XXVII
Maud was waiting for us in her ‘Private Room.’ We came to it through long corridors with notices on the walls, and a place with pegs, and rows and rows of hats and coats. There was a smell of disinfectant, and ink, and books. It was different from the smell at Ellsfield, but reminded me partly of that.
The ‘Private Room’ was pleasanter. There was a big window with green serge curtains, and a table with a green serge cover, and lots of books on it. There were daffodils on the table in a green, ‘art pottery’ jug, and reproductions of pictures by Watts on the walls, in broad, dark oak frames.
Maud came forward to meet us. She was tall and fair; she seemed much taller and more powerful than Walter; she looked healthier, and more athletic. Her hair was parted in the middle, and pushed forward, very neatly, with little combs behind each ear. She was wearing a very clean, well ironed, white silk shirt, with a dark blue tie, a tie-pin, and a long, navy blue serge skirt; she had pince-nez, rimless ones, fastened by a fine, black cord.
She smiled in a bright, business-like way, as though she were accustomed to smiling.
‘My dear Walter, how do you do? How do you do, Helen?’
She kissed us both, brightly too, and led us back to the tea-table, which was waiting by the hearth-rug. There was no fire, though the day was rather cold; the kettle was boiling on a brass spirit lamp, on the table.
‘Your train must have been late,’ she said, as she made the tea. ‘I expected you a quarter of an hour ago. Fortunately, to-day is my “free day,” and I have an hour and a half, quite free, after tea.’
She made us feel that it was our fault that the train was late, but that she forgave us.
Walter murmured an apology, and she smiled again:
‘It is of no consequence, none whatever. I have kept myself entirely at your disposal this afternoon. I had to take the chair at a staff meeting between three and four; we have a staff-committee now, you know, Walter, to decide on internal questions of policy in the school, slight variations in curriculum, and so forth, as far as our governing body will permit: it meets on Saturday afternoon. I find it a useful experiment. I find that it encourages keenness in the staff, more especially the younger members, if they feel they have some say in the management of the school. I have, of course, a casting vote myself, but I seldom use it. It is surprising to find how often we are unanimous, or practically so. Sugar, Helen and milk?’
She gave me sugar and milk, without waiting for my reply, and handed me the cup.
‘Let me see,’ she went on, ‘where were you at school? Walter did tell me, I believe.’
I said:
‘Ellsfield, in Surrey; Miss Ellis’s school.’
‘Ah yes, of course! They do not take the Higher Certificate there, I think? There was some discussion about it at the last Headmistresses’ Conference. Miss Ellis takes, shall we say, an independent line?’
I said:
‘I don’t think they did many examinations. I believe Miss Ellis didn’t approve of them.’
‘Quite, quite; and not many of the girls would go on to the Universities, I suppose?’
‘Some did, I think; oh, several did. You could go if you liked.’
Maud smiled.
‘No compulsory abstention,’ she said, ‘but not unduly encouraged, I suppose. Of course here we have quite the opposite idea. We train our girls to regard a University training as the natural culmination of their education. Under present conditions they cannot always afford it, but it is surprising how many can, when once the girl and her family are made to feel it the natural and proper thing. There ought to be more scholarships, of course, for Oxford and Cambridge are too expensive for most girls of the class who come to us, but the Provincial Universities are now excellent. A number of our girls go to Birmingham and more still to the University College here.’
I said:
‘It must be very convenient to have a college here.’
‘Yes, a good departure, quite good. Standard not very high yet, but that will come. I thoroughly approve of this movement for increasing the number of University Colleges in Provincial towns. By the way, Walter,’ she went on, ‘I want to speak to you about that last regulation of the Board of Faculties and Arts, about the P.Q.T. External Examinations, you know the one I mean, 1346; I think it is on the new schedule.’
She took up a bunch of papers from the table beside her and began to look through them.
‘Here it is,’ she said, and began to read it aloud.
