CHAPTER II
A Kingdom by the Sea
Please do not think because Miss Birks's pupils, on the first night of anew term, ran helter-skelter up and down the passages, and insisted oncompulsory dancing or solo singing, that this was their normal course ofprocedure. It was but their one evening of liberty before they settleddown to ordinary school routine, and for the rest of the eighty-eightdays before Easter their behaviour would be quite exemplary.
They were a very happy little community at the Dower House. They admiredand respected their headmistress, and her well-framed rules were rarelytransgressed. Certainly the girls would have been hard to please if theyhad not been satisfied with Miss Birks, for allied to her undoubtedbrain power she had those far rarer gifts of perfect tact and absolutesympathy. She thoroughly understood that oft-time riddle, the mind of aschoolgirl, and, while still keeping her authority and maintaining thedignity of her position, could win her pupils' entire confidence almostas if she had been one of themselves.
"Miss Birks never seems to have quite grown up! She enjoys things justthe same as we do," was the general verdict of the school.
Perhaps a strain of Irish in her genealogy had given the Principal thepleasant twinkle in her eye, the racy humour of speech, and the sunnyoptimistic view of life so dearly valued by all who knew her. Anyhow,whatever ancestry might claim to be the source of her cheery attributes,she had a very winning personality, and ruled her small kingdom with ahand so light that few realized its firmness. And a kingdom it was, inthe girls' opinion--a veritable "kingdom by the sea". No place in allthe length and breadth of the British Isles, so they considered, couldin any way compare with it. Together with the old castle, for which itformed the Dower House, it stood on the neck of a long narrow peninsulathat stretched for about two miles seaward. All the land on this littledomain was the private property of Mrs. Trevellyan, the owner ofPontperran Tower, from whom Miss Birks rented the school, and who hadgranted full and entire leave for the pupils to wander where theywished. The result of this generous concession was to give the girls amuch larger amount of freedom than would have been possible in any othersituation. The isolated position of the peninsula, only accessiblethrough the Castle gateway, made it as safe and secluded a spot as aconvent garden, and afforded a range of scenery that might well be asource of congratulation to those who enjoyed it.
There are few schools that possess a whole headland for a playground,and especially such a headland, that seemed so completely equipped forthe purpose. It held the most delightful of narrow coves, with gentlyshelving, sandy beaches--ideal bathing places in summer-time--andmysterious caverns that might occasionally be explored with a candle,and interesting pools among the rocks, where at low tide could be foundseaweeds and anemones, and crabs and limpets, or a bestranded starfish.On the steep cliffs that rose sheer and jagged from the green water theseabirds built in the spring; and at the summit, on the very verge ofthe precipice, bloomed in their season many choice and rare wildflowers--the lovely vernal squill, with its blossoms like deep-bluestars; the handsome crimson crane's-bill; the yellow masses of the"Lady's fingers"; the pink tufts of the rosy thrift; or the fleshyleaves of the curious samphire. The whole extent of the headland wasoccupied by a tract of rough, heathery ground, generally called "thewarren". A few sheep were turned out here to crop the fine grass thatgrew between the gorse bushes, and a pair of goats were often tetheredwithin easy reach of the coachman's cottage; but otherwise it was thereserve of the rabbits that scuttled away in every direction should ahuman footstep invade the sanctuary of their dominion.
On these delightful breezy uplands, where the pleasant west wind blewfresh and warm from the Gulf Stream, Miss Birks's pupils might wander atwill during play hours, only observing a few sensible restrictions.Dangerous climbs on the edge of the cliffs or over slippery rocks wereforbidden, and not less than three girls must always be together. Thislast rule was a very necessary one in the circumstances, for in case ofany accident to a member of the trio, it allowed one to stay with thesufferer and render any first aid possible, while the other went attopmost speed to lodge information at head-quarters.
