CHAPTER V
Practical Geography
Miss Birks often congratulated herself on the fact that the smallness ofher school allowed her to give a proportionately large amount ofindividual attention to her pupils. There was no possibility at theDower House for even the laziest girl to shirk lessons and shield herignorance behind the general bulk of information possessed by the Form.Backward girls, dull girls, delicate girls--all had their special claimsconsidered and their fair chances accorded. There was no question of"passing in a crowd". Each pupil stood or fell on the merits of her ownwork, and every item of her progress was noted with as much care as ifshe were the sole charge of the establishment. Miss Birks had manytheories of education, some gleaned from national conferences ofteachers, and others of her own evolving, all on the latest of modernlines. One of her pet theories was the practical application, wheneverpossible, of every lesson learnt. According to the season the girlsbotanized, geologized, collected caterpillars and chrysalides, or huntedfor marine specimens on the shore, vying with each other in a friendlyrivalry as to which could secure the best contributions for the schoolmuseum.
There was no subject, however, in Miss Birks's estimation which leditself more readily to practical illustration than geography. Everyvariety of physical feature was examined in the original situation, sothat watersheds, tributaries, table-lands, currents, and comparativeelevations became solid facts instead of mere book statements, and eachgirl was taught to make her own map of the district.
"I believe we've examined everything except an iceberg and a volcano,"declared Betty Scott one day, "and I verily believe Miss Birks is on thelook-out for both--hoped an iceberg might be washed ashore during thosefew cold days we had in January, and you know she told us Beacon Hillwas the remains of an extinct volcano. I expect she wished it mightburst out suddenly again, like Vesuvius, just to show us how it did it!"
"Wouldn't we squeal and run if we heard rumblings and saw jets of steamcoming up?" commented Evie Bennett. "I don't think many of us would stayto do scientific work, and take specimens of the lava."
"Where are we going this afternoon?" asked Elyned Hughes.
"Mapping, Miss Birks said. We're to make for the old windmill, and thendraw a radius of six miles, from Kergoff to Avonporth. Hurry up, youothers! It's after two, and Miss Harding's waiting on the terrace. Whata set of slow-coaches you are!"
It was the turn of VB to have a practical geography demonstration, andthey started, therefore, under the guidance of the second mistress, tosurvey the physical features of a certain portion of the neighbourhood,and record them in a map. Each girl was furnished by Miss Birks with apaper of questions, intended to be a guide to her observations:
1.--Using the windmill as a centre, what direction do the roads take?
2.--What villages or farms must be noted?
3.--What rivers or streams, and their courses?
4.--What lakes or ponds?
5.--The general outline of the coast?
6.--Are there hills or mountains?
7.--What historical monuments should be marked with a cross?
Armed with their instructions, pocket compasses, and note-books, thegirls set off in cheerful spirits. They dearly loved these countryrambles, and heartily approved of this particular method of education.It was a beautiful bright afternoon towards the middle of February, oneof those glorious days that seem to anticipate the spring, and to makeone forget that winter exists at all. The sky was cloudless and blue,not with the serene blue of summer, but with that fainter, almostgreenish shade so noticeable in the early months of the year, andgrowing pearly-white where it touched the horizon. There was a joyousfeeling of returning life in the air; a thrush, perhaps remembering thatit was St. Valentine's Eve, carolled with full rich voice in the barethorn tree, small birds chased each other among the bushes, and greatflocks of rooks were feeding up and down the ploughed fields. Insheltered corners an early wild flower or two had forestalled theseason, and the girls picked an occasional celandine star or primrosebud, and even a few cherished violets. The catkins on the hazels wereshaking down showers of golden pollen, and the sallows were covered withsilky, silvery tufts of palm; the low sycamores in the hedge showed rosybuds almost ready to burst, and shoots of bramble or sprays ofnewly-opened honeysuckle leaves formed green patches here and there onthe old walls.
The girls walked at a brisk, swinging pace, in no particular order, solong as they kept together, and with licence to stop to examinespecimens within reasonable limits of time. Miss Harding, who washerself a fairly good naturalist, might be consulted at any moment, andall unknown or doubtful objects, if portable, were popped in a basketand taken back to be identified by the supreme authority, Miss Birks.
