CHAPTER XXI
HECTOR OR PARIS?
That evening the lists for the dormitory hockey finals were posted up on the notice-board. Muriel Paget and Monica Deane pinned them up on their way out from supper, and after the two prefects had departed a curious crowd quickly gathered round to see who had been selected. Much to everybody's astonishment, Geraldine Wilmott's name figured again in the Pink Dormitory list.
"Surely Muriel isn't to let her play again?" exclaimed Elsie Lipscombe, the Green Dormitory's centre forward. "Why, it was only through her that the Pink Dorm didn't win last time! It must be a mistake!"
"Play who?" asked Dorothy Pemberton, who came up just then arm in arm with Phyllis Tressider.
"Gerry Wilmott. She's down for left outside!"
"Not German Gerry?" cried Phyllis.
"Muriel must be cracked!" said Dorothy in disgusted amazement, as her eyes verified the truth of Elsie's statement. "What on earth Muriel can see in that little donkey I can't think! I don't think the head girl ought to show such favouritism. It was all very well putting her in last time when there was nobody else to play. But now there's Pam Henderson, and Dora Wainscott, and Bee Tyrell, and heaps of others. It isn't fair to go putting in a rotten little German coward who can't play hockey for nuts, and who even funks climbing a rope ladder!"
"Oh, well, I suppose Muriel knows what she's about," said Gwen Carter, an Upper Fifth girl, in rather a languid tone. "After all, neither Pam nor Bee are exactly geniuses at hockey, you know. I shouldn't think that even Gerry Wilmott was much worse. And Dora Wainscott's hand is still awfully bad. She was wearing it in a sling in form to-day."
"All the same, I think it's too bad that German Gerry should be playing," declared Phyllis loudly. She had caught sight of Gerry coming along the corridor, and had raised her voice purposely in order that she might hear. "I think it's a shame that we should be asked to play in the same team with her again, when everybody knows that the Pink Dorm would have won last time if she hadn't funked."
Gerry heard, as it was intended that she should. But she took no notice, only hurried by the group around the notice-board with flushed cheeks and averted eyes. The girls stopped talking for the moment and watched her curiously. Just as she passed somebody gave a slight hiss, which was immediately taken up by three parts of the girls present.
"German Gerry!" called out someone, and the hissing grew louder as the girl fled by. Gerry's steps quickened into a run until she had turned a corner of the corridor and was out of sight of her tormentors. She had been on her way to the Lower Fifth sitting-room, but her reception in the passage made her change her mind, and she hurried on to the classroom instead, which was empty and deserted at this hour. It was against the rules to be there except in lesson hours, as Gerry knew well. But she had no other place of refuge, and once or twice lately this had served her in good stead. It was less risky than going to the dormitory, which was also out of bounds at this time, and there was no other place in the school where she could hope to find privacy.
She slipped into her desk and buried her burning face in her hands, grateful for the darkness and the silence. Although she did not realise it, Gerry was certainly getting braver. When she first came to school she would not have ventured alone into a dark room for anything in the world, in spite of her fifteen years. But now she was so absorbed in her greater trouble that she forgot to be afraid.
"Why do they hate me so?" she asked herself, and puzzled, as she had puzzled so many times before, over her unpopularity. It was not really so puzzling as she imagined. She was too quiet and shy to have won popularity easily in any case, even without her nerves, in such a big school as Wakehurst Priory; and, unfortunately for her, she had made two very bad enemies on the first day of term in Dorothy Pemberton and Phyllis Tressider.
Without being altogether bad-hearted, these two girls were responsible for a great deal of trouble in the school. They both possessed what so many of the girls lacked—personality; and they had a large following amongst their own set of girls who admired them for their ingenuity in mischief and the spirit of dare-deviltry which seemed at times to possess them. They had been "up against" Gerry from the very beginning, owing to the fact that Gerry had innocently usurped Dorothy's cubicle; and a series of unlucky accidents, occasioned by Gerry's newness to school ways and her rather unfortunate disposition, had simply played into their hands.
For some while Gerry was left in peace in the solitude of the classroom. But luck was against her that night, as it had seemed to be so often during the term. As a rule nobody ever dreamt of going near the classrooms after supper, but to-night Miss Burton must needs require a book from her desk and come to fetch it. And suddenly poor Gerry was startled by the abrupt opening of the schoolroom door and the switching on of the light.
She rose to her feet in a panic to find Miss Burton regarding her in surprised disapproval.
"Geraldine Wilmott! What are you doing here? Of course you know that it is strictly against the rules?"
"Yes, I know," said Gerry lamely, unable to think of any excuse for her presence in the classroom at this unauthorised hour. Dorothy or Phyllis or Jack would have thought of dozens in a moment! Indeed, it did not occur to her that there was any excuse to make. She was too fundamentally honest to try and wriggle out of the scrape as ninety-nine out of a hundred schoolgirls might have done. Miss Burton, however, with her lack of understanding, interpreted her reply as bald defiance, and was correspondingly severe.
