Part 8 (1/2)
”High-cla.s.s Ladies' School for the Daughters of Gentlemen of the Professions has UNEXPECTED VACANCY for ONE ONLY pupil at reduced terms--Mrs. Impact, Oakwood House School, St. John's Wood, London.”
ONE ONLY pupil! That was the magic touch.
The very first words addressed to Rosalie by a fellow boarder at Oakwood House were from a short, sharp-featured girl of her own age, which then was twelve, who said to her sharply, ”You're a One Only. I can see you are. Aren't you a One Only?”
”Well, I'm by myself,” said Rosalie, not understanding but most anxious to say the right thing.
”Stupid, you're not,” said the sharp girl, ”because I'm with you.
Did your mother see the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Morning Post? The advertis.e.m.e.nt of this school?”
It happened that Rosalie knew her mother had seen it for Aunt Belle had shown it to her and to them all. ”One of the very best schools,” Aunt Belle had said. ”You see, it's only quite by chance there was a vacancy.”
”Yes, she did,” said Rosalie.
”She's the cat's grandmother,” said the sharp girl. ”Never say 'she' for a person's name. Well, if your mother saw the advertis.e.m.e.nt then you are a One Only at reduced terms, and I knew you were directly I saw you. Now, tell me. Don't blink--unless of course you're an idiot; all idiots blink. Tell me. Was that dress made for you or was it cut down?”
”It was my cousin Laet.i.tia's,” said Rosalie.
”Of course it was,” returned the sharp girl very triumphantly.
”Every One Only's clothes are cut down for her. p.o.o.pers! Do you know what a p.o.o.per is? A p.o.o.per is half a p.o.o.p and half a pauper.
Every One Only's a p.o.o.per. Well, now you know what you are. You see that girl over there. Do you know what she is?”
Rosalie said she did not.
”She's a Red Indian.”
”Is she?” said Rosalie, much surprised, for the girl did not look in the least like a Red Indian.
”Ask her,” said the sharp girl. ”Do you know what I am?”
Rosalie shook her head.
”Answer,” said the sharp girl.
”No, I don't,” said Rosalie.
”I'm a Sultan,” said the sharp girl. ”All the nice girls are Sultans and the school belongs to them. Do I look nice?”
”Very,” said Rosalie, though she did not think so.
”Then why didn't you know I was a Sultan? The school belongs to the Sultans. The One Onlys and the Red Indians are interlopers, especially the One Onlys. Always shudder when you see a Sultan.
Shudder now.”
Rosalie wriggled her shoulders.
”Again, p.o.o.p.”
Rosalie repeated the wriggle.
”Vanish, p.o.o.p,” said the sharp girl, and herself sprung away with mysterious crouching bounds, her head thrust forward, looking very like Gagool, the witch, in King Solomon's Mines; and was seen by Rosalie to pounce upon another small girl who was probably a One Only and, from her forlorn aspect, certainly a sad and desolated new.