Part 17 (1/2)
The Rainbow League
Though Lispeth, in her agitation, had not said half the nice things she had intended to say, her little speech had good effect. It reminded the girls of some of the high ideals with which they had started the term, and which, like many high and beautiful things, were in danger of getting crowded out of the way by commoner interests. Everybody suddenly remembered the exhibition and sale which was to come off before Christmas, and made a spurt to send some adequate contribution. The juniors, flattered at having a special branch of their own of the Rainbow League, and time allotted in school to its work, dabbed away blissfully at sc.r.a.p-book making, with gummy overalls and seccotiny fingers, but complacent faces. The prefects, with intent, dropped in when possible to admire the efforts.
”I believe,” said Lispeth to her special confidante Althea, ”that perhaps we were making rather a mistake. You can't have any influence with those kids unless you keep well in touch with them. I was so busy, I just let them slide before, and I suppose that was partly why they got out of hand, though the little monkeys had no business to get up that impudent strike! They're as different as possible now, and some of them are quite decent kiddies. Dorrie Barnes brought me a rose this morning.
I suppose it was meant as a sort of peace-offering.”
It was arranged to hold what was called ”The Rainbow Fete” on breaking-up afternoon, and parents and friends were invited to the ceremony. There was to be both a sale and an exhibition. The best of the toys and little fancy articles were to be at a special stall, and would be sold for the benefit of the ”War Orphans' Fund,” and those that were not quite up to standard would nevertheless be on view, and would be sent away afterwards to help to deck Christmas trees in the slums. _THE_ stall, as the girls called it, was of course the center of attraction.
It was draped with colored muslins in the rainbow tints, and though real irises were un.o.btainable, some vases of artificial ones formed a very good subst.i.tute. The home-made toys were really most creditable to the handicraft-workers, and had been ingeniously contrived with bobbins, small boxes, and slight additions of wood, cardboard, and paper, aided by the color-box. Windmills, whirligigs, carts, engines, trains, dolls'
house furniture, jigsaw puzzles, cardboard animals with movable limbs, black velveteen cats with bead eyes, beautifully dressed rag dolls, wool b.a.l.l.s and rattles for babies, and dear little books of extracts, were some of the things set out in a tempting display. Fil, whose slim fingers excelled in dainty work, had contributed three charming booklets of poetry and nice bits cut from magazines and newspapers, the back being of colored linen embroidered with devices in silk. They were so pretty that they were all snapped up beforehand, and could have been sold three times over.
”You promised one to me--you know you did!” urged Linda Slater, much aggrieved at the non-performance of an order.
”Well, I thought I'd have time to do four, and could only manage three,”
apologized Fil. ”You see, they really take such ages, and Miss Strong was getting raggy about my prep.”
”You _might_ make me one for my birthday!” begged Evie.
”Certainly not! Those that ask shan't have!”
”Well, couldn't you do some during the Christmas holidays?”
”No, I can't and shan't!” snapped Fil. ”I'm sick to death of making booklets, and I'm not going to touch one of them during the holidays.
You seem to think I've nothing else to do except cut bits out of magazines for your benefit!”
”There! There! Poor old sport! Don't get baity!”
”You shouldn't do them so jolly well, and then you wouldn't get asked!”
_The_ stall occupied a position of importance at the end of the lecture hall, and the rest of the exhibits were put round on trestle tables.
They were what Ingred described as ”a mixed lot.” Some of the animals were bulgy in their proportions, or shaky in their cardboard limbs, the wheels of the carts did not quite correspond, the windmills were apt to stick, or the puzzles would not quite fit. In spite of their imperfections, however, they looked attractive, and would, no doubt, give great pleasure to the little people who were to receive them, and who were hardly likely to be very critical of their workmans.h.i.+p.
To make the afternoon more festive, there was to be a tea stall, to which the girls brought contributions of cakes, and music was to be given from the platform, so that the scene might resemble a cafe chantant. Ingred had been chosen as one of the artistes, and arrayed in her best brown velveteen dress, with a new pale-yellow hair ribbon, she waited about in her usual agonies of stage fright. Learning from Dr.
Linton, however improving it might be to her touch, was hardly conducive to self-complacency, and, after having suffered much vituperation for her imperfect rendering of a piece, it was decidedly appalling to have to play it in public, especially with the horrible possibility that at any moment her master might happen to pop in to view the exhibition and arrive in time for her performance.
”I shall have forty fits if I see him in the room, I know I shall!” she confided to Fil. ”You've no idea how he scares me. I have my lessons on the study piano generally, and if only he would sit still I shouldn't mind, but he _will_ get up and prowl about the room, and swing out his arms when he's explaining things; he only _just_ missed knocking over that pretty statuette of Venus the other day. I'm sure if Miss Burd knew how he flourishes about, she wouldn't let him loose among her cherished ornaments!”
”Perhaps he won't turn up to-day!”
”Oh yes! He said he should make a point of buying a toy for his little boy. If I break down suddenly in the midst of my piece, you'll know the reason. I'm shaking now.”
”Poor old sport! Don't take it so hard!”
By three o'clock the lecture hall was filled with what Lilias Ashby (who had undertaken to write a report for the school magazine) described as ”a distinguished crowd.” Fathers indeed were as few and far between as currants in a war pudding, but mothers, aunts, and sisters had responded n.o.bly to the invitations, and were being conducted round by the girls to see their special exhibits.
Mrs. Saxon had been unable to come that afternoon, but Quenrede had turned up, looking very pretty in a plum-colored hat, and giving herself slight airs as of one who is now a finished young lady, and no longer a mere schoolgirl. She chatted, in rather mincing tones, to Miss Burd herself, while Ingred stood by in awe and amazement, and when she bought a cup of tea from Doreen Hayward at the refreshment stall, she murmured: ”Oh, thanks _so_ much!” with the manner of a patroness, though only six months ago she and Doreen had sat side by side in the Science Lectures.
It was a new phase of Quenrede, which, though accepted to some extent at home, had never shown itself before with quite such aggravated symptoms.
Ingred, walking as it were in her shadow, was not sure whether to admire or laugh. It was, of course, something to have such a pretty and decidedly stylish sister; she appreciated the angle at which the plum-colored hat was set, and the self-restraint that made the tiny iced bun last such an enormous time, when a schoolgirl would have finished it in three bites, and have taken another. A grand manner was certainly rather an a.s.set to the family, and Queenie was palpably impressing some of the intermediates, who poked each other to look at her.