  "Are we all in it?"

  "No; it would be too marked. Best leave the affair to Aveline and me.You others must stand aloof and look disinterested but sympathetic.I'll speak to her at lunch-time."

  During the mid-morning interval, therefore, Raymonde singled out hervictim. Cynthia was standing slightly apart from her Form, consumingthick bread and butter with an air of pensive melancholy, and twistinga pet bracelet that adorned her wrist. Raymonde strolled up casually.

  "Getting on all right?" she began, by way of opening the attack. "Isay, you know, I thought I'd just speak to you. I expect you're havinga grizzly time with those wretched juniors. They're a set ofblighters, aren't they?"

  "I do find them a little trying," admitted Cynthia cautiously,"especially as I was head girl at my old school."

  "Rather a climb-down from Senior to Junior, isn't it? Why didn't MissBeasley put you in the Fifth?"

  "My mother asked her to, but she said as I was only thirteen it wasquite impossible. It's all right. I expect to be ragged a little atfirst. I'll live it down in time."

  Cynthia's expression of patient resignation was almost too much forRaymonde, but she controlled her countenance and continued:

  "They'll respect you all the more afterwards, no doubt."

  "I hope so. We didn't rag new girls at The Poplars. I always made apoint of showing them they were welcome. It seemed only fair to MissGordon. She was more like a personal friend than a teacher, and shelooked to me, you see, to keep up the tone of the school."

  "She must be lost without you!"

  "I think they'll miss me," admitted Cynthia, with a little flutteringsigh of regret. "The girls all subscribed before I left and gave methis bracelet as a keepsake. It's got an inscription inside. Would youlike to look at it?"

  Cynthia had unclasped her treasure, and handed it with an assumednonchalance for Raymonde's inspection. On the gold band was engraved:"To Cynthia Greene, a token of esteem from her schoolfellows."

  "Highly gratifying!" gurgled Raymonde.

  "It was sweet of them, wasn't it? Well, I tried to do my best forthem, and I'll do my best for this school too when I get the chance.I'm in no hurry. I'm content to wait, and let the girls come round."

  "Quite the best plan. In the meantime, if there are any little tips Ican give you, come to me."

  "Thanks awfully! I will. I'd have done the same by you if you'd been anew girl at The Poplars."

  Raymonde retired bubbling over with suppressed mirth.

  "That girl's the limit!" she reported to her confederates. "For calmself-complacency I've never seen anybody to equal her. The idea ofimagining _me_ as a new girl at her wretched pettifogging old school!Oh, it's too precious! She'd patronize the Queen herself! The Poplarsmust be executing a war-dance for joy to have got rid of her. Probablythey'd
have subscribed for more than a bracelet to pass her onelsewhere!"

  "So she's waiting patiently till she wins the school," hinniedAveline. "Poor angel! Did you notice her wings sprouting, or a haloglowing round her head?"

  "I think we can put her up to a few tips," chuckled Ardiune.

  "It would only be kind," gushed Raymonde. "The sort of thing she musthave done herself hundreds of times to many a poor neglected new girlat The Poplars. The bread she cast upon the waters shall be returnedto her."

  "With butter on it!" added Aveline.

  "She can swallow any amount of butter," observed Raymonde. "Sheevidently likes it laid on thick. Suggestions invited, please, forkind and disinterested advice to be administered to her."

  "Professor Marshall comes to-morrow," volunteered Aveline.

  "The very thing! Ave, you old sport, you've given me an idea! Now justprepare your minds for a pretty and touching little scene at thebeginning of the mediaeval arts lecture. No, I shan't tell you what itis beforehand. It'll be something for you to look forward to!"

  The staff at Marlowe Grange consisted of Miss Beasley, Miss Gibbs, andMademoiselle, but there were several visiting masters and mistresseswho had attended at the former house, and were now to continue theirinstructions at the school in its present quarters. Among theseProfessor Marshall was rather a favourite. As befitted a teacher in anestablishment of young ladies, he was grey-haired and elderly, and, asthe girls added, "married and guaranteed not to flirt," but all thesame he was jolly, had a hearty, affable manner, and a habit of makingbad jokes and weak puns to break up the monotony of his lectures. Itwas decidedly the fashion to admire him, to snigger indulgently athis mild little pleasantries, and to call him "an old dear." Some ofthe girls even worked quite hard at their preparation for him. He hadwritten his autograph in at least nineteen birthday books, and it wasrumoured that, when the auspicious 10th of March had come round, noless than fourteen anonymous congratulatory picture post-cards hadbeen directed to him from the school and posted by stealth. Havingalready improved their minds upon a course of English Classics andAstronomy, the school this term was booked for culture, and devoted tothe study of the fine arts of the Middle Ages. A few selected membersof the Sixth had been told off to search through back numbers of _TheStudio_ and _The Connoisseur_ for examples of the paintings of Cimabueand Giotto, and the large engraving of Botticelli's "Spring," whichused to hang in Miss Beasley's study, now occupied a prominentposition on the dining-room wall to afford a mental feast duringmeal-times.

