CHAPTER I

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

"Good-Bye, my dear child. You are quite sure you will be all right and have everything you want? It's a straightforward run now to Easthampton."

"Oh yes, I shall be quite all right, Mrs. Wade, and thank you very much for all the trouble you've taken with me. I'll sure never forget it."

Mrs. Wade nodded and waved as the train moved out of the junction. She had arrived in London off an Australian boat only the day before and had been in charge of the Australian girl during the voyage over. She had not seen her native country for twenty-five years, and so was naturally feeling rather excited. She turned away with her conscience at rest, having successfully fulfilled her obligation. To be sure, her charge was a very sensible and practical girl, with a mind and will of her own, and had given her no trouble. Now she was safely in the train that would carry her straight to her destination, and Mrs. Wade could leave off worrying about her, and turn her attention to the relations she had not seen for twenty-five years.

Left "on her own" for the first time in her life, Kitty Despard, Australian born and bred, settled herself in her corner seat with an inward feeling of mingled excitement and trepidation, but outwardly with firmly set lips and resolute air. She was a stranger in a strange land, but Australians are not noted for either nervousness or backwardness.

Staring out at the flying green landscape with unseeing eyes, she was wondering for the hundredth time since her departure from home what an English boarding-school would be like. In the old-fashioned story-books they were the most awful places; they had "crocodiles" and "backboards" and lessons in "deportment." But schools had changed in later years. She knew that English girls, as a whole, were fond of sports, and in that, at any rate, she could hold her own, for she had been brought up with half a dozen brothers and sisters in a bush "township," where opportunities for tennis and cricket were unlimited.

There was the question of lessons, of course. Kitty had gone daily by the school train to the High School in a neighbouring town. She had dodged as much work as she could, it is true, but she had one strong point. Jim and Billy always declared that she was as good as they were at mathematics.

No doubt there would be some "snobs" at Easthampton, for Mrs. Wade's sister, who had recommended the school to Kitty's father, had said that all the scholars were the children either of well-to-do or well-born families. But there were sure to be some good sorts, too.

The train was a slow one, stopping at every station. One of these was apparently a junction of a small kind, for there was quite a little bustle as a crowd of passengers from another train swarmed across the platform. Kitty's carriage was invaded by five or six girls who clambered noisily in with the happy air of owning the whole train. Kitty realized with a start that they were evidently Easthampton College girls, for they wore the same scarlet hatband badge as she did.

"Van's further down," remarked one who was craning her neck out of the window.

"We pick up Salome at the next station," added the tallest of the party. "Oh, here comes Paddy, late as usual, tearing down the steps like mad. She'll never do it."

The girl at the window had flung open the door and was shouting, "Hi, hi, Paddy!" at the top of her voice, and gesticulating frantically. As the train began to move, the late-comer rushed up to the carriage door. Half a dozen helping hands seized hold of various parts of her person and she was hauled in, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the carriage. She picked herself up and subsided panting into the seat next to Kitty.

"Your usual method of catching trains, Paddy!" remarked the tall girl.

"Never mind. I did catch it, and that's all that matters, sure," returned Paddy cheerfully. "Cheer-oh, girls, how d'you like coming back to the grindstone? Never ye mind; summer's before us, and cricket and tennis. Oh, the merry, merry month of May!" she began to sing in a tuneless voice.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" sang somebody else; and there was a general chorus, "Oh don't, Paddy!"

"Always optimistic. You're very refreshing, Paddy, my child," remarked the tall girl when the hubbub had subsided. "I came down on the other line with Van, and she could talk of nothing but matriculation."

"When every prospect pleases, and only man is vile," sighed Paddy. "Hallo!" as her sharp eyes caught sight of Kitty's school hat resting on the rack. "Here's a new girl. You _are_ a new girl, aren't you? I'm sure I've never seen your face before."

Kitty replied in the affirmative, and the tall girl broke in:

"Are you really? I'm so sorry I didn't notice it. My name's Eileen Gilbert, and as I happen to be a prefect it's very reprehensible conduct on my part. Do you come from far?"

"From Australia," replied Kitty.

There were exclamations from the listening girls.

"Begorrah!" said Paddy. "But there's a way to come to school for you! Have you been in England long?"

"I only landed at Tilbury yesterday. I came over in charge of a friend of ours. She saw me safely in the train for Easthampton and has promised dad she'll keep an eye on me while I'm here."

"Poor thing," said Paddy sadly, "and won't she be feeling the loss of it now!"

"The loss of what?" Kitty's wits were not quite so sharp at that moment as they usually were.

"Her oie, to be sure."

"Stop ragging, Paddy," interrupted Eileen. Paddy, a girl with bright black eyes, a merry face and untidy dark hair, merely laughed and turned again to Kitty, who had already taken a great fancy to her.

"I don't believe we've ever had an Australian girl at Easthampton before. How old are you?"

"Sixteen--and a half."

"A little older than me. I am only just sixteen."

"Do tell us your name," interrupted one of the smaller girls.