Though they fully appreciated the warren as a playground, it wasdelightful to have a wider field for their activities, and theopportunity of making some fresh find or some interesting discovery toreport at head-quarters. Miss Birks kept a Nature Diary hung on the wallof the big schoolroom, and there was keen competition as to which shouldbe the first to supply the various items that made up its weeklychronicle. It was even on record that Rhoda Wilkins once ran a wholemile at top speed in order to steal a march on Emily Northwood, andclaim for VA the proud honour of announcing the first bird's nest of theyear.
The special point for which the girls were bound this afternoon was aruined windmill that stood on a small eminence, and formed rather alandmark in the district. From here an excellent view might be obtainedof both the outline of the coast and the course of the little river thatambled down from the hills and poured itself into the sea by the tinyvillage of Kergoff. No fitter spot could have been chosen for a generalsurvey, and as the girls reached the platform on which the buildingstood, and ranged themselves under its picturesque ragged sails, theypulled out their note-books and got to business.
It was a glorious panorama that lay below them--brown heathery commonand rugged cliff, steep crags against which the growing tide was softlylapping, a babbling little river that wound a noisy course betweenboulders and over rounded, age-worn stones, tumbling in leaps from thehills, dancing through the meadows, and flowing with a strong, steadyswirl through the whitewashed hamlet ere it widened out to join theharbour. And beyond all there was the sea--the shimmering, glitteringsea--rolling quietly in with slow, heavy swell, and dashing with a dullboom against the lighthouse rocks, bearing far off on its bosom a chancevessel southward bound, and floating one by one the little craft thathad been beached in the anchorage, till they strained at their cables,and bobbed gaily on the rising water. Only one or two of the girlsperhaps realized the intense beauty and poetry of the scene; most werebusy noting the natural features, and calculating possible distances,marking here a farm or there a hill crest, and trying to reproduce insome creditable fashion the eccentric windings of the river.
"That little crag below us just blocks the view of the road," saidDeirdre. "I can't get the bend in at all. Do you mind, Miss Harding, ifsome of us go to the bottom of the hill and trace it out?"
"Certainly, if you like," replied the mistress. "I'm tired, so I shallwait for you here. It won't take you longer than ten minutes."
"Oh, dear, no! We'll race down. I say, who'll come?"
Dulcie, Betty, Annie, Barbara, and Gerda were among the energeticallydisposed, but Evie, Romola, and Elyned preferred to wait with MissHarding.
"We'll copy yours when you come back," they announced shamelessly.
"Oh, we'll see about that! Ta-ta!" cried the others, as they started ata fair pace down the hill.
The road was certainly the most winding of any they had attempted totrace that afternoon. It twisted like a cork-screw between high banks,then hiding beneath a steep crag plunged suddenly through a small firwood, and crossed the river by a stone bridge. The girls had descendedat a jog trot, trying to take their bearings as they went. Owing to thegreat height of the banks it was impossible to see what was below,therefore it was only when they ha
d passed the wood that they noticedfor the first time an old grey house on the farther side of the bridge.It was built so close to the stream that its long veranda actuallyoverhung the water, which swept swirling against the lower wall of thebuilding. Many years must have passed since it last held a tenant, forcreepers stretched long tendrils over the broken windows, and grass grewgreen in the gutters. The dilapidated gate, the weed-grown garden, theweather-worn, paintless woodwork, the damp-stained walls, the damagedroof, all gave it an air of almost indescribable melancholy, so utterlyabandoned, deserted, and entirely neglected did it appear.
"Hallo! Why, this must be 'Forster's Folly'!" exclaimed Barbara. "I'd noidea we were so close to it. We couldn't see even the chimneys from thewindmill."
"What an extraordinary name for an even more extraordinary house!" saidDeirdre. "Who in the name of all that's weird was 'Forster'? And why isthis rat's-hall-looking place called his folly?"
"He was a lawyer in the neighbourhood, I believe, and, like somelawyers, just a little bit too sharp. It was when the railway was goingto be made. He heard it was coming this way, and he calculated it wouldjust have to cut across this piece of land, so he bought the field andbuilt this house on it in a tremendous hurry, because he thought hecould claim big compensation from the railway company; and then afterall they took the line round by Avonporth instead, five miles away, anddidn't want to buy his precious house, so he'd had all the trouble andexpense for nothing."