"Then that means another bad mark for you. Really, you are incorrigible! I shall be obliged to report you to Miss Oakley if you don't soon make a decided improvement in your conduct. Go back to your sitting-room at once. And don't forget to give in your bad mark to-morrow morning."
Gerry wandered disconsolately back through the corridors. There seemed to be nobody about, and as she did not want to go to the sitting-room sooner than she could help, she went on to look at the notice-board, to see if Muriel really had put her name down for Saturday's match. From Phyllis Tressider's speech she gathered that she had done so. Somehow, after the incident in the gymnasium that afternoon, Gerry had quite expected Muriel to change her mind about putting her into the team. But, no! There was her name down, in black and white—Gerry Wilmott, left outside.
Gerry stood for a few moments gazing at the list, uncertain whether to be pleased that Muriel still intended to give her another chance, or to be frightened at the ordeal that lay before her. And as she stood there, doubtfully regarding the notice-board, the head girl herself came along, and stopped to speak to her.
"Well, Gerry, I'm giving you your chance, you see," she said kindly.
"Yes—I see," said Gerry, turning round to face the prefect. "But, Muriel, are you—are you sure you think it's best? Supposing—supposing I funk again?"
"Now, look here, Gerry, I shall really get cross with you if you go on like this," said the head girl impatiently. And indeed, there was some reason for her impatience. She seemed always to be having to spur Gerry Wilmott on to the simplest acts of courage. "I keep telling you and telling you that you must have more confidence in yourself! You needn't funk if you'll only make up your mind not to. You've put up one or two quite good games since you've been playing forward, Alice says, and there's no earthly reason why you should not do the same on Saturday. If Dora Wainscott's hand was well enough for her to play, I should put her in. But it isn't, and you're just as good as any of the other girls in the dorm who are left—rather better than most of them. Now, are you going to buck up and do yourself and the dorm credit, or are you going to let me down?"
"I'm—I'm going to do my best," said Gerry, lifting earnest eyes to the head girl's face. "It's jolly good of you, Muriel, to give me the chance after the way I went on over gym this afternoon."
"Did you think I should cut you out because of that?" said Muriel. "You certainly did make rather an ass of yourself. But there's no earthly reason why you should do the same on Saturday. I should like to fit you up with a new backbone, Gerry Wilmott," she added laughingly. "You'd be quite a decent kid if you'd only buck up and be a bit more daring! You ought to take for your own the motto that the Red Cross Knight found written up over the door of the castle—'Be bold, be bold, be bold!'"
"It wasn't the Red Cross Knight; it was Britomarte," said Gerry, and Muriel smiled approvingly at her for the correction. It was something for Gerry even to dare to correct a quotation.
"Good for you, kiddie! So it was. Well, you get that thoroughly into your head by next Saturday and act upon it, and you'll do all right." And she hurried on her way, leaving a much inspirited Gerry behind her.
"She is a brick!" thought the girl enthusiastically, as she walked slowly towards the Lower Fifth sitting-room. "I don't wonder all the girls are so keen about her. I will get that motto into my head, and I will play up and justify her choice of me for next Saturday, and I won't let anything the other girls may say or do affect me! I'll just keep saying the words over and over to myself whenever I feel inclined to funk, and see if that won't make me braver. Be bold, be bold, be bold!"
And then some lines of Longfellow's she had once heard came into her head in the inconsequent way such lines do occur to lovers of poetry:
"Write on your doors the saying wise and old,
'Be bold! be bold!' and everywhere—'Be bold!'
'Be not too bold'—yet better the excess
Than the defect; better the more than less;
Better like Hector in the field to die,
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly."
Gerry's face took on an expression of rigid determination as she repeated the lines to herself. And, throwing up her head with a little gesture of defiance, she said aloud:
"Well, I just won't be a 'perfumed Paris' this time, whatever happens!"
And with this bold resolve she walked into the sitting-room, and settled herself down in her usual corner with a book, until the bell should ring for prayers and bed.
CHAPTER XXII
THE DORMITORY FINAL
Saturday morning dawned at last. It was a splendid day for hockey, fine and bright, with a touch of frost in the air, not enough to make the ground hard, but just sufficient to dry up some of the worst of the mud and to make it exhilarating to run about.
There was great excitement over the match throughout the school. Even the girls who were not directly concerned in the results of the game, either as members of the teams or occupants of the rival dormitories, were keenly interested, while the agitation of the two dormitories actively engaged was raised to fever-pitch. Some of the smaller girls in the Pink Dormitory had been occupied during the past week in manufacturing rosettes of pink ribbon, which they sold for twopence apiece to the members of the team and the partisans of the dormitory—a proceeding which promised considerable profit at first to the enterprising trio who originated it. Unfortunately for them, however, Muriel Paget descended upon them on the morning of the match with searching inquiries as to the monetary part of the transaction.
"But, Muriel, the ribbon cost us an awful lot of money," protested one of the small profiteers in distress, when the head girl ordered that all proceeds from the sale of the favours should be deposited in the dormitory missionary-box. "It was very good ribbon, penny-halfpenny a yard, and we've used yards and yards of it!"
