*CHAPTER IV.*
*"I WISH YOU'D BE FRIENDS WITH ME."*
Mrs. Drury and Amethyst walked along silently for a few minutes, eachapparently busy with her own thoughts. The former was thinking how bestshe could aid the poor old cripple she had just left, while her littledaughter was pondering over the history of her name. They had reached amore open thoroughfare when Amethyst broke the silence.
"Amethyst is _rather_ a funny name for a girl, don't you think, mumsie?"
Suddenly recalled from a mental calculation in which blankets andbeef-tea played a prominent part, Mrs. Drury smiled down at her littledaughter. "Do you think so, girlie?" was all she said.
"Well, yes, I do," confessed Amethyst, slowly. "Although the girls atthe High School have nicknamed me 'Thistle,' they tease me about myproper name sometimes, and say I might as well have been called Sapphireor Topaz, or one of those long names which begin with a 'C.' I can'tpronounce them properly, but you know the ones I mean, mumsie."
"Yes, dear, I know. You mean chrysolite and chalcedony andchrysoprasus," said her mother, with a smile; "but they are verydifferent. Your father and I chose your name because of its meaning,for a special reason, as we have often told you, Amethyst. When we usedto live in the East-end of London, where you were born, there was somuch sin and sorrow all round us everywhere, caused by strong drink,that we resolved to call you Amethyst, so that you might always be areminder to us of our promise not to have anything to do with it. Andthere was another reason, girlie," Mrs. Drury dropped her voice, andspoke softly. "Your father and I have always hoped and prayed, fromyour very babyhood, that when you were grown up you might become aworker in the noble army of men and women who are fighting, in God'sstrength, against this dreadful enemy of our beloved England."
"How could I, mother?" Amethyst asked wonderingly; she had never beentold so much as this before.
"There are many ways, dear," replied her mother, "in which people caninfluence those around them in the cause of total abstinence. Some arewanted who can write books and articles; others who can speak in favourof it. But it is early days for us to plan your future, girlie; whenyou have left school far behind and are quite grown up, it will beeasier to see how you can best live up to your name."
"I think I should like to be a speaker," said Amethyst meditatively.
"You are one now, I think, girlie," said Mrs. Drury, with a littlelaugh. "You know father says you are a regular chatterbox. Now, let usgo into Wilson's and get some of those nice scones for tea, and then wemust hurry home."
They had just emerged from the confectioner's, and were crossing theroad, when Amethyst espied the two Franklyn girls coming towards them.
"There are Olive and Elsa," she said, delightedly; and then she added,persuasively, "Oh! mumsie, do you think they might come to tea with usto-day?"
"Not to-day, darling, I think, because you have all your lessons to do,and there is scarcely time for them to go home and get permission, now.But they might come on Saturday," she added, as Amethyst looked verydoleful. "Let us speak to them."
"How do you do, dears?" was Mrs. Drury's bright greeting, as she shookhands with the twins. "How is your mother to-day?"
"Father thinks she is a little better, thank you, Mrs. Drury." It wasElsa who spoke; Olive always deputed her sister to give the latestbulletins of her mother's health.
"I am glad to hear that," said Mrs. Drury warmly; "will you give her mylove, and tell her I hope to come and see her very soon? Meanwhile,Amethyst and I are wondering whether she would allow you both to come totea next Saturday."
"Oh! thank you very much, Mrs. Drury, we shall be delighted to come,"said Olive, a ring of pleasure in her tones; they always enjoyedthemselves at St. Paul's Vicarage.
"I think we had better just ask first," ventured Elsa, "although I feelsure mother will be very pleased."
"Quite right, dear," said Mrs. Drury, looking approvingly at Elsa, sothat she did not see Olive shrug her shoulders disdainfully. "Comeearly in the afternoon, if you may, so that you and Amethyst can havesome fun together in the garden. I hear you have all been moved up,"she added, as they began to separate.
