Part 10 (1/2)
I'll take you both out for a sail in it.”
”Oh, do! We shall just live for Easter!” rejoiced the girls.
”I wish it was holidays all the time!” added Merle. ”What fun we'd have in your yacht!”
Such a wish, however, could certainly not be realised.
Bevis was due back at Shelton College, and 'The Moorings' claimed both Mavis and Merle. School might not be as exciting as yachting, but it had its interests. There was the Magazine, of which Mavis was editress, and to which many spicy items were contributed; there was the Entertainments Club, which was getting up a piece to act at the end of the term.
In connection with this society, alack! a tremendous squabble ensued. It had fallen almost entirely into the hands of the boarders, and they seemed determined to keep all its privileges to themselves. They fixed upon a play, shared the cast among them, and held rehearsals in the evenings. Mavis, Merle, and Muriel, the only day-girls on the Committee, were furious.
”Where do we come in?” demanded Merle.
”It's too cool to settle everything without consulting us! We're as much on the Committee as you are! It's completely out of order!”
”Oh, what does it matter?” said Nesta, with aggravating easiness. ”We can't bother to be always holding meetings. We wanted to set to work at once and rehea.r.s.e, and there weren't enough parts to include day-girls.
Can't you act audience for once? You seem very anxious to show off!”
”It's the pot calling the kettle black then, if we do!” retorted Muriel.
”What about yourselves, I should like to know?”
The worst of it was that Miss Mitch.e.l.l seemed to take the side of the boarders.
”I can't have you day-girls coming in the evenings to rehea.r.s.e!” she decided. ”No, I can't allow you to stay at four o'clock either, because the boarders must get their walk before tea. It would upset all our arrangements. Perhaps we may put some of you in a tableau, because that really wouldn't need much preparation.”
A tableau! The day-girls felt much insulted! Miss Mitch.e.l.l, who had seen them act in the history cla.s.s, ought not thus to scout their talents.
Merle took the matter particularly to heart because of her adoration for the new mistress. She was furiously jealous of the boarders, who could sit at meal-times at the same table as her idol, and could indulge in private chats with her during the evenings. Miss Mitch.e.l.l was perfectly well aware of Merle's infatuation, but did not encourage it too deeply.
She meant to be quite impartial, and to have no favourites. Moreover, she was very modern and unsentimental, and disliked what she called 'schoolgirl gush.' She had been the subject of violent admirations before, and knew how soon they were apt to cool down. She was perfectly nice to Merle, but a little off-hand, and never showed her any preference. This line of treatment rather aggravated Merle's symptoms instead of curbing the tendency.
”I'll _make_ her like me!” she said to herself stubbornly.
The siege laid to the teacher's heart progressed slowly, partly because Merle's tactics were noticed by the others and became somewhat of a joke.
Merle had placed a daily b.u.t.tonhole of flowers upon the teacher's desk, but, led by Muriel, the Fifth form rallied, and one morning each of them appeared with a kindred posy and deposited her offering. Miss Mitch.e.l.l turned quite pink at the sight of the eleven floral trophies. She was not absolutely sure how far it was meant for a 'rag.'
”This looks like a nature study compet.i.tion!” she remarked. ”I'm sure it's very kind of you all to bring me flowers, but unless it's my birthday or some special occasion I'm afraid I really don't know what to do with them. You can put them all in water at eleven, Nesta, but you mustn't waste time now fetching vases.”
Merle, of course, never presented any flowers again. She brought a book to school one day that she had heard Miss Mitch.e.l.l express a wish to look at, and, after lingering about in the cla.s.sroom, plucked up courage to interrupt her idol, who was correcting exercises, and offer the loan of it.
The mistress, with her finger held to mark her place, looked up and shook her head.
”I've really no time for reading, thanks! At present my days are full from morning till night.”
As direct means failed Merle turned to indirect. She wrote anonymous poems and popped them in the letter-box, hoping, however, that her writing might be recognised. Whether Miss Mitch.e.l.l read them or not is uncertain; she made no mention at any rate of their receipt, and probably dropped them in the waste-paper basket. Merle would have been far more grieved over these repulses had there not been a counter interest at home. At the beginning of November Dr. and Mrs. Ramsay left the north altogether and came to settle at Durracombe. Naturally there were great changes at Bridge House. Jessop--the invaluable Jessop, who had been so many years in Dr. Tremayne's service--was leaving to take charge of a widower brother, and a young parlour-maid was coming in her place.
Several rooms were cleared to make way for Dr. Ramsay's possessions, and a large motor van arrived bearing some of his furniture from Whinburn.
Mrs. Ramsay was to have a little upstairs drawing-room of her own, in which to deposit her special treasures, and her husband was to turn the gun-room into his study. The delight and excitement of welcoming her father and mother made Merle temporarily dethrone Miss Mitch.e.l.l in her heart. It was such fun to help to arrange all the things from home, and see how nice they looked in their new surroundings. Then Dr. Ramsay had brought his car, and of course Merle wanted to help to clean it and to go out with her father in it and coax him to allow her to drive. Everybody felt that it was ideal to have Mrs. Ramsay at Bridge House. She took the place of a daughter to Aunt Nellie, who was somewhat of an invalid, and would nurse her and manage the housekeeping for her instead of Jessop.
She had always loved her native county of Devon, and rejoiced to return there instead of living in the north.
”I shall grow young again here!” she declared. ”I'm going to try to find time to do some sketching. I've hardly touched my paintbox for years.