04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (2 page)

So for all the girls, and also for Miss Maynard, whose eldest brother was assistant at the Sonnalpe, Briesau and the Chalet School meant far more than school ordinarily does to most folk. They had all enjoyed their stay in England, but they were all very glad to be returning to Austria so soon, and they talked about it as they were trundled along to Lyndhurst, where the Maynards’ car would meet them, and whirl them through the forest for seven miles to Pretty Maids, the Maynards’ big house.

“What I think is so topping,” said Jo, as she accepted a lump of toffee from the sticky packet Grizel was offering her, “is the idea of seeing Basle. We’ve only rushed through in the train before, and I
do
like seeing new places. It’s got heaps of history, too. All sorts of jolly interesting things happened there, and I’m simply yearning to see it!”

“You and history!” jeered Grizel, who was mathematically inclined, and regarded her history lessons as evils to be avoided whenever possible. “You’re simply cracked over history, Jo!”

“It’s so jolly interesting! I like to know what people did and how they lived, and so on. It’s heaps better than horrid old geometry and algebra, anyway!” retorted Joey whose views on mathematics were revolutionary in the extreme.

At this point Miss Maynard thought it best to interfere. Jo and Grizel were ordinarily good friends, but both had fiery tempers, and neither fully understood the other, so that battles between them were apt to be fierce if short-lived.

“There is plenty to see in Basle,” she said. “I know Robin will love the Zoo – won’t you, baby? And there is a very interesting museum and a good picture gallery.”

“Topping!” approved Jo. “I love animals, and pictures are awfully interesting. What’s in the museum, Maynie?”

Out of term, the girls were allowed to use this nickname of a popular mistress since they had stayed at her home more than once, and were very welcome visitors there.

“All kinds of things,” said Miss Maynard. “A good part of it is devoted to natural history.”

“Butterflies and things?” said Grizel vaguely.

“I suppose so. Then there is the picture gallery with some very famous pictures – one or two by Hans Holbein the Younger, I believe. There is a special history museum in the Barfusser Kirche, which is famous. Don’t make faces, Grizel! You will like the armoury collection and the treasury, I know, even if the historical side of them doesn’t interest you. And you will want to see Father Rhine, of course.”

“I love the Rhine, ever since I read The First Violin,” agreed Grizel. “Of course, I’d rather see it at Cologne with the Bridge of Boats; still, it won’t be bad fun there. Shall we have time to go to Schaffhausen to see the Falls?”

Miss Maynard shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Grizel. We are spending one day in Paris, and three in Basle, and Schaffhausen is a good four hours or so from Basle. You’ll have to wait for that till the summer.

Then, if we do as we have planned, I will take you there for a few days on our way to Cologne and the Rhine cities.”

“But Joey and Robin won’t he with us,” objected Grizel. “I know it’s awfully decent of you to say you’ll take me to the Rhine cities before I go to Florence, but Jo is going to spend the summer hols. with Elisaveta in Belsornia, and the Robin is to go to Paris with the Lecoutiers. Even Juliet won’t be there, as she is going to the Sonnalpe to be with Madame.” She referred to Mrs. Russell’s ward, Juliet Carrick, who was at present at London University, reading for a mathematical degree.

“I’m sorry, Grizel,” said Miss Maynard. “If we could do it, I should say ‘yes’ at once. But we mustn’t even think of it. There will be a good deal to get through before term begins, and we shall have none too much time as it is. Later on we may be able to arrange for the four of you to go together. Just now it is out of the question.”

Grizel gave up worrying, and as they were nearing Lyndhurst, they all gathered up their parcels and prepared to leave the train. But she was bitterly disappointed, and had by no means given up the idea as yet.

That was not Grizel Cochrane’s way. It had led to trouble in the past, and was to do so again before she learned her lesson. At present, mercifully, no one could foresee what was to come, and as they were whirled through the dusk in the comfortable car, they left the question of the Basle visit alone, and discussed the hockey team, the skating parties, and the Hobbies Club.

“Now, have we got everything? Four cases – two bundles of rugs – your attaché cases – Grizel’s music case – the picnic basket? Is that all? Then come along, girls, or we shall miss the train, and I don’t want to do that! Come, Robin! Keep close to me.”

