Just Gerry

CHAPTER XVI

A GREAT DECISION

"Done your lines yet?" inquired Jack, catching Gerry up just as the latter was going into the Lower Fifth classroom for preparation that evening.

"Very nearly," said Gerry. "I've only got about another ten to do, I think. I've come in early so as to finish them and take them up to Miss Burton before the prep bell goes. How are you getting on with yours?"

"Oh, about half-way through, I think," said Jack carelessly. "But it doesn't matter. I shall do them in prep to-night instead of any of Miss Burton's work. I shouldn't bother about them at all if it wasn't Miss Oakley who had set them. As it is, I shall have to do them, I suppose. It doesn't pay to disobey the Head, I can tell you," she added, with emphasis.

Jack and Gerry were not the only two members of the Lower Fifth who had come in early for preparation that night. When they entered the classroom, they found several of the girls there already. Most of them were gathered around Hilda Burns's desk, apparently endeavouring to persuade her to some course of action.

"Here's Jack!" exclaimed Dorothy Pemberton in a tone of relief as the two newcomers came into the room. "I say, Jack, do come here and talk to Hilda! She wants to cave in and do Miss Burton's prep. I tell her that she'll be a traitor to the form if she does."

"Of course, she will be!" cried Jack. "And, besides, it won't be the slightest use caving in now. Miss Burton's got her knife into us like blazes. She's sure to take the matter up to the Head, anyway, so we may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb!"

"That's what I say," said Dorothy. "But Hilda's got an attack of nerves or conscience or something. Pull yourself together, old girl, and stick to it. As Jack says, we're bound to get into a beastly row anyhow, so we might as well try and accomplish our purpose before we cave in."

"But what is our purpose?" argued Hilda, still unconvinced, but manifestly wavering.

"To teach Miss Burton a lesson, of course. To show her that she can't go sticking the Lower Fifth in corners as though we were a parcel of babies from the First Form! To make her see how jolly unpopular she's made herself, and to induce her to treat us better for the future if she stays on—which I jolly well hope Miss Oakley won't let her do!" said Jack, with a fine flourish of eloquence.

"Good old Jack!" said Dorothy approvingly. "That's put it in a nutshell. Now, Hilda, say you'll stick to it and refuse to work for Miss Burton, or—or we'll send you to Coventry or something!"

The threat was made laughingly. Dorothy knew well enough that Hilda's strength of purpose was not sufficient for her to stand out against the whole of her form when it actually came to the point. This was not the first time she had had to deal with the conscience of the head of the form. Hilda was apt to get these belated attacks of panic when nefarious schemes were afoot in the Lower Fifth, but never yet had she been known to make a stand for her convictions. And this occasion proved no exception to the general rule. Seeing that public opinion was all in favour of continuing the strike, she yielded, with one last feeble protest.

"Well, don't blame me when Miss Oakley comes down upon us like a ton of bricks!" she said, as she got out the books and papers for the preparation set by Miss Latham and Mademoiselle.

"We won't, old thing," promised Jack. "And if there's anything left of us after the Head's done with us, we'll let you say, 'I told you so,' as many times as you like! I'm sure it will be no end of a consolation to you!"

While this argument was in progress, Gerry had been quietly finishing her lines. She had now completed writing out "Chestnuts are bad for the digestion" one hundred times, and, fastening her papers neatly together with a paper-fastener, she glanced up at the clock. It still wanted four minutes to five o'clock. If she was quick she would just about have time to hand over her lines to Miss Burton before the prep bell sounded, and, getting up from her desk, she left the classroom and hurried along to the mistress's private study.

The bell rang just as she reached it, but, having come so far, Gerry did not mean to turn back now. She tapped at the door. Then, as no answer came, she tapped again, a little louder this time.

"Bother! She isn't there," she said to herself. "Never mind, though," she added. "I'll put them on the table where she'll be sure to see them." And turning the handle of the door, she pushed it open to go inside.

Then she stopped suddenly with her hand upon the door knob. Miss Burton was there, sitting in an easy-chair drawn up beside the cheerful little fire which was blazing away on the hearth. She was sitting in a very dejected attitude, leaning forward with her head bowed upon her hands—Gerry caught a momentary glimpse of her as the door opened. But before the girl could make any apology, the mistress was sitting bolt upright in her usual rigid position and glaring at the intruder with all her accustomed sternness.

"What do you mean by bursting into my sitting-room in this manner?" she inquired severely.

"I—I'm very sorry," faltered Gerry. "I did knock, twice—but nobody answered, so I thought you must be out."

"So you came in to spy round my room in my absence, I suppose?" said the mistress bitterly.

Gerry flushed hotly with indignation.

"No, indeed I didn't, Miss Burton!" she exclaimed. "I was bringing you my lines, and as you weren't here I thought I'd just put them somewhere on your table where you would be sure to see them when you came back."

"Lines. What lines?" asked the mistress as she held out her hand for the papers. Then, as Gerry gave them to her and she caught sight of the sentence written out so many times, the recollection of the chestnut episode came back to her.

"Ah yes, I remember," she said. "So you have condescended to do these for me, have you? What about the other two girls, Joanna and Nita? Are they writing theirs also?"

"Yes, but they had more to do than I had. They'll bring theirs along as soon as they've finished them," said Gerry, feeling suddenly more embarrassed and uncomfortable than ever. A bright flame from the fire had sprung up, and by its light Gerry saw something which filled her with dismay.

Miss Burton's eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles were unmistakably red and wet with tears! She had been crying! Gerry, who had cried so often during this unhappy term, knew the signs too well to be deceived.