"Yes, an awful nuisance, I call it," said Olive; "we shall have no endof home-work to do now. That algebra we did this morning is stupidstuff, isn't it, Thistle? All silly little letters and numbers thatdon't seem to mean anything. I couldn't make head or tail of it."
"I rather liked it," said Amethyst.
"So did I," admitted Elsa.
"Well, you all ought to grow up very clever women," said Mrs. Drury,with a smile. "I hope you will all do something great some day."
"No fear of that for me," was Olive's nonchalant reply, as Amethyst andher mother hurried on.
"I hope mother will let us go on Saturday," said Elsa, as the twinswalked in the direction of home.
"Why, of course she will, you stupid; how often does she refuse us?"cried her sister, snappishly. She had an uncomfortable sense of havinglowered herself somehow in Mrs. Drury's estimation, and was not bestpleased with Elsa for appearing to correct her before that lady.
"No, she is always so pleased for us to go to the vicarage," said Elsa,wisely refraining from adding fuel to the fire by saying what she mighthave said; namely, that she had seen Mrs. Drury's look of astonishmentwhen Olive calmly accepted the invitation without any reference to theirmother. "We must be quick, now, Olive, or we shall be late for tea; itis just upon five by the post-office clock."
The three girls met again next morning in the Fourth Form cloakroom,where the pupils took off their outdoor garments, and changed theirshoes. They had the narrow, partitioned-off room, with its rows ofclothes-hooks and pigeon-holes for boots, to themselves, for a moment.But as they were rather late, Elsa, whose division was nearest toAmethyst's, could only just whisper, "We may come on Saturday," beforethe bell, which summoned them all to their places in the large hall,warned them to lose no time.
Scrambling into their slippers, and hanging hats and coats on theirrespective pegs, the trio hastened into the hall, and were each in theirown particular place by the time the bell ceased clanging: much toElsa's and Amethyst's delight, as they had no wish to begin so early inthe term with a late mark. Olive was one of the happy-go-lucky sort whodid not mind a few marks one way or the other.
Indeed, she ran the risk of losing a conduct mark by nudging Elsa, andwhispering: "Monica Beauchamp is----" just as Miss Buckingham, thehead-mistress, who conducted prayers from a raised platform at one endof the hall, announced the number of the hymn.
But Elsa only smiled, and resolutely turned her head away from Olive, sothat the sentence remained unfinished.
Prayers over, and the various notices relative to the new term havingbeen given out, the classes filed into their classrooms, which allopened off the spacious hall, with the exception of the First and SixthForms, whose rooms were on the first floor, where were also the studio,music-rooms and others used for various purposes.
There was a friendly rivalry among the girls with respect to theappearance of their own particular classrooms, and they had inaugurateda fund among themselves for decorative purposes, by means of whichplants and pictures, etc., were purchased for the adornment of therooms.
The Fourth Form, by reason of its position, had the best view of all theclassrooms, for it overlooked the prettily laid out garden of MissBuckingham's private house, so that the girls of that form always triedto outdo the others in their decoration of the room itself. And indeed,as the twenty or more girls filed into it that bright May morning, andtook their places, each at her own desk, it looked a charming room.Half a dozen pretty engravings, well-framed, and a couple of colouredmaps, on rollers, adorned the walls which were painted a pale green; onthe dark oak mantelpiece, which matched the door and wainscoting, stoodsome "Liberty" vases, which the "Decoration Committee" undertook to keepsupplied with flowers. Miss Churchill (the Fourth Form governess) had alarge desk on a raised
platform, from which she could command a goodview of all her pupils at once; behind her hung the baize-covered noticeboard, and at her right hand stood the black-board on its easel. Thewindows, of which there were three, were, much to the girls' disgust,guiltless of curtains, as such commodities as carpets andwindow-hangings were not allowed in the classrooms, a large Oriental rugbefore the tiled hearth being the only covering on the inlaid floor.But the upper parts of the casement windows were filled in with colouredglass, and on each of the deep window ledges stood a palm, or some hardyfern, in artistic pots, so that the appearance was all that could bedesired.