"Well, you may keep back enough money to pay expenses," conceded the head girl. "Reckon out exactly how many yards of ribbon you've bought and how many favours you've sold, and then bring the balance of the money to me to be put into the missionary-box. And please remember for the future that you're English schoolgirls—not beastly little Jews."
With which parting remark she stalked off with much magisterial dignity, leaving three very crushed small girls behind her.
However, the three had the consolation of regaining the money they had outlaid upon their project, and also of having started a very popular scheme. The idea of the favours caught on. The members of the Green Dormitory were immediately bitten with the desire to sport green rosettes, and drawers were ransacked, and finally permission obtained for a messenger to be sent into the town to purchase a sufficiency of green ribbon to manufacture favours for the rival team and its supporters. Before the morning was over nearly every girl in the school sported a favour of one colour or the other. Pink favours predominated, partly because of the start obtained by the early venders, and partly because the Pink Dormitory was Muriel's dormitory. The head girl was far and away the most popular person in the school, far out-rivalling Alice Metcalfe, the Green Dormitory's captain, in the girls' affections. Still, the Greens had quite a fair show of ribbons—enough at any rate to make a good "shout" for their side when the match should begin.
Gerry Wilmott, alone of her team, did not wear a pink rosette. She wanted one badly, but she had not quite liked to ask for one, and the three little girls who were selling them carefully refrained from coming near the girl who was known as a coward and a sneak throughout the school. Gerry looked at them very wistfully once or twice when they were in her vicinity, but in spite of her desire to be decorated with the colours of the dormitory for which she was to play, she did not dare to risk a rebuff by going up to them. She would have gone favourless up to the field itself if it had not been for Monica Deane, her next-door neighbour in the dormitory. Monica had purchased a favour quite early in the day, much to the distress of little Vera Davies, her devoted admirer, who presented her with one just before the match began, which she had made herself.
"Please, Monica, wear mine!" pleaded the little girl, coming into Monica's cubicle where the senior was changing into the gym dress which was the regulation hockey kit at Wakehurst Priory. "I begged a bit of the ribbon from Gladys and Betty and Marjorie, and made it for you all myself, to bring you luck! Please take your other one off and wear mine!"
"All right, kiddie, of course I'll have to wear it since you made it for me yourself," said Monica good-naturedly. "I'll give the other one away to somebody else, if there's anybody left in the school who hasn't got one."
Then a sudden thought struck her.
"Gerry, have you got one, or would you like mine?" she called over the cubicle wall, remembering that she had seen the Lower Fifth girl undecorated earlier in the day.
"No; I haven't got one. I'd like it very much," answered Gerry, in rather a low voice. The next moment the small pink favour came fluttering over the partition that divided her cubicle from Monica's.
"There you are, then," said the senior girl.
Gerry caught the precious bit of ribbon and pinned it on to the tunic of her gym dress with an odd feeling of pleasure in her heart. It seemed to her a happy omen that she should be able to wear her dormitory colours after all.
"Thanks awfully, Monica," she said gratefully. "I'll pay you the twopence for it sometime."
"You just won't, then!" said Monica gaily. "It's a present to bring you luck. Vera says it's much more lucky to have your favours given to you than it is to buy them for yourself. So, with two of us wearing lucky ribbons, the Pink Dorm really ought to win!"
"I hope we shall," said Gerry fervently. Then she added under her breath, "I'm going to try and do my share to-day, anyway, and justify Muriel for having chosen me."
This little episode of the pink favour quite cheered Gerry up. Perhaps the luck of the pink ribbon would counteract for once the unlucky influence of Cubicle Thirteen. Gerry was really almost beginning to believe that the ill-omened number of her cubicle must have something to do with the persistent misfortune which dogged her footsteps! Fortified by her precious talisman, she took her place up on the hockey field as left outside without nearly such quakings of heart as she had feared. And when once the whistle had gone and the play begun she didn't have time to think about being frightened. Muriel saw to it that her nervous left outer should have plenty of work quite early in the game; and by the time the match had been in progress for ten minutes or so, Gerry had lost all her gloomy fears in the excitement and interest of the struggle.
It was obvious from the beginning that it was going to be a hard-fought fight. Both teams were out to win. As before, the Pink Dormitory forwards were far superior to the forwards from the Green Dormitory, but the splendid defence of the latter team quite balanced this. Backwards and forwards the battle raged, neither side getting a chance to shoot for goal until the first half was nearly over. Then, much to everybody's astonishment, Elsie Lipscombe succeeded in getting through for the Greens.
"I say! That's serious!" said Dorothy Pemberton to Phyllis Tressider as the two girls stood arm in arm sucking lemons at half-time. "Fancy the Green Dorm getting a goal in like that, before we've scored one! We shall have to buck up like anything this half if we're not going to let the Pink Dorm down."
During the interval Muriel Paget went up to Gerry, who was standing a little forlornly on the outskirts of the group of players, with a reassuring word.
