The best school of all,
We'll honour yet the rule we knew,
Till the last bell call.
For working-days and holidays,
And glad or melancholy days,
They were great days and jolly days,
At the best school of all."
Lady Rownham was singing with all her might, and a pathetic effort to hold her slight stooping shoulders back; she had been Vicereine of India forty years ago, but, excepting for that time, there had been few years in which she had missed coming to the Old Girls' Day—and no time when she had not been at Redlands in spirit. They had sung rather cramped mid-Victorian words as the school song for many of those yearly festivals that she had known; but in these very "Old Girls" had beat the heart of the school none the less, though that earlier poet had lacked the greatness of expression.
The last line swung out with triumphant fervour; the old girls sat down. Miss Conyngham stood forward; on her right were the two retiring officers, Ingrid and Gabrielle, one very tall, the other small and childish looking. Amid an absolute silence from the assembled visitors Miss Conyngham shook hands with each girl in turn. "We all thank you for what you have done for the school throughout the year," she said.
At Redlands it was always the youngest girl at the school who called the cheers. A huge Sixth Former had Tiddles ready beside the platform and hoisted her on to it at the right moment. The mite faced the audience unblinkingly, "Tree cheers for Ingrid Latimer! Tree cheers for Gabrielle Arden!" she said in her tiny distinct voice. It did not reach half the length of the hall, but everyone who had been at a "Redlands speecher" knew what was meant by the appearance on the platform of the youngest girl, and the cheers rang out with a will. Ingrid and Gabrielle acknowledged them with a grave bow, and then turned and walked off the platform and down to their respective places in the hall, leaving only the youngest girl in the school to stand by Miss Conyngham's side.