"I suppose you felt you had to do them since Miss Oakley set them," said the mistress, still with that bitter note in her voice. "I have not time to examine them now. I'll look through them presently and let you know if they are tidy enough for me to accept." And she made a gesture of dismissal.

But Gerry still lingered. She did not quite know what she could do, but somehow it seemed impossible to go away and leave the new mistress in trouble behind her. Gerry was a tender-hearted person and she could not bear to see others in distress. She longed to be able to say something comforting, but no words suitable to the occasion came to her, and at last Miss Burton, seeing her still standing near the door, spoke to her in angry exasperation.

"What are you waiting for, child! Didn't you hear me say that I could not look at them until later? Go back to your classroom at once. The bell for preparation rang long ago."

Thus admonished, Gerry was obliged to leave the room, but she went very reluctantly, and her progress back to the Lower Fifth classroom was very slow indeed. A tumult of conflicting emotions was raging within her. All along she had been uneasily aware that the strike against the new mistress was wrong, and now the unmistakable traces of tears on Miss Burton's plain face had borne in upon her how very wrong and mean it was. Something must be done at once to stop it—that was evident—but yet what could she do? What could one girl do against many?—and an insignificant, unpopular new girl at that!

Just as she reached the top of the Upper School corridor she encountered the head girl, who stopped with a friendly smile as she recognised her.

"What are you doing here, kiddie?" said Muriel. "Oughtn't you to be in prep?"

"I'm just going," said Gerry. "I had some lines to take to Miss Burton, and I'm just on my way back."

"What have you been doing to get lines?" said Muriel. Then, without waiting for an answer to her question, she asked another:

"How did you get on at hockey to-day? Did Alice play you forward?"

"Oh yes, thank you. She put me outside right. And I think I got on much better," said Gerry eagerly. "I—I am beginning to think I shall like hockey when I've got a little more used to it," she added shyly.

"That's right!" said Muriel heartily. "I knew you would when once you'd found your feet a bit. Half the trouble was that you were put to play in the wrong place. Don't forget that you are playing for the dormitory again on Saturday."

"It's awfully good of you to give me another chance, Muriel," Gerry said gratefully. "I do hope I shan't funk again."

"Funk? Of course you won't," came the brisk reply. "Make up your mind that there's nothing to be frightened of, and funking will be the last thing you'll want to do. Nobody need ever be afraid of funking if they'll forget about themselves and just play the game."

"Muriel——" began Gerry suddenly, and then stopped abruptly.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Muriel.

"Nothing. I—I was going to ask you something, but I don't think—yes, I will, though!" Gerry added, with sudden determination. "What would you do, Muriel, if you were doing something that you knew wasn't right, and yet you'd promised to do it?"

Muriel looked at the younger girl in some perplexity.

"What would I do if I'd promised to do something which I knew wasn't right?" she repeated slowly. "Well, the best thing would be not to promise, wouldn't it?"

"I know that," said Gerry. "But if you had promised, what then? It's wrong to break a promise, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—well, I don't quite know what to say," said the head girl. "It's rather a difficult question to answer off-hand. So much would depend upon the circumstances. Couldn't you tell me the whole story? Then perhaps I'd be able to advise you better."

"I'm sorry—I'm afraid I can't do that," said Gerry desperately, wondering what on earth had induced her to confide in the head girl at all. What would Muriel be thinking of her, she wondered. "It would be sneaking if I did. Can't you possibly tell me what you'd do if it was you, without my telling you everything?"

"It's rather difficult," said Muriel, frowning. "I don't want you to tell me things that you ought not. But, at the same time, I really don't see how I can answer your question until I know a little more."

"I can't tell you any more," said Gerry, a little wistfully. "But it doesn't matter. I daresay I shall be able to think of the answer for myself."

"Wait a minute," said Muriel, as Gerry was moving away. "I can't tell you just what I should do without knowing all the circumstances; but I'll tell you something my father told me when I first came to school, and perhaps that will help you a bit. It's helped me several times. He said, 'If ever you are in a difficulty, and don't know what is the right thing to do under any special circumstances, just think which would be the hardest—and it's ten to one you'll find that the hardest way is right.'"

Gerry's eyes were bent upon the ground for a moment. Then she lifted them to meet the head girl's gaze with a look of determination in them which touched Muriel strangely.

"Thank you," she said soberly. "That has helped—I guess I know now which is the right thing to do." And with that queer look of decision still upon her face, she turned away in the direction of the Lower Fifth classroom.

"Queer kid, that," thought Muriel, as she made her way towards her study, whither she was bound. "I like her, though, all the same. There's something in her, which is more than one can say for the majority of the kids here. It's a pity she's such an awful funk. She'd really be quite a decent sort of girl if she could only get over her nerves a bit."

If Muriel had only known it, the "awful funk" was on her way at that moment to perform a braver action than the head girl, with all her prowess at hockey and gym, had ever performed in her life.

CHAPTER XVII

INTO THE LION'S MOUTH

The Lower Fifth was deep in its preparation when Gerry entered the classroom. One or two heads were raised at her entrance, but nobody paid much regard to her as she walked across the room to her desk, which was in the front row. The Lower Fifth was trusted to do its preparation without a mistress's supervision, and, as a rule, this plan worked well enough. There was a certain amount of talking at times, it is true, but not a very great deal, and the little there was did not take place in general until all the more serious work of preparation had been accomplished. To-night the class was in the throes of a stiff bit of translation for Mademoiselle, and nobody felt inclined to break the silence.

Gerry reached her desk, but she did not sit down in it. She hesitated, then opened the desk and took out some books. Still she did not sit down, and once or twice she glanced nervously around the room, as though she were about to speak. But each time her courage failed her.

