04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (4 page)

One of the things Cooky liked best was a ‘scrap o’ summat furren.” Ribbon from Basle to trim her new spring hat would be greatly appreciated. It was a good point in a character that was inclined to be hard, and Chalet School people had always encouraged it. The discipline Grizel had undergone at the hands of her step-mother for four and a half years had been very had for the girl. As a consequence of it, she fought for her own hand first, and was very selfish, only trying to get what
she
wanted, without much regard for other people. It was, as Mrs. Russell had said at the end of the previous term, when she was discussing the point with Mademoiselle, a big experiment putting Grizel into the position as head-girl. “She will either do magnificently – or she will fail badly,” she had said. “But, Elise, I feel sure that Grizel will try to make a success of it. It may mean the difference to her in after life. And we have only these two last terms to influence her. After that she goes to Florence, and it is out of our hands.”

Mademoiselle had agreed, and so they had sent for Grizel, and had informed her of their decision. As has been seen, she had been disturbed by it. She knew, for Mrs. Russell had told her, that to be successful she must set the school first; herself last. Grizel hated to do anything and fail; but she did not like the sound of that “School first; self last.” It looked as if things would not be too comfortable. She had tried to get out of it; had pointed out that Gertrud Steinbrucke was her age, and as old a member of the Chalet School as she was; that she was Captain of the Games, and had her music to work at. It had all been of no avail.

“I want you to take it, and to do your best with it, Grizel,” Mrs. Russell had said, holding the girl’s grey eyes with her own steady gaze as she spoke. “Come, dear! You say you have been happy here. It isn’t asking much to ask you to give us your best work for the last two terms you will spend with us. I know you will come back to see us, Grizel, but it’s not the same.
Now
, as a member of the school, you can give us what will not be yours to give once you have left us for the wider world. Will you give it?”

And, drawn to it by the appeal in those deep brown eyes fronting her, Grizel had agreed. But she had made a proviso to herself. She would accept, and would do her level best. School should come first all the time, and self should have a poor chance, so far as she could manage it;
but
– she would have her own way during the holidays. At school, she BASLE would try to follow worthily in the steps of the three other girls who had held the post. That would not be an easy task, for Gisela Marani, Juliet Carrick, and Bette Rincini had left splendid examples, and Grizel felt that for her own sake she must not fall short of them. Therefore, during the holidays she should have her fling. Part of it was to come off this very week had the others but known it.

They went gaily down the street, turning out of it into a main road where electric trains carried them into the shopping part of the town in a few minutes. It was a glorious day for a walk, sharp and crisp, with a snap of frost in the air and frozen snow on the pavements crunching under their tread. The Robin danced along, clinging to Joey’s hand, while Grizel herself walked demurely by the side of Miss Maynard, chattering to her in German. She had been far slower than Jo to pick up languages, but they had come at last through ceaseless practice and association with people who spoke little else, and now she was as fluent as anyone.

As for Jo, English, French, or German, it was all one to her. She knew a certain amount of Italian too, and had a slender portion of Russian, a fact which had proved of great use to her during the summer term, and which had been the means of rescuing her friend, Elisaveta, Crown Princess of Belsornia, from the hands of her father’s cousin, a half-mad man, who had tried to kidnap and hold her as a hostage against her father, now King of Belsornia, and her grandfather, who had been the reigning king at that time. The old king had died during the previous term, and Elisaveta was now Crown Princess, and too important a personage to finish her education in any school, so she had had to go back to governesses in Belsornia. But the friendship between her and Jo was not likely to die, even though they could not meet, and Joey got letters every week from “Your loving Veta.”

As in Portsmouth, people turned to look at them. Grizel and the Robin were so very pretty, and Joey, with her pointed face and big black eyes, so out of the usual. All four were so graceful, too, moving with a free, easy grace that had its roots in constant practice of the old English folk-dances. Miss Maynard smiled as she noted how elderly men looked at the Robin with her almost angelic loveliness, and how they smiled to receive one of her fearless beams at them. Nearly all her little life the Robin had met with love. She was rarely afraid of people.

In the shops she still attracted attention, and while Grizel was debating whether Cooky would like vivid purple or lurid green for her hat, the assistants were murmuring among themselves about “
das Engelkind
.”

The marvel was that the child was not made conceited by all the petting she received. It never seemed to affect her in the least, however, and she was not spoiled by it.

