And it stuck! From that day forward Geraldine was invariably known throughout the school as "German Gerry." "Gerry" alone the girl would not have minded so much. As a shortening for Geraldine, it compared quite favourably with most nicknames. But with the prefix of "German" the title became abhorrent to the unfortunate new girl, a fact which was very soon discovered by the Lower Fifth. And although Geraldine, or Gerry, as she now became, except to the mistresses and one or two of the older girls, did her best to disguise how much she minded, yet she could not help wincing sometimes when the objectionable name was uttered.
Once she tried the effect of a mild remonstrance.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," she said one evening during preparation, when Phyllis Tressider addressed her by the title with a request for the loan of a book. "I'm not German—and I do so hate being called it!"
There was dead silence in the classroom. The Lower Fifth had been expecting Gerry to remonstrate for some time past, and her failure to do so had been put down as another sign of her weak spirit. The Lower Fifth was quite unable to comprehend the mentality of a girl who, from a sheer nervous dread of "rows," would submit to almost any treatment rather than protest. The form waited now with some interest to see how the situation would develop, leaving Phyllis to deal with it as she thought fit.
Phyllis thought fit to say nothing for the moment. And after a brief pause, Gerry spoke again.
"I'm not German, you know," she said pleadingly. "Not the very least little bit."
"Aren't you?" said Phyllis politely, but with the utmost indifference in her tone. "I say, has anybody done this beastly number eleven sum yet? Is 33¼ the right answer?"
"I'm not German, Phyllis! Truly I'm not!" repeated poor Gerry, her eyes filling with tears.
"Oh, aren't you?" said Phyllis again. "Of course if you tell us so——" with an ironic emphasis on the "tell." Then she broke off with an air of having done with the subject for ever. "But I'm really not interested, one way or the other," she concluded. "I say, Dorothy, you might tell me what your answer is to number eleven?"
"Then, please, don't call me that any longer," pleaded Gerry; but Phyllis ignored her altogether and turned to Jack Pym, who sat on one side of her.