Nell returned in a few minutes, hauling the bashful and unwilling Colin by the hand. He was a boy of thirteen, like Jean in appearance, and rather gruff and abrupt in his manners, until he found that Patty was not so formidable as he had imagined, and that she had a brother the same age as himself, who had also won a prize for the long jump at his school sports.
"Colin's still at a preparatory," explained Jean, "but he's to go to a public school next year, either Marlborough or Rugby—Father can't quite decide which."
"Which would you rather?" enquired Patty.
"Rugby, because a fellow I know is there," replied Colin, decisively.
"I shall go to Rugby too, when Colin does," announced Jamie confidently.
"No, thanks! I wouldn't take you with those curls. You may go to The Priory with Jean," said Colin teasingly.
"Would you take me without my curls?"
"They'd certainly have to shear you first."
"Then I'll cut them off now, my own self!" cried Jamie, jumping from Patty's knee and rummaging in his nurse's workbasket for her scissors, which his sister promptly took away from him.
"Look here, Curlylocks!" she said. "If you cut your hair you won't get any more chocolates. No, not a single one ever again. I should give them all to Nell to eat instead. It's quite true. I mean it. I do indeed."
"I don't want to go to school yet," declared Nell. "Jean says you have to sit so still in class, and not even whisper. Miss Thornton tells me to run six times round the room when I begin to get tired."
"I'm afraid Miss Harper wouldn't let us do that, however much we might fidget," laughed Patty. "I should like to see her face if we suggested it. Is Miss Thornton your governess?"
"Yes; she comes every morning, but we're having holidays now. I like holidays best."
"So do most people," said Jean; "but it's not much of a holiday for anybody to sit nursing two big children. Come along, Patty! I want Colin to show you his birds' eggs. He's got quite a nice collection."
"Us too!" cried the little ones, holding out beseeching hands. "We won't touch a thing."
Colin, however, was firm in his refusal.
"No, thank you," he said. "I'd as soon let Floss loose among my birds' eggs as trust you two."
"But we'd promise."
"I don't believe your promises. You'd break them in three seconds, and the eggs as well. You smashed all those I gave you last term. Here, you may have this blue chalk pencil and draw pictures. Don't quarrel over it more than you can help."
The collection of birds' eggs was kept downstairs, so, leaving Nell and Jamie in the nursery, the girls went with Colin to the breakfast-room, where there were Jean's foreign stamps to look at afterwards, and a large album full of picture postcards. Mr. Bannerman came in for tea, and was so pleasant and jovial and full of fun, that he entertained them all for more than half an hour with his jokes and stories. He had travelled much in his youth, and had many tales to tell of wild adventures in far-off countries, or amusing experiences nearer home. He joined afterwards in playing games, in which the little ones were also included; and the time passed away so quickly, that Patty could scarcely believe it was eight o'clock when Aunt Lucy's maid arrived to fetch her home.
"I expect you had a stupid afternoon," said Muriel, on her return, "one of those tiresome duty visits that have to be paid now and then, worse luck!"
"On the contrary, I enjoyed it immensely," said Patty.
"Why, what did you do? I can't imagine there'd be anything exciting at the Bannermans'."
"Oh! we played games, and looked at birds' eggs, and postcards, and things."
"That doesn't sound interesting in the least. You should have been at the Holdens'. They have a pianola and a gramophone, and we were trying over all the new pantomime songs."
"I liked being with Jean."
"I don't know what you see in Jean. I think she's a most stupid, commonplace girl. I'm not at all anxious to be friends with her in Waverton, and I'm very glad I couldn't go to-day. You were welcome to my share of the visit if you enjoyed it, but please don't suggest to Mother to invite her back, because we haven't an afternoon free, and I'd rather not ask her if we had!"
Patty heaved a sigh of relief when she found herself back again at school. With the exception of the one afternoon at Jean Bannerman's, she had not enjoyed her holidays. A month spent in Muriel's society had been of little pleasure; indeed, almost every day it had needed constant effort to keep her temper, and to submit patiently to her cousin's whims. Muriel, taking advantage of Patty's forbearance, had ordered her companion about, and treated her in such a haughty and disdainful manner, that the latter had sometimes felt her position nearly unbearable. At The Priory at least she could be independent; she could select her own friends, with whom she might mix on equal terms, and could secure a standing of her own, apart from Muriel's scornful patronage. It was delightful to once more meet Enid, Avis, and Winnie, and to make plans for various cherished schemes to be carried out during the term; even May, Ella, and Doris proved more friendly, and chatted quite pleasantly with her in their bedroom about their experiences: while Cissie Gardiner and Maggie Woodhall greeted her with enthusiasm.
"I've had such a lovely time!" said Cissie. "My brother Cyril was home from Sandhurst, and he took me to the Military Tournament. I think there's nothing in the world equal to cavalry. I mean to be an army sister when I grow up. We saw a staff of nurses do field drill, and carry a wounded officer to a Red Cross tent. (He wasn't really wounded, of course, but he pretended to be.) They looked just too sweet in their uniforms. Grey always suits me, doesn't it? I wish there'd be another war in South Africa, so that I might volunteer to go out."