"Well, I don't think you need be afraid of funking now, Gerry; you're doing quite well," she said.
"No; I don't think I shall funk now!" said Gerry. "It's all thanks to you, though, Muriel. If I'd been playing back I know I should have felt just the same as I did last time."
"Oh, well, but you're not playing back now," responded the head girl. "So there's no need to worry over that! We've got to buck up like anything this half, though, for we're a goal behind. Mind you keep up if I do get away with the ball. And if it comes out to you when you're anywhere near their goal, pass it straight in, and then you'll be all right."
Muriel succeeded in scoring for the Pink Dormitory soon after the second half started, and the Pink team and their partisans breathed again. The score was now one all, and for some time it seemed likely that it would remain so. Nearly every girl in the school was up on the ground, watching the struggle, and as time passed on and still the goals stood at one all, the most intense excitement prevailed.
"Oh, they're going to tie again! They're going to tie again!" wailed Vera Davies, some seven minutes before time was up. "And I made the favour for Monica myself, on purpose to bring her luck! And now the Pinks aren't going to win after all!"
"It isn't over yet," said Marjorie Brown, the small girl from the Pink Dormitory whom Muriel had so nearly to put in to play instead of Gerry on the previous occasion. "Oh, look, look! Muriel's got the ball and she's got a clear run! No; she's lost it! Jack Pym's got it. No; she's passed. Oh, Vera, look! Dorothy Pemberton's got it now, and she's taking it up. Play up, Pink Dorm! Play up! Play up!"
Her cry was taken up by the whole school.
"Play up, Pink!"
"Play up, Green!"
"Stick to it, Dorothy!"
"Alice! Alice! Into her, Alice!"
"Play up, Muriel! Play up, Muriel!"
"Pink Dorm! Pink Dorm!"
"Green! Green! Green!"
A confused medley of shouts rose on the air, and the noise grew in volume as one by one the spectators, girls and mistresses alike, joined in. So great was the pandemonium that the referee's whistle could hardly be heard when it blew a moment later.
"What's that for? Is it a goal? Is it? Is it?" cried Vera, in an agony of excitement.
"No! It's off-side! Dorothy passed it forward. Oh, bother! That means a free hit for them. And Alice will take it and send it miles down the field, and time's nearly up! There can't be more than three minutes left now!" cried Marjorie, dancing about the ground in her impatience.
Alice Metcalfe came forward to take the free hit. Her forwards ranged themselves far down the field, while the Pink forwards also were obliged to retrace their steps to the limit imposed upon them by the penalty. Dorothy made a penitent apology to her captain.
"I'm most fearfully sorry, Muriel," she said. "It was quite an accident, but I'm afraid it's done for us, all the same. We'll never have time to score again now."
"Never mind. We'll make one last desperate effort before the whistle goes," said Muriel encouragingly. "Look out for Alice's hit and try and stop it if you possibly can, if it comes your way. It's our only chance!"
Whack! Alice sent the ball flying out to her right wing with a mighty "swipe," and a groan went up from the partisans of the Pink Dormitory. That hit surely had done it! Nobody could be expected to get in the way of such a terrific slog—Alice had excelled herself this time. The ball would inevitably go flying out of bounds, and by the time it could be recovered and thrown in again, the last three precious minutes would have sped by. Already the referee had her whistle to her lips. Once again the dormitory final would end in a draw!
But wait a moment! The Pink Dormitory's left outside, with a ribbon favour flaunting gaily on her breast, was standing right in the way of the coming ball. Gerry had watched Alice hitting it, and she knew that her chance had come. If she could stop the ball just right and centre it, there was just a chance that Muriel and Dorothy might be able to do something with it.
But could she ever stop it? The ball was coming with all the force of Alice Metcalfe's leather-bound hockey stick behind it. It needed some courage to get in the way of one of Alice's slogs! Gerry wanted to slip aside and let the ball go by. How badly she wanted to do it nobody but herself could ever know. Surely it wouldn't be cowardice to get out of the way of a ball like that! But her determination not to let Muriel down this time was strong within her, and she fought down the panic which urged her to step aside, and remained grimly waiting the advent of that flying ball.
The next moment a great shout went up from the spectators, friends and foes alike.
"Stopped! Oh, well stopped! Stopped, indeed!"
"My hat! That must have hurt! Did you see? It ran right up her stick and caught her on the nose. Why—if it isn't German Gerry!" cried Vera Davies in amazement.
It was an amazement which was shared by the rest of the school. The girls were so dumbfounded that the cheer suddenly died down, and nobody applauded at all when Gerry, recovering from the first stunning shock of the blow, passed the ball to her inside wing, Dorothy Pemberton, before the Green half-backs could tackle her.
Then events moved quickly.
"Centre it, Dorothy," called Muriel, and flew to intercept the ball, which Dorothy passed to her. Dodging, tackling, dribbling, and passing, the head girl and her inside left carried the ball into the enemy's goal circle. And before the Green defence could recover from the unexpected onslaught, the ball was safely through their goalposts, put there by Muriel's stick. The whistle blew for goal and time simultaneously, and a perfect storm of cheering broke from the watching school. It had indeed been an exciting finish to the dormitory hockey final!
