CHAPTER V
The Arithmetic Examination
Patty's first letter home was, after all, a far more genuinely cheerful one than she had expected. She thought it better not to say anything about Muriel's behaviour, knowing it would greatly distress her father and mother, so only mentioned that she had made friends with her fellow-travellers in the train, and how much she liked them. To be included in such a pleasant set certainly made all the difference between happiness and unhappiness at The Priory. Enid seemed determined to make up to Patty for the neglect she had experienced at first, and took great pains not only to show her the ways of the school, but to see that she took her due part in the tennis sets and other games. Miss Lincoln had arranged the afternoon exercise as systematically as the morning lessons, with the object of obtaining as much variety as possible. Twice weekly the girls played hockey under the direction of Miss Latimer, the gymnastic mistress; twice also they were taken for walks in the neighbourhood; and on the remaining Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, which were regarded as half-holidays, they were allowed to amuse themselves as they liked, though they were required to be out-of-doors if the weather permitted. The judicious combination of work and play made the daily round both pleasant and healthy. The girls had enough lessons to keep them occupied, yet their brains were not over-taxed, and the hours spent in the open air ensured rosy cheeks and good appetites. When once she had settled down in her fresh surroundings, and the longing for home had become less keen, Patty found life at The Priory very congenial—whether in class, where Miss Harper made every subject so interesting; in the refectory, where she now sat in great content between Enid and Avis; or in the playing fields, where she was beginning to understand the mysteries of hockey, and to grow quite clever at putting, which was a favourite substitute for golf. She enjoyed the atmosphere of a large school, the little excitements, and the hundred-and-one topics of conversation which seemed continually to be discussed by those around her. After having been the eldest at home, and the head pupil at Miss Dawson's, with so much to overlook and to arrange for others, it was quite a relief to find herself among the younger ones, and she would listen with enthusiasm to the speeches of the prefects in the debating society, and watch their prowess at hockey with never-failing admiration. She had not yet dared to speak to any of the big girls; but they seemed so clever and important in her eyes, that she felt pleased if she might only stand near while they were talking, and proud indeed if she happened to be included in the same team with some of them.
Naturally, her new life was not without its troubles. After Miss Dawson's easy methods, she found it needed all her energies to keep up to the high standard required by Miss Harper. She worked her hardest both in school hours and preparation, but even with her best efforts it was not always possible to win approbation from her teacher, and her most careful exercises were often returned with ruthlessly severe comments. Her companions in No. 7 were also uncongenial. They were themselves members of the Upper Fourth, and though they now spoke to her, and were to a certain degree more civil, they were not really nice and friendly, and often made her feel she was not wanted in the bedroom. They were willing enough to accept any of the kind little services which she was generally ready to perform, allowed her to tidy the room, to throw open the windows, to go to the bathroom to fetch the large can of hot water which was to be divided among the four basins; indeed, they began to depend so much upon her, that if a button needed stitching on hastily, a blouse fastening at the back, or a lost article must be searched for, they all said "Ask Patty", without the least hesitation, knowing that she would not refuse, and never seemed too busy to help other people. Of her cousin Patty saw little, and that little was unfortunately far from pleasant. Muriel seemed determined to show that although they might both be in the same school, and even in the same class, she did not intend to be compromised by their relationship. She was a very vain girl, who thought much of her parents' wealth and position. She considered Patty's advent would not bring her any great credit among the set of companions whom she had chosen, whose standard consisted mainly of pretty clothes and worldly possessions, and she was annoyed that her father should have wished to give her cousin the same advantages as herself. She lost no opportunity of slighting Patty, never by any chance sat next to her, always chose the opposite side in a game, and on many small occasions made herself actively disagreeable. Patty bore it as patiently as she could. She ventured once to remonstrate in private, but the result was so unfortunate, that she determined she would not try the experiment again. Evidently the only thing to be done was to acknowledge the estrangement, and to keep out of Muriel's way as much as possible. Her uncle's letter, however, weighed on her mind. How was she to prove her cousin's friend so entirely against her will? Poor Patty's conscience, always a tender one, even accused her of accepting Uncle Sidney's kindness without fulfilling his conditions, and she sometimes wondered whether she was justified in remaining at The Priory, when she was not able to play the part he had designed for her.
"And yet," she thought, "it's not my fault in the least. I'm ready any time to help her if she'll let me. Perhaps an opportunity may come some day, and in the meantime, however horrid she is to me, I won't say anything disagreeable back. That's one resolve I mean to stick to, at any rate, though it's hard sometimes, when she says such nasty things."
The Fourth Form seemed split up into a good many small sections. The lower division kept mostly to itself, and in the upper division there were several sets. Muriel and her three friends, for no good reason at all, considered themselves slightly superior to the rest of the class, and put on many airs in consequence, a state of affairs which was much resented by Enid Walker and Winnie Robinson, who, with Avis Wentworth, had a clique of their own, in which they now included Jean Bannerman and Patty. Doris Kennedy, May Firth, and Ella Johnson, the three girls who shared Patty's bedroom, made a separate little circle with Beatrice Wynne, while Cissie Gardiner and Maggie Woodhall were such bosom friends that they did not want anybody else's society. Patty found the liking she had taken to Jean Bannerman increased on further acquaintance. Jean was a most pleasant companion; she was interesting and sympathetic, and while ready enough for fun, was more staid and thoughtful than Enid, though the latter's amusing nonsense and bright, warm-hearted ways made her very attractive. Poor Enid was often in trouble; her lively tongue could not resist talking in class or whispering during preparation hours. She was ready enough to respect Miss Harper, but she was apt to defy Miss Rowe's authority, a form of insubordination which generally ended in disastrous consequences. Patty, in common with most of the class, found it rather difficult to get on with Miss Rowe. It felt hard to be corrected sharply for some slight slip, and to be expected to obey every trivial order as promptly as soldiers on parade duty. The girls resented the young teacher's imperious manner, and were sometimes on the verge of rebellion.
"She's only about five years older than we are," declared Enid, "if so much. I believe she's younger than my sister Adeline at home, so it's absurd to be expected to behave as if she were Miss Lincoln. She's really not much more than a monitress, although she's called a mistress."
"She makes so many tiresome, silly rules," said Winnie. "Miss Harper never thinks of telling us to sit with our arms folded, or all to open our books at exactly the same moment, and to place our pencils on the right-hand side of our desks. One feels like a kindergarten baby with Miss Rowe. She ought to teach children of six."
"I wish she didn't take arithmetic, at any rate," groaned Avis. "I never can get my sums right, especially those horrid problem ones she's so fond of. The more she explains, the more muddled I feel, and then she says I'm the stupidest girl in the class, and tells Miss Lincoln it's no use sending me in for the 'Cambridge', because she's sure I shouldn't pass."
"She's good at mathematics herself," said Winnie, "and she thinks that anyone who isn't hasn't got brains. All my problem sums were wrong yesterday, and I got a bad mark. I hope she won't put too many of them in the exam. to-day."