"Kitty Despard."

"Are you fond of sports?" asked Paddy eagerly. "I've heard all Australians are."

"Yes, very much," replied Kitty.

"Oh, good! What house are you in?"

"Miss Carslake's."

"Oh!" Paddy's tone expressed volumes.

"That mouldy show! What an impression of Easthampton you'll get! Now, it ought to have been Sheerston's----"

"Or Prince's," said Eileen quickly.

"Well, Prince's isn't so bad, though it's not up to Sheerston's----"

"Yes, it is. It'll be top house this term, you'll see."

"No, it won't. But--Carslake's! It's a filthy hole."

"What do you mean?" inquired Kitty, feeling a little startled.

"Well, it's easily bottom house, and has got a most awful reputation for slacking--which it deserves."

Eileen nodded. "Yes, and it used to be top house once. Now it's out of the running even for third place. Only two senior and a few junior prizes went to it last year."

"And only one colour in the whole house," added Paddy. "That's Duane, of course, for hockey. I should think she's safe to get her tennis and cricket colours too, this term. But just think of it! Only one in the whole house! Slackers isn't the word for that lot. Miss Carslake sets the example and the girls follow the sheep."

"Of course you heard the rumour that Doreen was leaving?"

"Not really? Won't it be funny if she does! What with Betty leaving suddenly at the beginning of the year, and now Doreen--why, there won't be one sixth-former left in the house this term. It's the queerest thing I ever heard of. What'll they do about a head prefect?"

"Here's the next stop," said Eileen.

"Look out for Salome. We'll ask her if Doreen really has left. She's sure to know."

At the next station another addition was made to the party, a tall girl with delightful hair, dark and wavy and bobbed, an active-looking figure and eyebrows that were noticeable for their straightness. A remarkable girl--and she certainly had a remarkable name, unless it was a nickname. Paddy was obliging enough to whisper to the new girl:

"That's Salome Hope, the head prefect of my house, Sheerston's; frightfully clever at lessons and a triple colour--hockey, cricket and tennis. There isn't a girl to touch her in the school."

The whisper was a very audible one, like all Paddy's whispers. Salome heard it quite plainly, and looked across at Kitty with a laugh.

"One of the school celebrities, in fact. Paddy is too, though she refrains from mentioning it. Are you a new girl?"

"Yes," answered Eileen. "Kitty Despard, from Australia. They've put her into Carslake's. Isn't it a shame!"

"Well, Carslake's is in need of seniors, it seems," said Salome.

"Is it true that Doreen has left?"

"Yes, unfortunately. It puts the house into an unprecedented position, having to descend to the Upper Fifth for a head prefect."

"Quite unprecedented. Fortunately it'll only be for a term. But surely there are only a few seniors of any sort in Carslake's now?"

"Let me see. Margaret, Sonia and Bertha in the Lower Fifth; Duane, Hilary and France in the Upper--that's all."

"It's a pity Hilary is so delicate, and of course France would be hopeless as head prefect. I suppose it'll be Duane."

"Yes. She's been chosen already."

"The best of the three," remarked Eileen, "and rather clever in her way, I should think. But a bit of a slacker, isn't she?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But she's got her hockey colour. That's always a help."

"Rather," put in Paddy. "And I remember her at tennis last year. If she had bucked up a bit she might have got her tennis colour as well. She could bat too, in cricket. Only she's so beastly erratic."

"That's it," agreed Salome, "you can't depend on her. She's a queer sort."

"Anyway, Carslake's can't come down any lower," said Eileen philosophically. "That'll be one comfort to her."

Then the conversation turned on other subjects, and a few minutes later the train began to draw up.

"Easthampton!" cried Paddy, who thought she had been silent long enough. "Tumble out, everybody. I'll look out for the school truck. All light luggage is here, being only Easter vac.--except Kitty's, of course."

Eileen, as a prefect, took the new girl under her wing.

"Run down to the luggage van and have your trunks brought up here. Then they can go up to the school with ours. There's plenty of time. Paddy will be some while fetching Orpheus along with the truck; he always crawls about like a snail."

As Kitty obediently went off down the platform with her long strides, many of the girls turned round to stare after her as she passed, for she was far from being an insignificant girl. She was tall, long-legged, and at a rather bony and angular stage of growth. Her face was very tanned after the sea voyage and, like the majority of Australian girls, her complexion was nothing to boast about; she had cropped, bright brown hair and alert grey-blue eyes; there was something in her carriage and the active swing of her walk that betrayed an outdoor life with plenty of exercise.

"This is yours, miss," said the porter obligingly. "For the school, miss? Here's another one for the school. Take them both up the platform, Tom."

The second trunk, as Kitty noticed with a quick observant glance, was very smart and expensive looking; and painted in white very conspicuously across the top, in great contrast to Kitty's humble initials, were these words: "The Hon. Duane l'Estrange Estevan."

Kitty was immensely tickled.