It was something about the qualifications necessary for anyone going in for some particular examination; it conveyed nothing, of course, to me. Walter said something about its not making much difference, and she interrupted him:
‘I entirely disagree with you, Walter. Take the case, for instance, of a girl in the Vth Form who had already passed 3y and 6b in the Higher Certificate; her position would be quite anomalous!’
‘But do many girls pass 3y and 6b, and nothing else?’
‘Not many, but some do. In any case it ought to be made quite clear; would such a girl be eligible, or not?’
‘You see,’ she said, turning to me, ‘so many of our girls take the London University External degree, and as Walter is now a Member of the University, I always apply to him in my difficulties.’
Walter said:
‘I am afraid I can’t be any use to you over this, Maud. I really have nothing to do with the External Examinations. You had better apply to the Secretary of the Board of Faculties, direct.’
There was irritation in his voice; he held out his cup.
‘May I have some more tea?’ he asked.
‘Certainly, certainly. I did not see that you had finished; and, Helen, let me give you some more. You did say milk and sugar, I think. Walter, please give Helen some cake. Yes, I think I had better apply to the Board of Faculties direct. It is always best to go to the Fountain Head. But you must support me on the Board, if the question is raised. Helen must excuse us talking so much shop,’ and she turned brightly to me: ‘We Academic people have so much shop to talk, and so little opportunity.’
Walter said:
‘I find plenty of opportunity!’
‘Ah, but you are at the Fountain Head! That is one of the advantages of University life over that of a school. It has that advantage, undoubtedly. But what is Helen most interested in? We must make friends, mustn’t we? Now that we are to be sisters-in-law!’
Walter said:
‘Helen is interested in a great many things. Literature and pictures, and music . . . aren’t you, Helen?’
I felt like a child, being discussed and drawn out by grown-up people.
I said:
‘Yes. I am interested in that sort of thing, chiefly, I suppose.’
‘I see,’ said Maud, artistic. ‘Well, that is a very important side of life. I always teach my girls to appreciate Art. We have lectures on Art, every alternate week, in the Winter terms, with lantern slides; and literature too; three of our girls took A.A. in the English Literature paper of the L.L.U.’
‘Helen is a great dancer too!’
Maud gave a little laugh.
‘The lighter side,’ she said, ‘that we can hardly call Art!’
I wondered why Walter had said it. I thought he might have known that Maud would not count dancing ‘Art.’
‘It can be Art,’ said Walter doggedly. ‘Have you seen the Russian Ballet?’
I was surprised that Walter should have seen it himself.
Maud laughed again, her quick, business-like laugh.
‘I am afraid I have no time for Ballets,’ she said:
‘Helen will not find much time to dance when she is married, I am afraid. I am afraid Academic life will seem a little strange to you at first. We are poor, dull people you know, my dear, but we have our good points, if you take us as you find us! And now, would you like a walk round? We have extended the playing field since you were here last, Walter, and there are some new books in the Classical Library.’
Walter and I were not alone all the evening. There were prayers for the boarders, and supper in a big dining hall, only two tables, at the end in use, for the day girls were not there.
In the morning we went to church with Maud and two other mistresses, and the boarders.
We were alone for a little, in Maud’s room, before lunch.
‘When did you go to the Russian Ballet?’ I asked.
And Walter said:
‘When you said you liked dancing; in the tea-shop near the British Museum. I went the next evening.’
I took his hand.
I said:
‘That was dear of you. Did you like it?’
He said:
‘I don’t know if I liked it really. Not very much, perhaps, but I liked to know what you liked . . .’
He hesitated, and smiled shyly.
‘I thought it made me understand you better.’
I felt, somehow, nearer to Walter after that visit. I felt that there was an understanding between us in relation to Maud. He did not say it and I did not say it, but I felt that he was on my side, and not on hers; that he was resisting what she stood for, and defending me.
I had dreaded the meeting with Maud, and now it was over I did not mind her; I was not afraid of her: it did not seem to me that she would count.