When, finally, Grizel had fixed on a green ribbon, which was bright enough to please Cooky, and yet did not scream at one, they went out and visited the toy-shops, where the baby bought two little wooden bears, one for Inga Eriksen, and the other for Amy Stevens, these two people being her greatest friends. “And Tante Marguerite,” she pleaded. “I have two francs left. What can I buy for Tante Marguerite?”

It was while Miss Maynard was helping her to choose a little wooden chalet that Grizel drew Jo to one side and said, “Joey, are you game for a rag?”

“Rather; what is it?” demanded Jo.

“You know I want to go to Schaffhausen and see the Rhine there? Well, let’s go tomorrow when Maynie takes the Robin to the Zoo. We don’t want to see it – there’s only chamois and bears and things like that.

We’ll leave a note saying where we’ve gone, and slip off about eight in the morning. Then we can go there and see the Falls, and get back in the afternoon. What do you say?”

“I think you must be mad,” said Jo, staring at her. “Quite mad you must be! There’d be a fiendish row, and we’d jolly well deserve it after doing down Maynie like that when she’s been so awfully decent about stopping here for three days to let us see the place! I knew you went off it sometimes, but I never thought you did it to that extent! It’s one of the rottenest things I’ve ever heard of!”

Grizel was furious. It was bad enough to have a mere kid like Jo Bettany say such things to her; but what hurt most was the look in Joey’s eyes. There was scorn there, and disgust. There was also that which reminded the elder girl of the time when she had run away in a fit of rage to climb the Tiernjoch, a dangerous mountain, perilling both her own life and Joey’s in the attempt. Jo had followed her to fetch her back, and the pair had been caught in a mist on the verge of a dangerous precipice, where they had had to wait till help came. Grizel had lost her head on that occasion too completely to move, though they had only been a few yards away from the safety of the alm. Jo had not meant to remind the elder girl of this, but Grizel remembered all the same. It added to her fury, and she flung herself away with a low “Little
prig
!”

which brought the angry colour to Jo’s face. Happily, before anything further could happen, the Robin appealed to them for assistance in making up her mind which of two chalet models she should choose, and by the time this knotty point was settled both looked more or less normal again. They were far enough from feeling it though.

From the shops they went to the Barfusser Kirche, a church dating from the fourteenth century, but now used as the historical museum. There the Lallenkonig attracted the Robin, and she insisted on standing to watch the head stick out its tongue and roll its eyes at her. She was fascinated by it, and they could scarcely get her away. However, Miss Maynard finally got them to the great collection of arms, where Joey revelled to her heart’s content in the curious weapons of the ages, weaving stories about them in her head, while Grizel wandered round, interested in the growth and development of warfare. So far, things interested her more than people. With Jo it was the other way. From the armoury they went to the series of rooms intended to show the development in the furnishing and arranging of rooms from the fifteenth century onwards, and here Jo was in her element indeed. She invented stories for the Robin about the people who had lived in the different rooms, and gave them the most astonishing adventures. The guide listened open-mouthed, and the Robin was entranced. Miss Maynard had to cut them short, or they would never have seen the rest of the building.

The Treasury, containing relies of the days when Basle had been one of the foremost of the Catholic sees, didn’t interest them half so much, though Joey looked at the beautiful altar vessels with awe, and was specially pleased with the reminders of Erasmus, the great Renaissance scholar, who became the friend of Sir Thomas More, one of her heroes. She was rather disappointed to find no relies of her favourite Napoleon, but the rooms containing the musical instruments, from quaint old citherns and citoles, lutes and harps, and the beautiful specimens of stained glass delighted her, and the Robin admired them because she did.

“Only think,” said Jo, pausing before one beautiful example of a cithern; “Laura may have played to Petrarca on that!”

“What on earth do you know about Laura and Petrarca?” demanded Miss Maynard in astonishment, though, as she afterwards said, Jo’s knowledge was so varied that she had no real reason for her surprise.

“Oh, only that they were lovers, and he wrote sonnets to her, and invented a type of sonnet,” returned Jo.

After that Miss Maynard decreed that it was time for
Kaffee
, and hustled them all out and to a
patisserie
, where they had milky coffee and delicious cakes all honey and nuts and cream. If Grizel was a little quiet, no one noticed it, and the other two more than made up for her silence. They had to hurry back to the pension in the end, for it was getting late, and
Abendessen
was at seven. The Robin had rolls and butter and milk in bed, but the others went down and made a good meal, after which they went out for a short walk along the lighted streets, where sleighs were dashing along the snowy roads, and the night was gay with the jangling of sleigh-bells. When they came in it was after nine, so Miss Maynard decreed that they should all go to bed. She saw the other two to their room, made sure they had everything they wanted, and then left them, bidding Grizel see that the light was switched off at ten.