Her uneasiness communicated itself at length to her next-door neighbour, Margaret Taylor, who, finding the translation more difficult than she had expected, was inclined to be grumpy.

"I wish to goodness you'd sit down, Gerry Wilmott, and not keep fidgeting about like that. You're in my light, and goodness knows this beastly translation is hard enough without having to do it in the dark into the bargain," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," said Gerry. Then, having found her tongue at last, she plunged at once into what she had to say, fearing lest she would never find courage to say it at all if she let this opportunity slip.

"I want to say," she began, "that I'm—I'm awfully sorry, but I'm not going on with the strike any longer."

It was out at last! And Gerry waited in trembling expectation for the storm to burst. It was some while in coming, for the Lower Fifth did not take in quite what she was saying at first.

"What on earth do you mean?" asked Dorothy Pemberton, looking up from her exercise with knitted brows.

"I—I mean the strike about not doing Miss Burton's work," stammered Gerry.

"Well—what about it?" asked Phyllis Tressider menacingly.

"Only that—that I can't go on with it. I—I don't think it's quite fair to Miss Burton," said Gerry, finding the task even harder than she had imagined it would be.

"Do you mean to say that you're not going to stick in with the rest of us—that you are going to back out and do her work? Surely you're not going to be a traitor to the form like that?" cried Dorothy.

Poor Gerry looked acutely miserable. She felt Jack's reproachful eyes upon her, and she knew that if she persisted in her present attitude the friendship which was so precious to her, and which seemed at last to be within her grasp, would be dreadfully endangered. For a moment she felt that she could not go on. Why should she give up everything—Jack's friendship, the good opinion of the girls, the happiness of the last few days, and allow herself to be branded as a hopeless prig—all for the sake of a mistress who had shown her nothing but injustice? Then the memory of the red eyes behind Miss Burton's spectacles, the abject misery of the mistress's attitude when she had opened the door of the room, came back to Gerry's mind. Perhaps one girl couldn't do very much towards making things better for the unpopular mistress, but she could at least refrain from making things worse. The words Muriel had said to her in the passage about the hardest way being nearly always the right one, rang in Gerry's ears. There was no doubt in Gerry's mind as to which was the hardest way! For all her timidity Gerry had a curious moral courage of her own, and it seemed to her now that it would be the height of cowardice to give in just to gain the good opinion of her form-mates. A moment more she hesitated while she met Jack's astonished, reproachful gaze. Then conscience triumphed over even that unutterable longing for Jack's friendship.

"I don't want to be a traitor to the form," she said in a low voice, yet clear and distinct enough for all to hear. "But all the same, I can't go on with the strike. I was in Miss Burton's room just now and she had been crying, and I'm sure it was all about us. Whatever the rest of you are going to do, I, for one, shall do Miss Burton's preparation."

"But why, why, why?" cried Jack, starting up impetuously and coming over to Gerry's side. "Don't be a priggish little donkey, Gerry," she added, not unkindly. "You can't stick out when all the rest of us are in it. Hang on a little bit longer. We'll come out top of this struggle, you just see if we don't!"

"I'm sorry," repeated Gerry miserably, "but I can't, Jack. It—it isn't fair to Miss Burton."

"But who wants to be fair to her?" cried Jack impatiently. "Was she fair to you the other morning when she accused you of whispering in class and stuck you in the corner like a baby? Was she fair over taking that chestnut business up to the Head? Don't be a silly little fool, Gerry. Chuck your lot in with the rest of us, and let's get rid of this rotten mistress if we can."

"I'm sorry, Jack, but—but I can't," said Gerry again.

"Oh, Gerry, you can——" began Jack remonstratingly. But Dorothy Pemberton broke in upon her persuasions with an impatient exclamation.

"Oh, let German Gerry alone!" she said cuttingly. "Of course she won't stick in with us! She's far too much of a sneak, and far too much of a coward to risk a row with Miss Oakley. What's the good of arguing with a coward!"

"Look here, if we're not all going to be in it, I'm coming out too," exclaimed Hilda Burns suddenly. "It was all very well striking when we were all hanging together, but it's quite a different thing if some of them are going to back out. You can take me off the list of strikers too."

"Are you going to be a coward as well?" said Dorothy sneeringly. But it was too late. The defection started by Gerry spread rapidly. Since the morning, the strike, which had at first seemed to be merely a more or less harmless rag, had begun to appear in its right light, and the hearts of the Lower Fifth were no longer in the business. Several members of the form were glad to find an excuse for backing out of their contract, and soon some nine or ten of the girls had retracted their vows of defiance.

"Oh, well, of course, if you're all going to funk it, it's no good going on with it at all," said Dorothy sulkily. "We've all got to hang together or, of course, it's no use. I should have thought you'd have been ashamed to follow the example of a German Gerry, though!" she added, with biting sarcasm, as she cast a look of malevolence at Gerry.

Then her eyes fell upon Jack, who was still lingering hesitatingly by Gerry's desk, and the sight spurred her on to make one more spiteful thrust at Gerry.

"There's one thing, Gerry Wilmott, you may as well understand right away. You're not going to gain anything by what you've done to-night. You may have broken our strike,—no strike can stand out against a blackleg,—but all the same, you'll wish you'd stayed in with us before you've finished. I don't know what those rabbits are going to do," with a contemptuous glance towards Hilda and the other girls who had seceded, "but I think I can answer for the rest of the form all right. No decent girl in the Lower Fifth will ever speak to you again, if they can help it."

She turned to Jack.

"Surely you won't have anything more to do with such a rotten coward, Jack?" she said contemptuously.