  Raymonde, anxious not to overdo things, left Cynthia to herself forthe rest of the day; but the following morning, after breakfast, sheseized an opportunity for a few words with her.

  "You won't mind my giving you a hint or two on school etiquette?" sheobserved casually. "You see, there are traditions in every school thatone likes to keep up, and of course you can't find them out unlessyou're told."

  "I'd be very glad," gushed Cynthia gratefully. "We'd a regular code atThe Poplars, and I used to initiate everybody. They always camestraight to me, and I coached them up. I can't tell you how many newgirls I've helped in my time!"

  "Well, you're new yourself now," said Raymonde, detaching Cynthia'smind from these reminiscences of past service and bringing it up todate. "Professor Marshall's coming to-day, and you'll have to beintroduced to him."

  "Oh dear! I'm so shy! I wonder what he'll think of me?" flutteredCynthia.

  "Think you're the sickliest idiot he ever met!" was on the tip ofRaymonde's tongue, but she restrained herself, and, drawing her victimaside, whispered honeyed words calculated to soothe and cheer, addingsome special items of good advice.

  "Thank you," sighed Cynthia. "I won't forget. Of course, we never didsuch a thing at The Poplars, but, if it's expected, I won't break thetraditions of the school. You can always depend upon me in thatrespect."

  Precisely at 11.30 the whole of the school was assembled in the bighall awaiting the presence of their lecturer. Professor Marshall, whohad been regaling himself with lunch in Miss Beasley's study, now madehis appearance, escorted by the head mistress, and apparentlyrefreshed by cocoa and conversation. The girls always agreed that hismanners were beautiful. He treated everybody with a courtly deference,something between the professional consideration of a fashionabledoctor and the dignity of an archdeacon. After Miss Gibbs'suncompromising attitude, the contrast was marked. He entered the roomsmiling, bowed a courteous good morning to his pupils, who rose toreceive him, and placed a chair for Miss Beasley with gentlemanlyattention.

  The Principal, radiant after showing off her new quarters, refused itwith equal politeness.

  "No, thank you, Professor. I'm not going to stay. I have other work todo. You will find your class the same as before, with the addition oftwo new girls. Maude Heywood--come here, Maudie!--and Cynthia Greene.I hope they'll both prove good workers."

  Maudie Heywood, blushing like a lobster, stepped forward and thrustthree limp fingers for a fraction of a second into the Professor'slarge clasp, then thankfully merged her identity among herschoolfellows. Cynthia, who was behind her, smiled bewitchinglyupwards into the florid, benevolent face of her new instructor, then,falling gracefully upon one knee, seized his hand and touched it withher lips.

  The sensation in the room was immense. The Professor, lookingdecidedly astonished and embarrassed, hastily withdrew his hand fromthe affectionate salutation. Miss Beasley's eyes were round withhorror.

  "Cynthia!" she exclaimed, and the tone of her voice alone wassufficient reproof.

  The luckless Cynthia, instantly conscious that her act had beenmisconstrued, retired with less grace than she had come forward, andspent most of the lecture in surreptitiously mopping her eyes. As shewalked dejectedly down the corridor afterwards, she was accosted byHermione Graveson, a member of the Sixth.

  "Look here!" said Hermione briefly. "What prompted you to make such anutter exhibition of yourself just now? I never saw anything moresickening in my life!"

  Cynthia's tears burst forth afresh.

  "It wasn't my fault," she sobbed. "I didn't want to do it, but I wastold it was school etiquette and I must."

  "Who told you such rubbish?"

  "That girl with the dark eyes and a patriotic hair ribbon."

  "Raymonde Armitage?"

  "I believe that's her name."

  Hermie shook her head solemnly.