"You won't be grown up for four years, dearest, and then perhaps you'll be tired of soldiers, and like poets again," said Maggie, putting her arm affectionately round her friend's waist. "Did you have nice holidays too, Patty?"
"Yes, thank you," replied Patty, as truthfully as she could.
She had decided that it was wiser not to tell any of her friends how unhappy she had been at Thorncroft. For Uncle Sidney's sake she would be as loyal as she could to Muriel, so, suppressing all mention of the many disagreeable episodes of her visit, she merely described the parties and the afternoon at the pantomime with as much detail as possible, leaving it to be inferred that she had enjoyed herself. The spring term was generally regarded at The Priory as a time of particularly close study and increased work. In the autumn there were lectures, concerts, or other little dissipations to break the monotony of school life; the summer term was arranged specially to allow extra time out-of-doors; but from January to April the girls were expected to put their shoulders to the wheel, and commit to memory such a number of pages in their textbooks, that Avis declared it amounted to hard labour.
"The worst of it is," she complained, "that each teacher expects you to give all your time to her particular subject. Miss Harper looks reproachful if I can't say my history, and Miss Rowe scolds if I miss in my grammar. Then Mademoiselle gives me yards of French poetry and two or three irregular verbs to learn, and Miss Lincoln asks me why my essay is so short. I could spend the whole of prep. over just one lesson, and then not know it properly in the end. Unless I take my books to bed, I can't possibly get through everything that's set me."
"You should do as I do," said Enid. "I learn the beginning of the history portion almost by heart. Then I look very intelligent and attentive, and when Miss Harper asks me a question, I rattle off a long answer nearly word for word from the book, at such a tremendous rate that she can scarcely follow me, and says, 'That will do, Enid'. It makes her think I know the whole lesson, and she keeps questioning the other girls who've hesitated and stumbled."
"She'll catch you some day," said Winnie. "Miss Harper's too clever to be taken in by any such tricks. She's sure to ask you a question at the end quite unexpectedly, and what will you do then?"
"Trust to luck," said Enid. "She'll perhaps think I've forgotten for once. I manage my essays for Miss Lincoln rather well, too. When I can't remember any facts I make up a line or two of appropriate poetry, and put 'as the poet says'. It fills up splendidly. Miss Lincoln said once she didn't recognize all my quotations, but she always gives me a high mark!"
"You can't do that kind of thing with Mademoiselle," said Avis.
"No, I own it would be no use to try. When one has forty lines of French poetry to recite, one's obliged to set to work and get it into one's head. But I mean to manage better in the conversation class. My eldest sister has just come home from Paris, and she's taught me the French for 'How is your throat?' and 'Do you feel a draught?' Mademoiselle always has a cold, and wants the window shut. She'll think I'm so sympathetic, and be sure to put 'excellent' in my report."
"I can manage French, and do pretty well in history and geography, but I can't learn Latin," groaned Winnie. "I didn't mind so much when we only did sentences, but now we've begun Cæsar it's simply detestable. I'm an absolute goose at translation."
"So am I," echoed Avis, mournfully. "I don't think Latin was ever meant for girls. My brother did Cæsar two years ago, and he's in Virgil now, though he's a year younger than I am. It seems quite easy to him, but I never know which verb goes with which substantive, or whether a thing is a nominative or a genitive. I look out all the words in the dictionary, and learn their meanings, but I can't make the least sense of them until Miss Harper shows me how they fit into the sentences. Why isn't Latin arranged like English? Everything seems turned the wrong way."
"I don't know," said Winnie. "I should think it must have been difficult for a Roman baby to learn to talk. Miss Harper says it's good mental exercise for us, and we must try to use our brains."
"Mine will wear out," said Avis. "They never were very strong, to begin with. I always forget everything I have learnt the term before; I do indeed. I knew the whole of 'Lycidas' by heart last year, and I can't remember a line of it now. Miss Rowe says my head is like a sieve. You ought to like Cæsar, at any rate, Cissie, because it's all about soldiers."
"I don't care for Roman soldiers," said Cissie; "at least, not in Cæsar, though I rather like them in stories. I love the one in Puck of Pook's Hill, who had to set out for the great wall; he was a perfect dear. If Rudyard Kipling could have written that wretched De Bello Gallico it would have been so different, and so much nicer."
"I should think it would!" said Enid laughing. "Much too nice for us. They choose the driest books possible for schools. Patty, why don't you grumble too? It's quite aggravating to see you looking so complacent."
"I grumble over mathematics, at any rate," said Patty.
"But not over Latin?"
"No, I rather like it."
"How can you like it?"
"I don't know why, but I do."
"There's nothing to like."
"Yes, there is; it's rather fun to try and turn the words into sentences."
"You're not very good at French translation, and yet you always make sense out of Cæsar. I can't think how you manage it," said Avis.