Jack looked down at Gerry. But Gerry's eyes were fixed miserably upon her desk, and she did not see the questioning look upon the face of the girl with whom she most longed to be friends. And while Jack still lingered, Phyllis Tressider clinched matters.

"She's not only a coward—she's a sneak as well!" she said, glad to see her enemy in such disgrace again. "I bet she let those chestnuts drop out of her pocket yesterday on purpose to get you and Nita into a row."

"Oh, Phyllis, I didn't! Jack, it isn't true; I didn't do it on purpose!" cried Gerry, dismayed at such a motive being attributed to her.

But the shaft had gone home. Against her own better judgment, Jack had felt all along that Gerry had been unnecessarily careless over that chestnut affair. In her heart of hearts she had not been able to help blaming her a little for the row that had followed. And now Phyllis's unjust accusation went home to roost. Jack's better moment, in which she had been half-inclined to stand by Gerry, passed. Dorothy's taunts and jeers and Phyllis's malicious suggestions achieved their end. No, of course she couldn't be friends with a girl who was a coward and a sneak! And all unaware of the tremendous courage it had needed for Gerry to make her stand, Jack turned away and went back to her own desk.

And so the momentary break in Gerry's sky was over. The clouds were back again, as thick as they were before—thicker this time, if possible!

Truly, some ill-luck seemed to dog the steps of the unfortunate occupant of Cubicle Thirteen!

CHAPTER XVIII

THE END OF THE STRIKE

One thing Gerry's defection certainly had done—it had quite broken the strike. Phyllis and Dorothy tried their best to spur up the courage of the form again, but it was of no use. There were waverers, but the unity of the Lower Fifth was destroyed. Unless the greater part of the form would consent to down books, the strike was bound to fail. It would be no good for just a few of the girls to refuse to do their preparation.

"Then I suppose we'd better set to work and try and rub up some of Miss Burton's stuff," said Dorothy at last, with sulky resignation. "I've got Muriel's directions for literature down, but nothing for German or algebra. Anybody remember what she set us this morning?"

Nobody had actually taken down the preparation for the new form-mistress, but one or two people had vague recollections of what it ought to have been, and during the short time that remained that evening, a real effort was made by the class to prepare a little for the next day's lessons. Contrary to general expectation, Miss Burton turned up to take her refractory form the next morning,—the prevailing opinion in the Lower Fifth had been that she would "funk" it,—and she was so agreeably surprised at her pupils' change of attitude that she made considerable allowance for deficiencies.

At the end of the morning's work, when lesson after lesson had passed and the Lower Fifth still remained dutifully attentive and amenable to discipline, the mistress's relief was so great that she was emboldened to make a short speech upon the subject.

"I am very glad to see that you have repented of your rebellious behaviour of yesterday," she said primly, blinking at her form a little nervously, nevertheless, over her spectacles. "Since you have made up your minds to submit to my authority, we will let bygones be bygones, and I will refrain from reporting your disobedience to Miss Oakley. You have had a very narrow escape, though. If Miss Oakley had not been away yesterday, I should most certainly have reported your conduct to her at once."

Then, as though repenting of her leniency, she went on in a more severe tone.

"But because I have let you off this time, you must not imagine that I shall do so again. I shall expect very much better work from you for the future. Your preparation for this morning's lessons was very far from perfect, and you will need to work very much harder to attain the standard I shall expect from you. Your algebra examples, Geraldine Wilmott, were especially badly prepared."

That, upon the whole, was hardly surprising! Gerry had been so miserable the previous evening, that it was a wonder that she had been able to do any preparation at all. The Lower Fifth smiled in broad amusement as the mistress made this pointed remark. It struck them as screamingly funny that Miss Burton should have picked out Gerry's work for special condemnation, when it was really entirely through Gerry that the form had done any work at all. They had yet to learn how fond life is of playing such practical jokes.

"It's all very well for her to talk like that," said Hilda Burns when the subject came up for discussion in the Lower Fifth sitting-room after tea that evening. The form was waiting for the bell to ring to summons it to preparation. "But she's jolly pleased not to have to report us to the Head! I happen to know that Miss Burton was most frightfully upset about us on Monday morning. It seems that Miss Oakley gave Burtie a pretty broad hint about not sneaking about us all the time—after that chestnut affair of yours on Sunday evening, Jack. Burtie was downright scared at the thought of having to go to her again so soon."

"How on earth do you know that?" said Jack grumpily. Jack had been grumpy all day. In fact, Nita declared that for some unknown reason she had been in a perfect wax ever since preparation the night before.

"Why, I was in the library just before tea, changing a book, and Monica was library monitress, and while I was hunting round the shelves Kathleen Milne came in to look up something for Miss Latham. And they began to talk about our little affair, and Kathleen said that Muriel had told her that Miss Latham had told her that it was no end of a relief to Miss Burton when we caved in. For Burtie was afraid that if there was another row Miss Oakley would have given her the sack."

"Doesn't sound much like Miss Latham to talk like that," said Jack scathingly.

"Oh, well, of course you don't suppose she said it like that, do you, donkey?" said Hilda impatiently. "That was what Kathleen said Muriel said, at least something like. I didn't hear any more, because Monica saw me listening and shut Kathleen up. Monica's always so awfully virtuous about not discussing the mistresses."

"It's jolly sickening to think how near we were to getting rid of that Burton beast," commented Dorothy, with a malicious look at Gerry, who was sitting forlornly at the table, attempting to engross herself in a book. "If it hadn't been for German sneaks we should have got her turned out in a week!"

"Yes—and got ourselves into a jolly fine row into the bargain," said Jack fiercely. "You're forgetting that part of it, Dorothy Pemberton."

