When it had become necessary to apportion the rôle of “Mistress June” the Committee had unanimously agreed that it would be safest in Rhoda’s hands. She would not quail at the critical moment, mumble her words, nor forget her duties; but, on the contrary, would rise to the occasion, and find the audience a stimulus to her powers.
It was her genius also which had invented the verses for recitation, so that there seemed a double reason for giving her the place of honour. So Rhoda had sent home an imperious dressmaking order, and here she was, dainty as loving care could make her, her flaxen mane streaming over her shoulders, the sceptre extended in welcome—as fair a personation of “Mistress June” as one need wish to see—
“Friends and companions, and our teachers dear
We give you welcome to our kingdom here.
Once more has kindly summer come to stay,
And Mistress June resumes her wonted sway.
We are your hosts, and to our leafy bowers
We welcome you to spend the sunny hours;
In happy revels we will all unite,
In song, and dance, and ancient pastimes bright;
All cares forgotten, labours laid aside,
Hearts turned to joy, and glad eyes open wide
To watch, as when bright fay and sportive faun
Wove their gay dances on the woodland lawn.
Alas! the stress of higher education
Has vanished these, the poet’s fond creation.
But nature—not to be denied—has sent
Yet fairer forms for gladsome merriment,
Who wait my nod. The beauty of the nation
Are gathered here to win your approbation.
But you grow weary—Hither, maidens all,
Forth from your bowers, responsive to my call,
With roses crowned, let each and all advance,
And let the Revels start with song and dance!”
It was astonishing how well it sounded, recited with an air, and to an accompaniment of smiles and waving hands. Little Hilary Jervis, the youngest girl in the school, remarked rhapsodically that it was “Just like a pantomime!” and the finale to the address was so essentially dramatic that her elders were ready to agree with her decision.
Rhoda backed gracefully to the spot where her flower-decked chair had been placed by her attendants, and having taken her seat, clapped her hands as a signal to her handmaidens. Instantly from behind the shelter of the trees there tripped forward a band of pink and green-robed figures, bearing in their hands garlands of many-coloured roses. The roses were but paper, it is true, and of the flimsiest manufacture, but at a little distance the effect could not have been improved, and when the dance began to the accompaniment of music “on the waters” the effect was charming enough to disarm the most exacting of critics. It was an adaptation of the “scarf dance” practised by the pupils, but the dresses, the circumstances, the surroundings added charm to the accustomed movements, and there were, of course, deviations from the original figures, noticeably at the end, when, with a simultaneous whirling movement, the dancers grouped themselves round their Queen, holding up their skirts so as to entirely conceal their figures. The greens were on the outside, the pinks arranged in gradually deepening lines, and Rhoda’s smiling face came peeping out on top; it was evident to the meanest intellect that the final tableau was intended to represent a rose, and—granted a little stretch of imagination—it was really as much like it as anything else!
This first item of the programme over, the dancers grouped themselves in attitudes of studied grace, while little green-robed heralds led the way to what, for want of a more high-flown name, was termed “The Rose Bower,” where various sports and competitions had been organised. Roses were, indeed, conspicuous by their absence; but there was an archery ground, an amateur Aunt Sally (clad, one regrets to state, in the garb of a University Examiner!) and many original and amusing “trials of skill.” Tom came off victorious in an obstacle race, in the course of which the competitors had to pick up and set in order a prostrate deck chair, correctly add up a column of figures, unravel a knotted rope, and skip with it for fifteen or twenty yards, thread a needle, and hop over the remaining portion of the course; while Dorothy, who held a stick poised in her hand, called out in threatening tones, “You would pluck me in arithmetic, would you? Take that!” and let fly with such energy that the “Examiner” fell in fragments to the ground.
It was a scene of wild hilarity, for even the teachers threw off their wonted airs of decorum, and entered into the spirit of the occasion, and to see severe Miss Mott throwing for cocoa-nuts, and fat little Fraulein hopping across the lawn, were by no means the least entertaining items in the programme.
Rhoda sat enthroned on her rose-wreathed chair, looking on at the revels, well content with idleness since it was the badge of superiority. The pleasantest part of her duties was still to come, and the girls realised for what purpose the sixpence-a-head contribution had been levied by the Games Captains, as they saw the prizes which were awarded the successful competitors. No one-and-eleven-penny frames this time; no trashy little sixpence-three-farthing ornaments; nor shilling boxes supplied with splinty pencils and spluttering pens; but handsome, valuable prizes, which any girl might be proud to possess. Dorothy was presented with an umbrella with a silver handle; another lucky winner received the most elegant of green leather purses, with what she rapturously described as “scriggles of gold” in the corners; Tom won a handsome writing-case, and a successful “Red” the daintiest little gold bangle, with six seed pearls encircling a green stone, concerning the proper name of which it was possible to indulge in endless disputations.
Rhoda was in her element distributing these gifts, and afterwards in leading the way towards the pavilion, which had been transformed into a veritable bower by the hands of willing workers, and in which were displayed a supply of the most luxurious refreshments. Miss Bruce had contributed generously towards the afternoon’s entertainment, and as the girls sat about upon the grass, and were waited upon by the “Rose Maidens,” no one had need to sigh in vain for “something nice.” The choice of good things was quite bewildering, and little Hilary Jervis was reported to have reverted twice over from coffee to lemonade, and to have eaten an ice-cream and a ham sandwich in alternate bites. She was blissfully happy, however, and so was everyone else, and when at last Mistress June returned to her Barque, and the singers started the first notes of “Good Night,” two hundred voices took up the strain with a strength and precision which made the unrehearsed effect one of the most striking in the programme.
And so ended “Revels”—the happiest day which many of the students were to know for long weeks to come.