"My gracious!" she said to herself. "What a name! If it were mine I should want to drown it. An Honourable, too. I sort of think, if I run across her, I shan't hit it off with the Hon. Duane l'Estrange Estevan. That is to say, if she's anything like her trunk, or her name."

Australians are far less tolerant in their criticisms than the English, and Kitty was no exception, you see.

Returning to Eileen and her party, she found that a little shambling man was loading a truck with the girls' hand luggage.

"Come along now," said Paddy. "We can leave these things to Orpheus. We call him Orpheus," she explained to Kitty, "because he blows the chapel organ. He's got an undeveloped cerebrum, you know, poor chap."

"Please, Paddy," remonstrated Salome. "We're not in school yet!"

"Well, dippy on the dome then, if that's more suited to your intelligence," retorted Paddy recklessly.

They set off from the station, Salome and Eileen leading the way, Paddy and Kitty following, and the younger ones trailing along behind. They passed through the small town of Easthampton and after half a mile's walk they arrived at Easthampton College. Kitty's first glimpse of that famous school was an imposing pair of iron gates with a view beyond of trim shrubberies and lawns, a curving drive, a pleasant red-bricked house, and a background of green fields. The gates were open.

"Easthampton is quite a little colony of itself," said Salome, turning to Kitty with a smile. "There are nearly three hundred girls in the school, quite two hundred being yearly boarders."

"How many houses are there?"

"Four. This is Sheerston's near the gate, my house and the biggest. Carslake's is a little farther on down the drive. Prince's and Green's are the other side of the quadrangle, side by side. The school building is at the back of the quad, and beyond are the playing-fields and the kitchen garden. We have two big fields. We call them Big Side and Little Side, because one is used by the seniors and one by the juniors. The swimming-bath and gym are in the playing-fields."

"Will you take Kitty along to Carslake's, Salome?" asked Eileen. "No Carslake's prefects came down in our train."

"Right-oh," replied Salome. "It's not so far for me. Come along, Kitty."

They went off down the drive, past Sheerston's, till they came to a somewhat smaller though similarly built building.

"Now, I'll hunt you out a senior and leave you in her charge," said Salome. "Your luggage will arrive presently and will be put in the vestibule. Then you unpack and carry your things up to your dormitory. Hi," seizing hold of a small girl who was in the vestibule unpacking; "run up to the dormitories and unearth a senior of some sort. Isn't your head prefect knocking around somewhere?"

"I don't think she's come yet," replied the child.

"Then she ought to have," said Salome, "to look after her troublesome young charges. Never mind. Anybody will do."

The girl disappeared, returning in a few minutes with the desired senior.

"Hallo, Salome!" the new-comer exclaimed. "What brings you in this direction so soon?"

"A new girl. Kitty Despard, all the way from Australia. Kitty, this is Hilary, one of your seniors," and after exchanging a few more words Salome departed.

Kitty's new acquaintance was a rather small, slight girl with soft, fair hair, pale, irregular features and dark, hazel eyes. Her manner, as she showed Kitty her cubicle and told her where to put her things, was courteous and considerate, but quiet and self-contained. Kitty had hardly finished unpacking before a bell rang and they went down to tea in a big, cheery room, containing four or five long tables. The new girl was rather dazed by the chatter and laughter and crowd of new faces. She gathered little save that most of the girls were smaller than herself, but that there was either a mistress or a senior girl at the head and foot of each table. She herself sat next to Hilary, who presided at the foot of one of them.

The rest of the evening seemed still more dreamlike. There was a brief interview with the house mistress, Miss Carslake, who welcomed her kindly, shook hands rather limply, asked her a number of questions in a pleasant voice, and gave her hints on what she might expect to find in her new life.

At eight o'clock another bell rang, and she was astonished when somebody remarked, "Chapel." She thought vaguely of Wesleyans and Baptists, and looked to see what the others were doing. Everybody made for the vestibule and donned hats and wrappers of some sort. Hilary considerately took Kitty in charge again.

"Get your hat. It's chapel. We only have morning chapel usually--just a short service--but we always have evening chapel the first and last night of term."

They crossed the quad with the others to the pretty little chapel that adjoined the school building, meeting converging streams of girls from the other houses. Kitty, as if in a dream, knelt, rose, and sat with the rest of the two hundred and fifty girls, but there was something strangely impressive in the hearty chanting of the solitary psalm, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills ... the Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in," and the still heartier rendering of the hymn:

Lord receive us with Thy blessing, Once again assembled here.

Kitty was sitting near the organ and could not help noticing the player, evidently one of the girls, for her bright chestnut hair hung in a heavy mass down her back. Kitty was so absorbed in examining her aristocratic profile and admiring the elegant way in which she wore her clothes, that she missed a considerable part of the lesson.

Afterwards came supper, an informal meal of hot cocoa and "pavement" (a slice of cake), then bed bell and lights out, for the seniors, at ten o'clock. In spite of the strangeness of being enclosed in the white-panelled walls of a daintily furnished cubicle, Kitty was so tired and drowsy that before long her eyelids closed and she was sound asleep.