Dorothy opened wide eyes at what she considered was an entirely unprovoked attack.

"All right, Jack Pym. Keep your hair on!" she retorted, with dignity. "You seem to forget that you were one of the ones who was keenest on the strike before that rotten German kid muffed the whole business for us."

A stifled exclamation came from the table where Gerry was sitting, and the new girl rose to her feet and hurried out of the room.

A spiteful chuckle came from Phyllis Tressider.

"You seem to have upset German Gerry, Dolly," she remarked to her chum.

Jack sprang to her feet in a sudden flare of temper. The abruptness of her movement upset the chair she was sitting upon, and she kicked at it viciously.

"Oh, you two! You are the meanest, caddiest girls in the whole school! Why can't you leave Gerry in peace?" she stormed angrily.

"My hat! Listen to the preacher!" jeered Dorothy, unperturbed. "I didn't know you'd turned into such a protector of the helpless, Jack. You'd better go after your precious friend and console her, if you're so jolly fond of her as all that."

"I've a jolly good mind to," said Jack, still furious. "I think the way we're all treating her is a beastly mean shame."

"What! Do you mean to say you'd be friends with a kid who got you and Nita into such a row over those chestnuts?" cried Phyllis.

Jack hesitated. Those chestnuts rankled in her mind badly. It was very careless of Gerry! Still, it might have been an accident, and, anyway, Gerry had been punished for it too, even if not quite so heavily as she and Nita. Dorothy saw her hesitation and quickly interposed. She had no wish to see Jack Pym friends again with Gerry. Dorothy had a shrewd suspicion of what Jack's friendship meant to the lonely new girl, and she was determined to prevent any sort of reconciliation if she possibly could.

"Did you think it could possibly have been an accident?" she asked, addressing Nita Fleming, the other unfortunate victim of Gerry's carelessness.

"I don't know," said Nita doubtfully. "At the time I thought it was, but afterwards—well, I really don't see how it could have been quite accidental," she ended up.

"Of course it wasn't an accident!" broke in Phyllis scornfully. "It was just what you would expect of a German sneak. Hasn't she been getting us into trouble all through the term? Have you forgotten the way she stopped your trial for the hockey eleven in the beginning of term, so that Muriel put Gertie Page in, instead? You can't say we haven't given her a chance. We were all quite decent to her after Miss Burton dropped down upon her in class the other day—and now look how she's paid us out! It was principally for her sake that we decided to strike at all, and then, when we're all deep into it, she goes and backs out! It's just what you'd expect of a German Gerry, though," she wound up contemptuously.

This was a way of twisting things round with a vengeance! Jack could not help feeling that it was more than unjust to Gerry. But Phyllis's ability of proving black was white was too much for Jack, who felt quite unable to argue with her. And a remark made by Dorothy clinched matters for the time being.

"If you do make friends with her again, we won't have anything to do with you either," she declared spitefully.

And this was more than Jack was brave enough to stand.

All through her school life Jack had been extraordinarily popular, and the bare thought of being out of favour with her schoolfellows was sufficient to deter her from taking Gerry's part any longer. Not that there was any real danger of her getting into their bad books. In her heart of hearts she knew very well that her standing in the school was strong enough to withstand any attempts Dorothy and Phyllis might make to stir up feeling against her. But Jack could not bear the thought of being unpopular with anybody. And when Nita got up and slipped her arm affectionately round her neck, with a caressing:

"You're surely not going to be such an ass as to try and take up with Gerry Wilmott again, are you, old thing?" she succumbed entirely.

"Of course I'm not going to take her up again," she said, with dignity. "She's such a little coward that I couldn't be friends with her, however much I might like her otherwise. But I do hate to hear Dorothy ragging her so. She and Phyllis are perpetually nagging at her and making beastly remarks in her hearing. It's so jolly mean to be always doing things like that!"

"I agree with you, there," said Nita. "I think we all do, except Dorothy and Phyllis. I vote we just let her alone now. As Jack says, it's beastly mean to keep on saying rotten things about her being German and a sneak, however much she may be one really."

"Who wants to keep on saying rotten things to her?" Dorothy said testily, realising that for once popular opinion was against her. "I'm sure I don't. I never want to see or speak to her again! I wish to goodness she'd never come to the school! Nearly every row we've had this term has been through her or about her in some way."

"There's the bell for prep," said Jack suddenly, glad of the opportunity of breaking off the conversation. "Come on, Nita, let's buck up and go in."

And the Lower Fifth ceased its wrangling over poor Gerry and hastened into the class-room.

CHAPTER XIX

THE LITTLE BLACK DOG

The next few days were very miserable ones for Gerry. It is true that, following Jack's example, the majority of the Lower Fifth did refrain from hurting her feelings by making unkind remarks. But the girls left her very severely alone, and after the happier conditions of the week-end, Gerry found her renewed solitude very hard to bear. The news that she was in trouble with her form for "sneaking" spread through the school, and although they had no part in the Lower Fifth's grievances, the rest of the girls refrained from speaking to the culprit as well. Nobody troubled to inquire just what shape her "sneakiness" had taken—that was the unjust part of it! Without hearing Gerry's side of the case, the whole school—with the exception of the Sixth Form, to whose august ears the rumour had not as yet penetrated—joined with the Lower Fifth in leaving poor Gerry out in the cold.

Not that anybody had ever held much converse with the hopelessly shy, silent girl, who, it was said, was an out-and-out German on one side of her parentage, and who had done many sneaky and cowardly things. But even such little formalities as passing the salt at meal-times, saying "After you" when washing hands in the cloakroom, or "Sorry" when banged into at hockey practice, were dispensed with now! Until you have tried it personally it is impossible to know how very, very lonely and uncomfortable being unpopular at school can be!