There were certain formalities to be gone through before the teams could leave the field. Alice Metcalfe, as captain of the defeated team, called for three cheers for the victors, to which Muriel had to respond by calling for three cheers for the runners-up for the Cup. Then the rival captains had to shake hands and thank each other for the good game—a little ceremony which had existed at Wakehurst Priory since hockey matches first began, and which was never omitted.
But directly these formalities were over, and the girls who had been watching the match came flocking around the dispersing teams, cheering and asking questions and pouring out congratulations, Muriel looked about for Gerry Wilmott and hastened to her side.
"Well done, Gerry! You were splendid!" the head girl exclaimed. "It was all through you that we scored that last goal. If you hadn't stopped that free hit so pluckily, we could never have done it. I'm jolly glad I put you in to play."
Gerry's nose was bleeding badly, and it was cut and swollen from the blow she had received. Her head was aching too, and she was feeling dreadfully dazed and tired. But in spite of her injuries, the face she raised to Muriel's was a very happy one.
"I'm awfully glad I managed to stop it," she said.
"I say! You did get a bang, kiddie!" said Muriel concernedly, looking down at her junior's injured nose. "You'd better come at once and let me take you to Sister. She's got some ripping stuff for bringing down bruises. If we get it seen to directly, perhaps it will save you from being quite black in the face to-morrow."
And putting her arm round Gerry's shoulder, the head girl led her off the field.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PLUCK OF GERMAN GERRY
The head girl and her companion were joined by Monica Deane and Alice Metcalfe as they left the hockey ground. Both the seniors said nice things to Gerry about her great achievement and condoled with her upon the injury to her nose.
"I say! I am sorry," said Alice in contrition. "I suppose I ought not to have hit so hard, really. Miss Caton's always telling me that hockey isn't just a matter of hard hitting, and that I overdo the slogging part. But I never thought of anyone getting into the way of that ball. As a rule, people run for yards to get out of the way of my free hits."
"It was jolly lucky for us that Gerry did get in the way," laughed Muriel. "If the ball had gone out then, we should never have had time to score that final goal."
"I ought to bear you a grudge, Gerry, for losing the Cup for my dorm," said Alice. "I'm afraid you've got to pay for it, though. Your nose will be black and blue to-morrow."
"Oh no, it won't," said Muriel reassuringly. "I'm going to take her straight up to Sister when we get in, and get some of that wonderful lotion of hers to bathe it with. I got an awful whack on my forehead the end of last season, but when I put Sister's stuff on it the swelling went down almost at once, and it was hardly coloured at all."
"Gerry's nose will be awfully stiff and uncomfortable, though, for a day or two, however wonderful Sister's stuff may be," observed Monica.
"I don't mind," said Gerry happily. And indeed she was so relieved at having redeemed herself in the eyes of the head girl in the matter of hockey-playing, that she really would not have cared very much if her nose had been broken instead of merely bruised. She walked on down the field amongst the seniors, feeling that she would not at the moment have changed places with any other girl in the whole of Wakehurst Priory.
It was some ten minutes' walk across the hockey field back to the school. The three prefects and Gerry were well in the van of the returning girls. A few Fourth Form children were some distance ahead, but the majority of the school were descending more leisurely in the rear. Just at this moment, however, the half-dozen girls in front turned, and began running back, waving their arms and shouting as they ran.
"What on earth's the matter with those kids?" said Alice in surprise. "Have they gone quite mad?"
"They are shouting out something," said Muriel. "Can you hear what it is? Why! There's Bennett running, too. And some other men! One of them's got a stick—no, it's a gun! They're chasing Bruno, surely. What in the world can be the matter?"
There was an iron railing to the left of the hockey field which enclosed the hockey ground itself from the neighbouring meadows. The girls in front were running hard towards this railing, still shouting their words of warning to the approaching girls. This time they were near enough for Muriel to catch what they were saying.
"Mad dog! They're shouting out 'Mad dog!' Quick, make for the railings! Bruno's gone mad!" she cried to her companions.
She turned round and ran back towards the oncoming school, shouting out her warning. Alice and Monica followed her, and, seizing a bunch of small girls just behind, urged them towards the railings. The rest of the school had taken alarm by this time, and were making a wild dash for safety, but of the two or three hundred girls who were pouring down from the field, it was obvious that many of them could not be got out of the way in time. Besides, there was nothing to prevent Bruno from altering his course and making for the railings too. The men chasing the dog were too far behind to risk a shot with so many children about. If they should miss the dog, they could not fail to hit one of the girls when so many of them were in the direct line of fire.
All these thoughts rushed through Muriel's mind as she tried to hurry the girls towards the railings, assisted by such of the mistresses and prefects as were near at hand. There had been many reports in the papers lately of dogs that had gone mad and bitten people, and the head girl was well aware of the terrible results that might follow a bite from an animal suffering from rabies. She knew that a mad dog bites and snaps at everything that comes in his way—and how could they hope to get all these children out of the way in time!
