They were so eloquent that one could almost see the sleepers stretching themselves in turn, blinking heavy lids, and rubbing dishevelled locks like so many sleek, lazy kittens. For a moment no one spoke, then began a chorus of lamentations.
“Seven o’clock! It can’t be true. I haven’t slept a wink all night!”
“I’ve been getting up at half-past eight all the holidays, and having a cup of tea in bed before that. It’s killing going back to this!”
“Wait till the mornings are dark, and the water is frozen in the jugs; that’s the time it is really fun. This is a mere trifle.”
“It’s not a trifle at all. I’m a growing girl, and need sleep. If Miss Bruce had any heart she would see it, and give me an excuse.”
“She’ll give you a mark instead, if you are not quick. Hurry up now! No laggards!” cried Thomasina’s voice, in answer to which there came still louder groans, and the creaking of bedsteads as one girl after another rose to her feet.
Rhoda rose with the rest, and for ten minutes there was silence, broken only by the splashing of water. Then suddenly the air was filled with a deep, melodious roll, at which, as at a signal, Thomasina appeared from her lair—beautiful in a magenta dressing-jacket, and hair coiled in a tight little knot at the top of her head—and opened wide the door of the dormitory. Rhoda, peering from between her curtains could see other doors opening all the way down the corridor, and bare arms hastily withdrawn from view, while all the time the music swelled into fuller force, and pealed over the great, silent house like some majestic wakening voice.
“What is it?” she queried breathlessly, and Thomasina answered from behind her curtain:
“The organ, of course. The organ in the hall. One of the music mistresses plays a voluntary every morning ten minutes after we get up, and the choir sings a hymn. You will hear them presently. Each house takes it in turn to do choir duty. It’s the Greens this week.”
As she spoke the first note of the hymn sounded, and the words rose clearly on the air:—