Added to all Gerry's other troubles, Miss Burton seemed to make a "dead set at her," as the form expressed it, during that unhappy week. Certainly Gerry's work was far from being well done. She was so utterly cast-down and wretched that it seemed almost impossible to do any work at all. It was really rather marvellous that she managed as well as she did. But to Miss Burton the work seemed atrociously performed, and she took no pains to hide her opinion of it from Gerry or from the form at large. Hardly a day passed without Gerry's being publicly scolded for her poor attempts at preparation, and returned lessons became a regular rule. The Lower Fifth listened to Miss Burton's tirades against the newest member of the form in unveiled amusement—with the exception of Jack! Jack's conscience was hurting her very badly during that week. If the truth had only been known, she was not very much happier than Gerry herself.

The Thursday following Gerry's plucky stand for law and order was an especially black day for the new girl. Miss Burton had been very irritable and captious in class, more so even than usual, and most of her anger was vented upon Gerry. At the close of the morning, Gerry found herself with two returned lessons, three bad marks, and a total of twelve good ones out of a possible fifty!

"Really, Geraldine," said the mistress as she closed her mark-book, "these results are disgraceful! One of the children from the First Form could have done better than that. Have you any explanation at all to offer of the slack way you are working?"

Yes, Gerry had an explanation! Quite an adequate one too! But it was not one that she could tell to Miss Burton. So she said nothing at all, merely clenching her hands tighter under the desk in the endeavour to keep back the tears that were not so very far away at the moment.

Her silence appeared to exasperate the mistress.

"Answer me when I speak to you, Geraldine. Have you any explanation to give of the disgraceful way you have done your work this morning?"

"No, Miss Burton," muttered Geraldine, hanging her head.

"Sit up properly in your desk, then, and don't sulk," rapped out Miss Burton. "I cannot bear a girl to sulk when she is scolded. It seems to me that you have got what was known in my nursery days as the Little Black Dog on your shoulders this morning."

A titter ran round the classroom and Gerry got fiery red. She had not been sulking—she had only been trying to hide how very near the tears were. But it was impossible to make Miss Burton understand this, and Gerry did not attempt it. If she had tried to speak she must assuredly have burst into tears. So she sat upright in her desk and tried not to mind, while Miss Burton continued to make sarcastic remarks at her expense, until at last, having somewhat relieved her ill-humour, the mistress left the classroom.

Gerry felt very depressed as she put her books listlessly away. Most of the form had departed soon after Miss Burton had left the room, only Gerry, and Phyllis and Dorothy, who were comparing notes on their morning's marks, remaining in the classroom. Gerry's eyes were so full of unshed tears that she did not notice that only her two special enemies were left in the room. If she had, she would probably have hurried over her desk-tidying and got out of their way. She always tried to avoid being left alone with these two, if she could possibly manage it. But it was not until Phyllis spoke to her suddenly that she awoke to the fact that none of the other members of the form were present.

"Well, sneak," said Phyllis, in a jeering tone. "Your precious Miss Burton, whom you stuck up for so bravely the other night, doesn't seem to thank you much for your championship, does she?"

Gerry said nothing. There really did not seem to be anything to say. With a great effort she choked back her gathering tears, and hastily finished putting away the books in her desk. But Phyllis was not to be baulked of this splendid opportunity of baiting her enemy.

"She's sulky," she said to Dorothy, and the latter rose from her seat and came over to Gerry's desk.

"Perhaps she's forgotten how to talk," she suggested, with an air of mock anxiety. "She's hardly spoken to anyone for three whole days now, you know. They say when people never speak they forget how to use their tongues."

"Oh, do you think she's really forgotten?" giggled Phyllis, entering into the game.

It was all very silly and very absurd, but it seemed to the perpetrators of the unkind humour that it was deliciously funny, while to poor Gerry it was almost unendurable. She shut her desk and rose to her feet.

"Why can't you let me alone?" she pleaded, with quivering lips. "Why must you always keep on at me like this?"

"Oh, she hasn't forgotten—she still knows how to say a few words," said Phyllis, with an air of mock surprise.

Gerry made towards the door, but Phyllis was blocking the nearest path, and to escape she had to make a detour round the desks. Before she could reach the door, Dorothy gave a little shriek.

"Oh, look, look, Phil!" she cried, in pretended alarm. "Just look at that thing on her shoulders!"

"Where? What?" asked Phyllis; and Gerry, startled for the moment, turned half round, while her hand involuntarily went up to her shoulders. Dorothy broke into a scream of laughter.

"It's no good, German Gerry! It's the Little Black Dog, I meant. You'll not be able to shake that off by flicking at it."

Phyllis joined in her friend's laughter, and poor Gerry, with an angry glare at her tormentors, bolted out of the classroom, her skirt catching the door as she ran and slamming it to behind her.

"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said Phyllis reprovingly. But her victim could not hear. And there being no further amusement to be got out of Gerry for the moment, the two girls sauntered off to get ready for dinner, still laughing over Gerry's futile anger.

CHAPTER XX

AN AFTERNOON AT GYM

It happened to be wet that Thursday afternoon, and as all hockey practice was scratched in consequence, a gymnastic class was hastily arranged for the Middle School, to take the place of the outdoor exercise.

