The Nicest Girl in the School: A Story of School Life

  CHAPTER X

  The Caesar Translation

  Patty heaved a sigh of relief when she found herself back again atschool. With the exception of the one afternoon at Jean Bannerman's, shehad not enjoyed her holidays. A month spent in Muriel's society had beenof little pleasure; indeed, almost every day it had needed constanteffort to keep her temper, and to submit patiently to her cousin'swhims. Muriel, taking advantage of Patty's forbearance, had ordered hercompanion about, and treated her in such a haughty and disdainfulmanner, that the latter had sometimes felt her position nearlyunbearable. At The Priory at least she could be independent; she couldselect her own friends, with whom she might mix on equal terms, andcould secure a standing of her own, apart from Muriel's scornfulpatronage. It was delightful to once more meet Enid, Avis, and Winnie,and to make plans for various cherished schemes to be carried out duringthe term; even May, Ella, and Doris proved more friendly, and chattedquite pleasantly with her in their bedroom about their experiences:while Cissie Gardiner and Maggie Woodhall greeted her with enthusiasm.

  "I've had such a lovely time!" said Cissie. "My brother Cyril was homefrom Sandhurst, and he took me to the Military Tournament. I thinkthere's nothing in the world equal to cavalry. I mean to be an armysister when I grow up. We saw a staff of nurses do field drill, andcarry a wounded officer to a Red Cross tent. (He wasn't really wounded,of course, but he pretended to be.) They looked just too sweet in theiruniforms. Grey always suits me, doesn't it? I wish there'd be anotherwar in South Africa, so that I might volunteer to go out."

  "You won't be grown up for four years, dearest, and then perhaps you'llbe tired of soldiers, and like poets again," said Maggie, putting herarm affectionately round her friend's waist. "Did you have nice holidaystoo, Patty?"

  "Yes, thank you," replied Patty, as truthfully as she could.

  She had decided that it was wiser not to tell any of her friends howunhappy she had been at Thorncroft. For Uncle Sidney's sake she would beas loyal as she could to Muriel, so, suppressing all mention of the manydisagreeable episodes of her visit, she merely described the partiesand the afternoon at the pantomime with as much detail as possible,leaving it to be inferred that she had enjoyed herself. The spring termwas generally regarded at The Priory as a time of particularly closestudy and increased work. In the autumn there were lectures, concerts,or other little dissipations to break the monotony of school life; thesummer term was arranged specially to allow extra time out-of-doors; butfrom January to April the girls were expected to put their shoulders tothe wheel, and commit to memory such a number of pages in theirtextbooks, that Avis declared it amounted to hard labour.

  "The worst of it is," she complained, "that each teacher expects you togive all your time to her particular subject. Miss Harper looksreproachful if I can't say my history, and Miss Rowe scolds if I miss inmy grammar. Then Mademoiselle gives me yards of French poetry and two orthree irregular verbs to learn, and Miss Lincoln asks me why my essay isso short. I could spend the whole of prep. over just one lesson, andthen not know it properly in the end. Unless I take my books to bed, Ican't possibly get through everything that's set me."

  "You should do as I do," said Enid. "I learn the beginning of thehistory portion almost by heart. Then I look very intelligent andattentive, and when Miss Harper asks me a question, I rattle off a longanswer nearly word for word from the book, at such a tremendous ratethat she can scarcely follow me, and says, 'That will do, Enid'. Itmakes her think I know the whole lesson, and she keeps questioning theother girls who've hesitated and stumbled."

  "She'll catch you some day," said Winnie. "Miss Harper's too clever tobe taken in by any such tricks. She's sure to ask you a question at theend quite unexpectedly, and what will you do then?"

  "Trust to luck," said Enid. "She'll perhaps think I've forgotten foronce. I manage my essays for Miss Lincoln rather well, too. When I can'tremember any facts I make up a line or two of appropriate poetry, andput 'as the poet says'. It fills up splendidly. Miss Lincoln said onceshe didn't recognize all my quotations, but she always gives me a highmark!"

  "You can't do that kind of thing with Mademoiselle," said Avis.

  "No, I own it would be no use to try. When one has forty lines of Frenchpoetry to recite, one's obliged to set to work and get it into one'shead. But I mean to manage better in the conversation class. My eldestsister has just come home from Paris, and she's taught me the French for'How is your throat?' and 'Do you feel a draught?' Mademoiselle alwayshas a cold, and wants the window shut. She'll think I'm so sympathetic,and be sure to put 'excellent' in my report."

