Concerns Va
Mildred's resolution to work was a huge effort to her easy-going, unpractical temperament, but she could not have made it at a more favourable time. The new Alliance had aroused a general wave of enthusiasm at St. Cyprian's, and many girls who before had been inclined to shirk were now determined to put their shoulders to the wheel. There is a great deal in public opinion, and while a do-as-you-please attitude had hitherto been in vogue, keenness and strenuousness now became the fashion. The school was divided into "Sloggers" and "Slackers", and the latter were looked down upon, and made to feel their inferiority. Among the seventeen girls who composed Va there was of course every variety of disposition, from Laura Kirby, who was nicknamed "the walking dictionary", to Sheila Moore, who was a byword for silliness. Naturally they had their different little sets and cliques, but these were only affairs of secondary importance; as a Form they were remarkably united, and anxious to maintain the credit of Va against the rest of the school.
It was especially with regard to their seniors that they felt an element of competition. To beat juniors was always a poor triumph, and nothing much to boast of, but the Form perpetually cherished the ambition to (as they expressed it) "go one better than the Sixth". The Sixth were not disposed to lay aside their laurels, so the struggle went on, in quite an amicable fashion, but with a spirit of rivalry all the same. It was the custom every few weeks for each of the three top forms to give a short dialogue in French or German. These had nothing to do with the Dramatic Society, being merely part of the school course, to accustom the girls to converse in foreign languages, and they were performed with very little ceremony before an audience of teachers and juniors. This month a German scene had been apportioned to Va, and Kitty Fletcher, Bess Harrison, Mona Bradley, and Mildred Lancaster were chosen by Fräulein Schulte to represent the principal characters. It was not difficult to learn their short parts, and last term, when once they had committed them to memory, they would have thought no more of the matter until the afternoon of the performance. Now, however, in view of the generally-raised standard, they were disposed to take more trouble.
"I'd just like to show the Sixth what we can do," said Kitty. "Suppose our dialogue turned out better than theirs? It would be such a triumph!"
"It strikes me the Sixth intend to turn the tables, and spring a surprise on us," said Mildred. "I'm quite sure they're concocting something."
"Oh, how did you get to know? What is it?"
"That I can't say, but I heard them murmuring something about a rehearsal, and they all scooted off to the small studio."
"Are they there now? I vote we go and see," suggested Bess Harrison.
The four girls hurried upstairs at once, only to find the door of the studio locked, and the Sixth firm in their refusal to open it.
"I want to get my drawing-board!" wailed Mona through the keyhole.
"Then you ought to have got it before. You'll have to wait now," was the stern reply.
"But I must have it. And my chalk pencils. Let me in just for an instant!"
"I tell you I can't!"
"What are you all doing in there?"
"That's our concern."
"Oh, you are mean!"
"Go away this minute, and leave us in peace. What business have you intruding here?"
Finding knocks and thumps on the door as useless as their entreaties, and that the keyhole had been carefully stopped up with a piece of soft paper, the four beat a retreat. They were consumed with curiosity, however.
"I just mean to get to know, somehow!" exploded Bess.
"Look here," said Mona, "I've an idea. Let us creep out through that skylight window on the landing, crawl over the roof, and then we can peep right down through the studio skylight. We'd see for ourselves then. It would be better than keyholes."
Mona's brilliant suggestion was hailed with joy. The only obstacle which offered itself was the difficulty of climbing up to the skylight. But Mona was resourceful. She remembered the housemaids' cupboard at the top of the stairs, and promptly purloined the step-ladder which stood there. Fortunately it was a tall one, so without any superhuman display of agility they were able to reach the roof. A narrow parapet ran round the edge of the house, which afforded some slight security, but perhaps all four girls felt qualms when they found themselves at such a giddy height. Not one would confess her fear, though, so they commenced to creep cautiously forward in the direction of the studio.
"It's like Alpine climbing!" gasped Kitty as they ascended the steep angle. "We've got to go over that ridge! Oh! I say, aren't the slates hot?"
Giggling a little to hide their tremors, the adventurous four reached the chimney-stack, and paused for a moment to survey the prospect. They could obtain a truly bird's-eye view of the playground and the street beyond.
"I know what it must feel like to see things from an aeroplane," said Mildred. "You just get the tops instead of the sides. Look at those hats down there!"
"Oh, don't let us waste time in looking!" said Mona. "Suppose the Sixth should have gone when we get to the studio? It would be such a stupendous sell!"
Urged by the mere idea of such a fiasco, the girls plucked up their courage again, and pursued their caterpillar-like progress. They soon reached the studio skylight, and, peering down, were able easily to see into the room. The Sixth were still there, and very busily employed. Apparently they were holding a rehearsal, and they were dressed up in costumes suitable to the occasion. Dorrie Barlow wore a large French peasant cap, Kathleen Hodson sported a cloak and top-boots, and Edith Armitage, in a blue silk dress with a train, was evidently a lady of high degree. Sublimely unconscious of the four spies above them, the seniors went on complacently with their work. Most of their conversation only ascended as a general buzz, but every now and then a remark in a louder tone than usual was audible on the roof.
