There was a burst of laughter from the couples immediately before and behind at this retort, and Miss Read called out warningly from the rear. “Girls! Girls! Not so much noise! Sybil, keep in line; you’re continually turning round!”
“It’s not my fault, it’s this girl!” began Sybil plaintively, but as no notice at all was taken of the remark by the mistress-in-charge, and as Gretta, instead of acting comforter, simply jogged her elbow and begged her to “Shut up!” the child relapsed into silence for a time, and walked sulkily along by her sister’s side.
“What kind of lessons did you have to-day, Sybil?” inquired her older sister presently, to change the subject and to relieve the atmosphere a little.
“Oh, ripping!” exclaimed Sybil, at once alert and good-humoured again. “They’re not very easy, though, although I’m in the bottom class. That other new girl, Adela, who’s in my Form, is frightfully clever. She’s had a governess, and she can do fractions like anything! Miss Taylor said that I should have to work hard because I was behind the others, but I just said that you’d been teaching me, so it wasn’t my fault at all!”
“And what did she say when you said that?” inquired Gretta, swallowing a feeling of mortification.
“Oh, nothing. Something about not talking so much, I expect. She’s most frightfully strict. You have to sit still the whole lessons through. There’s no chance of my winning a lesson-prize in that class I know, Gretta, so it’s no use trying for one. And as I told Ann that I should bring one back with me, I think I shall just try for that other one for being the bravest; it’s much more interesting, and might even be fun.”
“You mean the Hope-Scott prize!” questioned Gretta in amazement. “Oh, Sybil, do you think you’re brave enough? Whatever could you do? You’re only twelve.”
“Well, Miss Slater said, for I heard that much, that perhaps even the youngest in the school could get it, and I’m not as young as that. Joan Curtis is younger; she’s eleven and a quarter, though she has been here a year. And Margot’s only just a little older than me, and you always say she’s brave.”
“Well, yes,” agreed Gretta, “but then she’s been in Australia, and she’s done brave things there, somehow. Think of riding a horse bareback; and then, that time, you know, when she was lost in the Bush for a whole day. Auntie told us how brave she was in finding her way home and everything. I couldn’t do those things, and I’m fourteen.”
“I think I’d rather like adventures and being brave,” said Sybil carelessly. “I’ve got a thing already that I think of doing, but if I tell you, you won’t let anyone else know, will you?”