"Ah, that's my secret!" answered Patty. "I shan't give it away, or else perhaps you'd all do as well."
"Is it really a secret?" asked Beatrice Wynne, who had joined the group.
"Of course it is," said Patty mysteriously. "One of those things you can't explain and wouldn't if you could."
"Oh, do tell me!" implored Beatrice.
"No!" said Patty, shaking her head solemnly. "A secret is a secret, and you mustn't ask questions."
"I'll find out some day," returned Beatrice. "I love discovering secrets."
"Don't be too sure of mine," said Patty. "You won't find it out, because——"
But here she shook her head with the air of a sphinx, and, leaving her sentence unfinished, took up her music-case and went to practise.
Now, Patty had only been having a little fun with Beatrice. She had meant to say, "because there is no secret at all", and to have explained what was really the fact, that she had helped her brother Basil so often at home to prepare his Latin translation that the earlier part of De Bello Gallico was already familiar to her. Thinking, however, that it would be possible to continue the joke, and that it would be amusing to excite Beatrice's curiosity over nothing, she had preserved her mystery for the present, intending to explain it on some future occasion. In view of events which followed, it proved a most unfortunate occurrence, and one which she afterwards bitterly regretted. Her innocent remark led to conclusions quite unforeseen, and so disastrous that she would have given much if her words had never been uttered; but once spoken they were impossible to recall, and the mischief was done. Blind as yet to what was to happen in the future, she spent half an hour at the piano, and then went to the classroom to fetch a book which she had forgotten. It was a pouring wet afternoon, and as it was quite impossible for the girls to play their usual game of hockey, they were allowed to amuse themselves as they liked until tea-time. As a rule the classroom was empty between three and four o'clock, and Patty opened the door, expecting to find the room unoccupied. To her astonishment, Muriel was seated there, busily engaged in writing, and evidently copying something from a book which she held on her knee. She started guiltily at her cousin's entrance, as if she were being caught in some act which she did not wish to be discovered, turned crimson, and, thrusting the book into her desk, banged down the lid, and pretended to be tidying the contents of her pencil-box. It was so unusual to find Muriel at work out of school hours, that Patty could not help expressing her amazement.
"Why, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed.
"I might ask you the same," returned Muriel. "I suppose I have as good a right to come to my desk when I want as anybody else has!"
"Why, of course," said Patty. "I was only surprised."
"Then I wish you would keep your surprise to yourself. I can't think why you should always be following me about."
"Oh, Muriel, I wasn't! I only came to fetch my history."
"And I only came to do some of my lessons in quiet. The recreation room is a perfect Babel."
"So it is," said Patty. "I thought I'd learn my dates quietly in here."
"Can't you learn them in prep.?" asked Muriel.
"Not so well. I want the extra time for my Latin. It's such a stiff piece for to-morrow. Don't you think so?"
"I haven't looked at it yet," replied Muriel, in a rather strained voice, and avoiding Patty's eye.
"Why, Muriel," cried the latter, who had come close to her cousin, "what are you writing now? 'There remained one way through the Sequani.'"
"I wish you'd mind your own business. I was only scribbling nonsense to try my new pen," said Muriel angrily, tearing up her piece of paper. "Do leave me alone!"
Patty sat down at her own desk, and, taking out her history book, was soon deep in an effort to master the dates which Miss Harper had set for the next day's lesson. Muriel went on for some little time arranging her pencils and indiarubbers in a very discontented and annoyed manner.
"Look here, Patty, I wish you'd go!" she said at last.
"Go! Why?" asked Patty.
"Because you disturb me."
"But I wasn't saying it aloud."
"It doesn't matter. I can learn things much better when I'm quite alone."
"You're never alone at prep."
"No, I wish I were. I could get through the work in half the time. You're interrupting me now by talking."
"Then I won't talk," said Patty, taking up her book, which she had laid down; "I won't say a single word."
"The very sight of anyone in the room is enough to stop me learning properly. I haven't done a single thing since you came here."
Patty was on the point of saying, "It's your own fault, then;" but the thought of Uncle Sidney stepped in, and she refrained.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked instead.
"To go and leave me in peace. You can learn your dates in a corner of the lecture room or in the studio."
It was rather hard to be thus ordered away from the quiet place which she had chosen, and Patty stood hesitating whether to comply or not, when the question was settled by the ringing of the tea bell, and both girls were obliged to hurry to the refectory. Patty did not think much of this incident at the time, only setting it down to Muriel's caprice, and being quite accustomed to her cousin's ill humours; but in the light of after events it wore a different aspect. One morning at nine o'clock, when Miss Rowe had taken the register, and the girls were in their places waiting for school to begin, Miss Harper entered the room with an extremely grave look on her face. Instead of commencing the lesson as usual, she stood for a few moments without speaking, and her silence filled her class with an uneasy apprehension that all was not right.