"That's capital, Gertie!"
"No one's an idea what we're doing."
"We routed those Fifth-Formers!"
"Cheek of them to come prying here!"
"They went away no wiser, though!"
"We must hide these costumes."
The spectators above absolutely gurgled with joy, but they were careful not to betray their presence. Making a sign to the others, Mona motioned them to withdraw their heads.
"We've seen enough!" she whispered. "They might look up at any moment. Better beat a retreat now."
Four very satisfied girls climbed back over the ridge of the roof. They had gained exactly the information they wanted, and they meant to act upon it. They considered their action was a benefit to their Form.
"We've done it so quickly," said Mona, who was leading the way, "we shall have time to scoot downstairs, and be just innocently loitering about the playground before the Sixth have finished. They'll never guess!—Oh, I say, here's a go!"
"Why, if the wretched skylight isn't shut!"
This was bad news indeed. With consternation in their faces they crept closer, and tried to lift the skylight up. They pulled till their fingers were sore, but with no success.
"Somebody must have come along the passage and shut it," said Kitty. "It's a nuisance to have to give ourselves away, but I can't see anything for it but to knock and get the window opened."
"Someone's sure to be going along the passage," said Bess hopefully.
So they knocked quietly at first, and then thumped with energy sufficient to break the glass. There was no response, however; not even a solitary junior passed down the passage.
"What are we to do?"
Kitty's face was blank in the extreme.
"The step-ladder's gone too!" squealed Bess.
At that moment the big school bell clanged loudly for afternoon call-over. Waxing absolutely desperate, the girls not only thumped on the glass, but shouted. To their intense relief their signals were heard, and the figure of Rogers, the upper housemaid, hove into view. Calling to them to keep clear of the window, she opened the skylight.
"Whatever are you doing up there?" she enquired tartly.
"Oh, Rogers, do be an angel, and fetch the steps quick!"
The expression on Rogers's face was not at all angelic.
"You've no business out on the roof, and you know it."
"Yes, that's why we want to come down," returned Kitty, "if you'll only let us. Do fetch those steps, please!"
Grumbling to herself, Rogers brought the step-ladder, and held it steady while the girls descended.
"I shall tell Miss Cartwright," she announced. "Larks like these are beyond a joke."
"Oh, Rogers, don't—don't, please!" implored the sinners. "We'll vow on our honour never to do it again. Honest—honest, we won't!"
"I can't have the steps taken out of my cupboard."
"We won't so much as peep through the chink of the door again, far less touch anything."
"Do, please, promise not to report us. Oh, we're going to be late for call-over! There's the second bell."
"Late you'll certainly be, and serve you right!" snapped Rogers. Then, relenting a little: "Well, I won't report you this time; but mind, if I ever catch you meddling with this window again, or touching anything in my cupboard, you needn't expect to get off."
Thankful to escape with nothing worse than a scolding, the four tore downstairs in the hope that they might just be in time to answer to their names, but Miss Pollock was closing the register as they entered the room, and had already marked them down "late". Rather crest-fallen, they went to their various classes—Mildred to practise, Mona to her drawing lesson, and Bess and Kitty to Latin preparation. At four o'clock they met to compare notes.
"After all, I think we scored," said Mona. "We found out what the Sixth were doing."
"Yes, and what we've got to do now is to get up our own dialogue in costume, and not let the Sixth have a hint of it beforehand."
"It will take the wind out of their sails when they see us all dressed up."
"Especially if we do the thing better."
"That goes without saying. I've a far nicer dress at home than Edith's blue silk."
"We shall have to tell Eve and Maudie."
"Of course, but no one else in the Form need know. It can be a surprise for everybody."
As a rule, though the school was obliged to be present to act audience at the monthly dialogues, everybody considered them rather a bore. Even the girls who were taking part had not hitherto been very enthusiastic. They had been regarded strictly as lessons, and not in any sense recreation. This time, however, both the Sixth and the Fifth had a secret—a possession which adds a charm to any undertaking. The Fifth held the decided advantage of knowing their seniors' intentions while preserving silence about their own. They held delightfully mysterious committee meetings in the dressing-room, and private confabulations in the playground. Long-suffering relations at home were induced to set to work with needles and thread, or to lend a variety of articles that would come in for the occasion. On the day of the dialogues several bulky packages were smuggled into school. The girls had been obliged at the last moment to take Miss Pollock into their confidence, and beg her to lock up the costumes in her cupboard until the afternoon, and to secure them the use of a small practising room for a dressing-room. Five out of the six performers stayed to dinner at the College, so they had a little extra time for last arrangements. By dint of hard pleading they had managed to change places with Vb, so that their dialogue came third on the list instead of second.
"That's good biz," said Kitty. "Now we shall be able to sit all through the Sixth's performance, and do our robing while Vb are on the platform. Then we'll just walk on and astonish everybody."
