“It’s rather a long name for such a small person, isn’t it?” she said seriously. “I think we will keep to Pixie. It will make school more home-like for you than if we changed to one to which you are not accustomed.” Then turning to the Major, “I am sorry my head mistress, Miss Bruce, is not at home to-day, as I should have liked you to see her. She is very bright and original, and has a happy knack of bringing out the best that is in her pupils. She directs the teaching, and I am the housekeeper and sick-nurse of the establishment. Would you like to come upstairs and see the room in which Pixie will sleep, or shall we wait perhaps until after tea?”
The Major declared that he could not wait for tea. He had kept the cab waiting at the door, and was all anxiety to get the parting over as quickly as possible and return to the fascinations of town, so he discussed a few business matters with Miss Phipps, and then took Pixie’s hand and accompanied her up the staircase to the third-floor bedroom which she was to share with three other pupils.
Two windows looked out on to the garden in front of the house, and an arrangement of curtains hung on rods made each little cubicle private from the rest. Pixie’s handbag had already been laid by her bed, and she felt quite a swelling of importance as she surveyed her new domain, wherein everything was to be her very own, and not shared with someone else, as had always been the case at home. The Major gushed over all he saw, and professed himself as more than satisfied, but he was plainly ill at ease, and after walking twice round the room was all eagerness to make his escape.
“I’ll say good-bye to you now, Pixie,” he said, “for your bag is there, I see, and you would be much the better for a wash and brush. It’s no use coming downstairs again. Be a good girl, now, and Jack shall come often to see you! I’m happy to leave you in such good hands, and it’s a lucky child you are to have such a school to come to! It will be your own fault if you are not happy.”
“I’ve no doubt I’ll be very comfortable, thank you,” Pixie said pleasantly, lifting her cheek to receive her father’s kiss, with little sign of the emotion dreaded by the two onlookers, for her mind was too full of the new excitements to allow her to realise his departure. He hurried out of the room, followed by Miss Phipps, and Pixie withdrew into her cubicle, pulled the curtains closely around her, and felt monarch of all she surveyed. A dear little white bed, so narrow that if you turned, you turned at your peril and in instant dread of landing on the floor; a wonderful piece of furniture which did duty as dressing-table, washstand, and chest of drawers combined; a single chair and a hanging cupboard. Everything fresh, spotlessly clean, and in perfect order; absolutely, if you can believe it, not a single broken thing to be seen! Pixie drew a quick breath of admiration, and wondered how long it could possibly be before she succeeded in cracking that lovely blue and white china, and exactly what would happen if she spilt the water over the floor! She was so much occupied in building castles in the air that ten minutes passed by and she had not moved from her seat, when suddenly there came the sound of footsteps running up the stairs, the door was pushed open, and tramp, tramp, in came her future companions, hidden from sight, but talking volubly to each other as they took off hats and jackets after the afternoon walk.
“The new girl has arrived!” cried number one, in a tone of breathless excitement. “I saw her box as I came through the hall. I peeped at the label, but hadn’t time to read it properly.”
“I did, though!” cried another. “A funny name—O something or other. ‘Shog-nessie,’ or something like that. Such a shabby old trunk! Looked as if it came out of the Ark.”
“It will be rather fun having an Irish girl, don’t you think?” number two suggested. “They are untidy and quarrelsome, of course, but it is funny to hear them talk, and they make such droll mistakes. I shouldn’t like to be Irish myself, but it will be a pleasant change to have a Paddy among us!”
“Well, I hope she isn’t quarrelsome in this room, that’s all!” said a third speaker, who had hitherto been silent, “because if she is, I shall feel it my duty to give her a taste of Home Rule that she may not appreciate. And if she snores I shall squeeze my sponge over her, so you may tell her what she has to expect. There’s nothing like training these youngsters properly from the beginning!”
“Twelve years old! I call it mean to put a child like that in this room! You are fourteen, I’m fourteen, Ethel is fifteen; we ought to have one of the older ones with us. We will make her fag for her living. She shall get the hot water, and fold up our nightgowns, and pick up the pins. All the same, I shall be kind to her, for the credit of the country, for Irish people are always imagining themselves ill-used by England. If I had thought of it I would have drawn a picture for her cubicle, as a delicate little mark of attention. An Irishman with his—what do you call it?—shi-lee-lah!”