"If she is not afraid of bombs, she is afraid of us," thought Judith, for the Sister's face grew white, her lips dry, and her assertion that she was glad to be back at dear old York Hill seemed to be all that she could remember of her speech. Three hundred pairs of hands had clapped her a warm welcome, but now she confronted three hundred pairs of critical eyes. She faltered, began again, and finally looked appealingly, a schoolgirl once more, at her Head Mistress.
"Never mind about your own experiences just now, Ruth," said Miss Meredith's calm, reassuring voice, "we'd like to hear a little more about the children's hostels in the north of France. We are all interested because we are sending clothes to Jean Warner to distribute."
And then a miracle happened, the whole School saw it. Ruth was transformed before them, her eyes brightened, her shoulders straightened, her voice had an inspiring ring in it as she told the story of the heroism of other Old Girls.
She had an interesting story to tell and she told it well: even the First-Form wrigglers sat with their eyes glued on her face as she told of the brave fight which was being made for the life and health of the children of Europe. "There is one thing especially I should like to tell you," she finished, looking down into the sea of upturned faces, "wherever I found a York girl—and you know my duties have taken me into all sorts of queer places these last four years—whether she was a V.A.D. ambulance driver, a nurse in hospital, a Y.W.C.A. secretary, or a Child's Welfare worker, always the record was the same, that when a York Hill girl undertook something, she put it through—especially if it were a hard job! That's what the General said when he pinned on Gwen's Mons Star—'Another of the ladies from Canada! They have taught you out there to put things through with a will!' York Hill Old Girls look to York Hill present girls to maintain the record of the School."
And if the applause meant anything, it surely stood for a determination on the part of her listeners to maintain the York Hill tradition.
Without considering the matter overmuch, Judith was convinced that the thing she was "to put through" during these last few weeks of term was hard study, and she bent to her tasks with a will.
"But the best laid schemes of mice and men
Gang aft agley."
The School seemed suddenly to become very busy, though about what Judith did not know. Much whispering was heard in the "Jolly Susan"; Nancy and Josephine looked very mysterious, girls from all parts of the School seemed to be in the same secret, and Judith heard tantalizing phrases, "scenery committee"—"scene shifters"—"costume committee"—"the Play." Very soon she herself was in a big secret, for a meeting of all New Girls was called by the School Captain, and Eleanor explained that the New Girls would be entertained at a play in the last week of November; that the custom was that the New Girls should return the compliment by an entertainment given during the last week of term; that since the New Girls were decidedly in the minority, two of the prefects and she herself would help in any way they could; and that, in a word, she was now ready to receive nominations for the various committees.
An exciting hour followed. To her dismay Judith found herself on the Costume Committee and she hated sewing. Sally May gave her little comfort—"just be glad you don't have to paint scenery; that's a dirty and hard job if you like," said Sally May. "Miss Ashwell makes us work like demons. If she didn't work like a demon herself, we just wouldn't do it," was her sage comment. Committee meetings multiplied. The play chosen was to be kept a secret from its audience and a delicious air of mystery pervaded the whole School.
After much discussion and help from Eleanor and Miss Marlowe, the New Girls chose the "Christmas Carol." Many other things were suggested, but Scrooge and Tiny Tim had apparently a warm place in their affections, and the appropriateness of the Christmas story for the end of term was irresistible.