There is just one more thing to be mentioned, and that is, that eachclass had its own motto, framed, and hung over the mantelpiece, where itcould not fail to be seen; that of the Fourth Form being _Suaviter inmodo, fortiter in re_ (Gentle in manner, resolute in deed).
The mottoes had been Miss Buckingham's gift some few months before, whenthe girls, for the time being, in each class had chosen their own, byvote, and the idea was still sufficiently fresh to cause a good deal ofinterest.
"Now, girls," said Miss Churchill brightly, as she seated herself at herdesk, "let us get to work at once. We did really nothing yesterday,what with giving out stationery, and drawing up the timetable, etc.; sothis morning we must begin in earnest. Divinity is our first lesson."
She was a plain little person, dressed in a blue serge skirt, and blouseof blue and white striped flannel. Her age might have been anythingunder forty, but as a matter of fact, Mary Churchill had not yet passedher twenty-eighth birthday. Her soft brown hair, guiltless of fringe orwave, was simply arranged, and her broad forehead was suggestive oftalent, while her lips spoke of a resolute will. But beneath thecommonplace exterior, there beat a warm loving heart, which took a realvital interest in the character of each of her pupils; and it wasbecause of her love for them that, for the most part, the girls of theFourth Form were devoted to their teacher.
There was an opening of desks, a rustling of Bibles and notebooks, andthen the work of the morning began. The period in Scripture that hadbeen chosen for that term's study was the book of Exodus, and the girlsgrew quite interested as Miss Churchill graphically described theposition of the Israelites in bondage.
Elsa and Amethyst, who shared a double desk between them, listenedintently, for they thoroughly enjoyed the Divinity lesson always; butOlive paid scant attention. It was far too dry, she thought, to troubleabout listening properly, and so her thoughts wandered, first to onething, and then to another, until she had quite lost the thread of thelesson, and gave up trying to follow it. So she looked about her, tosee what the others were thinking, and found Monica Beauchamp's eyeswere fixed on her. She was too far away from her to whisper, as shewould undoubtedly have done if she could, so she contented herself withsmiling and making various grimaces, to show her feelings, when MissChurchill was engaged with the blackboard.
Monica, who had felt terribly "out of it" the day before, was only tooready to make advances towards this girl who seemed to have plenty offun in her, and was not a goody-goody like her sister; so she returnedthe gesticulations with interest.
For a few minutes Miss Churchill noticed nothing wrong, but presently asshe looked round from the blackboard she heard a decided titter, andturning in the direction from which the sound came, she saw that one ofthe girls, Hetty Warner, a quiet, inoffensive child, was endeavouring toconceal her merriment by means of her handkerchief.
"What are you laughing at, Hetty?" she said, somewhat sternly.
"Nothing, Miss Churchill," muttered the girl, as best she could.
"There must have been some reason, and I insist upon knowing it," andMiss Churchill came a few steps nearer to the culprit's desk. A hastymovement between two of the girls did not escape her, and quick asthought she intercepted a small piece of paper which Olive Franklyn wasfrantically trying to put out of sight.
The girls held their breath as their teacher opened and smoothed out thepaper, which Olive had screwed up into a ball rather than hand it up asit was. Those who had been in the form before remembered a similaroccasion when Miss Churchill had confiscated a little scribbled notewhich was being passed along, and the punishment that had been inflictedfor such an underhand trick. But that was as nothing to the presentscene, for Miss Churchill held aloft, so that all could see it, thepaper on which was an unmistakable caricature of herself, in theattitude she assumed when delivering a lesson.
"What a shame!" cried several of the girls simultaneously, but shestopped them with a motion of her hand.
"Who drew this?" she enquired, in a well-controlled voice; but her eyesflashed, and it was evident that she was very, very angry.
