02 Jo of the Chalet School (18 page)

‘You like it? Yes?’ asked Frau Mensch as she welcomed them to cakes and coffee.

‘It’s
glorious
!’ stated Joey definitely. ‘I’m aching for another go!’

‘I’m aching too – from a different cause!’ laughed Madge.

Frau Mensch nodded. ‘You must have a hot bath to-night, all of you, and I will give you some liniment to rub on, that you may not be too stiff on the morrow. Well, Aunt Luise and I have finished the tree, so we shall be able to come with you to the Christmas Eve singing after all.’

‘How nice!’ said Joey sincerely.

The two ladies looked pleased, and Aunt Luise, a younger and slimmer edition of her sister, said, ‘But that is kind,
mein Kindchen
.’

‘When do we go?’ asked Madge.

‘At eighteen o’clock,’ replied her hostess. ‘We go to the Hof-Kirche which lies across the river, so we must not be late. It is in the Burg-Graben, and you have surely seen the wonderful tomb of the Kaiser Maximilian the First? Your own King Arthur stands there.’

‘Yes; we have seen it,’ replied Madge.

‘It’s a
gorgeous
place,’ put in Joey. ‘How splendid to hear the Christmas music sung there!’

‘But all is splendid to you, Joey!’ laughed Bernhilda as she offered Jo some tempting cakes, all almonds and honey and cream.

‘Of course it is!’ retorted Joey as she took on. ‘I’m having a – a
splendacious
time!’

‘I am so glad!’ replied the elder girl.’

Then the conversation turned on to the music, and presently it was time to get ready and set out for the Westminster Abbey of the Tyrol.

‘Madge! Wake up, old thing! It’s Christmas morning! Merry Christmas to you!’

Madge rolled over and blinked sleepily up at the excited face Joey bent down to hers. She had been dreaming of the wonder-music they had heard in the great Hof-Kirche the night before, when the boys’

voices, soaring up and up in almost angelic melody, had brought tears to her eyes with their poignant sweetness. Then had come the walk home through the gay, lamp-lit streets, across the old bridge, beneath which the frozen river lay silent –
dead
, as Joey said – and up the much quieter streets of the suburb.

Sometimes, as they passed the lit-up windows of the houses, they passed the lit-up windows of the houses, gusts of melody came out to them. Through one, where the shutters had not been closed, they could catch a glimpse of a Christmas-tree, and there floated out to them the sounds of merry voices and gay laughter. By this house stood a little girl, listening to the gay noise with a wistful face. With a vague remembrance of dear Hans Andersen’s Little Match Girl, Joey the impetuous ran to her, and pressed what was left of her money into the purple hands. ‘Run!’ she cried eagerly. ‘There are
heaps
of shops open still! Do go and get something to eat
now
!’

Joey spoke in English, but her tones and actions were unmistakable. The child gasped; then caught the kind little fingers pressing the paper into her own, and kissed them. ‘God bless thee!’ she cried, before galloping off at full speed.

The Tyroleans are a simple race. Joey’s little action seemed quite natural to the Mensches. Herr Mensch patted the little fur cap with a benevolent smile, and his wife said approvingly, ‘It was well done, my child!

The little Christ Child will not forget!’

All this had got mixed up in Madge’s dreams, so that when Jo shook her awake she had to think for a moment before she could realise where she was. Then she sat up, shaking back her hair vigorously as she rubbed her eyes. ‘Merry Christmas, Joey!’ she said, when at length she had got her bearings. ‘Well, Robinette! Are you awake? Merry Christmas!’

The Robin stood up in her cot. ‘I give you ze greetings of Noel,’ she said solemnly. ‘Zoë, do lift me out, please.’

Joey tumbled out of bed and assisted the small person on to the floor. The Robin promptly scrambled up beside Madge, and planted a fervent kiss on to her headmistress’s pretty chin before she trotted over to the stove where the three had put their shoes the night before, so that the Christ Child might fill them. Jo was after her in a minute, and echoed the baby’s rapturous cry as she found the little shoe filled with chocolate bonbons and a tiny doll. Joey had chocolates too, and a dear little
Book of Saints and Heroes
, which she had long wanted. ‘Madge, you
gem
!’ she cried, as she opened it, and gazed at the illustrations delightedly.

‘Oh! Here’s
your
shoe!’

‘Oh, there’ll be nothing in mine!’ laughed Madge as she took it. Then she cried out in surprise. It was she who had filled the children’s shoes, and she had tucked a handful of chocolates into her own, but she had expected nothing else. Now, on top of the chocolates was a round flat parcel. She opened it, and there lay a little miniature of Joey, set in a narrow silver frame. ‘Joey!’ she cried. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘Miss Durrant did it,’ explained Jo through a mouthful of chocolate. ‘She said I was to give it to you when we were by ourselves; so I thought I’d shove it into your shoe. Do you like it?’