"Served him right!" grunted the girls.
"They say he was furious," continued Barbara. "He was so disgusted thathe never even painted the woodwork or laid out the garden properly. Hetried to let it, but nobody wanted it; so he was obliged to come andlive in it himself for economy's sake. He was an old bachelor, and heand a sour old housekeeper were here for a year or two, and then he diedvery suddenly, and rather mysteriously. His relations came and took awaythe furniture, but they haven't been able to sell the house, it's insuch a queer, out-of-the-way place. Then everybody in the neighbourhoodsaid it was haunted, and not a soul would go near it for love or money."
"It looks haunted," said Dulcie with a shiver. "Just the kind oflonely-moated-grange place where you'd expect to see a 'woman in white'at the window."
"Never saw anything so spooky in my life before," agreed Deirdre.
"Did you say it used to belong to Mr. Forster, the lawyer?" asked Gerda."The one who had business at St. Gonstan?"
"I don't know where he had business, but it was certainly Mr. Forster,the lawyer. I don't suppose there'd be more than one."
"When did he die?"
"About five years ago, I fancy. Why do you want to know?"
"Oh, nothing! It doesn't matter in the least," returned Gerda, shrinkinginto her shell again.
"It's the weirdest, queerest place I've ever seen," said Deirdre. "Dolet's go a little nearer. Ugh! What would you take to spend a nighthere alone?"
"Nothing in the wide world you could offer me," protested Betty.
"I'd go stark, staring mad!" affirmed Annie.
"Hallo!" squealed Dulcie suddenly. "What's become of Gerda? She'ssneaked off!"
"Why, there she is, peeping through one of the broken windows!"
"Oh, I say! I must have a squint too, to see if there's really a ghost!"fluttered Annie.
"You goose! You wouldn't see ghosts by daylight!"
"Well, I don't care anyhow. I'm going to peep. Cuckoo, Gerda! What canyou see inside?"
When Annie Pridwell led the way, it followed of necessity that theothers went after her, so they scurried to catch her up, and all ran ina body over the bridge and into the nettle-grown garden. Gerda was stillperched on the window-sill of one of the lower rooms, and she turned toher schoolfellows with a strange light in her eyes and a look ofunwonted excitement on her face.
"I put my hand through the broken pane and pulled back the catch," shevolunteered. "We've only to push the window up and we could go inside."
"Oh! Dare we?"
"Suppose the ghost caught us?"
"Oh, I say! Do let us go!"
"It would be such gorgeous sport!"
"I'm game, if you all are."
As usual it was Annie Pridwell who led the adventure. Pushing up thewindow, she climbed over the sill and dropped inside, then turning roundoffered a hand to Gerda, who sprang eagerly after her. It was imperativefor Deirdre, Dulcie, Betty, and Barbara to follow; they were not goingto be outdone in courage, and they felt that at any rate there wassafety in numbers. There was nothing very terrible about thedining-room, in which they found themselves, it only looked miserableand forlorn, with the damp paper hanging in strips from the walls, andheaps of straw left by the remover's men strewn about the floor.
"We'll go and explore the rest of the house," said Annie, with ahalf-nervous chuckle. "Come along, anybody who's game!"
Nobody wished to remain behind alone, so they went all together, holdingeach other's arms, squealing, or gasping, or giggling, as occasionprompted. They peeped into the empty drawing-room and the silentkitchen, where the grate was red with rust; hurried past a dark hallcupboard, and found themselves at the foot of the staircase.
"Oh, I daren't go up; I simply daren't!" bleated Barbara piteously.
"Suppose the ghost lives up there?" suggested Betty.
"My good girl, no self-respecting spook likes to make an exhibition ofitself," returned Annie. "The sight of six of us would scare it away. Idon't mean to say I'd go alone, but now we're all here it's different."
"We've been more than Miss Harding's ten minutes," vacillated Deirdre.
"Oh, bother! One doesn't often get the chance to explore. Come along,you sillies, what are you frightened at?"
So together they mounted the stairs and took a hasty survey of the upperstory. Here the remover's men had evidently done their work even morecarelessly than down below, for though the furniture had been takenaway, enough rubbish had been left to provide a rummage sale. All kindsof old articles not worth removing were lying where they had been throwndown on the bedroom floor--old curtains, old shoes, scraps of mouldycarpet, the laths of venetian blinds, broken lamp shades, empty bottles,torn magazines, cracked pottery, worn-out brushes, and decrepit strawpalliasses.