The old dwelling itself was a suitable and appropriate building for aschool. Erected originally in the fourteenth century as a small nunnery,it had in the days of Edward VI fallen into the hands of the then lordof the Castle, who had turned it into a dower house. Successivegenerations of owners had in their time added to it or altered it, buthad not spoilt its general atmosphere of mediaevalism. Little pieces ofPerpendicular window tracery, or remains of archways were frequent inthe old walls, and a ruined turreted gateway bore witness to the beautyof the ancient architecture. Nobody quite knew what vaults and cellarsthere might be under the house. Remains of blocked-up staircases hadcertainly been found, and many of the floors resounded with asuggestively hollow ring; but all tradition of these had been lost, andnot even a legend lingered to gratify the curious.
There was one element of mystery, however, which formed a perennialinterest and a never-ending topic of conversation among the girls. Inthe centre of the first landing, right in the midst of the principalbedrooms, stood a perpetually-closed room. The heavy oak door waslocked, and as an extra protection thick iron bars had been placedacross and secured firmly to the jambs. Even the keyhole was stopped up,so that the most inquisitive eye could obtain no satisfaction. All thatanybody knew was the fact that Mrs. Trevellyan, who had a well-deservedreputation for eccentricity, had caused a special clause to be made inthe lease which she had granted to Miss Birks, stipulating for nointerference with the barred room under pain of forfeiture of the entireagreement.
"That means if we bored a hole through the door and peeped in the wholeschool would be turned out of the house," said Evie Bennett once whenthe subject was under discussion.
"Even Miss Birks doesn't know what's inside," said Elyned Hughes with anawed shudder.
"Mrs. Trevellyan wouldn't let the place on any other conditions. Shesaid she'd rather have it empty first," added Annie Pridwell.
"What can she have there?"
"I'd give ten thousand pounds to find out!"
But though speculation might run rife in the school and a hundreddifferent theories be advanced, there was not the slightest means ofverifying a single one of them. Ghosts, smugglers, or a family skeletonwere among the favourite suggestions, and the girls often amusedthemselves with even wilder fancies. From the outside the secluded roompresented as insuperable a barrier as from within; heavy shutterssecured the window and guarded the secret closely and jealously from allprying and peeping. That uncanny noises should apparently issue fromthis abode of mystery goes without saying. There were mice in plenty,and even an occasional rat or two in the old house, and their gnawings,scamperings, and squeakings might easily be construed into thumps,bumps, and blood-curdling groans. The girls would often get up scaresamong themselves and be absolutely convinced that a tragedy, either realor supernatural, was being enacted behind the oak door.
Miss Birks, sensible and matter-of-fact as became a headmistress,laughed at her pupils' notions, and declared that her chief objection tothe peculiar clause in her lease was the waste of a good bedroom whichwould have been invaluable as an extra dormitory. She hung a thick plushcurtain over the doorway, and utterly tabooed the subject of themystery. She could not, however, prevent the girls talking about itamong themselves, and to them the barred room became a veritableBluebeard's chamber. At night they scuttled past it with averted gazeand fingers stuffed in their ears, having an uneasy apprehension lest askeleton hand should suddenly draw aside the curtain and a face--be itghost or grinning goblin--peer at them out of the darkness. They woulddare each other to stand and listen, or to pass the door alone, andamong the younger ones a character for heroism stood or fell on thecapacity of venturing nearest to the so-called "bogey hole".
Though Miss Birks might well regret such a disability in her lease ofthe Dower House, she was proud of the old-world aspect of the place, andtreasured up
any traditions of the past that she could gather together.She had carefully written down all surviving details of the Franciscanconvent, having after endless trouble secured some account of it fromrare books and manuscripts in the possession of some of the countrygentry in the neighbourhood. Beyond the dates of its founding anddissolution, and the names of its abbesses, there was little to belearnt, though a few old records of business transactions gave an ideaof its extent and importance.
