Though Lorraine and Claudia might regard Madame Bertier with more or less suspicion, she was an immense favourite with the rest of the school. The Misses Kingsley found the vivacious little Russian lady one of the best teachers they had ever had, and treasured her accordingly, while most of the girls still revolved round her orbit. She was undoubtedly very clever and fascinating. There is a certain type of pretty woman who can be adorable to her own sex. Madame liked admiration, if it were only that of a schoolgirl, and she thought the flowers and little notes that were showered upon her charming tokens of her popularity. "They practise their hearts upon me, these poor children!" she would observe sentimentally. "The little love letters! Ah, they are tout À fait gentilles! Wait a few years! They will be writing them to somebody more interesting than their teacher! Oh, yes! I know well!" "For goodness' sake don't put such ideas into their heads!" said Miss Janet, who admired the open-air type of girl, and had no weakness for Madame shrugged her shoulders eloquently. "What will you? We all have our own methods! As for me, I win their funny little hearts, then they will work at their lessons for love—yes, for sheer love. In but a few months they have made beaucoup de progrÈs! N'est-ce pas? Ah, it is my theory that we must love first, if we will learn." Though Miss Janet might sniff at Madame's sentimental method of education, she nevertheless could not deny its admirable results. In French and music the school had lately made enormous strides. The elder girls had begun to read French story-books for amusement, and the juniors had learnt to play some French games, which they repeated with a pretty accent. Both violin and piano students played with a fire and spirit that had been conspicuous by their absence a year ago, under the tame instruction of Miss Parlane. Madame did not confine herself entirely to her own subjects. She took an interest in all the activities of the school. It was she who arranged a ramble on the cliffs. "They get so hot, playing toujours at the cricket," she said to Miss Kingsley. "Of what use is it to hit about a ball? Let them come with me for a promenade upon the hills and we shall get flowers to press for the musÉe. It is not well to do always the same thing." Since the curious episode of the cut telephone wires during the Easter holidays, there had been no further happenings at the museum. Miss Kingsley inclined to Madame Bertier's view, that some spy, finding the window had been left open, had taken a ladder and forced an entrance that way. She had caused a screw to be placed in the window, and the door was kept carefully locked except when the room was in use. To Lorraine the place felt haunted. She had a horror of being there alone, and never ventured to go there unless accompanied by two or three of her schoolfellows. She had an unreasonable idea that the little trap-door in the corner might suddenly open, and a sinister face peer down out of the darkness. The nervous impression was so strong that she held the monitresses' meetings in the class-room instead of in the museum. When the mid-term beano came round, she suggested that they should assemble in the summer-house. It had been an old-established custom at the school that once in each term the seniors should hold a kind of bean-feast. They met to read aloud papers, and suck sweets. Their doings were kept a dead secret from the juniors, who naturally were exceedingly curious, and made every effort to overhear the proceedings. On this occasion the seniors "Why are you in such a precious hurry to get rid of us to-day?" asked Mona Parker, pertly. "You're not generally so keen on us going off early." "There's been too much loitering about the cloak-room lately," vouchsafed Dorothy. "Bow-wow! How conscientious we are, all of a sudden! You've something up your sleeve, I think, Madam Dorothy!" "Mona Parker, put on your boots at once, and don't cheek your betters!" "But there is something going on, I'm sure!" piped up Josie Payne. "Nellie, be a sport and tell us!" "Mind your own business, and don't butt in where you're not wanted! How long are you going to be in lacing those shoes?" "There, there! Don't get ratty! I'm ready now!" The dilatory juniors, by dint of much urging, were at last hustled off the scenes. The ringleaders among them departed in rebellious spirits, which fizzed over in the playground into a series of aggressive cock-a-doodle-doos, significant of their attitude of annoyance. The monitresses wisely took no notice. They were too glad to be rid of the younger element to The members were sucking blissfully while Lorraine went round and collected the literary portion of the entertainment. "Only eight papers to-day! You slackers! Audrey, where's yours? Haven't had time to think of anything? How weak! Doreen, I expected the Fifth to do its duty. Thanks, Phoebe, I'm glad you've written something, and you too, Beryl." "Please keep mine till the very last, and don't read it at all if there isn't much time!" implored Phoebe. "You mustn't read mine first!" fluttered Dorothy. "Nor mine!" "Nor mine!" Audrey picked out at random one of the little twisted scraps of paper, and the lot fell upon the protesting Dorothy. She rose apologetically. "They're not much," she murmured. "Just a few 'Ruthless Rhymes', that's all. The next on the list was Lorraine's own contribution.
