“Books, of course. Improving books. Poets, with nice soft backs, and Dutch Republics in calf, and things like that. The sort of book you are awfully proud of, but hardly ever read. You put it carefully in a bookcase, and admire the binding. You can always tell a prize a yard off, it looks so smart and gilt, and unopened. I’ve seen rows of them in some houses, all ranged together with their little silk markers hanging out at the bottom, as smooth and uncrumpled as if they had never been moved; and the owners take them down and show you the inscription on the first page, to prove how good and clever they were when they were at school!”
“Ah!” Pixie drew a rapturous sigh, seeing herself be-capped and shawled, in the act of exhibiting her own spoils to a bevy of admiring grandchildren. The great point seemed to be to have the inscription as striking as possible, so she inquired anxiously if the class prize was the highest that could be obtained.
“She’s ambitious, girls, isn’t she? The class prize isn’t enough for her, you notice!” cried Ethel, splashing her face with cold water, and interposing her remarks with audible shudderings. “Yes, there’s one thing higher—the ‘Alice Prize,’ we call it, because it is given by the father of a certain Alice who used to be at school here, and who died at the end of her last term. She was Lottie’s sister; but Lottie is not in the least like her, for she was very shy and nervous, and the girls teased her a great deal, and she took it to heart and made herself miserable. After her death it was found that she had kept a diary, and written down all her troubles; and her parents read it, and tried to think what they could do to prevent any other girl suffering as she had done. At last they thought of offering this prize—it is given every year—five pounds’ worth of books, which you can choose for yourself. You can get a lot of books for five pounds, and it is given to the girl who is kindest and most considerate to others. She has to be nice to new girls, and answer their questions, and be patient with them, as I am being with you, my dear, at the present moment, and dry their little eyes when they weep, and cheer them up when they are low in their minds. And she has to be careful not to hurt other people’s feelings, and to use her influence to stop a joke when it is going too far. Oh, and a dozen other things which you can imagine for yourself! The girls know best who deserves the prize, and they vote at the end of the year, and whoever gets most votes gets the prize.”
“Who got it last year?”
“Margaret, of course. So she would every time, but the same person is not allowed to have it two years running. A good thing, too, for we should all feel that it was no use competing with her, and so give up trying.”
“And who do you think will get it this year?”
“Oh dear me! How many more questions? Myself, of course, for answering you so kindly. If you don’t vote for me, young woman, there’ll be a coldness between us, and so I tell you. Flora thinks she will get it, but it won’t be fair if she does, for she is so fat that she couldn’t be anything else than good-natured if she tried. Now I have really a violent temper, but I keep it in check. I can’t answer any more questions, though. Time’s up. I give you all two minutes more, and then I must put out the light.”
“Let me do it! I’ll put it out! You get into your bed and keep warm, and I’ll wait upon you!” cried Pixie eagerly; and, to her dismay, there came a simultaneous burst of laughter from all three listeners.
“She’s Alicing,” they cried—“she’s Alicing! Nothing like beginning in time, and making the most of your opportunities. So you want that prize too, do you, as well as the class one? It’s a bad lookout for the rest of the girls. There won’t be anything left for us to try for.”
Pixie stood transfixed within her cubicle, staring before her with bewildered eyes. As it had been her delight to wait upon her beloved sisters, it had come naturally to wish to help these girls who, for the time, had taken their place in her life. She had made her offer in all good faith, and her heart swelled with bitterness at the injustice of the accusation. A rush of honest Irish pride forbade an answer; but the tears came to her eyes as she lay down in bed, and the loneliness of exile fell upon her. Bally William, oh, dear Bally William, how are you looking to-night? Is everything going on as usual, though Pixie O’Shaughnessy is far away in a cold, cruel land where no one knows her, and her best motives are misjudged and derided? Beautiful old castle, standing among your luxuriant green, are the lamps lit in your rooms, and twinkling like so many stars into the night? And there, where the red curtains are drawn so snugly, are the boys and girls gathered round the fire, the flames lighting up Bridgie’s sweet face and Esmeralda’s stormy beauty? Oh, boys and girls, are you thinking of Pixie—your own little Pixie?