Punctually at three o'clock the whole school assembled in the big lecture-hall, and took their places, small girls in front, and older ones to the back, with a row of chairs reserved for teachers. In spite of the discretion of the performers, some little hint had leaked out that the afternoon's proceedings were to be of an extra special character, and there was considerable whispering and expectation among the audience. The six players in Va had seats at the end of a bench, so that they could make an easy exit when necessary. They watched with keenest anticipation as the door behind the platform opened and the actors in the French dialogue entered. The rank and file of the school had not expected costumes, and clapped heartily at sight of the quaint figures who were standing bowing and curtsying with eighteenth-century dignity. Kathleen Hodson as Monsieur le Duc de Fontaineville was stately in her top-boots, an evening cloak of her mother's flung across her shoulder, and a sword at her side.
"Silk stockings and buckled shoes would have been more in keeping with the period than those boots," whispered Bess to Mildred. "They haven't taken any trouble over details."
"Dorrie Barlow's cap is only made of tissue-paper," triumphed Mildred. "Wait till they see Eve's."
The wearing of the dresses seemed decidedly inspiring to the performers, who gave their short piece with far more spirit than was their usual custom. To be sure, Monsieur le Duc forgot his sword, and, tripping over it, nearly measured his length on the platform, but he recovered himself with admirable calm, and went on with his speech as if nothing had happened. Susanne, the peasant woman, clattered about in a real pair of sabots, but had the misfortune to step on the train of Madame, her mistress, with rather disastrous results, to judge from the rending sound which ensued. Gertie Raeburn was seized with stage-fright, forgot her lines, and had to be prompted; and Hilda Smith, who enacted the Abbé, was distinctly heard to giggle under her ecclesiastical vestments. In spite of these slight flaws the piece was immensely appreciated, and brought down a storm of applause, under cover of which our six heroines of Va slipped quietly from the room.
There was no time to be lost, for they knew Vb's dialogue was only short. Miss Pollock had placed their parcels in readiness, so they opened them with utmost speed and began their toilets. They all helped one another, and made such a record of haste that in exactly ten minutes they were ready, and listening for the applause which would mark the termination of Vb's performance. At the very first clap they ran down the passage; then, restraining their impatience, waited until their predecessors had made their due exit from the lecture-hall. It was with pardonable pride that they stepped on to the platform and watched the look of amazement which spread over the audience. Nobody had expected them to be in costume—that was evident. The Sixth were looking particularly astonished, indeed almost annoyed. There was a discomfited expression on their faces, highly gratifying to the conspirators. Even Miss Cartwright seemed surprised. The little German play had afforded good opportunity for dressing up, and the girls had certainly risen to the occasion.
Bess Harrison, as "Else, the daughter of the Schloss", wore a charming mediaeval robe, with velvet bodice and slashed sleeves; her long fair hair was plaited in two orthodox braids, and she held a distaff and spindle at which she worked industriously. Mildred, her betrothed, was arrayed as a baron of the Lohengrin type, in a short robe of peacock-blue emblazoned with an heraldic dragon in scarlet. Her golden hair was combed loosely over her shoulders, and surmounted by a small ducal coronet. She had a heavy chain round her neck, and armlets on her bare arms. Kitty Fletcher made a stately mediaeval grandmother, in silken gown, stiff ruffle, coif and wimple, and rattled the keys of the Schloss with great effect as she said her lines. Eve Mitchell as the serving-maid had a cap of real muslin, copied from an old German picture, a green-and-black-striped skirt, cherry-coloured stockings, and buckled shoes; while Maudie Stearne, in her capacity of seneschal, almost surpassed the rest in the gorgeousness of her embroidered cloak, chain armour, and winged helmet.
The girls were on their mettle to do well, and played up most successfully. The whole dialogue went without a single hitch, and the actors threw enough scorn, grief, jealousy, alarm, and devotion into their parts to have sufficed for a longer play. As finally, quite flushed with their efforts, they made their bows to the audience, the appreciative school broke into thunderous applause. The Sixth, nobly repressing any spasms of envy that may have assailed them, were clapping heartily, Miss Cartwright beamed approval, and Fräulein Schulte was all congratulations and smiles.
"Really, this afternoon's dialogues have been a delightful innovation," said the Principal. "The addition of costumes makes an immense improvement. It was a coincidence that the two Forms should have thought of it quite independently of each other. You must have been mutually surprised. I am very pleased indeed, girls. It is a step in the right direction when you organize these things on your own account."
"It isn't quite such a coincidence as Miss Cartwright imagines," chuckled Kitty, as she and her confederates disrobed in the practising room. "She doesn't know who peeped through the skylight."
"And we certainly shan't tell her," laughed Mona.
"We've stolen a march on the Sixth," said Mildred.
"Yes, they had to give us the palm this afternoon," agreed Maudie. "I think we may decidedly feel we've scored."