"Girls," she said at last, "something has happened which gives me more pain than anything else I have experienced during the five years I have taught at The Priory. Yesterday the monitress, when tidying the room, found this book, which she very rightly brought at once to me. I regret to tell you that it is a translation of Cæsar's De Bello Gallico; in fact, what is commonly known as a 'crib'. That any girl in my class could so have lost her self-respect as to condescend to use it to prepare her lesson, fills me with shame, as it shows such an absolute lowering of the high standard of honour which we have always tried to maintain. I ask each of you now, do you know who is the owner of this book, or can you account for its presence here?"
There was no reply. Every girl looked at her neighbour, but nobody had any information to volunteer. Muriel's eyes were fixed on her atlas; she did not appear the least affected by Miss Harper's words, though a keen observer might have noticed she was a little paler than usual. Patty's heart beat quickly. Quite suddenly the horrible remembrance flashed across her of the book which Muriel had replaced so quickly in the desk. Muriel had certainly at the time been writing a translation of the Latin lesson, though she had denied it flatly; and it was a curious coincidence that she should have seemed so unreasonably angry with her cousin for staying in the room. Was the book hers? Patty blushed hotly at the very idea. What ought she to do? It was impossible to tell her conjectures to Miss Harper in the presence of the whole class. If Muriel were guilty, she would surely confess the matter herself. It could not be necessary to turn informer and voice suspicions which, after all, might prove to have been entirely groundless. Nevertheless, she felt uncomfortable, and as Miss Harper's steady glance was fixed upon her she could not meet the searching eyes, and dropped her own uneasily.
"I ask you again," said the teacher, with reproach in her voice, "does any girl know anything of this occurrence? I promise I will inflict no punishment if whoever is guilty will only honestly confess."
Once more her brown eyes scanned her class narrowly, and once more Patty dared not look her straight in the face.
"Very well," said Miss Harper, "I shall not seek any further to find the owner, though the initials P. and H. intertwined on the title page might possibly give me a clue. The girl to whom it belongs will find her own conscience her severest judge; she will surely feel, without further remark from me, how contemptible is her conduct. I scarcely know what to do with this book," she continued, holding up the translation as if she did not like to touch it. "I will not take charge of it, as I consider it unworthy to be in existence. This will show you best how I regard it;" and, tearing its pages across and across, she flung it into the fire. "Now, girls, open your Cæsars, and we will begin the lesson."
It was the most miserable Latin class which the girls ever remembered. Each one was afraid to construe well, for fear she might be suspected of having done her preparation with the aid of the translation. Miss Harper made no comments, and gave neither praise for good work nor blame for bad. She took the marks as usual, and at the end of the hour left the room without referring again to the subject. I am afraid Miss Rowe, who followed with geology, did not find her pupils particularly intelligent that morning. She was obliged several times to correct them sharply for wandering attention, and was annoyed at the many wrong answers to the questions which she asked. The girls were unable to fix their thoughts upon either glaciers or moraines; all were counting the minutes until lunch-time, when they could rush from the room to discuss the burning question of the ownership of the translation. As Patty walked down the passage at eleven o'clock to the pantry, she noticed Vera Clifford nudge Kitty Harrison and whisper something she could not hear. Most of the girls were collected in a little group near the door, talking eagerly, and some of them looked curiously at her as she passed.
"I don't believe it!" cried Enid's indignant voice. "It's quite untrue and impossible!"
"You'll never persuade me, not if you try all day," said Winnie.
"She always gets such good marks for her Cæsar," said Maggie Woodhall, doubtfully.
"Well, she told me herself it was a secret how she did it," declared Beatrice Wynne. "She said she couldn't explain it, and wouldn't if she could, and if we knew we might all do it equally well. Could anything be clearer than that?"
"And the initials were P. H., for Patty Hirst!" added Ella Johnson.
Patty, as she took her lunch, could not help overhearing what was said by the group round the door. At first she did not quite understand the drift of the conversation, but at Ella's remark a light suddenly dawned upon her. Putting down her glass of milk, she turned abruptly to the others.
"Girls," she cried, "surely you can't suspect me of owning that wretched 'crib'?"
"Then whose is it if it's not yours?" asked Beatrice Wynne.
"I don't know, any more than you. But one thing's certain, I've had nothing to do with it. Why, I wouldn't have soiled my fingers by touching it!"
"How about the initials?" enquired Ella Johnson, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
"I don't know. It never occurred to me till this minute that you could connect my name with them."
"It's a funny coincidence," sneered Vera Clifford.
"I suppose the book must have been brought to school by somebody," said Kitty Harrison.
"It was not brought by me," said Patty. "I've no means of proving anything, but I've always been called truthful at home, and I think my word ought to hold good at The Priory too."
"Then whom does it belong to?" persisted Kitty. "Do you know anything at all about it?"
"Nothing," answered Patty; but the horrible suspicion lurking in the corner of her mind made her voice falter just a little, and some of the girls drew their own conclusions.