This quite met with the approval of the girls, the majority of whom were as keen on gymnastics as they were on hockey. An extra practice such as this, too, was specially enjoyable, for drill would be reduced to a minimum, and exercises upon the various apparatus would be the order of the day. The Middle School included the Lower Fifth, the Fifth Remove, and the Upper, Middle, and Lower Fourth Forms; and directly after dinner the girls concerned hurried to their cubicles to change into their gymnastic dresses.

Gerry was not looking forward to the afternoon with quite the same enjoyment as the rest of the Middle School. She was not at all keen upon gym. In fact, she would much rather have played hockey, which, now that she had grown used to it a little, she was really beginning to enjoy. Gym to her was still a very formidable affair, and the giant's stride, rings, vaulting horse, and parallel bars filled her with terror. So far she had escaped very lightly. Miss Caton, the gym mistress, had seen how nervous and frightened the new girl was of all the feats the other girls performed so gaily upon the different apparatus, and she had contented herself with initiating Gerry very slowly into their mysteries. But this afternoon Miss Caton was not taking gym practice. Muriel Paget and three other athletic members of the Sixth were officiating in her place, as Gerry found when she wandered into the gymnasium rather earlier than most people, because her changing had not been delayed by all the talking and excitement prevalent amongst the other girls. There was nobody to come into Gerry Wilmott's cubicle in search of a mislaid hair-ribbon, or to borrow a darning-needle to cobble up holes in a stocking which the scantiness of the gymnastic costume might display to the eyes of authority.

The four seniors were gathered at one end of the gym, discussing what exercises they should give the school. Gerry made her way down to the other end, where, curled up against one of the radiators by which the room was warmed, lay Bruno, whom Gerry had not seen for some days past.

She stooped down to pat and caress him, pleased at seeing him again. Much to her surprise, however, he growled and showed his teeth for a moment, a very unusual thing for Bruno to do. She had never known him anything but good-tempered hitherto, and from the very beginning he had always shown a marked affection for her.

"Why, Bruno, what's the matter? Don't you know me?" Gerry said, keeping, nevertheless, at a safe distance from him. At the sound of her voice the dog rose to his feet, wagging his tail in a deprecating manner and thrusting his nose into her hand as though apologising for his irritability.

"Poor old fellow," said Gerry, cautiously stroking his head. "Wasn't he feeling well then, and did it make him cross?"

A group of girls drew near the radiator, Phyllis Tressider and Dorothy Pemberton amongst them. Gerry, in her absorption in Bruno, did not notice them at first, but Dorothy's sharp eyes soon discovered Gerry.

"Hullo! Look at German Gerry—she's found the black dog!" she said teasingly.

Gerry looked up with a start and flushed scarlet, but she made no reply, and Myra Davies, a girl from the Upper Fourth, inquired curiously:

"What on earth do you mean, Dorothy?"

"Why, German Gerry's found her black dog!" came the jeering answer. "It was sitting on her shoulders all the morning and she couldn't get it off. I knew it was a pretty big one, didn't you, Phil?" she added, seeing from Gerry's rising colour how surely her remarks were going home, "but I'm hanged if I knew it was such a big one as that."

Gerry closed her lips firmly and braced herself to bear the teasing in stoical silence. She knew it would do no good to say anything. Both Dorothy and Phyllis were far too quick-witted and too ready with their tongues for her to hope to compete with them in repartee. Besides, she knew quite well that if she were to venture to say a word, she would be greeted with a cool and astonished stare, while somebody would murmur something about "Germans," and so effectually silence any remonstrance she might try to make.

Fortunately for her self-control, Muriel turned round at this moment and called out orders for the forms to take up their places; and in the hurry of obeying the head girl's command, Gerry and her black dog were forgotten for the time being. Just before beginning the drilling, however, Muriel caught sight of Bruno, and sharply demanded to know who had let him into the gymnasium.

"Please, Muriel, I think he belongs to Gerry Wilmott," said Phyllis maliciously.

Muriel frowned severely at the girl.

"Don't talk rot, Phyllis," she said squashingly. "I don't know if you think that's funny—but if you do I'm sorry for your sense of humour. Gerry, did you bring Bruno into the gym?"

"No. He was here when I came in," answered Gerry, still hot and flushed, but very grateful to Muriel for so promptly crushing Phyllis's witticisms. She had been very much afraid that her enemy might have gone on to disclose Miss Burton's remarks in form that morning about the little black dog.

Muriel accepted her explanation without comment.

"Somebody had better turn him out," was all she said. "Phyllis Tressider, you seem to know a good deal about him—you can do it."

Phyllis cast a resentful glance at Gerry. Whenever Phyllis or Dorothy got into trouble with the head girl, they appeared to put it all down to Gerry's account, however unreasonably. There was nothing to be done in the present instance, however, but to obey the order, and Phyllis, leaving her place in the ranks, laid her hand rather roughly on Bruno's collar.

"Come along!" she said impatiently, attempting to drag the dog to his feet.

Bruno resisted her efforts to move him, and gave an ominous growl and snap which caused Phyllis to remove her hand from his collar with alacrity.

"I don't know what's the matter with him, Muriel, but he looks as though he was going to bite!" she exclaimed.

The head girl came over to her side.

"Nonsense!" she said. "Bruno bite? Why, he's the best-tempered dog I ever came across!" and she held out her hand coaxingly to the big black fellow.

But Bruno resisted all her blandishments, retreating farther into his corner, and at last Muriel thought it wiser to let him alone.

"Oh, well, perhaps he'd better stay," she said. "He seems very bad-tempered and unlike himself to-day. He won't be much in the way if he stays where he is now. Everybody will have to take care not to tread on him while marching round, that's all. Now, are you ready? Right turn! Lower Fifth, lead off in single file. Go!"