Dearly as she valued the fourteenth-century origin of her establishment,Miss Birks did not sacrifice comfort to any love of the antique. Insidethe ancient walls everything was strictly modern and hygienic, with thelatest patterns of desks, the most sanitary wall-papers, and eachup-to-date appliance that educational authorities might suggest ordevise. Could the Grey Nuns have but returned and taken a peep into thewell-equipped little chemical laboratory, they would probably havefancied themselves in the chamber of a wizard in league with the fiendsof darkness, and have crossed themselves in pious fear at the sight ofthe bottles and retorts; the nicely-fitted gymnasium would have puzzledthem sorely; and a hockey match have aroused their sincerest horror._Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_--"the times are changed, andwe are changed with them!" Though we have lost something of thepicturesqueness of mediaeval life, the childlike faith of a childlikeage, the simplicity of a nation only groping to feel its strength, wehave surely gained in the long years of growth, in the gradual awakeningto the thousand things undreamt of by our forefathers, and can justlydeem that our lasses have inherited a golden harvest of thought andexperience from those who have trod before them the thorny and difficultpathway that leads to knowledge.
Such were the picturesque and highly-appreciated surroundings at theDower House, and now a word on that much more important subject, thegirls themselves.
Miss Birks only received twenty pupils, all over fourteen years of age,therefore there was no division into upper and lower school. Five eldergirls constituted the Sixth, and the rest were placed according to theircapabilities in two sections of the Fifth Form. Of these VB wasconsiderably the larger, and containing, as it did, the younger, cruder,and more-boisterous spirits, was, in the opinion of the mistresses, theportion which required the finer tact and the greater amount of carefulmanagement. It was not that its members gave any special trouble, butthey were somewhat in the position of novices, not yet thoroughly versedin the traditions of the little community, and needing skill andpatience during the process of their initiation. Almost insensibly thenine seemed to split up into separate parties. Romola Harvey, BarbaraMarshall, and Elyned Hughes lived in the same town, and knew each otherat home; a sufficient bond of union to knit them in a close friendshipwhich they were unwilling to share with anybody else. The news fromSpringfield, their native place, formed their chief subject of interest,and those who could not understand or discuss it must necessarily be inthe position of outsiders. Evie Bennett, Annie Pridwell, and BettyScott were lively, high-spirited girls, so full of irrepressible funthat they were apt to drop the deeper element out of life altogether. Itwas difficult ever to find them in a serious mood, their jokes wereincessant, and they certainly well earned the nickname of "the threegigglers" which was generally bestowed upon them.
Until Christmas, Deirdre Sullivan and Dulcie Wilcox had rejoiced in thepossession of a bedroom to themselves, a circumstance which had allowedthem the opportunity of cultivating their friendship till they hadbecome the most exclusive chums in the whole of the school. Deirdre, theelder by six months, was a picturesque, rather interesting-looking girl,with beautiful, expressive grey eyes, a delicate colour, and a neat,slim little figure. Dulcie, on the contrary, much to her mortification,was inclined to stoutness. She resembled a painting by Rubens, for herplump cheeks were pink as carnations, and her ruddy hair was of thatwarm shade of Venetian red so beloved by the old masters. It was a sorepoint with poor Dulcie that, however badly her head ached, or howeverlimp or indisposed she might feel, her high colour never faded, and nopathetic hollows ever appeared in her cheeks.
"I get no sympathy when I'm ill," she confided to Deirdre. "On that daywhen I turned faint in the algebra class, Miss Harding had said only anhour before: 'You do look well, child!' I wish I were as pale and thinas Elyned Hughes, then I might get petted and excused lessons. As itis, no one believes me when I complain."
Dulcie, who possessed an intense admiration for her chum, struggledperpetually to mould herself on Deirdre's model, sometimes with rathercomical results. Deirdre's romantic tendencies caused her to affect theparticular style of the heroine of nearly every fresh book she read, andshe changed continually from an air of reserved and stately dignity toone of sparkling vivacity, according to her latest favourite in fiction.With Deirdre it was an easy matter enough to assume a manner; butDulcie, who merely copied her friend slavishly, often aroused mirth inthe schoolroom by her extraordinary poses.
"Who is it now, Dulcie?" the girls would ask. "Rebecca of York, or theScarlet Pimpernel? You might drop us a hint, so that we could tell, andtreat you accordingly."
And Dulcie, being an unimaginative and really rather obtuse littleperson, though she knew she was being laughed at, could never quitefathom the reason why, and continued to lisp or drawl, or to attempt tolook dignified, or to sparkle, with a praiseworthy perseverance worthyof a better object.