"Look here," said Enid, "I'd as soon believe Miss Harper smuggled that 'crib' into school herself as think Patty did! She's absolutely incapable of such a thing, and you all know it as well as I do. Why, it's Patty who's always tried to make us be fair over our work! She simply couldn't cheat. Hands up, all those who don't believe this hateful story!"
Jean, Winnie, and Avis held up their hands at once, and so, to the astonishment of most of her companions, did Muriel. Cissie Gardiner and Maggie Woodhall followed suit, but the others looked doubtful.
"I suppose we must accept Patty's word," said Beatrice, rather stiffly. "Still, it's a funny thing, and I wish it hadn't happened."
"Very funny, certainly, for the one who started the pledge," said Vera Clifford, under her breath.
"We shall find it out some day," said Enid. "I'm determined Patty's name shall be cleared. How any of you can be so idiotic as to connect her with it, I can't imagine. Never mind, Patty dear! We know you better than to believe such rubbish. Don't trouble your head about it, for it simply isn't worth worrying over. Everyone with a spark of sense will agree with me, and I'm sure Miss Harper will think the same."
In spite of Enid's advice not to worry about the Cæsar translation, Patty could not help taking the matter deeply to heart. Though none of the girls openly accused her, she felt that the unjust suspicion clung to her, and that many were undecided whether to consider her guilty or innocent. That she, of all in the class, the one who had striven so hard for the cause of right and honour, should be obliged to remain with this blot upon the white page of her school career, seemed the greatest trial which she could be called upon to bear. The worst of it was that she could not even discuss it freely with her friends. The more she thought about the affair, the more sure she felt that the book must have belonged to Muriel, and the latter's rather conscious manner only confirmed her suspicion. The class, finding that Muriel disliked to hear the subject mentioned, naturally concluded that she was ashamed for her cousin's name to be connected with anything dishonourable, and by common consent never alluded to it in her presence. Muriel avoided Patty more than ever, confining herself strictly to Vera Clifford's company, and keeping aloof from the rest of the girls, who, indeed, found her so supercilious and disagreeable that they were not very anxious to be on friendly terms with her. Miss Harper, since burning the translation, had not referred to it again; yet, though she did not apparently relax any of the trust which she usually placed in her pupils, all were conscious of an increased vigilance in her observation of them.
"She's watching us," said Avis one day. "I can't quite describe how, but I feel as if Miss Harper knew all that I was doing and saying, and even thinking. I believe her eyes and ears must be sharper than anybody else's. She seems to notice such tiny little things, and then speaks of them quite a long time afterwards. She remembered perfectly well, I'm sure, that it was Beatrice Wynne who used always to borrow other people's pencils last term and never give them back, because when Beatrice lent her one yesterday she said so pointedly that she should return it."
It was impossible to tell from the teacher's manner whether she considered the translation had really belonged to Patty. Her remark at the time about the initials certainly favoured such a supposition, but she made no difference in her behaviour, and, indeed, several times praised Patty's work during the Latin lesson. The ownership of the book seemed likely to remain an unsolved mystery, one of those unpleasant occurrences which happen sometimes in a school, to the grief of the mistresses and the consternation of all concerned. The only thing which it was possible for Patty to do was to live the affair down, and trust that time and patient waiting might one day re-establish her reputation absolutely and beyond a doubt in the opinion of both teachers and comrades. The remainder of the spring term passed without any special event, and by Easter Mrs. Hirst wrote to say that the children were now in the best of health, that scarlet-fever germs had long ago been disinfected away, and that all the family were looking forward eagerly to her return. Patty thought there never had been such a meeting, or such glorious holidays as followed afterwards. It was almost worth while to have been absent for seven whole months to experience the joy of such a warm welcome as she found waiting for her at home. The little ones clung to her like flies round a honey pot, and even the baby, grown out of all knowledge, soon made friends with the sister whom he had forgotten. She had several delightful drives with her father when he went on his rounds, and in the long chats with her mother, after the younger ones were in bed, she was able to pour out most of her troubles, and get that comfort and good counsel which mothers always seem to know best how to give.
"I wish Muriel would like me better!" confided Patty. "It seems no use; however hard I try to be nice to her, everything I do is always wrong. Am I really keeping my promise to Uncle Sidney, when she never gives me the chance to be her friend?"
"Certainly, if you are trying your best," said Mrs. Hirst. "We cannot force our friendship where it is not wanted. You can await your opportunity of doing Muriel a good turn; some day she may appreciate you better. Kindness is never wasted, and even if it does not seem to have any immediate result, it is doing its own quiet work, and may return to you afterwards in ways which you never expect. We rarely find people exactly to our liking, so the best plan is to pick out their good points, and ignore the disagreeable side as much as we can. One of the greatest secrets in life is to know how to smile and wait. I am sure you will never regret being patient with Muriel, and who can tell that she may not change her views, and learn to value what she now throws away."
