"I'm perfectly happy," she remonstrated.
"But it can't be so nice as having brothers and sisters," said Marian in her decisive manner. "I should miss our little ones most dreadfully, and Fred and Larry too. Holidays wouldn't be holidays without seeing them. I think it must be wretched to be an only child."
Talking of the holidays did not make them come any the faster, and there was plenty of hard work to be gone through before the end of the term arrived. For the first time in her life Sylvia had real examinations. She rather enjoyed the solemnity of the occasion, the typed questions, the large sheets of lined paper with margins ruled in red ink, the clean blotting paper, the new pens, and even the awesome silence of the room, with Miss Arkwright sitting at her desk reading instead of teaching as usual. She came out top in history, grammar, and geography, but Marian beat her easily in French, writing, and arithmetic, and in the end their marks were so exactly even that they were bracketed together.
Then there was an agitating afternoon when everybody had to recite poetry to Miss Kaye, each being expected to choose a different piece. Sylvia selected "John Gilpin", which she had learnt with Miss Holt, but unfortunately grew nervous and got so mixed that she was obliged to sit down in confusion, and hear Marian sail glibly through "The Little Quaker Maiden", a poem which she rendered with great effect. Connie Camden and Jessie Ellis had a furious quarrel as to which should say "Hohenlinden", that being the shortest on the list of both; but in the end Jessie gave way and took "The May Queen" instead.
Miss Denby did not allow the music to be neglected, and made each pupil learn a grand Christmas piece which seemed to need much more practising than any other, and had the added ordeal that it must be played on the last day before an audience of the whole school.
The party which was always held on the Saturday before breaking-up was also a new experience to Sylvia. The first class acted a short French play, under the excited direction of Mademoiselle, who had spent much time in coaching them for their parts. The second class took a scene from The Midsummer-Night's Dream. Trissie Knowles made a pretty Titania, and Stella Camden such a mischievous Puck that everybody clapped heartily, though Miss Barrett said she was only acting her natural character, and of course it came easily to her. Connie Camden climbed up and sat on the window sill in order to see better, and fell down with a terrible crash, grazing her knee on a form and making a big bump on her forehead, and Dolly managed to upset a bottle of ink which Miss Coleman thought she had put most securely away.
When the plays were over, the girls had dancing and games in the large classroom, and finished with a dainty supper of fruit, cake, and jellies, which fully justified Linda's remark that "Heathercliffe House seemed almost as much parties as school".
Then came the exciting afternoon when the boxes were carried down from the boxroom and everybody set to work to pack, with the help of the monitresses and Miss Coleman. It was a most delightful, noisy, blissful time, when there were no forfeits if one ran into anybody else's room, or even jumped on the bed, when nobody had to practise or learn lessons, and one could shout and sing in the schoolroom. Connie Camden flung her history up to the ceiling, and did not mind in the least when it lost its back in its descent.
"Miss Arkwright will be dreadfully cross about it when we begin history again," said Marian.
"I don't care! That's a whole month off, and we've all the holidays first. No school for four weeks, and going home to-morrow! Hooray!" shouted Connie at the pitch of her lungs, waltzing among the desks with such vigour that she knocked over the blackboard, and got a scolding after all from Miss Arkwright, who happened at that moment to enter the room.