CHAPTER I

THE FIRST DAY

The first day of a new school-year at colleges and boarding-schools is of necessity devoted entirely to the arrival of the boarders, unpacking and settling down. St. Etheldreda's was no exception to this rule. Undoubtedly the busiest girl in the whole school on that important Tuesday--the first day of the autumn term--was Madge Amhurst, late of the Fifth Form, but now promoted to the double dignity of the Sixth and a prefectship. Madge had been selected by the house mistress, Miss Perkins, to receive and take charge of all the new girls, and she was performing her first duty as a prefect with remarkable conscientiousness; not that Madge was always so painstakingly conscientious, but she was the possessor of a fluent and ready tongue and was never so happy as when exercising it well in airing her views. Though liked by her school companions she could not always obtain an audience willing to listen to her; now at last was a splendid opportunity; for the greater part of a day she could hold the stage to her heart's content.

The rule at St. Etheldreda's was that all girls, save in very exceptional circumstances, should be in the school before six-thirty on Tuesday evening. Throughout the afternoon Madge was seen wandering round the building with an ever-lengthening train of small girls at her heels, very much, as Nellie Barthe remarked with a broad grin, like a fussy old hen with a family of newly-hatched chicks, all wearing the forlorn and miserable appearance of newcomers in a strange and unknown world.

By four o'clock, Madge had collected a following of eight or nine youngsters and was still walking them round. She was greeted with broad smiles by girls whom she passed in the various rooms and passages, but seemed quite unperturbed by their amusement at her expense, and looked both busy and business-like with her pencil tucked clerically behind one ear and in her hand the list with which Miss Perkins had provided her. She finally halted her little band in the Blue Dormitory, with another glance at the list she was carrying and then at the watch on her wrist.

"This, my dear children," she remarked with a wave of her hand, "is the Blue Dormitory, so called, as you may guess for yourselves, from the tasteful cream and art-blue scheme of decoration. I think I have already told you that we are now in the Annexe, which has been recently added to the main building, to which it is connected by a covered-in passage. Most of the dormitories are in the Annexe, also the common room, senior studies and assembly hall."

She consulted her list again. "Which of you is Norah Maguire? Sure, and it's you, is it, begorrah? This is the haven where in future you will enjoy your nocturnal slumbers, Norah. In other words, cubicle No. 4 is yours. You are the last on the list, I think. Here is the wardrobe where you will hang your things, and this, of course, is your chest of drawers. I haven't missed anyone out, have I?"

There was a murmured chorus of "Noes."

"A little refreshment will be provided at half-past four," Madge continued pleasantly, "and as the tea-bell will ring shortly I don't think it's much use starting to unpack till afterwards. Now, is there anything you would like to know about your cubicles?"

After a few moments' silence one small, curly-haired girl spoke up.

"Are we allowed to hang any pictures in our cubicles?"

"Why yes, certainly, only you mustn't knock nails into the outside walls. There's a picture rail on the wall, so that difficulty is easily overcome. You can also use drawing-pins. Of course there are certain dormitory rules about lights, talking and so on, but you'll find a list of them hanging just inside the door, also a list of the occupants of the cubicles. Hot water? You get it from the bathrooms when you want it. By the by, you are expected to knock before entering another person's cubicle--a senior's, at any rate. Anything else you want to know, Matty?" tapping the small girl on the head with her pencil.

"My name isn't Matty. It's Margaret."

"Too long," replied Madge cheerfully. "I haven't time for more than two syllables just now."

"Please," inquired another rather timidly, "do we do anything else this evening besides unpack?"

"Yes. I'm to take you to see Miss Julian--the Principal, you know--at six o'clock. Then at half-past six we assemble. It's the usual proceeding. Announcements are made, we are all welcomed back and of course are all exhorted to roll up our sleeves for the year's work and put some elbow grease into it. Also you get a few words for the good of your soul, though fortunately Prinny's sermons are brief and to the point. Of course, you needn't listen, but as you are new kids perhaps it would be wise for you to do so this first time.

"That's all that happens to-night. Prinny may tell you what class you are in, or if you haven't already been to school you may have to sit for tests to-morrow morning. But really, if you're sensible kids you can have an awfully good time here. There are several societies you can join, the dramatic and the indoor games, for instance. The dramatic get up a play every year, and the indoor games play draughts and chess and table-tennis and so on. As for the outdoor games, well--" Madge was warming to her work. "Now that summer term is over I may as well tell you you'll soon have to make a very important decision." Madge's expression grew portentous. "You will have to choose which to join, the hockey club or the netball club."

"Can't you play both?"

"Play both!" Madge was horror-struck. "Indeed no! Not that there's any rule about it, but it simply isn't done. You must choose one or the other. I am secretary of one of the clubs, but I won't tell you which," she added modestly, "as I don't wish to influence you unfairly. Naturally, it is by far the better game of the two. Hark! There's tea bell."

She counted them round to see if all were present, then marshalled them downstairs with a wave of her hand and an encouraging: "Come along. En avant, mes enfants!"

Tea was in the beautiful old dining-room, one of the oldest parts of the original building, a long, lofty room with glorious oak panelling and great worm-eaten oak beams across the ceiling, carefully preserved through several hundred years. No one came to St. Etheldreda's without being impressed by this room, particularly as it had the added advantage of looking out on three sides to green lawns and leafy trees.

From tea till the bell rang again for assembly at six-thirty the school was like a hive of busy bees, swarming and buzzing. The hall where the girls assembled every morning for prayers and every evening for roll-call, and also on state occasions such as Speech Day, was in the Annexe, and had a wide platform at one end and a small gallery at the other.