Patty went back to school much consoled, and in a far more cheerful frame of mind. She was determined that she would not let Muriel's unkindness distress her any more. She would not avoid her cousin, but, on the other hand, she would not make advances which would lay her open to a rebuff, or give any opportunity for that scornful treatment which had hurt her so much in the past. As her mother suggested, she would be ready to help if occasion offered, but there seemed no need to press services which were evidently neither desired nor welcome. Having settled that point with her own conscience, Patty began thoroughly to enjoy the summer term. The Priory was delightfully situated in the midst of pretty country, and the girls were allowed many rambles in the woods or on the heathery common. Occasionally the botany class would make an excursion, under the superintendence of Miss Rowe, to obtain specimens of wild flowers, which they afterwards pressed and pasted in books; and once Miss Lincoln took the whole of the lower school to hunt for fossils among the heaps of shale lying at the mouth of an old quarry. She herself was both a keen geologist and naturalist, and tried to interest her girls in all the specimens of stones, flowers, birds, or insects which they found during their walks. "If you will only learn to talk about things instead of people," she said, "you will avoid a great deal of disagreeable gossip and ill-natured conversation. The wide world is full of beautiful objects, and the more you know about them the less concern you will take over your neighbours' doings and failings. Real culture consists largely in being able to discuss things instead of persons. If you will lay up plenty of interests while you are young, you will find you have been like bees gathering honey, and you will have a store to draw upon for the rest of your lives quite independent of all outside happenings, or good or bad fortune which may come to you."
It was not every day, of course, that the girls could be taken for long country walks; there were many other occupations at The Priory which were quite as delightful. During the summer term the callisthenic class was given up, and swimming was held instead in the large bath beyond the gymnasium. Patty, who had not yet had any opportunity of learning to swim, looked forward with great eagerness to her first dip. The bath was very nicely arranged, with a broad walk round it, where onlookers could stand and watch, a row of small dressing-rooms at each side, and a platform at the deep end, from which diving might be performed. Patty found that she and Jean Bannerman were the only ones in the class who had not already had some practice in the water. The two beginners donned their costumes and made their initial plunge together, therefore, at the shallow end. They would have been quite content to splash about like ducks, watching the more advanced members, who were floating and swimming as if in their natural element; that, however, Miss Latimer would not allow. Placing a lifebuoy round Patty's waist, she decreed that she must commence to learn her strokes, and showed her carefully how these ought to be done. There was a long plank across the bath upon which the teacher could stand, and by means of a rope attached to the lifebuoy, could hold up her pupil until she had mastered the art of keeping herself afloat. Patty found it a great deal more difficult than she had at first imagined. She floundered and struggled helplessly in her efforts to carry out Miss Latimer's directions, foolishly opened her mouth in the water, spluttered, choked, and was very glad to take a rest, and allow Jean to have a turn instead. The latter, who had bathed often at the seaside, got on much better, and was able to inspire Patty with confidence for fresh efforts when she plucked up her courage to try again.
"You needn't be in the least afraid," said Miss Latimer encouragingly. "Everyone finds it hard at first, just like learning to ride a bicycle, or to skate, or any other unaccustomed mode of locomotion. You will soon get used to the movements, and then you will never forget them all your life; it will be as easy and natural to you as walking."
"I wish I'd got to that stage," said Patty. "Just at present I feel like one of those toy tin floating ducks that has lost its tail, and over-balances when you put it into the water. I can't remember that I ought to use both my arms and my legs. How well you managed, Jean!"
"I was practising on my bed this morning," said Jean. "Cissie and Maggie showed me the strokes. It's really rather like what a frog does, isn't it?"
"Come along; I can't waste time," said Miss Latimer. "I can give you each one more turn with the lifebuoy, and then I shall expect you to hold one another up, and try by yourselves."
By the third lesson Patty had improved so much that she was able to manage without assistance, and Miss Latimer declared that she must swim the entire length of the bath alone, from the steps to the deep end. All the class stopped floating and diving, and sat down on the edge to watch her, so that it was somewhat of an ordeal to have to perform her feat before a row of laughing eyes. She did very nicely, indeed, in the shallow part, where she could put a surreptitious foot to the bottom; but when it came to the middle, and all had to depend upon her aquatic skill, she grew nervous.
"Go on, Patty, you're all right!" called Enid.
"Throw your neck back!" cried Miss Latimer.
"Go on, Patty, keep it up!"
"Don't be done, Patty!"
"She's going under!"
"No, she's not!"
"Keep at it, Patty!"
"Don't be afraid!"
"You'll get across all right!"
In spite of her companions' encouraging remarks, however, Patty did not succeed this time. I suppose she forgot to keep her neck thrown back, or to draw in her breath properly; at any rate, up went her heels, and down went her head, and she seemed suddenly to turn a kind of somersault in the water. Instantly all the members of the class dived to her rescue, so bent on putting into performance the life-saving which they had practised, that they almost pulled her to pieces in their efforts.
"Oh, you've nearly dragged my arms off!" cried poor Patty, when at last she was in safety at the shallow end again.