As soon as she had gone, Joey dropped the frock she had just taken off on to a chair, and turned to Grizel.

“Now,” she said.

GRIZEL turned sharply at the word, and looked at the other girl. “What do you mean?” she asked coldly.

“I’m going to have it out with you – that’s all!” Joey sat down on the edge of her bed and looked Grizel squarely in the face.

“Have what out? And I do wish, Jo, you would try to remember, occasionally, that I am nearly three years older than you are. You speak sometimes as if you thought I were as old as – as – the Robin.”

“I don’t think you’re as old, sometimes,” retorted Joey. “You don’t behave like it, any old how!”

“That will do! Even if we do go away together for holidays, that’s no reason why you should cheek me like this. I’m head-girl, remember!”

“I wish
you
would try to remember it!” said Joey fervently. Then her tone changed. “Grizel, don’t go to Schaffhausen! It isn’t playing the game by Maynie! If you want us with you, I’ll ask if I can go in the summer before I go to Belsornia to Elisaveta.” But her first words had done the mischief, and even this sacrifice had no effect on Grizel, who could be thoroughly wrong-headed on occasion. She now looked at the younger girl with an expression of scorn, and said, “Mind your own business!”

“But, Grizel-” began Jo.

“That will do! I’m not going to be spoken to like that by a mere junior. If you can’t talk about anything else, you’d better be silent. Anyway, I don’t want to talk to you. You’re a bit swelled-headed, Jo. I suppose it’s because Madame is your sister. It’s a pity, because you could he quite a nice child, if it weren’t for that.

As it is, you’ll have to learn your place sooner or later.”

Jo went white with anger at this unpleasant speech, but she said nothing. She got up from the bed, and went on with her undressing. Grizel followed her example, and they went to bed in utter silence. Joey had a hot temper, and Grizel had said an unforgivable thing just now. Incidentally, Jo’s tactless speeches about the elder girl’s behaviour had proved the reverse of soothing to Grizel. Things were at a deadlock, and seemed likely to remain so.

Grizel soon fell asleep, for she was not imaginative, and, angry as she was, her emotions were little likely to disturb her rest. Joey, sensitive and temperamental, tossed about restlessly in her bed for two hours or more before she finally dropped off. When at last her black eyes closed she slept soundly, and no noises roused her.

Grizel woke up at six o’clock in the morning, and, as soon as she was sufficiently wide awake to realise what had occurred the night before, slipped out of bed, and, with a cautious glance at the bed in the opposite corner, switched on the little reading-lamp over her own. Then she dressed herself swiftly and warmly, putting on her thickest things. She had determined to get to the Falls of Rhine somehow, and knew that to do so she must make an early start. She wasn’t sure how far Joey’s sense of duty might carry her, either.

That young lady scorned to tell tales, but no one knew better than Grizel that this was a case when she might rightfully feel that she was reporting, and not “sneaking.”

Jo slept on soundly, and never stirred when the door opened and her companion slipped out and shut it carefully after her. She slept on till long after her usual time for waking, and, indeed, until Miss Maynard, wondering at the unusual quiet in their room, came along to see that they were all right. In the meantime Grizel, her head held very high, her curls drawn back into a long plait which added years to her age, went downstairs, disturbing a busy maid-servant on the way, ordered hot coffee and rolls for herself at the bureau, and consumed them when they came in as airy a fashion as if she were not doing things she knew very well to be wrong. To the
Kellnerin
who served her she said that she was going on to Schaffhausen by the early train, and the others would join her later. She felt pretty safe in saying that last, for she knew that Miss Maynard, at any rate, would come to seek her, and she had no intention of hiding from her once she had got her own way. She had made inquiries the night before, and had found that there was two hours between the train by which she intended travelling and the next one. By that time, as she reckoned, she would have seen all she wanted to see, and would be quite content to come home. She finished her meal, and then set off for the Bahnhof. She had found out the night before that the train left from the Baden, and not from the Central, at which they had come in from Paris. This meant crossing the river, and either going by electric tram or by the cross-city railway; Grizel decided to do the latter, and was soon sitting in a carriage, watching the houses by which they passed.