  "New girls are notoriously callow," she remarked, "but I should havethought anybody with the slightest grain of sense could have seen at aglance what Raymonde is. Why, she's simply been playing ragtime onyou. Did you actually and seriously believe that the girls at thisschool were expected to go through such idiotic performances? Don'tbelieve a word Raymonde tells you again."

  "Whom shall I believe? Everybody tries to stuff me!" wailed theinjured Cynthia. "I never treated anybody like this at The Poplars."

  "Trust your common sense--that is, if you happen to have any; and, forgoodness' sake, don't snivel any more. Wipe your eyes and take itsporting. And, wait a moment. If you want a bit of really good, soundadvice, don't mention The Poplars again, or the fact that you werehead girl there, and the idol of the school, and the rest of it.You're only a junior here, and the sooner you find your level thebetter. We're not exactly aching to have our tone improved by you!And, look here! Take that absurd keepsake bracelet off, and lock it upin your box, and don't let anybody see it again till the end of theterm. There! go and digest what I've told you."

  Having settled with Cynthia Greene, it now remained for the MysticSeven to turn their attention to the matter of Maudie Heywood. Thesituation was growing acute. Maudie had been ten days at the Grange,and in that brief space of time she was already beginning to establisha precedent. She was a tall, slim girl, with earnest eyes, a decidedchin, and an intellectual forehead. Work, with a capital W, was herfetish. She sat during classes with her gaze focused on her teacher,and a look of intelligent interest that surpassed everyone else in theForm. Miss Gibbs turned instinctively to Maud
ie at the most importantpoints of the lesson. There was a feeling abroad that she sucked inknowledge like a sponge. Nobody would have objected to her consumingas much as she liked of the mental provender supplied had she stoppedat that. Maudie unfortunately was over-zealous, and finding the amountof preparation set her to be well below the limit of her capacity,invariably did a little more than was required. Her maps werecoloured, her botany papers illustrated with neat drawings, herhistory exercises had genealogical tables appended, and her literatureessays were full of quotations. This was all very exemplary, and wongolden opinions from Miss Gibbs, but it caused heartburnings in theForm. It was felt that Maudie was unduly raising the standard. MissGibbs had suggested that other botany papers might contain diagrams,and had placed upon the class-room chimney-piece a book of poeticalextracts suitable for use in essay-writing.

  "If we don't take care we'll be having our prep. doubled," saidAveline uneasily.

  It was decided to reason with Maudie before taking any more activemeasures. The united Seven tackled her upon the subject.

  "I promised Mother I'd work," urged Maudie, in reply to theirremonstrances.

  "But you've no need to work overtime," objected Ardiune. "We don'tmind how hard you swat during prep., but it isn't right for you to beputting in extra half-hours while the rest of us are in the garden.It's stealing an advantage."

  "It's a work of supererogation," added Katherine.

  Maudie wrinkled up her intellectual forehead anxiously.

  "Works of supererogation are supposed to count," she interposed in herprecise, measured voice.

  "Yes, if they're done with intention for somebody else!" flaredRaymonde. "But yours aren't! They're entirely for your own pride andvanity. Do you come and translate my Latin for me in those extrahalf-hours? Not a bit of it!"

  "Oh, that wouldn't be fair!" Maudie's tone was of shocked virtue.

  "It's more unfair to heap burdens on the rest of your Form."

  "I'm bound to do my best."

  "The fact is," burst out Aveline, "you're suffering from anover-developed conscience. You've got an abnormal appetite for work,and it ought to be checked. It isn't good for you. Promise us youwon't write or learn a word out of prep. time."

  Maudie shook her head sadly. Her grey eyes gleamed with the enthusiasmof the martyr spirit.

  "I can't promise anything," she sighed. "Something within me urges meto work."

  "Then something without you will have to put a stop to it," snappedRaymonde. "We've given you full and fair warning; so now you may lookout for squalls."

  When preparation was over, the girls were allowed to amuse themselvesas they liked until supper. Most of them adjourned to the garden, forthe evenings were getting longer and lighter every day, and the tenniscourts were in quite fair condition. It was Maudie's habit to take apensive stroll among the box-edged flower beds in the courtyard, andthen repair to the class-room again to touch up her exercises. On thisparticular evening Raymonde, with a contingent of the Mystic Seven,lingered behind.

  "We've just about ten minutes," she announced. "Old Maudie's aspunctual as a clock. She'll walk five times round the sundial andtwice to the gate."