Very much the same thoughts had come into the mind of somebody else, too! Gerry had been seized with panic when the cry of "Mad dog!" had reached her ears, and her first instinct had been to dash towards the railings out of Bruno's way. It was not until she was nearly half-way to safety that it had dawned upon her that none of her three companions were with her, and she stopped for a moment to look round and see what they were doing.
She saw Alice and Monica hurrying some of the smaller children into safety, she saw Muriel running to warn the girls behind. Then she looked at Bruno, who was near enough for her to see him plainly now. His mouth was wide open, his tongue was hanging out, and foam was dripping from his jaws. He looked very terrible, not in the least like the good-natured dog with whom Gerry had made friends on her first day at school.
For a moment, Gerry turned away, with a sick shiver of fear and repulsion. Then all at once something came into her heart, making her braver and stronger than she had ever been in her life before. Muriel was being brave. Muriel had not run like a coward towards the fence. Why, couldn't she be brave like Muriel, too? With a sudden desperate resolve, Gerry swung round and flew straight towards the oncoming dog.
Nearly every girl and mistress in the school saw the deed by which Gerry Wilmott established herself for ever in the annals of Wakehurst Priory. The few who were absent could find plenty of eager eye-witnesses to describe it to them. It was a picture which stamped itself indelibly upon the minds of a good many of the people present—the old grey school buildings in the background, framed by the black boughs of the November trees, the wide stretch of meadowland, and in the forefront the big black dog, pursued by the shouting men, making straight for the crowd of terrified children.
Then into the very centre of the picture dashed the blue-tunicked figure of Gerry Wilmott! German Gerry! The girl who was afraid of dogs and mice and hockey balls, and everything and everyone under the sun, apparently—dashing right in the pathway of the mad dog!
Exactly how she did it, Gerry never afterwards quite knew. In some way she managed to get behind the dog and fling herself upon him as he rushed past. She seized him by his collar and the long curly hair about his throat, throwing herself upon her knees on the ground as she did so. So powerful was he in his mad frenzy, that she was dragged along the grass for a considerable distance before she could bring him to a standstill. Then came a few moments that seemed like a lifetime of desperate struggling, while she gripped the snapping, growling dog round his throat with fingers that grew numb beneath the strain, and with stiff, taut arms held him away so that he could not spring upon her.
The struggle only lasted a few moments in reality, but to Gerry it seemed an eternity before she heard Bennett's breathless cry of "Hold on, missie I keep him still an instant longer," and knew that if it was more than an instant, she would have to let the dog go. Then came a sudden blinding flash over her shoulder, a deafening report in her ear. Bruno broke from her grasp with a frenzied leap, then came another report. And then——
And then the next thing she knew was that she was lying on the grass with Muriel and Miss Caton and Miss Latham bending over her, and with what appeared to Gerry to be the whole of Wakehurst Priory peering over their shoulders.
"For Heaven's sake, keep back, you kids!" cried Muriel in an irate voice, thrusting back the nearest of the eager throng. "Can't you see that Gerry's nearly fainting, and you will keep crowding round so that she can't get a breath of air."
"Go back, girls, at once," commanded Miss Latham, rising to her feet and waving the school away with a peremptory gesture. "Hurry up and get back to school, all of you. Whoever gets there first can tell Sister that she's wanted." An ingenious suggestion that almost instantly cleared a space round Gerry. If you can't get a front place as a spectator when there's an accident, the next best thing is to be the first to carry the news of it to somebody else. And with a feeling that they were really doing something of importance, some fifty or sixty girls set out at once to race down to the school to summon Sister.
Having thus procured breathing-space for Gerry, Miss Latham turned to the games' mistress, who was kneeling beside the girl.
"Is she bitten?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know," said Miss Caton uncertainly. But Gerry, who was fast recovering from her momentary faintness, made an effort to sit up, saying in a weak voice which she had some difficulty in recognising as her own:
"No, I'm not bitten—anywhere. It's only that I'm so giddy—and out of breath."
"All right, dear; lie down again and don't try to talk. You'll be better directly," said Miss Caton gently.
"I'm better now," said Gerry, resolutely putting aside the protesting hands that attempted to hold her down, and sitting upright. The movement nearly made her turn faint again, but she conquered the feeling by a great effort and smiled into Muriel's anxious face.
"I'm all right. Really, I'm all right! He didn't hurt me a bit. Look at my hands, they're not even scratched."
Nor were they. And after much anxious questioning and examination the mistresses came to the conclusion that in some marvellous way the girl had escaped all injury.
"I can't think how he didn't bite you!" Miss Latham said. "But now, if you feel well enough, I think we'd try and get you down to the sickroom."
"Monica and I will make a carrying-chair of our hands for her," said Muriel eagerly.
But Gerry disdained all such assistance.