  "I can manage French, and do pretty well in history and geography, but Ican't learn Latin," groaned Winnie. "I didn't mind so much when we onlydid sentences, but now we've begun Caesar it's simply detestable. I'm anabsolute goose at translation."

  "So am I," echoed Avis, mournfully. "I don't think Latin was ever meantfor girls. My brother did Caesar two years ago, and he's in Virgil now,though he's a year younger than I am. It seems quite easy to him, but Inever know which verb goes with which substantive, or whether a thing isa nominative or a genitive. I look out all the words in the dictionary,and learn their meanings, but I can't make the least sense of them untilMiss Harper shows me how they fit into the sentences. Why isn't Latinarranged like English? Everything seems turned the wrong way."

  "I don't know," said Winnie. "I should think it must have been difficultfor a Roman baby to learn to talk. Miss Harper says it's good mentalexercise for us, and we must try to use our brains."

  "Mine will wear out," said Avis. "They never were very strong, to beginwith. I always forget everything I have learnt the term before; I doindeed. I knew the whole of 'Lycidas' by heart last year, and I can'tremember a line of it now. Miss Rowe says my head is like a sieve. Youought to like Caesar, at any rate, Cissie, because it's all aboutsoldiers."

  "I don't care for Roman soldiers," said Cissie; "at least, not in Caesar,though I rather like them in stories. I love the one in _Puck of Pook'sHill_, who had to set out for the great wall; he was a perfect dear. IfRudyard Kipling could have written that wretched _De Bello Gallico_ itwould have been so different, and so much nicer."

  "I should think it would!" said Enid laughing. "Much too nice for us.They choose the driest books possible for schools. Patty, why don't yougrumble too? It's quite aggravating to see you looking so complacent."

  "I grumble over mathematics, at any rate," said Patty.

  "But not over Latin?"

  "No, I rather like it."

  "How can you like it?"

  "I don't know why, but I do."

  "There's nothing to like."

  "Yes, there is; it's rather fun to try and turn the words intosentences."

  "You're not very good at French translation, and yet you always makesense out of Caesar. I can't think how you manage it," said Avis.

  "Ah, that's my secret!" answered Patty. "I shan't give it away, or elseperhaps you'd all do as well."

  "Is it really a secret?" asked Beatrice Wynne, who had joined the group.

  "Of course it is," said Patty mysteriously. "One of those things youcan't explain and wouldn't if you could."

  "Oh, do tell me!" implored Beatrice.

  "No!" said Patty, shaking her head solemnly. "A secret is a secret, andyou mustn't ask questions."

  "I'll find out some day," returned Beatrice. "I love discoveringsecrets."

  "Don't be too sure of mine," said Patty. "You won't find it out,because----"

  But here she shook her head with the air of a sphinx, and, leaving hersentence unfinished, took up her music-case and went to practise.

  Now, Patty had only been having a little fun with Beatrice. She hadmeant to say, "because there is no secret at all", and to have explainedwhat was really the fact, that she had helped her brother Basil so oftenat home to prepare his Latin translation that the earlier part of _DeBello Gallico_ was already familiar to her. Thinking, however, that itwould be possible to continue the joke, and that it wo
uld be amusing toexcite Beatrice's curiosity over nothing, she had preserved her mysteryfor the present, intending to explain it on some future occasion. Inview of events which followed, it proved a most unfortunate occurrence,and one which she afterwards bitterly regretted. Her innocent remark ledto conclusions quite unforeseen, and so disastrous that she would havegiven much if her words had never been uttered; but once spoken theywere impossible to recall, and the mischief was done. Blind as yet towhat was to happen in the future, she spent half an hour at the piano,and then went to the classroom to fetch a book which she had forgotten.It was a pouring wet afternoon, and as it was quite impossible for thegirls to play their usual game of hockey, they were allowed to amusethemselves as they liked until tea-time. As a rule the classroom wasempty between three and four o'clock, and Patty opened the door,expecting to find the room unoccupied. To her astonishment, Muriel wasseated there, busily engaged in writing, and evidently copying somethingfrom a book which she held on her knee. She started guiltily at hercousin's entrance, as if she were being caught in some act which she didnot wish to be discovered, turned crimson, and, thrusting the book intoher desk, banged down the lid, and pretended to be tidying the contentsof her pencil-box. It was so unusual to find Muriel at work out ofschool hours, that Patty could not help expressing her amazement.

  "Why, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

  "I might ask you the same," returned Muriel. "I suppose I have as good aright to come to my desk when I want as anybody else has!"

  "Why, of course," said Patty. "I was only surprised."