Followed closely by the Robin and at a little distance by Grizel, Joey, and a burdened porter, Miss Maynard walked down the long platform of the Gare de l’Est, where the Paris-Wien express was standing, and quickly found the carriage reserved for them and two other people who had not yet come. It was nearly nine at night, and they would reach Basle round about five the next morning; but all four were accustomed travellers, and Miss Maynard much preferred to do the travelling at night when the girls would he sleeping and she would know where she had them, than through the day, when active Grizel and tiny Robin would find the time pass slowly. Joey was less of a trial on long train journeys, for she was always happy as long as she had a book. Now, the mistress quickly made a nest for the baby in one corner with rugs and an air-pillow, pulled off the sturdy little boots, and tucked her up comfortably. The Robin had been trained to obedience, and she snuggled down and shut her eyes. As she was tired from a long day in Paris, she fell asleep almost at once, heedless of the bright lights, the hoarse shouts of the busy porters, the low-toned chatter and occasional giggles of the two elder girls, and Miss Maynard’s own softly spoken rebukes to them. Nor did she stir when a Cook’s guide opened the door and ushered in two ladies of middle age, who looked with horror at the school-room party among which they found themselves, and protested loudly to the courteous guide, who had to listen to a lengthy argument on the iniquity of putting ladies with a pack of children – this last with a withering look of scorn at Miss Maynard, who, it must be confessed, did not look her twenty-three years by any means.

The guide was very sorry, but they were the only seats they could have. It so happened that a big conference of learned men had broken up that day in Paris, and most of those who lived in the cast were going home by this very train. Hence, instead of its being little more than half-f, as it should have been at this time of the year, it was crammed, and there was not a scat to be had. Already, elderly men were passing up and down the narrow corridor, several of them peeping in as they passed, and it was obvious that what the man said was correct. Finally, after prolonged grumbling, the elder of the pair settled herself in the corner opposite to Miss Maynard, who had Joey next her, while her companion meekly took the scat between her and Grizel, who had the corner opposite the Robin. The man went as soon as this was done, evidently thankful to get away from such unpleasant clients as quickly as he could, and Miss Maynard turned her attention to the girls.

Since they had been in Paris all day, and had been talking French, which came as naturally to them as their own tongue – all four were trilingual as a result of being in a school where English, French, and German were all spoken freely – she fell into French in bidding them prepare for the night, though, as she herself said afterwards, it was an accident on her part, and she had no idea what it was going to lead to.

Joey and Grizel did as they were told to the extent of rolling themselves in rugs, and curling up on the seats which had been widened by the pulling out of a kind of under-seat. Experienced travellers, they slipped off their boots, exchanged their brown velour hats for tams, and in ten minutes were ready. The mistress herself did not attempt her preparations yet. She knew that she would read for an hour or two as soon as they got off. The children were different, and all were accustomed to early hours both at school and in her own home, for Mrs. Maynard had old-fashioned ideas on the subject, and even Grizel had been in bed by half-past nine most nights. Miss Maynard sincerely hoped that their fellow-travellers would follow their good example; or, at least, not talk too much. Jo still wearied rather quickly, and she was tired by her day of sight-seeing.

Unfortunately the pair had no idea of being so accommodating. They settled themselves after a good deal of fuss, and then, while Joey’s lashes were beginning to droop on her white cheeks, the elder remarked,

“Very wrong for such young children to he travelling at this hour! But Continentals have no idea of bringing up children properly! These four ought all to have been taken to a hotel for the night, with someone
responsible
in charge! They should make their journey in the daytime!”

The senior mistress of the Chalet School blushed at being thought an irresponsible school-girl, but made no attempt to correct the error into which the pair had fallen. As for Grizel and Jo, who was now wide-awake again, they were overjoyed, of course, and were prepared to enjoy what came their way. The meeker of the two twittered an agreement to these statements, and added that it was easy to see how little French people appreciated the necessity for care where young girls were concerned!