"You might have been drowned if it hadn't been for us!" exclaimed Cissie Gardiner, hysterically.
"Hardly that, while I was standing by," remarked Miss Latimer, with a smile. "But Patty has given you such good practice in rescuing a drowning person, that you ought to be quite grateful to her."
"Oh, Patty, you did look funny! You came up spouting like a whale!" said Enid.
"I didn't feel funny," returned Patty. "It was horrid. I thought I was swallowing half the water in the bath."
"You won't want any tea, then!" declared Winnie.
"Yes, I shall."
"Patty must try again another day," said Miss Latimer. "She will soon gain a little more confidence, and I expect after a few weeks she will be diving at the deep end as readily as any of you. We will take the life-saving again now, with Enid to play the part of a drowning person. I was not at all satisfied with the way you pulled Patty out of the water. If such an accident had happened in a river, or in the open sea, I am afraid some of you would have been in danger yourselves."
Miss Latimer proved a true prophet, and Patty found that long before the summer term was over she was able to both dive and float, as well as swim easily round the bath. She was delighted with her new accomplishment, and began to plan already whether it would be possible to persuade her father to leave his patients and take his family to the seaside for a few weeks during the holidays, so that she might have the satisfaction of teaching the little ones what she had learnt herself.
"If he really can't spare the time," she confided to Enid, "there's a big pond at the end of a pasture near a farm, about a mile from our house. I'm sure it would be quite safe, and we could all bathe there, even Kitty and Rowley. I could float a plank on the water to hold them up while they're learning their strokes, or perhaps Mother's air cushion would be of some use, if she'd lend it to us. Basil can swim already—he learnt in the river near his school—so he'd come and help, and I'm sure they'd all enjoy it immensely, even if they only splashed about and did nothing else."
The two great recreations of the summer term at The Priory were tennis and cricket. A few girls indulged occasionally in croquet and archery, but that was only in spare time, and during the couple of hours devoted daily to outdoor exercise everybody was expected to take part in one or other of the principal games.
"You'd better choose definitely which you mean to go in for, Patty," said Winnie, "and then stick to it. If you've any aspirations towards being a tennis champion, I should advise you to keep to the courts, and practise every minute you can; but if, on the other hand, you like cricket better, I shouldn't bother with tennis if I were you."
"Winnie's right; you can't serve two masters," said Enid. "It will take your whole time if you want to do anything at tennis. The Chambers are all so splendid at it, it needs a good player to have any chance against them."
"But Miss Latimer's very hard to satisfy at cricket," said Winnie.
"So she is. She certainly doesn't allow any slack practice."
"She pegged my right leg down once to prevent my moving it, and she's most severe on a crooked bat," said Avis.
"She recollects everybody's average scores for whole years back," said Winnie. "I can't think how anybody can have such a memory."
"Miss Lincoln's the funniest," said Cissie Gardiner. "When I lost a wicket last Wednesday, she said: 'That must be because you got a bad mark for Euclid, my dear!' As if mathematics had anything to do with cricket."
Winnie laughed.
"Miss Lincoln always says: 'Those who do well in school will be equally successful in athletics'; but it's just a pleasant little fiction, like nurses telling you if you eat crusts it will make your hair curl, and it never did, because I used to finish even the hardest and most burnt ones, and my hair's as straight as a yard measure, while my little brother, who leaves all his, has a regular mop of close ringlets."
"Which do you play, Avis?" asked Patty.
"Tennis. I'm no good at all at cricket. I miss the easiest catches, and get the ball tangled in my skirts. I used to play with my brothers at home, but they always called me 'butterfingers'; so I've quite given it up, and I won't even field for them now. They tell me girls are no good at cricket."
"They should see Dora Stephenson," said Enid. "She plays as good a game as any boy, I'm sure. Miss Latimer's tremendously proud of her batting."
"Yes, I often wish I could take her home to have a match against the boys," replied Avis. "How astonished they would be! I think our old gardener would have a fit. He doesn't at all approve of girls' cricket, and told me once that 'young misses weren't meant to be lads', and I should 'only make a bad job of it'. He rolls the tennis court most beautifully, though, when he knows I'm coming back for the holidays."
"Which are you going to choose, then, Patty, cricket or tennis?" asked Enid, going back to the original subject of the conversation.
"I won't decide until I've had a good turn at each, and see which I can manage best," said Patty, diplomatically.
"All right! There's to be a match on Saturday, and I'll ask Miss Latimer to let you be in it. It's a scratch team from the Lower School against prefects and monitresses. I've no doubt we shall be badly beaten, but it really doesn't matter. It's only for practice."
"Do the prefects play well?"
"I should think so! They're very keen on it. Dora Stephenson reads up Ranjitsinhji, and Meta Hall goes to all the county matches when she can get the chance. You'll have to play up, Patty, if we want to make any score at all."
"Don't expect too much," said Patty. "I might send a catch first thing. I've played at home with Basil, but I don't know how I shall get on here."
