CHAPTER XVI

A GREAT DECISION

"Done your lines yet?" inquired Jack, catching Gerry up just as the latter was going into the Lower Fifth classroom for preparation that evening.

"Very nearly," said Gerry. "I've only got about another ten to do, I think. I've come in early so as to finish them and take them up to Miss Burton before the prep bell goes. How are you getting on with yours?"

"Oh, about half-way through, I think," said Jack carelessly. "But it doesn't matter. I shall do them in prep to-night instead of any of Miss Burton's work. I shouldn't bother about them at all if it wasn't Miss Oakley who had set them. As it is, I shall have to do them, I suppose. It doesn't pay to disobey the Head, I can tell you," she added, with emphasis.

Jack and Gerry were not the only two members of the Lower Fifth who had come in early for preparation that night. When they entered the classroom, they found several of the girls there already. Most of them were gathered around Hilda Burns's desk, apparently endeavouring to persuade her to some course of action.

"Here's Jack!" exclaimed Dorothy Pemberton in a tone of relief as the two newcomers came into the room. "I say, Jack, do come here and talk to Hilda! She wants to cave in and do Miss Burton's prep. I tell her that she'll be a traitor to the form if she does."

"Of course, she will be!" cried Jack. "And, besides, it won't be the slightest use caving in now. Miss Burton's got her knife into us like blazes. She's sure to take the matter up to the Head, anyway, so we may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb!"

"That's what I say," said Dorothy. "But Hilda's got an attack of nerves or conscience or something. Pull yourself together, old girl, and stick to it. As Jack says, we're bound to get into a beastly row anyhow, so we might as well try and accomplish our purpose before we cave in."

"But what is our purpose?" argued Hilda, still unconvinced, but manifestly wavering.

"To teach Miss Burton a lesson, of course. To show her that she can't go sticking the Lower Fifth in corners as though we were a parcel of babies from the First Form! To make her see how jolly unpopular she's made herself, and to induce her to treat us better for the future if she stays on—which I jolly well hope Miss Oakley won't let her do!" said Jack, with a fine flourish of eloquence.

"Good old Jack!" said Dorothy approvingly. "That's put it in a nutshell. Now, Hilda, say you'll stick to it and refuse to work for Miss Burton, or—or we'll send you to Coventry or something!"

The threat was made laughingly. Dorothy knew well enough that Hilda's strength of purpose was not sufficient for her to stand out against the whole of her form when it actually came to the point. This was not the first time she had had to deal with the conscience of the head of the form. Hilda was apt to get these belated attacks of panic when nefarious schemes were afoot in the Lower Fifth, but never yet had she been known to make a stand for her convictions. And this occasion proved no exception to the general rule. Seeing that public opinion was all in favour of continuing the strike, she yielded, with one last feeble protest.

"Well, don't blame me when Miss Oakley comes down upon us like a ton of bricks!" she said, as she got out the books and papers for the preparation set by Miss Latham and Mademoiselle.

"We won't, old thing," promised Jack. "And if there's anything left of us after the Head's done with us, we'll let you say, 'I told you so,' as many times as you like! I'm sure it will be no end of a consolation to you!"

While this argument was in progress, Gerry had been quietly finishing her lines. She had now completed writing out "Chestnuts are bad for the digestion" one hundred times, and, fastening her papers neatly together with a paper-fastener, she glanced up at the clock. It still wanted four minutes to five o'clock. If she was quick she would just about have time to hand over her lines to Miss Burton before the prep bell sounded, and, getting up from her desk, she left the classroom and hurried along to the mistress's private study.

The bell rang just as she reached it, but, having come so far, Gerry did not mean to turn back now. She tapped at the door. Then, as no answer came, she tapped again, a little louder this time.

"Bother! She isn't there," she said to herself. "Never mind, though," she added. "I'll put them on the table where she'll be sure to see them." And turning the handle of the door, she pushed it open to go inside.

Then she stopped suddenly with her hand upon the door knob. Miss Burton was there, sitting in an easy-chair drawn up beside the cheerful little fire which was blazing away on the hearth. She was sitting in a very dejected attitude, leaning forward with her head bowed upon her hands—Gerry caught a momentary glimpse of her as the door opened. But before the girl could make any apology, the mistress was sitting bolt upright in her usual rigid position and glaring at the intruder with all her accustomed sternness.

"What do you mean by bursting into my sitting-room in this manner?" she inquired severely.

"I—I'm very sorry," faltered Gerry. "I did knock, twice—but nobody answered, so I thought you must be out."

"So you came in to spy round my room in my absence, I suppose?" said the mistress bitterly.

Gerry flushed hotly with indignation.

"No, indeed I didn't, Miss Burton!" she exclaimed. "I was bringing you my lines, and as you weren't here I thought I'd just put them somewhere on your table where you would be sure to see them when you came back."

"Lines. What lines?" asked the mistress as she held out her hand for the papers. Then, as Gerry gave them to her and she caught sight of the sentence written out so many times, the recollection of the chestnut episode came back to her.

"Ah yes, I remember," she said. "So you have condescended to do these for me, have you? What about the other two girls, Joanna and Nita? Are they writing theirs also?"