After some ten minutes or so of marching and arm and body exercises, Muriel ordered the girls to stand aside while the various apparatus were made ready. This was the time for which the girls were longing. Soon they were divided into four sections and sent to different parts of the room to practise on the apparatus under the supervision of the four prefects. The giant's stride was perhaps the most popular. This was a form of gymnastics in which the whole school delighted, and many envious glances were cast at the Lower Fifth, to which, as the most senior form in the Middle School, the giant's stride had fallen first of all.

"Come on, Gerry, here's a rope for you!" called Muriel to the new girl. Muriel had undertaken to direct the operations on the stride. But Gerry hung back.

"Please, Muriel, need I? I can't do it, really I can't. Miss Caton always lets me off it."

"Nonsense! Come along at once!" said Muriel impatiently. "I'll help you for the first round or two. You'll soon get used to it." And without heeding Gerry's remonstrances, she insisted upon the girl coming into the ring and taking her place at a rope.

"Hold on firmly with both hands to the bar," the prefect directed. "Swing your body well forward when we begin to move and I'll give you a good push-off."

Gerry hated this particular form of merry-go-round. It made her feel sick and giddy, and she was unable to work her body backwards and forwards rhythmically enough to keep her place in the magic circle. She gasped for breath and held on tightly while Muriel ran her two or three times round the ring, and endeavoured to work her body as the other girls were doing. But the result was a hopeless failure, and when the head girl, having given her pupil what she thought was a super-excellent start, left go her hold, Gerry swung helplessly at the end of her rope, getting into the way of the girl who was swinging behind her, and finally bringing them both to an ignominious finish in the middle of the ring.

"What a donkey you are!" said Margaret Taylor angrily. She stooped down to rub her ankle, which Gerry had kicked rather hard in her efforts to keep herself going. "I was having a perfectly lovely swing, and now you've made me lose my turn." And she continued to glare angrily at the unfortunate new girl until the other striders dropped out one by one and the ring finally stopped.

Muriel made Gerry have one more try, but with no better results than before. After that, the new girl was handed on to Monica Deane, who was superintending the vaulting-horse. Gerry fared no better at this, and although each prefect in turn tried their hand upon her, none of them could find anything in the nature of apparatus upon which the new girl could perform with any measure of success.

Muriel Paget had been keeping her eye upon Gerry, and saw the hopeless exhibition the Lower Fifth girl was making of herself. But the prefect was determined to conquer the nervousness which was such a handicap to her protégée; and acting upon the plan which had succeeded so well with Gerry at hockey, she cast about in her mind for something to set her to do which would help her to make a start.

Finally she thought of the rope ladders.

"Nobody, not even the most hopeless duffer at gym, could make an utter mess of them, surely," she thought to herself, and ordered the ladders to be let down. But even here she had reckoned without Gerry's nerves! The girl was in a desperately overwrought state by this time. The troubles of the last few days culminating in her disgrace in class that morning, added to the hopeless exhibition she had been making of herself all through the afternoon, had rendered her unfit for even the simplest thing. When ordered to climb the rope ladder she obeyed dumbly, much in the way a condemned man might obey the order to walk to the scaffold; and, spurred on by Muriel's urging from below, she did succeed in mounting to a fair height. But rope ladders are not such easy things to climb as a novice might suppose. They have a nasty knack of doubling up and slipping away from you when you least expect them to, and when she was some thirty feet up this was what happened to the one Gerry was endeavouring to mount. And instead of trying to regain her balance, the girl gave way to the panic that had possessed her more or less all the afternoon.

She clutched desperately to the rope with her hands, and pushed hard with her feet, which, of course, only had the effect of turning her still more upside down.

"Let your body hang limp until you are in a proper position again," called Muriel. But Gerry was far too terrified and unnerved to act upon her directions, even if she had been able to take in exactly what they meant.

"Muriel! I—I can't get right way up," she gasped, struggling to keep her self-control. But Muriel did not realise quite how frightened Gerry really was. She spoke impatiently as she answered her, while a gale of laughter at the unsightly figure poor Gerry made as she clung to the rope like a drowning man, went through the gymnasium.

"Don't be such a little goat, Gerry!" cried the head girl. "Come down again if you can't go any farther, but for goodness' sake make an effort of some sort!"

Making an effort of any sort was quite beyond poor Gerry's power at the moment. It seemed to her that she would soon be hanging quite upside down, and when that happened she was sure that she would have to release her hold. Already everything was swimming around her; black specks danced before her eyes, and at last she gave vent to her terror in an anguished cry for help.

"Oh, Muriel! Muriel! I'm going to fall!" she cried, with a piteous note in her voice. And seeing that she really was in extremities, the head girl was obliged to run up the ladder herself and bring her down.

"Well, you are a little funk!" she said in some disgust, as she set Gerry on her feet again, and stood surveying her white face and trembling figure; while the Middle School, amused and interested spectators of the scene, pressed about the two at a respectful distance. She might have said more, but at that moment someone in the background exclaimed audibly:

"Why, of course! Isn't it German Gerry? What else do you expect her to do but funk!"

The head girl swung round sharply, but she could not identify the speaker.

"Who said that?" she demanded angrily. But nobody would give the culprit away. However, the remark had the effect of cutting short her reproof to Gerry, and with a dry: "Well, you'd better ask Miss Caton to let you have extra gym practice until you get into it a bit, I should think," she let the matter drop.

"That's enough for this afternoon. Fall in, please, order of forms," she said, addressing the assembled girls. Monica Deane went to the piano and struck up a lively march. And to the tune of "The Coster's Wedding" the Middle School marched out of the gymnasium and repaired to its various dormitories to get ready for tea.