"Did you ever see such an extraordinary conglomeration of queer things?"said Annie. "I wonder they didn't tidy the house up before they went. Nowonder nobody would take it! And look, girls! They've actually left awhole bathful of old letters! Somebody has begun to tear them up, andnot finished. They ought to have burnt them. Just look at this piece! Ithas a lovely crest on it."
"Oh, has it? Give it to me; I'm collecting crests," cried Deirdre,commandeering the scrap of paper. "It's a jolly one, too. I say, arethere any more? Move out, Annie, and let me see!"
"Look here," remonstrated Barbara; "I don't think we ought to gorummaging amongst old letters. It doesn't seem quite--quite honourable,does it? They are not ours, Annie. I wish you'd stop! No, Gerda, don'tlook at them, please! Oh, I say, I wish you'd all come away! Let's go.Miss Harding will think we're drowned in the river, or something; and atany rate she'll scold us no end for being so long. Do you know thetime?"
There was certainly force in Barbara's remarks. Their ten minutes' leavehad exceeded half an hour, and Miss Harding would undoubtedly require asubstantial reason for their delay.
"Oh, goody! It's four o'clock!" chirruped Betty. "I'd no idea it was solate! We don't want to get into a row with Miss Birks. I believe I hearRomola shouting in the road. They've come to look for us!"
"We'd best scoot, then," said Annie, and flinging back the letters intothe bath, she turned with the rest and clattered downstairs.
Miss Harding, grave, annoyed, and justly indignant, was waiting for themon the bridge. She received them with the scolding they merited.
"Where have you been, you naughty, naughty girls? You're not to betrusted a minute out of my sight! I gave you permission to go straightto the bottom of the hill and back, and here you've been away more thanhalf an hour! W
hat were you doing in that garden? You had no rightthere! Come along this instant and walk before me, two and two. MissBirks will have to hear about this. A nice report to take back of yourafternoon's work at map drawing!"
Map drawing! They had forgotten all about the maps. The girls looked atone another, conscience-stricken; and Deirdre, with an awful pang,realized that she had left her note-book on the mantelpiece of thedining-room. She had been disposed to titter before, but she felt nowthat the affair was no joking matter.
"Miss Harding mustn't know we've been inside the house," she whisperedto Gerda, with whom in the hurry of the moment she had paired off.
"No one's likely to tell her, and she couldn't see us come out of thewindow from where she was standing," returned Gerda.
"We shall get into trouble enough as it is. I didn't think Miss Hardingwould have cut up so rough about it. I say, just think of leaving thoseold letters all lying about! I got one--at least it's a scrap ofone--with a lovely crest, a boar's head and a lot of stars--all ingold."
"What!" gasped Gerda. "Did you say you found that on a letter?"
"Well, it's a piece of a letter, anyway."
"Oh, do let me see it!"
"Is Miss Harding looking? Well, here it is. Be careful! She's got hereye on us! Oh, give it me back, quick!"
Gerda had turned the scrap of paper over and was glancing at the writingon the other side. She reddened with annoyance as Deirdre snatched backher treasure.
"Let me see it again!" she pleaded.
"No, no; it's safe in my pocket! Better not run any risks."
"You might give it to me. I'm collecting crests."
"A likely idea! Do you think, if I wanted to part with it, I'd presentit to you? No, I mean to keep it myself, thanks."
"I'd buy it, if you like."
"I don't sell my things."
"Not if I offered something nice?"
"Not for anything you'd offer me," returned Deirdre, whose temper was ina touchy condition, and her spirit of opposition thoroughly aroused. "Wedon't haggle over our things at the Dower House, whatever you may do inGermany."
Gerda said no more at the time, but at night in their bedroom shereturned once more to the subject.
"You won't get it if you bother me to the end of the term," declaredDeirdre, locking up the bone of contention in her jewel-case and puttingthe key in her pocket.
"What do you want it for so particularly, Gerda?" asked Dulcie sharply.
"Oh, nothing! Only a fancy of my own," replied Gerda, reddening with oneof her sudden fits of blushing, as she turned to the dressing-table andbegan to comb her flaxen hair.