‘
Like
it!’ Madge’s eyes glowed as she looked from Joey of the picture to the pyjamaed figure curled up beside her in bed. ‘It is just what I most wanted, and exactly like you!’

Jo considered it with her head on one side. ‘No one on earth could call me beautiful, could they?’ she said with unexpected wistfulness in her voice.

‘No,’ said Madge truthfully; ‘they couldn’t. You wouldn’t be Joey if you were, either; we’d have to call you “Josephine”!’

‘I’d like to hear you!’ retorted Joey indignantly. ‘I shouldn’t answer.’

‘Oh, yes; you would if you had to! I’d see to that!’ laughed Madge.

‘Well, it can’t happen – mercifully! I hate it when you call me “Josephine”! I always know you’re going to rag me about something.’

‘Exactly!’ Madge’s tone was dry. ‘Well, now, you’re going to get up and get dressed. Hurry up about it, too!’

Joey chuckled and tumbled out of bed. ‘What frock shall I put on?’ she demanded presently, as she stood in her short white petticoat brushing her hair. ‘My brown velvet?’

‘No,’ replied her sister, who was dressing the Robin. ‘You’ll find your frock over there, on the chair.’

‘Madge!’ Joey made two wild leaps across the floor, and stood enraptured before the little silky frock of soft dull green which lay over the back of the chair. ‘Oh! What a gorgeous colour! Where did it come from?’

‘Dick sent the stuff, ages ago,’ replied Madge. ‘Mademoiselle made it for you, and embroidered it too.

Like it?’

‘It’s beautiful!’ Joey took it up with almost reverent fingers, looking admiringly at the exquisite embroideries in darker shades of green, gold, and dull pinks.

‘Put it on,’ said her sister. ‘I want to see how it looks.’

Joey slipped it on, adjusting it with quick, delicate fingers that had the Latin gift of making a garment sit right. Then she turned round. The little frock suited her. The soft green brought out the faint flush of colour in her cheeks, and the pink of the embroideries helped too. It was very simply made, with a short skirt and a round neck, and the silky material fell in graceful folds, which helped to hide her angles.

Madge nodded. ‘Yes; you’ll do,’ she said. ‘Now for
your
frock, Robin. Here we are!’

The Robin’s frock, of the same silk, was a warm crimson, and had holly leaves embroidered round the hems of skirt, sleeves, and neck in very dark green. Madge had tied up her hair with a big dark-green bow, and with her rosy face and velvety eyes she looked like a Christmas fairy.

‘What have you got, Madge?’ asked Joey when she had exhausted all her adjectives over the Robin.

‘
You’ve
got something pretty too, haven’t you?’

Madge nodded and waved her hand to a frock of vivid jade colour. ‘There you are – I hope it meets with your approval!’

‘It’s
topping
!’ said Joey. ‘Do buck up and get into it! I think they’re gorgeous presents, and Dick’s a dear!’

‘Oh, these are just extras,’ laughed Madge as she twisted up her pretty curly hair at express speed. ‘Dick’s
real
presents are – but you’ll see later!’

‘Are what?’ Joey pounced on her. ‘Do tell me, Madge!’

‘Not one word! Get out of my way, Joey, or we shall be late for breakfast!’

‘Well, tell me this: Is it nice?’

‘Is what nice?’ asked her sister in muffled tones as she slipped into her frock. ‘The presents?’

‘No; the surprise part of the business!’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never spent Christmas in the Tyrol any more than
you
have. Hang up your pyjamas to air and come along.’

They filed into the
Speisesaal
just as the bell rang for
Frühstück
, to find Frau Mensch and the girls already there in full Tyrolean dress. Frau Mensch wore the black full skirt gown of the elder women, with a soft white lace kerchief knotted under the square-cut neck, and heavily embroidered apron of fine white linen.

Bernhilda and Frieda had shorter skirts, and their dresses were dark green. Both wore their long flaxen hair in the double braids typical of the Tyroleans, and both looked as if they had just stepped out of a fairy tale.

Jo cried out with delight when she saw them. ‘Oh, how jolly!’ she exclaimed. ‘What topping dresses!’