At Enid's special request, Miss Latimer included Patty in the scratch team for the following Saturday afternoon, so that she might be able to show her capabilities and give her companions an opportunity of judging whether she might be considered fit for a place in the Lower School eleven. The prefects went in first, and the mistress, who had a keen eye for the future possibilities of her pupils, noticed with approval that Patty was not fielding like a novice, that she caught her ball neatly in her hands, instead of stopping it with her skirts, and threw it up promptly with an accuracy of aim not always common among girl players. Wishing to test her further, Miss Latimer called to her at the next over, and told her to take her turn at bowling. It was Dora Stephenson's innings, and the Lower School knew that a struggle was in store. Dora's record scores were well known, and it often seemed almost impossible to put her out. Patty walked up, quaking at the prospect of her encounter.
"Oh, Miss Latimer!" said Beatrice Wynne. "Are you sending in Patty to bowl now? It's rather hard on our side, isn't it?"
"I know what I am about, Beatrice," replied the teacher. "Go on, Patty, and don't be nervous. Let us all see what you can do."
Patty's first ball showed a science that made her companions open their eyes wide. It was a curious way of bowling, half under, half over arm, such as none of the girls had seen before, and which seemed to prove most baffling. For three balls Dora merely slogged; the fourth, to her extreme surprise, got her out.
"A duck! A duck!" cried the opposite side, in raptures of delight. To have taken her wicket in the first "over" was a success such as they had never expected, and a triumph for the Lower School not to be forgotten in a hurry.
"It was well bowled, certainly," said Dora, meeting her defeat with dignity. "I didn't think Patty could have done it. Oh, I don't grudge you a wicket! I'm only too glad to see good play, I assure you, for the credit of the school."
"It was nothing but luck, I believe," said Patty, when her friends crowded round to rejoice over her. "I daresay I couldn't do it again."
"Yes, you could," declared Enid. "It was that peculiar twist that bowled her. You'll have to teach it to us. Where did you learn it?"
"An uncle from Australia stayed with us last summer, and he showed us. Basil and I used to practise it every evening. Basil can do it far better than I can."
"You do it quite well enough. You've made your reputation this afternoon, and you're sure to be put in the Lower School eleven. Miss Latimer never says much, but I can see she's pleased with you. I'm so glad, because this really settles the question. You mustn't think of tennis again, but stick to cricket."
Patty was glad to have scored such a success. She had not been specially good at hockey during the winter, and was only a moderate tennis player, so it was pleasant to find one game in which she had a chance of excelling, and of gaining credit for her team as well as for herself. For once she tasted the sweets of popularity, and had the satisfaction of hearing even Vera Clifford offer her congratulations.
"I suppose I couldn't expect Muriel to do so," she thought. "She knows about it, though she wasn't watching the match, because I heard Cissie Gardiner telling her. She's the only one in the class who hasn't mentioned it. Of course it doesn't matter in the least; still, it would have been so nice, when I'm her own cousin, if she had said just a single word to show that she cared."
The Fourth Class, including the members of both upper and lower divisions, was by far the largest at The Priory, and, in the opinion of Miss Lincoln, the most unruly and difficult to manage. During her many years of teaching, she had always found that girls between fourteen and sixteen gave more than the usual amount of trouble. They were too old to be treated as children, and had already begun to set up standards of their own; indeed, they thought they knew most things a little better than their elders. They were impatient of discipline, yet their ideas were still crude and unformed, and they had not the judgment nor self-restraint which might be counted upon in the higher forms. It was a phase of character which she knew would soon pass, but it required judicious treatment, and she felt that a mistress needed to be both kind and firm to exercise the right influence at such a crisis in the young lives under her charge. Miss Harper, who was popular with her class, could always tame the most rebellious spirits, and maintain perfect order; but with Miss Rowe it was a totally different affair. She was not generally liked, and, taking advantage of her youth and lack of experience, many of the girls were as naughty as they dared, and defied her authority on every occasion. Amongst the ring-leaders in what may be called "the opposition", I regret to say Enid Walker held a foremost place. She was a very high-spirited, headstrong girl, who resented any restraint; she either took a violent fancy to people, or disliked them equally heartily: anyone who could gain her affection could lead her most easily, otherwise she was apt to prove so wayward as to cause a teacher to despair. Unfortunately Miss Rowe had not discovered the right way to manage Enid; for some time matters had been rather strained, and by the summer term it was a case of undeclared war between pupil and teacher.
"It doesn't matter what I say or do, Miss Rowe's always down on me!" declared Enid.
"Well, you really go rather too far sometimes," said Avis. "Miss Rowe knew perfectly well this morning that you dropped your atlas on purpose, and that it was you who tied Cissie's hair ribbon to her desk."
"Miss Rowe can be quite nice sometimes," said Patty. "When we were on the common yesterday, she found two new orchises, and gave them to me to press."
"Oh, you always manage to say something for everybody!" said Enid. "You're too good-natured, Patty. I can't bear Miss Rowe."
"But why?"