"Yes, but they had more to do than I had. They'll bring theirs along as soon as they've finished them," said Gerry, feeling suddenly more embarrassed and uncomfortable than ever. A bright flame from the fire had sprung up, and by its light Gerry saw something which filled her with dismay.

Miss Burton's eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles were unmistakably red and wet with tears! She had been crying! Gerry, who had cried so often during this unhappy term, knew the signs too well to be deceived.

"I suppose you felt you had to do them since Miss Oakley set them," said the mistress, still with that bitter note in her voice. "I have not time to examine them now. I'll look through them presently and let you know if they are tidy enough for me to accept." And she made a gesture of dismissal.

But Gerry still lingered. She did not quite know what she could do, but somehow it seemed impossible to go away and leave the new mistress in trouble behind her. Gerry was a tender-hearted person and she could not bear to see others in distress. She longed to be able to say something comforting, but no words suitable to the occasion came to her, and at last Miss Burton, seeing her still standing near the door, spoke to her in angry exasperation.

"What are you waiting for, child! Didn't you hear me say that I could not look at them until later? Go back to your classroom at once. The bell for preparation rang long ago."

Thus admonished, Gerry was obliged to leave the room, but she went very reluctantly, and her progress back to the Lower Fifth classroom was very slow indeed. A tumult of conflicting emotions was raging within her. All along she had been uneasily aware that the strike against the new mistress was wrong, and now the unmistakable traces of tears on Miss Burton's plain face had borne in upon her how very wrong and mean it was. Something must be done at once to stop it—that was evident—but yet what could she do? What could one girl do against many?—and an insignificant, unpopular new girl at that!

Just as she reached the top of the Upper School corridor she encountered the head girl, who stopped with a friendly smile as she recognised her.

"What are you doing here, kiddie?" said Muriel. "Oughtn't you to be in prep?"

"I'm just going," said Gerry. "I had some lines to take to Miss Burton, and I'm just on my way back."

"What have you been doing to get lines?" said Muriel. Then, without waiting for an answer to her question, she asked another:

"How did you get on at hockey to-day? Did Alice play you forward?"

"Oh yes, thank you. She put me outside right. And I think I got on much better," said Gerry eagerly. "I—I am beginning to think I shall like hockey when I've got a little more used to it," she added shyly.

"That's right!" said Muriel heartily. "I knew you would when once you'd found your feet a bit. Half the trouble was that you were put to play in the wrong place. Don't forget that you are playing for the dormitory again on Saturday."

"It's awfully good of you to give me another chance, Muriel," Gerry said gratefully. "I do hope I shan't funk again."

"Funk? Of course you won't," came the brisk reply. "Make up your mind that there's nothing to be frightened of, and funking will be the last thing you'll want to do. Nobody need ever be afraid of funking if they'll forget about themselves and just play the game."

"Muriel——" began Gerry suddenly, and then stopped abruptly.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Muriel.

"Nothing. I—I was going to ask you something, but I don't think—yes, I will, though!" Gerry added, with sudden determination. "What would you do, Muriel, if you were doing something that you knew wasn't right, and yet you'd promised to do it?"

Muriel looked at the younger girl in some perplexity.

"What would I do if I'd promised to do something which I knew wasn't right?" she repeated slowly. "Well, the best thing would be not to promise, wouldn't it?"

"I know that," said Gerry. "But if you had promised, what then? It's wrong to break a promise, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—well, I don't quite know what to say," said the head girl. "It's rather a difficult question to answer off-hand. So much would depend upon the circumstances. Couldn't you tell me the whole story? Then perhaps I'd be able to advise you better."

"I'm sorry—I'm afraid I can't do that," said Gerry desperately, wondering what on earth had induced her to confide in the head girl at all. What would Muriel be thinking of her, she wondered. "It would be sneaking if I did. Can't you possibly tell me what you'd do if it was you, without my telling you everything?"

"It's rather difficult," said Muriel, frowning. "I don't want you to tell me things that you ought not. But, at the same time, I really don't see how I can answer your question until I know a little more."

"I can't tell you any more," said Gerry, a little wistfully. "But it doesn't matter. I daresay I shall be able to think of the answer for myself."

"Wait a minute," said Muriel, as Gerry was moving away. "I can't tell you just what I should do without knowing all the circumstances; but I'll tell you something my father told me when I first came to school, and perhaps that will help you a bit. It's helped me several times. He said, 'If ever you are in a difficulty, and don't know what is the right thing to do under any special circumstances, just think which would be the hardest—and it's ten to one you'll find that the hardest way is right.'"

Gerry's eyes were bent upon the ground for a moment. Then she lifted them to meet the head girl's gaze with a look of determination in them which touched Muriel strangely.

"Thank you," she said soberly. "That has helped—I guess I know now which is the right thing to do." And with that queer look of decision still upon her face, she turned away in the direction of the Lower Fifth classroom.

"Queer kid, that," thought Muriel, as she made her way towards her study, whither she was bound. "I like her, though, all the same. There's something in her, which is more than one can say for the majority of the kids here. It's a pity she's such an awful funk. She'd really be quite a decent sort of girl if she could only get over her nerves a bit."

If Muriel had only known it, the "awful funk" was on her way at that moment to perform a braver action than the head girl, with all her prowess at hockey and gym, had ever performed in her life.