“She is a difficult subject,” she repeated anxiously; then her face lighted up suddenly and she began to laugh. “But you can’t help liking her!” she cried. “Funny little mite! I am growing quite fond of her already.”
Chapter Five.
The Alice Prize.
To the surprise of all concerned, Pixie took a very fair place in the school. The sorely tried Miss Minnitt was by no means an accomplished woman, but what she did know she taught well, and she felt rewarded for her efforts when she heard that Miss Bruce, the English teacher, had remarked that Pixie had been well grounded, and knew more than many girls of her age. The mixture of knowledge and ignorance which the child displayed was indeed incomprehensible to those who did not understand the conditions under which she had lived. She was quite a botanist in a small way, could discourse like any farmer on crops and tillages, was most sporting in her descriptions of shooting and hunting, and had an exhaustive understanding of, and sympathy with, the animal world, which seemed quite uncanny to town-bred girls. Here, however, her knowledge stopped, and of the ways of the world, the hundred and one restrictions and obligations of society which come as second nature to most girls, she knew no more than a South Sea Islander dancing gaily upon the sands, and stringing shells in her dusky locks. “I wish I was born a savage!” was indeed her daily reflection, as she buttoned her tight little frock, and wriggled to and fro in a vain search for comfort.
“Now listen to me!” said Miss Bruce, at the end of the examination which was conducted after breakfast the day following Pixie’s arrival. “I am undecided which of two classes you shall join, so I am going to give you the choice. The under-fourth would be comparatively easy, the upper-fourth would mean real hard work. I think you could manage it, if you worked hard and determined to do your very, very best; but I tell you frankly it will not be easy. If you would rather have a term in the lower class and work up gradually, I am willing to let it be so; but you must realise that it will be less good for yourself. You seem to have a good memory and to learn quickly; but we don’t like to force girls beyond their strength. You would be the youngest girl in the upper-fourth.”
That decided the matter! Pixie’s heart had sunk at the mention of work; but the ecstatic prospect of being the baby of a class, of writing home to boast of her position, and of reminding her elders at frequent intervals of her own precocious cleverness, was too tempting to be resisted. She pleaded eagerly for the upper-fourth, and came through the first morning’s ordeal with gratifying success. But, alas! afternoon brought a change of scene, for the girls retired to the schoolroom for “prep,” and the new class-member stared in dismay at the work before her.
“Is it for next week we are to learn it?” she asked, and when the answer came, “For to-morrow,” she shrieked aloud in dismay. “What! The lot of it? Grammar, and arithmetic, and geography? All those pages, an’ pages, and pages! I couldn’t finish to-day if I sat up all night! You’re joking with me! It isn’t really and truly for to-morrow morning?”
“It is indeed, my dear, worse luck! Miss Bruce gives a terrible amount of prep, and you are bound to get through somehow. Sometimes it is worse than this, and you feel simply frantic. You are not allowed to go on after seven o’clock either, so there is no hope for you if you are not finished by that time.”