The Leader of the Lower School Part 22

"Do you mean Maude, Gladys, and Alice? I call them Korah, Dathan, and Abiram," said Dilys. "They're always hatching plots of some kind. I suppose they've a fresh grievance against the Guild."

"I believe they'd like to start a rival magazine of their own."

"Let them, then! There's no reason why they shouldn't. We should have a chance to prove who's the best editress. But I don't believe they'd take the trouble when it came to the point. They only make a fuss because they enjoy growling."

"I can stand growls, but Maude's apt to stick in pins as well. I should like to find out what she's evolving just at present."

Maude kept her secret well, however, and even Lennie's watchful eyes could discover nothing beyond the ordinary schoolgirl nonsense that generally went on among the three chums. She decided that she must have been mistaken after all.

March, with its boisterous winds, was pa.s.sing fast away, and an early spring was bringing on green buds, and opening out venturous blossom on pear and plum trees. It was the first time Gipsy had seen an English spring, and she enjoyed the experience. The thrushes and blackbirds which carolled all day in the Briarcroft garden especially appealed to her.

"They're little plain birds to look at, but they just sing their hearts out," she said. "I learnt Browning's piece about the thrush when I was at school in Australia, and I always wanted to hear a real English one.

I don't wonder he was enthusiastic about it."

March had arrived like the traditional lion, but went out like the orthodox lamb, and the 1st of April was ushered in by most appropriate showers. The time-honoured festival was kept up in rather a languid fashion at Briarcroft. The Upper School discountenanced it as childish and foolish, but a few of the Juniors indulged in jokes at one another's expense. These were mostly confined to the First and Second Forms, and the Upper Fourth as a rule scorned them equally with the Seniors.

On this particular morning the girls had just taken their places in their cla.s.sroom, and were waiting for Miss White, when Maude handed Gipsy a letter, with the casual enquiry: "I say, Yankee Doodle, is this meant for you?" It was a thin foreign envelope, and bore a South African stamp, and it was addressed to "Miss Latimer, Briarcroft Hall, Greyfield, England". Gipsy glanced at it at first idly, then seized upon it as a starving man clutches at food. Her heart was beating and throbbing wildly, and her shaking, trembling fingers could scarcely tear it open. Was it at last the news for which she had been yearning, craving, sickening for so many weary, weary months? It was not her father's writing, but it might possibly contain tidings of him. She could scarcely control her violent excitement; her cheeks were white, her lips were quivering, and she drew her breath with little, short, painful jerks. In frantic antic.i.p.ation she dragged the letter from its envelope, and unfolded it. It was only a single sheet of foreign paper, and it bore but one sentence:

"First of April; nicely sold!"

For a moment Gipsy gazed at the words without really comprehending their meaning. Then it dawned upon her that she was the victim of a most cruel hoax. The revulsion of feeling was so great, and the disappointment so intense, that she gave a little, sharp, bitter cry, and, leaning forward over her desk, buried her head in her arms, and sobbed audibly.

"What is it, Gipsy? What's the matter?" enquired her neighbours.

"Read it! Oh, how could anybody?" choked Gipsy.

Hetty Hanc.o.c.k seized upon the sheet, which had fallen to the floor, and after one brief glance at its contents turned upon Maude with blazing eyes.

"I never thought much of you, Maude Helm, but I didn't believe even you could have invented such a detestably mean, dastardly trick as this. You deserve to be boycotted by every decent girl in the school."

"It was only a joke," bl.u.s.tered Maude. "Everyone expects to be taken in to-day."

"It's a wicked, heartless joke--the cruellest thing you could have thought of--and you knew it, and did it on purpose!"

"How could you, Maude? It's hateful!" came in a chorus from the other girls. "We'll tell Miss White!"

"Well, I'm sure it's not so dreadful, and it was Gladys who thought of it, too!" protested Maude, finding popular opinion against her.

"Don't try and put it off on Gladys, though one of you is as bad as the other. Girls, I'm not going to speak to Maude Helm or Gladys Merriman for a week, and I hope n.o.body else will either!" thundered Hetty.

Lennie Chapman and Meg Gordon were trying to comfort Gipsy, and make her take heart of grace again, but she had suffered a severe shock, and controlled herself with difficulty. She sat up, however, as Miss White came into the room.

"Don't tell her!" she whispered huskily. "What's the use? It would only make a fuss, and I hate fusses. The thing's over now, and I'd rather try and forget it. Maude needn't be proud of such a poor joke!"

"What a stoic you are!" returned Meg admiringly.

CHAPTER XIV

Mountaineering

EASTER was drawing very near, and the school was to break up for more than three weeks. Gipsy, to her intense delight, had been asked to spend the holidays with the Gordons, and Miss Poppleton had graciously allowed her to accept the invitation.

"We had meant to ask you for Christmas," said Meg, "and Mother had even got as far as writing a letter to Poppie; then Billy broke out in spots, and the doctor said we might all have taken the infection, and we must stop in quarantine. It was a horrible nuisance. I felt so savage! But we couldn't invite you to come and share measles! We're all looking forward most tremendously to your visit. I'm so excited I can hardly wait till the end of the term!"

After six months spent entirely at Briarcroft, Gipsy felt that the idea of a change was most welcome and exhilarating. She liked Meg, and wanted to see her home surroundings. The two younger sisters, Eppie and Molly, she knew already, as they were in the Lower Third and Second Forms, and she had always set them down, in school parlance, as "jolly kids". The rest of the family she hoped would prove equally interesting.