Madge Amhurst found herself among a little party of Fifth-formers, as she made her way down the corridor.

"Any new girls for the Fifth?" inquired one of them, Irene Eames.

Madge shook her head. "There is only one new senior so far, who I expect will go into the Fourth. There's another who hasn't turned up yet, though. She has the 'flu or something, and will probably be coming next week."

Irene nodded, disappointed. "What a pity! It's rather interesting having new girls in your form and wondering what they'll be like."

"Miss Perkins said she thought this girl who hasn't arrived yet would be put into the Fifth," replied Madge.

Five minutes after the bell had sounded a goodly number of girls had assembled in the hall. St. Etheldreda's was not as big as many of the modern English boarding-schools, nevertheless its numbers were not inconsiderable, averaging between seventy and eighty, all boarders. The lowest age at which a girl could be admitted was ten, for there was neither a kindergarten nor a preparatory department.

After the girls came the mistresses and finally the Principal herself, tall and slight, with hair turning grey rather early, and the possessor of a quiet manner and a voice of peculiar charm, low-toned but very clear and distinct. Standing on the platform at the end of the room she began to speak, saying how pleased she was to see familiar and smiling faces again, but declaring that she would not keep them very long as she knew many had had long journeys and were doubtless beginning already to feel tired. She touched lightly on the work of the coming year, impressing on them the need for a good beginning, followed by steady work throughout the year.

She then read out the list of the new prefects and their chief duties. At this, of course, all heads were turned towards the back row, where stood the five or six new Sixth-formers, who tried hard not to look self-conscious when they heard their names. They came forward to the platform to receive their prefects' stars, which the Principal fastened on the fronts of their dresses, and were heartily clapped by the rest of the school.

When this commotion had subsided Miss Julian continued:

"There is just another little announcement I wish to make. I know how glad you all are to see our last year's Head Girl back among us for yet another year."

Fresh applause, whose sincerity no one could doubt, for Allison Ravenel had been the most popular of all St. Etheldreda's Head Girls and was still the best-liked and most admired girl in the school.

"Unfortunately," Miss Julian went on, "things are not quite the same this year. With very great reluctance Allison has asked me to say that she feels unable to carry out the multitudinous duties of a Head Girl this year. She has returned to study for a university scholarship and as it is a matter of very great importance to her that she should win it if she possibly can, she feels she must devote her whole time and attention to her studies. I have consulted the other prefects and they are extremely anxious that she should not relinquish her position as Head Girl while she is here; they declare that they are ready and willing to undertake her work and to relieve her of most of her duties. I have accepted their kindly offer, and if the rest of the school are willing to back up the prefects in every way I am sure the arrangement will work satisfactorily. Will all those girls who willingly and gladly agree to do so, raise their hands?"

A forest of hands immediately shot up. Miss Julian nodded her satisfaction, then glanced across at the tall, fair-haired, eighteen-year-old Head Girl. "Perhaps Allison wishes to answer you for herself," she suggested.

"I can only say thank you all very much for your kindness," Allison answered. "It was entirely the prefects' idea that I should retain the Head Prefectship. Of course, if at any time they need my help I shall be only too pleased to do anything I can. I did not like trespassing so much on their good nature, but they insisted on it."

Already most of the seniors, at least, knew the reason for Allison's anxiety to win a university scholarship. Her people had recently lost money, and without the scholarship Allison, with several younger brothers and sisters yet to be educated, would be obliged to give up all idea of continuing her education at a university.

A voice came from the back row, the voice of Deirdre Samways, one of the members of the hockey first eleven, saying in anxious tones: "I hope this does not mean that Allison will be giving up games as well. The school cannot afford to lose her services."

Allison answered for herself. "I am resigning the captainship of the hockey club, as I may not be able to attend all the practices and the meetings. But Miss Julian says I should be silly to give up playing, as outdoor exercise is necessary when you are studying hard, so I shall be only too pleased to turn out for matches."

There was a sigh of relief from the hockey enthusiasts, for was not Allison the best centre-half the school had ever possessed and an invaluable pivot for the team?

"And now," the Principal was saying, "as all except the new girls know, it is my custom at the beginning of each school year to present to you a little thought of some kind that may help you in your school life. At the end of the year I generally refer to it again to see if it really has been of any help to us.

"I suppose it is the aim and endeavour of everyone to get as much as possible out of life, and you are all, I am sure, trying to get all you can out of your school life.

"It is right that we should have ambitions. Many girls, I know, are working to win scholastic honours, to do well in the public and school exams or to take home better reports at the end of term; others perhaps are trying to distinguish themselves in one particular subject, their music or in some other branch of art; girls who are already in school teams are anxious to win honour for themselves on the playing fields, and those who have not a place as yet are keen to obtain one; girls who cannot yet swim unaided have perhaps made up their minds to be more successful in the baths this coming season.

"I am always pleased to see such ambitions. But this year I want you not only to think of how much you can get out of school life, but also of how much you can put in--how much of kindliness, consideration for others, service, even small personal sacrifices, to give some instances of what I mean. You girls, living together in what we call a 'community life,' have so many opportunities of 'putting in' as well as 'getting out,' of making our school life here happier and brighter and jollier for us all. I am not going to say any more on that subject, but don't forget the thought I want to give you for this year."

Miss Julian said little more, for, being a woman of wisdom and experience, she was content to press home what she wanted to say and then to leave off before seeing the first fidgety movements that told of weariness or boredom on the part of her youthful audience. The assembly came to a close with a hymn and a brief prayer, and the girls were then dismissed with the injunction that the rest of the evening till supper bell was their own to pass as they wished, but that classes would begin at nine o'clock the next morning as usual.