‘
Froliche Weihnachtsfest!’
said Frieda, dancing up to her friend and giving her a hearty kiss. ‘Do you like our dresses, then? It is to please
Grossmutter
that we wear it. She joins us to-day, you know. Papa and Gottfried are carrying her into the
salon
now, and we shall go there when we have finished
Frühstück.
‘

Meanwhile, Frau Mensch had been greeting her other guests, and leading them to their seats at the table.

‘My sister is with my mother-in-law,’ she explained; ‘and here come my husband and Gottfried.’

Herr Mensch and his son were also in national costume, wit the well-known green knee-breeches, belt with huge filigree silver buckle, full-sleeved white shirt, and green jacket. Their stockings were light fawn, and their shoes had big silver buckles. It was a dress that suited them both, and Joey voiced the feelings of her sister when she said, ‘It’s like Hans Andersen, or Snow White and Rose Red come to life!’

Herr Mensch’s deep laughter rumbled through the room at that, but Gottfried looked uncomfortable and shy. He was not accustomed to being likened to fairy-tale heroes. Luckily, Gertlieb brought in the coffee just then, so they sat down to breakfast. When the meal was over, the girls helped to clear away, and then to tidy the room, after which they went into the
salon
.

‘No one must go to the part we have hung curtains before,’ said Frau Mensch. ‘That will not be looked at till to-night. But we will sing carols, and
Grossmutter
will tell us stories of her youth. This afternoon we will hire a sleigh and go for a long drive into the country, if the snow has ceased; but now it falls heavily.’

She was right. It was coming down almost like a blizzard. If it had been a fine morning, Madge had intended taking Joey to the English service held in one of the rooms at the Tiroler Hof Hotel; but it was out of the question now.

‘You shall sing to us your English carols,’ said Herr Mensch, who had guessed at the disappointment the English girls felt. ‘
Sonntag
, perhaps it will be fine, and then you can worship at your own service.’

He led the way into the
salon
, where Tante Luise sat with a little old woman. Very, very old she looked, with a face full of wrinkles, and snow-white hair under her fine muslin mutch; but her eyes were bright, and still blue; and when she smiled, she showed a set of teeth any girl might have envied. She was, indeed, one of the old school. Her granddaughters curtsied to her as they wished her ‘
Frohliche Weihnachtsfest
,’ then Bernhilda took Joey by the hand and led her forward. ‘This is our English friend, Josephine Bettany,
Grossmutter
,’ she said.

Something in the old lady’s bearing seemed to impel Joey to curtsy, and she made her prettiest curtsy too.

‘She is well-mannered,’ observed old Frau Mensch – ‘Exactly as though I couldn’t understand!’ said Joey indignantly afterwards – ‘and she has a modest bearing.’

Madge nearly choked over this, but Frau Mensch was introducing her, and under the circumstances she felt that she couldn’t do better than follow her small sister’s example, which pleased the old dame enormously.

She patted a chair by her side and said, ‘You may sit here,
mein Fraulein
, and we will talk.’

The autocratic Miss Bettany, Head of the Chalet School, meekly took the seat assigned to her, and then it was the Robin’s turn. Old Frau Mensch looked at her with softened eyes. ‘
Das Engelkind
,’ she murmured.

Then she turned abruptly to Madge. ‘I had a little daughter like that once,’ she said. ‘
Der Liebe Gott
gave her to me sixty-seven years ago on this very day. Sixty years ago on this very day He took her away to spend Christmas in Paradise. I pray that you, Fraulein, may never know such loss. My sons are good sons; but I can still hear my little Natalie’s baby feet, and feel the clasp of her arms as I laid her down when she had wished me
Frohliche Weihnachtsfest
for the last time.’

The Robin came up to the old lady’s knee. ‘Mamma is in Paradise also,’ she said. ‘Papa is very far away in Russia; but Tante Marguerite looks after me. Perhaps my mamma is playing with your little girl.’

‘It may be so,’ said old Frau Mensch. ‘Sit on that little stool,
mein Liebling
, and I will tell thee tales of when I, too, was a little maiden – nearly ninety years ago.’

They sat down, and she began. And what tales she told them!

Tales of a little girl who lived in Innsbruck when Prince Metternich was an idol of the people, and Austria ruled Northern Italy. Tales of the days when children were not allowed to sit in the presence of their parents; when all little girls learnt to spin and wave; when Innsbruck was merely a name to most of the Western peoples of the Continent, and the only means of travelling was by coach. They heard of the wonderful doll’s house made by a busy father in his few moments of leisure, with all the furniture beautifully carved, and real baby chests filled with house-hold linen spun and woven by the mother who was strict over many things, but loved to indulge her one little daughter in this way. All the dolls had been of wood, too, by they made up for what they lacked in beauty by the wonderful assortment of their clothes.