Monica and the Fifth

by Brenda Page

"I say, don't you think the fairest thing would be to give the kid a chance?" said Nathalie Sandrich.

All eyes were immediately turned on the new speaker, a rather big girl who had somewhat the appearance of a lanky, ungainly young colt; that is to say, her hands and feet seemed to be too large in proportion to the rest of her, while she did not appear to know quite what to do with her elbows and knees—faults which would probably be remedied when she had finished growing. She had a shock of bright brown hair, irregular features, plentifully besprinkled with freckles during the summer term, and a rather wide mouth which displayed beautifully white, even teeth when she smiled.

Nathalie Sandrich, usually known as Nat, had, as she herself declared, only one talent, a perfect genius for "putting her foot in it."

Strange to relate, when a difficult catch at cricket was muffed—a catch upon which the fate of the match rested—the unhappy fielder was sure to be Nat Sandrich, though Nat was quite a good cricketer. Should it be discovered that one of the girls walking down the church aisle for Sunday morning service was displaying an enormous hole in her stocking, above the heel of her shoe, one took it for granted that the girl would be Nat although, as she pointed out, she did quite as much darning as any other girl in the school. When the position lists of the term examinations were posted up, the name of Nat Sandrich was invariably the very last on the Fifth Form list, though one could not by any means call her a dull or stupid girl. She was unfortunately the member of a Fifth Form unusually diligent and intelligent at their lessons, and suffered in comparison; she also generally managed to lower her chances further by omitting to head one of her papers or number some of her questions, thereby losing marks to which she would otherwise have been entitled. On the whole Nat was popular with her school companions, for she had a cheerful disposition and often amused them, but they were inclined to regard her with a kind of tolerant, good-natured contempt.

All eyes were now on Nat, as she made her suggestion so abruptly.

"What exactly do you mean, Nat?" asked Irene.

"Only that I think you ought to give the kid a chance," repeated Nat, "by treating her as if you'd never heard any of that," pointing to Glenda's letter. "Just imagine she's an ordinary sort of girl and you've never heard anything against her. She may not be so bad after all. Perhaps there was a mistake at the other school. Besides, you can soon judge what sort of a girl she is for yourselves. It isn't fair to her to form a prejudice against her before you see her."

Here was a new point of view. Glenda looked annoyed, for though she was not an unkind or ill-natured girl at heart, she did not like to see the startling effect produced by her news counteracted.

"I hardly see how a mistake could have been made," she said loftily. "Her aunt's opinion of her seemed to coincide with that of the Head Mistress of the school. I don't think it's at all nice of Prinny to plant down such a character in our midst."

But Nat stuck to her guns. "Prinny wants to give her another chance or she would have told us what sort of a girl this new kid was," she insisted. "Besides, don't you think that's the sort of thing she meant when she talked about 'putting in' as well as 'getting out'? It isn't being very kind or considerate."