  "Then I wish you would keep your surprise to yourself. I can't think whyyou should always be following me about."

  "Oh, Muriel, I wasn't! I only came to fetch my history."

  "And I only came to do some of my lessons in quiet. The recreation roomis a perfect Babel."

  "So it is," said Patty. "I thought I'd learn my dates quietly in here."

  "Can't you learn them in prep.?" asked Muriel.

  "Not so well. I want the extra time for my Latin. It's such a stiffpiece for to-morrow. Don't you think so?"

  "I haven't looked at it yet," replied Muriel, in a rather strainedvoice, and avoiding Patty's eye.

  "Why, Muriel," cried the latter, who had come close to her cousin,"what are you writing now? 'There remained one way through theSequani.'"

  "I wish you'd mind your own business. I was only scribbling nonsense totry my new pen," said Muriel angrily, tearing up her piece of paper. "Doleave me alone!"

  Patty sat down at her own desk, and, taking out her history book, wassoon deep in an effort to master the dates which Miss Harper had set forthe next day's lesson. Muriel went on for some little time arranging herpencils and indiarubbers in a very discontented and annoyed manner.

  "Look here, Patty, I wish you'd go!" she said at last.

  "Go! Why?" asked Patty.

  "Because you disturb me."

  "But I wasn't saying it aloud."

  "It doesn't matter. I can learn things much better when I'm quitealone."

  "You're never alone at prep."

  "No, I wish I were. I could get through the work in half the time.You're interrupting me now by talking."

  "Then I won't talk," said Patty, taking up her book, which she had laiddown; "I won't say a single word."

  "The very sight of anyone in the room is enough to stop me learningproperly. I haven't done a single thing since you came here."

  Patty was on the point of saying, "It's your own fault, then;" but thethought of Uncle Sidney stepped in, and she refrained.

  "What do you want me to do?" she asked instead.

  "To go and leave me in peace. You can learn your dates in a corner ofthe lecture room or in the studio."

  It was rather hard to be thus ordered away from the quiet place whichshe had chosen, and Patty stood hesitating whether to comply or not,when the question was settled by the ringing of the tea bell, and bothgirls were obliged to hurry to the refectory. Patty did not think muchof this incident at the time, only setting it down to Muriel's caprice,and being quite accustomed to her cousin's ill humours; but in the lightof after events it wore a different aspect. One morning at nine o'clock,when Miss Rowe had taken the register, and the girls were in theirplaces waiting for school to begin, Miss Harper entered the room with anextremely grave look on her face. Instead of commencing the lesson asusual, she stood for a few moments without speaking, and her silencefilled her class with an uneasy apprehension that all was not right.

  "Girls," she said at last, "something has happened which gives me morepain than anything else I have experienced during the five years I havetaught at The Priory. Yesterday the monitress, when tidying the room,found this book, which she very rightly brought at once to me. I regretto tell you that it is a translation of Caesar's _De Bello Gallico_; infact, what is commonly known as a 'crib'. That any girl in my classcould so have lost her self-respect as to condescend to use it toprepare her lesson, fills me with shame, as it shows such an absolutelowering of the high standard of honour which we have always tried tomaintain. I ask each of you now, do you know who is the owner of thisbook, or can you account for its presence here?"

  There was no reply. Every girl looked at her neighbour, but nobody hadany information to volunteer. Muriel's eyes were fixed on her atlas; shedid not appear the least affected by Miss Harper's words, though a keenobserver might have noticed she was a little paler than usual. Patty'sheart beat quickly. Quite suddenly the horrible remembrance flashedacross her of the book which Muriel had replaced so quickly in the desk.Muriel had certainly at the time been writing a translation of the Latinlesson, though she had denied it flatly; and it was a curiouscoincidence that she should have seemed so unreasonably angry with hercousin for staying in the room. Was the book hers? Patty blushed hotlyat the very idea. What ought she to do? It was impossible to tell herconjectures to Miss Harper in the presence of the whole class. If Murielwere guilty, she would surely confess the matter herself. It could notbe necessary to turn informer and voice suspicions which, after all,might prove to have been entirely groundless. Nevertheless, she feltuncomfortable, and as Miss Harper's steady glance was fixed upon her shecould not meet the searching eyes, and dropped her own uneasily.

  "I ask you again," said the teacher, with reproach in her voice, "doesany girl know anything of this occurrence? I promise I will inflict nopunishment if whoever is guilty will only honestly confess."

  Once more her brown eyes scanned her class narrowly, and once more Pattydared not look her straight in the face.