For a moment no one answered, and she put the question again, while thegirls waited breathlessly; those who were innocent were eager to knowwho the culprit was. Only two of them looked at all guilty, and thosewere the Franklyns. Miss Churchill, looking round at all the facesbefore her, noticed the frightened look of one, and the off-hand,nonchalant air of the other. As yet she scarcely knew them apart, soshe enquired of the one nearest to her, who happened to be Elsa: "Didyou draw this ... thing?"
A scarcely audible "No" came from Elsa's trembling lips, and MissChurchill was about to tell her to speak louder, when Olive stood up,and said, in a bold, defiant tone: "Elsa knows nothing about it, I didit," and then she sat down again calmly, to await her punishment.
"You will apologise to me for your rudeness before you go home, and youwill copy out a hundred lines of French translation and bring it to me,to-morrow, without a fault, or else I shall show this drawing to MissBuckingham," was all the teacher said, in very quiet tones; but for onceOlive was subdued, and behaved tolerably well for the rest of themorning.
She was greeted with various remarks during the ten minutes' recreationthe girls had in the playground. Some of them looked askance at her,and she felt she had made a bad beginning in the new form. But two orthree of the troublesome, fun-loving ones complimented her upon thecleverness of her drawing.
"You hither expression to a T!" said Lily Howell, a somewhatvulgar-looking girl, whose slangy expression jarred upon her superiors,but whose well-filled purse made her a desirable acquaintance.
"'YOU HIT HER EXPRESSION TO A T!'"]
"It wasn't bad," admitted Olive, "but I could have done it a great dealbetter if I had had time."
"I'm afraid you've done for yourself," said Gipsy Monroe, a dark-eyedgirl, with short, curly black hair, as she and Amethyst Drury saunteredby arm in arm.
But, beyond a shrug of her shoulders, Olive took no notice, for all herinterest was centred in Monica, who was just coming towards her.
"I say, wasn't it a lark?" was Monica's greeting, as she came near; "butit's hard lines that you should have all the punishment, because I wasnearly as bad."
"Oh! I don't care a fig about the copying," said Olive carelessly. "Itgoes against the grain rather to beg her pardon, but, of course, I shallhave to, or there'll be no end of a row, and I only did it for fun."
"Well, you _are_ a jolly girl!" was Monica's admiring reply. "I wishyou'd be friends with me."
"So I will," agreed Olive, with alacrity. "I haven't got a real chum,and I should think you and I would get on A1."
"I've never had a girl-friend in all my life," said Monica; "to tell thetruth I always thought them rather dull and stupid. I am awfully keenon dogs; do you like them?"
And Olive assenting, a lively conversation ensued, which was abruptlyterminated by the sound of the bell recalling them to lessons.
Olive's equanimity appeared to be quite restored as she entered theschool door with her new-made friend, but a pitiful little look fromElsa, and a whispered, "How _could_ you, Ollie?" made her feel mostuncomfortable, and she seized an early opportunity of going up to MissChurchill and expressing the contrition that, at the moment, she reallyfelt, for Olive Franklyn was a good-hearted girl, although she was fullof fun, and she began to realise that perhaps Miss Churchill had"f
eelings" the same as herself, and she knew she wouldn't have likedsuch a trick played upon her.
Something in the honest brown eyes which looked unflinchingly into herown touched Miss Churchill, who had somewhat recovered from theindignation which Olive's treatment of her had roused, and she spokegently to the pupil who would doubtless prove a "handful" as time wenton.
"Very well, dear, I quite forgive you; let us say no more about it. Idon't think you will do such a thing again. You have evidently sometalent for sketching quickly and boldly; see that you do not misuse yourgift."
And Olive, glad to be at peace with her teacher again, made a mental vowthat she would be an exemplary scholar from that day forward. But alas!Olive Franklyn's promises were, like the proverbial pie-crust, made tobe broken!