The girls giggled. "You've gone ahead rather far," commented Audrey. "It sounds blissful to fly, and use a diving boat, but I'd draw the line at learning Japanese." "Oh, it will be one of the languages of the future, no doubt!" Lorraine assured her. "French will probably be quite old-fashioned, unless it's studied like Greek and Latin are nowadays." "I expect the children of even a few hundred years hence will have awful times learning the history of this war," said Dorothy. "Probably they'll know more about it than we shall ever do. There are generally secret facts that crop up again after everybody is dead. It'll be a gold-mine for historians." "And for story-writers." "Rather!" "Audrey, choose another scrap of paper, and see who's next on the list." MORAL MAXIMS FOR YOUTHFUL MINDS Take care of the shrimps, and the lobsters will boil themselves. Haste not pant not. A cockroach saved is a cockroach gained. A mouse in the hand is worth two in the hole. Treacle by any other name would taste as sweet Catch moths while the moon shines. All is not mirth that titters. A squashed slug dreads the spade. It's the last sob that breaks the camel's heart. "And if a child won't learn his maxim, The teacher promptly takes and smacks 'im!" Vivien, who was fond of rhymes, had cudgelled her brains for Limericks, and produced the following: NELLIE APPLEBY There was once a schoolgirl named Nell, Who fancied herself quite a swell; With her head in the air And her frizzled-up hair, She reckoned she looked just a belle. PATSIE SULLIVAN We know a young damsel named Pat, She's big, and she's floppy and fat. When to dance she begins We just shriek as she spins, And wonder whatever she's at! There is a head girl named Lorraine (Of which fact I admit she is vain), She walks on her toes, With an up-tilted nose, Her dignified post to sustain. AUDREY ROBERTS There is a young slacker named Audrey, Whose taste in cheap jewels is tawdry, Necklace, brooches, and bangles She flaunts and she jangles, And her get-up is just a bit gaudy. DOROTHY SKIPTON I know a young person named Dolly, Who's ready for any fresh folly. She thinks she's a wit, And can make quite a hit, But she tells a few whoppers, my golly! The girls giggled uneasily. There was a sting in each of the verses, and nobody likes to be made fun of. Somehow, Vivien always stuck in pins. "We'll make one about you," began Patsie, with a rather red face. "There was a young person named Vivvie, Who liked all her schoolmates to chivvy——" But at this point Claudia suddenly, and perhaps rather fortunately, interrupted. "What's that queer noise?" she asked. "It sounds like a sort of suppressed giggling!" There was dead silence for a moment. "I do, though!" "It's a kind of snorting!" "I believe it's at the back of the summer-house." Patsie dashed up and darted round, and, with a yell of vengeance, flung herself upon three juniors crouched with their impudent noses pressed to a crack in the boards, through which they had been spectators as well as listeners during the proceedings. A fourth child was in the very act of descending from the garden wall. "You young blighters! How dare you! You deserve to break your legs, swarming over a high wall like that! It would just have served you right if you had, and I shouldn't have been sorry for you. Not the least teeny tiny bit, though you limped about on crutches for the rest of your young lives! Come here at once!" As a speedy method of collecting the offenders, Patsie seized them by their pig-tails, and hauled them in a bunch to the front of the summer-house. Lorraine eyed them severely. "If this had been a Masonic meeting," she remarked, "you'd have been obliged to have your heads chopped off for eavesdropping. Freemasons keep a sword-bearer on duty, so I'm told, to kill anybody who tries to intrude. I'm not sure if we oughtn't to do something——" She paused, as if searching for a suitable punishment. "Cut off their pig-tails," suggested Patsie grimly. "I certainly shall if you ever try to come eavesdropping again. I give you three seconds to get back to the house. Now then—scoot!" The juniors did not wait to be told twice, but with their precious pig-tails flying in the wind, raced up the garden at record speed, and disappeared into the gymnasium. Lorraine laughed as she watched their long legs careering away. "I'm afraid they heard the cream of it!" she admitted. "It was rather clever of them, wasn't it? That little Mona is the limit! She leads all the others. I shall make a point of sitting upon her hard for the rest of the term." "Solomon said in accents mild, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child; Be they man, or be they maid, Whack them, and wollop them,' Solomon said!" quoted Patsie, choking over her last piece of chocolate. |