Poor Gipsy heaved many a sigh as she packed her box. Her outfit seemed such a very shabby one with which to go a-visiting, and she hoped Mrs.

Gordon would not feel ashamed of her guest. At the last moment Miss Edith, looking rather guilty and self-conscious, popped hastily into the bedroom and thrust a small parcel into her hand.

"It's a little present, Gipsy dear," she said nervously, "just some new hair ribbons and a pair of gloves and a tie. You've no need to tell Miss Poppleton or anybody that I gave them to you. Don't thank me--I'd rather you didn't! I do hope you'll enjoy yourself, you poor child!"

"Oh, Miss Edie! If a letter should happen to come for me from South Africa while I'm away, you'd send it on, wouldn't you?" asked Gipsy wistfully.

"I'd bring it myself, at once," returned Miss Edith, as she scuttled out of the room in a desperate hurry.

Mrs. Gordon sent a cab to Briarcroft on breaking-up day, and when Gipsy's box had been placed on the top, Meg, Eppie, and Molly bore away their guest with great rejoicing. The Gordons lived at an old-fashioned house about a mile from the school. It seemed quite in the country, with fields all round, and had an orchard and large garden, a pond, an asphalted tennis court for wet weather, as well as a gra.s.s one, and a croquet lawn.

Mrs. Gordon welcomed Gipsy most kindly, and at once made her feel at home, and the remainder of the family were introduced by degrees. Mr.

Gordon, a jovial, genial man, greeted her with a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"So this is Meg's idol! Glad to see you, my dear!" he remarked. "If you can cure Meg of standing on one leg and puckering up her mouth when she talks, I'll be grateful. She seems disposed to listen to you in preference to anyone here, so please act mentor."

"Oh, Dad! Don't be naughty!" shrieked Meg. "What will Gipsy think of you?"

"A favourable opinion, I trust," laughed Mr. Gordon, as he vanished into his own particular sanctum.

Donald, Meg's elder brother, seemed disposed to be friendly; but Billy, the twelve-year-old offender who had started the family with measles, was afflicted with shyness, and preferred to inspect the visitor from afar until he grew accustomed to her presence. Rob, the youngest, a roguish laddie of six, fell openly in love with Gipsy at first sight, and prepared to monopolize her company to an extent that Meg would by no means allow.

"She's my friend, and hasn't come here to play with little boys. Run away to the nursery, and leave us alone!" she commanded, enforcing her words by a process of summary ejection, regardless of all wails.

Gipsy had further to form an acquaintance with two dogs, three cats, a dormouse, and a tame starling, before she was considered intimate with the whole household, but after that she felt thoroughly at home.

The Gordons were a particularly jolly, merry, happy-go-lucky set of young people, and they made their guest so entirely welcome that at the end of a few days she might have known them all for years. Even the bashful Billy soon ceased turning crimson whenever he spoke to her, while Eppie and Molly disputed fiercely over the honour of sitting next to her at tea. It happened to be a fine Easter, so outdoor occupations were in full swing. Gipsy was an ardent tennis player, and revelled in golf also. She and Meg and Donald made many cycling excursions, for the neighbourhood was pretty and the roads were good. With packets of sandwiches tied to their handlebars they would start off for a whole day's ride, to explore some ruined abbey or ancient castle, or to get a picturesque view of the fells. Donald, who was keen on collecting birds'

eggs, would often stop the party, to hunt for nests in the hedges or banks; while Meg, whose hobby at present was wild flowers, kept a watchful eye for any fresh specimens that she might find growing by the roadside.

Mr. Gordon was an enthusiastic member of an Alpine Club, and he would sometimes take the elder and more reliable members of his family on to the fells for mountaineering practice. Many of the rocks afforded excellent training for Switzerland, without involving any special danger. These climbs were something quite new for Gipsy, and an immense delight. She was very fearless, and had a steady head, so she proved an apt pupil. Mr. Gordon would show her exactly how she must place her feet and hold herself so as to take advantage of the tiniest and narrowest ledges of rock, and she much enjoyed the excitement of accomplishing, under his guidance, what would have appeared to her impossible performances without his skilled advice. Meg and Donald had already received some training, and when Gipsy was sufficiently advanced to be able to keep up with them, Mr. Gordon allowed them all three to venture with him on a more difficult ascent, linked together with one of his Alpine ropes. Gipsy was proud indeed as she stood at the top of a jagged crag and waved her hand to Billy, who was taking a snapshot of the party from below.

Poor Billy was liable to fits of dizziness since his attack of measles, and was not allowed any real climbing, so he consoled himself by following the others about with a Brownie camera, and photographing them in the most dangerous-looking positions that he could catch.

"Billy must do some extra prints, and you could put them in the Magazine," suggested Meg to Gipsy. "You could write an article on 'Mountaineering in c.u.mberland'. It would be grand, and would make Maude Helm gnash her teeth with envy."

"Perhaps she's been doing something even more exciting to astonish us with," laughed Gipsy. "I wish we could have climbed a real mountain, like Skiddaw."

"Yes, there'd be some credit in that," commented Donald thoughtfully. He said no more at the moment, but a few days afterwards, when the three young people had set out on another cycling expedition, he had an enterprising plan to unfold.