After the delightful three weeks spent with the Gordons, Gipsy felt that so pleasant an experience of English home life made it doubly difficult to return to Briarcroft. No news of her father had arrived during her absence, and she was received with black looks by Miss Poppleton. She had begun to dread, with a shrinking, nervous horror, those futile interviews with the Principal—interviews in which she could only state again how little she knew, and listen to fresh reproaches. She tried to brace herself for the ordeal when ordered to the study, but her heart failed her as she tapped at the door, and she entered with something of the apprehension of a victim of the Inquisition facing the torture chamber. She advanced hesitatingly towards the Principal's desk, and stood without speaking, a forlorn enough little figure to have excited compassion in the most mercenary heart. Miss Poppleton glanced at her furtively, and looked away again. She had made up her mind not to allow herself to be worked upon by her feelings, and meant to speak plainly.
AN INTERVIEW WITH MISS POPPLETON
"It's no use mincing matters, Gipsy!" she began, blustering a little to hide her own sense of uneasiness. "Here we are at the beginning of another term, and things are exactly the same as they were at Christmas. Not a word from your father, or from your New Zealand relations either. It's plain enough they mean to abandon you! Now, I want you to understand that I can't be responsible for you. You must think again. Are there absolutely no relations or friends to whom you can apply?"
Gipsy sighed as she gave the same old answer. Had she been possessed of any information, how gladly would she have supplied it!
"I can't keep a school for philanthropy," frowned Miss Poppleton. "I'm afraid your father is an adventurer pure and simple. He's left you on my hands, and gone off, who knows where? I'll let you have one more term here, just on the chance of his turning up; but if we've heard nothing by the summer holidays, then I shall be obliged to apply to the Emigration Society, and send you out to New Zealand. Your relatives there would be forced, at least, to support you, though I suppose I shall have to write down your fees here as bad debts. In the meantime you must make yourself as useful as you can, out of school hours. You might help Miss Edith with the mending, and look after No. 1 dormitory. I can't afford to keep you here on the same footing as an ordinary pupil. It's an unpleasant business from beginning to end."
Very unpleasant, thought poor Gipsy, as she availed herself of permission to go. Her proud spirit could not bear her position of sufferance in the school, and she would almost have preferred to be handed over to the Emigration Society, and deported to New Zealand. That her father should be called an adventurer seemed the cruellest cut of all. The reason for his long silence she could not fathom, but she was positive he would never abandon her, and her faith in him did not waver. Some day, if he were still alive, she knew he would come to claim her; and in the meantime, though life was dark, for the sake of her own self-respect she must show a brave front. Gipsy certainly needed all the courage and fortitude of which she was possessed.
If last term had been hard, the present term was harder still. Miss Poppleton's hint about making her useful was no idle remark, as she soon found to her cost. Instead of joining the other girls at tennis and croquet in her play hours, she was expected to sit in the linen room, darning stockings and hemming dusters, or mending damaged garments. She was made into a kind of attendant for the little ones who slept in No. 1 dormitory, and was responsible for brushing their hair, seeing that they had their baths, putting away their clothes, and keeping their room in order. It was a recognized thing that she was to be at the beck and call of all the mistresses, to run errands, take messages, fetch articles wanted, and do innumerable little "odd jobs" about the house.
She was willing enough thus to help to earn her salt, but the unfortunate part was that the extra work made serious inroads upon her time. Her new dormitory duties took a large slice out of each evening, and no allowances were made in class for the fact that her hours of preparation were curtailed She resented the injustice of being reproached for badly learnt lessons, when she had been busy the night before washing the hair of her little charges, copying some notes for Miss Lindsay, sorting music, filling inkpots, and stitching fresh braid on Miss Poppleton's skirt. The mistresses did not really mean to impose upon Gipsy, but having been told to make the girl of use, it was so easy to hand over all the tiresome extra things for her to do, and completely to forget that an accumulation of trifles may make a large sum. It never struck anybody that Gipsy's legs could grow weary with constantly running up and down stairs, or that she preferred tennis to darning and croquet to brushing children's coats; all were supremely busy with their own concerns; and though Miss Edith sometimes noticed that she looked tired, loyalty to Miss Poppleton forbade the least interference. So Gipsy plodded away, with a grim determination to do her best, and not to give in under any circumstances whatsoever. She was much too proud to make complaints to her friends, even if they could have helped her, and met their compassion for her non-appearance at the tennis courts with an assumption of indifference.
"I can't get at Gipsy nowadays!" said Hetty Hancock to Dilys Fenton. "She seems quite changed this term, since Poppie's made her into a kind of pupil teacher. It's as if there were a barrier suddenly set up between us."