"I'm quite all right. I can walk by myself, thank you very much," she said, and demonstrated the truth of her words by rising to her feet. A little sick tremor ran through her as she caught sight of the men bearing away an inert black mass that had once been Bruno, and she swayed a little uncertainly. But Miss Caton caught her by one arm, and Muriel slipped her hand under her other shoulder, and she soon steadied herself; and the little procession began to make its slow way down the field.
With the exception of Monica and Muriel, all the other girls had gone by this time, hurried away by prefects and mistresses—all, that is, but one, who had somehow managed to elude the vigilance of those in authority. That one was Jack Pym, and her face was almost as white as Gerry's own as she came forward and joined the little party. In her hand she carried a couple of hockey sticks.
"I've got your stick, Gerry," she said rather awkwardly. "I saw it on the ground and I've brought it along for you."
Miss Caton dropped behind for a moment to speak to Miss Latham and Monica, and Jack slipped into her vacant place. Gerry's eyes sought Jack's with a wistful eagerness which was not lost upon the head girl.
"Give Gerry an arm, Jack," Muriel suggested. "She's a bit unsteady on her pins still."
Transferring both sticks to one hand, Jack hurried to obey. She drew Gerry's hand through her arm, giving it a squeeze which sent a sudden thrill of happiness through Gerry's heart.
"Thank you," said Gerry gratefully, as she returned the pressure. "It's decent of you to have brought my stick along. I'd forgotten all about it."
That was in effect their reconciliation and the beginning of a friendship which would long outlast schooldays. But though it was such a momentous happening to both girls, neither of them said anything in the least appropriate to the occasion. In fact, the only remark made by either of them at the moment was passed by Jack, as she glanced at Gerry's wounded nose.
"My eye, Gerry! You won't half have a lovely countenance to-morrow morning!" was all she said.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LOWER FIFTH MAKES AMENDS
Gerry was escorted in safety to the sickroom, where Sister's magical lotion eased the pain of her swollen nose and considerably improved her appearance. A strong dose of sal volatile brought back a little colour to her pale cheeks and a feeling of strength to her sadly wobbling legs. Then she was established upon a comfortable sofa in front of the sick-room fire and left to the enjoyment of a first-class sick-room tea—the sort kept for special convalescents, Sister informed her. As it consisted of hot buttered toast, superfinely thin bread and butter, apricot jam, shortbread biscuits, and sponge-cakes, Gerry agreed with her that it was certainly a great improvement upon ordinary schoolroom fare.
Downstairs in the dining-hall little else was discussed that tea-time but the subject of Gerry's pluck. A great change of feeling towards the Lower Fifth girl was taking place. Everybody realised that if it had not been for Gerry's presence of mind and extraordinary courage, many of the girls might have been bitten by poor Bruno. Whether the dog was really suffering from madness or only from some minor distemper remained to be proved. But those who had seen him that afternoon had little doubt upon the subject. He had been unaccountably moody and irritable for some days past—his surly behaviour in the gymnasium a couple of days previously had only been one incident out of many—and the way he had suddenly run amok when the headmistress was about to take him for a walk that afternoon pointed to the supposition that he was really suffering from rabies.
"Mad? In course he was mad! Think I don't know a mad dog when I see one?" said Bennett, when questioned upon the subject by Dorothy and Phyllis, as he was taking away the muddy boots from the lobby just before tea. "If it hadn't been for that there young lady, there'd have been some humans mad as well—and serve some of them right!" he added, with a sour glance. For although the servants did not know the full ins and outs of Gerry's ostracism, yet they were well aware that "little Miss Wilmott" had been having anything but a happy time during her first term at Wakehurst Priory.
But Wakehurst Priory had thoroughly repented of its ways now! Gerry was the heroine of the hour, and there was considerable danger of the school losing its head in the other direction and making a popular idol of her. Even Dorothy and Phyllis were penitent, and openly acknowledged their remorse in the Lower Fifth sitting-room after tea that evening. As it was a Saturday evening there was, of course, no school work to be prepared, and the form was at liberty to discuss to its heart's content the subject which was occupying its mind so entirely.
It was Hilda Burns who made the suggestion that appealed most strongly to the form.
"I think we ought to make her a public apology," she announced dramatically, "to let the whole school know what beasts we have been." And her idea was taken up with much acclamation by the other members of the Lower Fifth.
"Yes, let's!" said Dorothy eagerly. "Let's go now and ask Muriel to call a school meeting, and then we'll ask for Gerry to come down to it, and we'll all step out in turn and tell her how frightfully sorry we are for having been such rotters, and ask her to make it up!"
"Come on," said Phyllis. "We'll go to Muriel now." And the form trooped off to the head girl's study.
Muriel was having a private tea-party in her own room with Monica and Jack Pym. The latter had disappeared since the hockey match, although the other members of the Lower Fifth had been too excited to notice it before. Tea in their private studies was a privilege the Sixth Form girls were entitled to on Saturdays and other holidays if they liked; and to-day Muriel had asked Jack to join in the cosy little party. The head girl was not an unobservant individual, and she had noticed Jack's unhappy face and remorseful manner during that walk down from the hockey field. And after they had seen Gerry safely into Sister's care she had invited the younger girl to come and have tea with Monica and herself. The three had been having a very serious discussion respecting Gerry Wilmott and her troubles as they sat round the study fire.