  "That girl's destined for the cloister," said Aveline pityingly."She's evidently thirsting to live her life by rule. Mark my words,she'll eventually take the veil."

  "No, she'll pass triumphantly through College and come out equal to adouble-first or Senior Wrangler, or something swanky of that kind, andget made head mistress of a high school," prognosticated Ardiune.

  "In the meantime, she won't swat any more to-night!" grinned Raymonde."Wait for me here, girls; I've got to fetch something."

  Raymonde performed her errand with lightning speed. She returned witha lump of soft substance in one hand, and a spirit-lamp andcurling-tongs in the other. Her chums looked mystified.

  "Cobblers' wax!" she explained airily. "Brought some with me, in caseof emergency. It's useful stuff. And I just looted Linda Mottram'scurling apparatus from her bedroom. Don't you twig? What blind batsyou are! I'm going to stick up Maudie's desk!"

  Raymonde lighted the spirit-lamp and heated the tongs, then spreadinga thick coating of the wax along the inside edge of the desk, sheapplied the hot iron to melt it, and put down the lid.

  "It will have hardened by the time Maudie has finished herconstitutional among the flower beds," she giggled. "I'll guaranteewhen she comes back she won't be able to open her desk."

  "It's only right for her to feel the pressure of public opinion,"decreed Ardiune. "We're working in a good cause."

  "But we're modest about it, and don't want to push ourselves forward,"urged Raymonde. "I vote we go for a stroll down to the very bottom ofthe orchard, near the moat."

  A quarter of an hour later, Miss Beasley and Miss Gibbs were sittingtogether in the Principal's study enjoying a well-earned period ofrepose and a chat. Their conversation turned upon the varieddispositions of their pupils.

  "Maudie Heywood strikes me as a very earnest character," observed MissBeasley, toying with the violets in her belt. "Her work is reallyexcellent."

  "Almost too good," agreed Miss Gibbs, who was perhaps beginning tofind out that Maudie's exercises took twice as long to correct asanybody else's, and thus sensibly curtailed her teacher's leisure."The child is so conscientious. In my opinion she needs to concentratemore on physical exercise. I should like to see her in the tenniscourts instead of copying out reams of poetry."

  "Yes," said Miss Beasley, looking thoughtful. "Her activities perhapsneed a little adjustment. We mustn't allow her to neglect her health.She looks over-anxious sometimes for a girl of fifteen."

  "She is always such a calm, self-controlled, well-regulated child,"remarked Miss Gibbs appreciatively.

  At that moment there was a hurried rap-tap-tap; the door opened, andMaudie burst in unannounced. Her calm self-control had yielded to anagitated condition of excitement and indignation. Her earnest eyeswere flashing angry sparks, and her cheeks were crimson.

  "Oh, Miss Beasley!" she began, "those girls have actually gone andstuck up my desk, so that I can't get out my books. They say I workovertime, and it's not fair, for if I like to work, why shouldn't I? Ijust detest the whole lot of them! I hate this place!"

  "I think you're forgetting yourself, Maudie," returned the Principal."It is hardly good manners to enter my study so abruptly and to speakin this way to me. If you wish to please me, I should much prefer youto spend your leisure time at games instead of lessons. To-morrowevening I hope to see you playing tennis. If you ask the cook for ascrew-driver you'll probably be able to wedge open your desk easily.But in future you'll be wiser to confine your work to the preparationhours. The bow must be unstrung sometimes, or your health will suffer.If you join with the other girls at their games you'll soon get toknow them, and feel more at home here. Try to be sociable and makeyourself liked. Part of the training of school life is to learn toaccommodate yourself to a community."

  The crestfallen Maudie retired, murmuring apologies. Miss Beasleypicked up her copy of _The Graphic_ and laughed.

  "As a rule, we may trust the girls themselves to do any necessarypruning. They're the strictest Socialists that could be imagined. Theyinstinctively have all the principles of a trade union about them. Onthe whole, it's good for Maudie to be restrained. A little innocentpractical joke will do her no harm for once. She must be able to takeher share of teasing. Humour is her one deficiency."

  "I think I can guess who's at the bottom of the business," sniffedMiss Gibbs. "Raymonde Armitage is the naughtiest girl in the school."

  "Pardon me!" corrected Miss Beasley. "The most mischievous, perhaps,and the most troublesome; full of bubbling spirits and misplacedenergy, but straightforward and truthful. There is something verylovable about Raymonde."