  "Very well," said Miss Harper, "I shall not seek any further to find theowner, though the initials P. and H. intertwined on the title page mightpossibly give me a clue. The girl to whom it belongs will find her ownconscience her severest judge; she will surely feel, without furtherremark from me, how contemptible is her conduct. I scarcely know whatto do with this book," she continued, holding up the translation as ifshe did not like to touch it. "I will not take charge of it, as Iconsider it unworthy to be in existence. This will show you best how Iregard it;" and, tearing its pages across and across, she flung it intothe fire. "Now, girls, open your Caesars, and we will begin the lesson."

  "GIRLS," SHE CRIED, "SURELY YOU CAN'T SUSPECT ME OFOWNING THAT WRETCHED CRIB"]

  It was the most miserable Latin class which the girls ever remembered.Each one was afraid to construe well, for fear she might be suspected ofhaving done her preparation with the aid of the translation. Miss Harpermade no comments, and gave neither praise for good work nor blame forbad. She took the marks as usual, and at the end of the hour left theroom without referring again to the subject. I am afraid Miss Rowe, whofollowed with geology, did not find her pupils particularly intelligentthat morning. She was obliged several times to correct them sharply forwandering attention, and was annoyed at the many wrong answers to thequestions which she asked. The girls were unable to fix their thoughtsupon either glaciers or moraines; all were counting the minutes untillunch-time, when t
hey could rush from the room to discuss the burningquestion of the ownership of the translation. As Patty walked down thepassage at eleven o'clock to the pantry, she noticed Vera Cliffordnudge Kitty Harrison and whisper something she could not hear. Most ofthe girls were collected in a little group near the door, talkingeagerly, and some of them looked curiously at her as she passed.

  "I don't believe it!" cried Enid's indignant voice. "It's quite untrueand impossible!"

  "You'll never persuade me, not if you try all day," said Winnie.

  "She always gets such good marks for her Caesar," said Maggie Woodhall,doubtfully.

  "Well, she told me herself it was a secret how she did it," declaredBeatrice Wynne. "She said she couldn't explain it, and wouldn't if shecould, and if we knew we might all do it equally well. Could anything beclearer than that?"

  "And the initials were P. H., for Patty Hirst!" added Ella Johnson.

  Patty, as she took her lunch, could not help overhearing what was saidby the group round the door. At first she did not quite understand thedrift of the conversation, but at Ella's remark a light suddenly dawnedupon her. Putting down her glass of milk, she turned abruptly to theothers.

  "Girls," she cried, "surely you can't suspect me of owning that wretched'crib'?"

  "Then whose is it if it's not yours?" asked Beatrice Wynne.

  "I don't know, any more than you. But one thing's certain, I've hadnothing to do with it. Why, I wouldn't have soiled my fingers bytouching it!"

  "How about the initials?" enquired Ella Johnson, with a touch of sarcasmin her voice.

  "I don't know. It never occurred to me till this minute that you couldconnect my name with them."

  "It's a funny coincidence," sneered Vera Clifford.

  "I suppose the book must have been brought to school by somebody," saidKitty Harrison.

  "It was not brought by me," said Patty. "I've no means of provinganything, but I've always been called truthful at home, and I think myword ought to hold good at The Priory too."

  "Then whom does it belong to?" persisted Kitty. "Do you know anything atall about it?"

  "Nothing," answered Patty; but the horrible suspicion lurking in thecorner of her mind made her voice falter just a little, and some of thegirls drew their own conclusions.

  "Look here," said Enid, "I'd as soon believe Miss Harper smuggled that'crib' into school herself as think Patty did! She's absolutelyincapable of such a thing, and you all know it as well as I do. Why,it's Patty who's always tried to make us be fair over our work! Shesimply couldn't cheat. Hands up, all those who don't believe thishateful story!"

  Jean, Winnie, and Avis held up their hands at once, and so, to theastonishment of most of her companions, did Muriel. Cissie Gardiner andMaggie Woodhall followed suit, but the others looked doubtful.

  "I suppose we must accept Patty's word," said Beatrice, rather stiffly."Still, it's a funny thing, and I wish it hadn't happened."

  "Very funny, certainly, for the one who started the pledge," said VeraClifford, under her breath.

  "We shall find it out some day," said Enid. "I'm determined Patty's nameshall be cleared. How any of you can be so idiotic as to connect herwith it, I can't imagine. Never mind, Patty dear! We know you betterthan to believe such rubbish. Don't trouble your head about it, for itsimply isn't worth worrying over. Everyone with a spark of sense willagree with me, and I'm sure Miss Harper will think the same."