"Good gracious! How many more of you are there?" exclaimed Muriel, as one by one the Lower Fifth squeezed themselves into the small room. "Is that all? Margaret Taylor, you're nearest; do you think you can manage to shut the door? Now, then, what have you all come about?"
Dorothy acted as spokeswoman.
"About Gerry Wilmott, please, Muriel," she began. "We've come to tell you what utter beasts and rotters we've been to her all the term——"
"I think I know something about that already," interrupted Muriel. "Jack's been telling me."
This abrupt announcement rather upset Dorothy's elaborate explanation. It is disconcerting when you have buoyed yourself up to confession to find that someone else has done all the confessing for you. At any other time the Lower Fifth would have been seriously annoyed with Jack for having thus forestalled the dramatic little scene it had planned with the head girl. But to-night the whole form was so genuinely upset and penitent about its treatment of Gerry Wilmott that—although they did not know quite what to say for a moment or two—they bore no grudge against the informer.
"There's something Miss Oakley wants me to tell you about Gerry," went on Muriel, surveying the discomfited faces before her. "It's not to go any further, though. Only Gerry's own form are to know about it, and Miss Oakley trusts to your honour never to mention it to Gerry herself unless she confides in you of her own free will. I didn't know it until to-day, when Miss Oakley sent for me to go to her after we'd taken Gerry to the sick-room. If I had known it, I should have behaved very differently towards her myself! It seems that she was in a bad air-raid three years ago, when she was almost a kid. The house she was in was wrecked and a nurse she was awfully fond of was killed in front of her eyes, while she herself was pinned down underneath some wreckage for hours and hours before they could get her out. She wasn't hurt, but it upset her nerves completely. And it's mostly that that has made her so shy and nervous and funky of things. Her people sent her here to see what school would do for her. Nothing was said about her awful experience, because she can't bear to talk about it, for one thing, and for another the doctors didn't want her to be treated any differently from the other girls. And they thought she would have been if people knew. But Miss Oakley says I'm to tell you now, so that you may treat Gerry with more consideration in the future."
There was a dead silence in the room. If anything had been wanting to complete the Lower Fifth's humiliation it was this! The one excuse the form had had for its conduct had been Gerry's cowardice, and it put the finishing touch to its repentance to discover that even this was not entirely her own fault. The Lower Fifth's remorse, which had been acute enough before, was almost unbearable now!
"Well," said Muriel at length, as the silence still continued—"well? What are you going to do about it?"
"We thought that—that perhaps we'd better make Gerry a public apology," faltered Dorothy, her usual sang-froid deserting her for once under Muriel's coldly critical eye. "We thought if you would call a meeting of the whole school that we'd ask Gerry to come down, and then we'd tell her how frightfully sorry we are about having been so mean, and each of us would apologise to her in front of everybody."
"And jolly pleasant that would be for poor Gerry!" said Muriel. "Do you think she wants a public apology! To be made to feel an utter ass in front of the whole school just to ease your rotten little consciences! We'll give her a public ovation if you like, but not a public apology—at least, not one anything in the least like the scheme you've planned. If you want to make amends, I think it would be much more to the purpose if you went and told Miss Burton the truth about that strike of yours, and how it was Gerry who broke it down by her plucky action in refusing to go on with it."
The Lower Fifth gasped a little. Jack had certainly confessed with a vengeance! Somehow it had never before struck the Lower Fifth that Gerry's action on that particular occasion had been plucky.
"But of course, when you come to think about it in the right light, it was plucky of her," Hilda Burns said afterwards, when the matter came up for discussion in the Lower Fifth sitting-room. "It must have needed quite a lot of courage for Gerry to say what she did that evening."
"Yes. It was moral courage," said Jack. "She wanted most awfully badly to stick in with us and be friendly. But she just felt she had to stay out because she felt so sorry for Miss Burton, although she knew how beastly we should all be to her."
But that was afterwards. At the moment the Lower Fifth was scarcely able to view the courage of Gerry Wilmott in any light at all; it was so flabbergasted at having its past delinquencies cast up at it in this manner, and so dismayed at Muriel's suggestion that it should go and acquaint Miss Burton with the full details of the matter.
There was a moment's hesitation, then suddenly Dorothy Pemberton made a movement of acquiescence.
"All right, we will!" she announced. Then, turning round to the rest of the form, she asked briefly:
"Are you all game?"
"Yes," came unanimously from the ranks of the Lower Fifth.
Muriel Paget rose to her feet and faced her visitors with a pleased smile.
"Good kids!" she said approvingly. "Cut along at once and get it over. And then come back to me afterwards, and we'll see if we can't arrange some sort of public reception to show Gerry that we're sorry for all the things she's had to put up with this term. I think you'll find Miss Burton in her study if you go now."
Then the Lower Fifth, subdued, but resolute in its determination, filed out in a body and wended its way towards Miss Burton's room.