“One always hears how much fuss these foreigners make about girls never going anywhere unchaperoned,”

said the elder lady; “but this just proves that it is all talk!”

Joey spluttered under her rugs as she remembered the careful chaperoning of her Tyrolese friends, who were never allowed to be out without a maid or someone quite grown up with them. She dared not catch Grizel’s eye, or she would have laughed outright. They knew just how carefully “foreign” girls were looked after! They had had to submit to the same treatment themselves many a time, for Mrs. Russell had pointed out that when in Rome one must do as the Romans, and had been insistent on the need of chaperonage as the strictest Tyrolean parent could have been.

The meeker lady now proceeded to try to make herself comfortable, but as she retained her boots and hat, and merely tucked her rug round her knees, it was difficult to see how she expected to manage. Her friend had at least the additional comfort of the corner seat, but she made no other arrangements either. “I hope I shall sleep,” she said, in the tones of a martyr. “I’m sure, if I had known how full this train would be, I should have postponed the journey till tomorrow, at least. Have you got my Eliot tartan rug, Maria?”

“Maria” disavowed all responsibility for the said rug, and a hunt set in for it, which had the effect of rousing the Robin just as the train began to move and they left the station. She sat up, and looked about her confusedly. “Where, then, are we?” she asked in the French which was her native language.

“Only in the train, little beloved,” replied Grizel in the same language. “Lie down again, and I will cover thee over.” She threw aside her own rugs and, leaning forward, tucked in the Robin once more.

“You must go to sleep, Robin,” said Miss Maynard, also in French. “Grizel, lower the window a little. The carriage grows very stuffy.”

Grizel did as she was hidden, and aroused a whirlwind of reproach from the two ladies.

“Open the window? On a winter’s night? You must be mad!” cried the elder one; while “Maria” murmured plaintively that she would most certainly suffer agonies from neuralgia if the window were opened!

Miss Maynard looked as she felt – dismayed. Already the small compartment was stuffy with its six passengers, and she knew that it would be bad for the children to sleep in such an atmosphere of breathlessness. She scarcely liked to refuse to comply with the ladies’ requests, but she was determined that some air they should have. She signed to Grizel to close the window a little, but to leave a space of two inches or so at the top. This helped to freshen the air a little, and was better than nothing. But the two were by no means satisfied. They shivered and complained, and twisted about till Joey, in rapid French, suggested to Grizel that their antics ought to keep them warm if nothing else did. Grizel promptly exploded, and Miss Maynard was roused to check the pair, though she sympathised with them.

Never had she had such troublesome travelling companions! At about ten o’clock she put away the book she had been trying in vain to read, and turned to see that her charges were all right for the night. The Robin had dropped off again, and Joey was drowsy. Grizel, after a murmured word or two, settled herself down with her rugs well over her, and presently Miss Maynard felt herself dropping off. She was nearly over when she was awakened by a triumphant bang! and she opened her eyes in time to see the elder lady pull up the window and fix it firmly. Then she retreated to her corner. As she went the flying train swayed, and she slipped and nearly fell. She put out a hand to save herself, and caught hold of Joey, who, thus rudely awakened, sat up with a start, and hit out, catching her fellow-traveller on the shoulder.

“Disgraceful!” exclaimed the lady, getting to her scat. “You little hooligan!”

Miss Maynard was up in arms at this. After all, it had not been Jo’s fault, and the lady had only herself to blame. “I beg your pardon, madam,” she said in icily polite tones, “but you must see for yourself that, had you not awakened the child suddenly by catching at her as you did, the accident would never have occurred.”

“Had you done as you were asked, young woman,” retorted the infuriated lady, “I should not have needed to get up and shut that window, and then the accident, as you call it, would most certainly not have occurred!

I insist on having that window shut!”

The light of battle came into Miss Maynard’s eyes, and it is to be feared that she forgot her position as a mistress as she replied, “Pardon me, but that window shall not remain shut tightly. It is exceedingly bad for anyone to sleep with closed windows; and in a small place as this compartment is, I will not permit the children to sleep without fresh air coming in.” She got up, made her way to the window, and opened it again to its former width. Then she went carefully back to her seat and sat down.