“Good-night, Miss Firebrace.”
“Good-night, Esther.”
The girls bade Lesbia a formal good-night, and received each a separate and full response. She stood and watched them as they left the room, and meeting a glance from Miss Chancellor, nodded as though in agreement. As the latter went to the door, there was a sound of Gwendolen’s voice.
“My movements were stiff and self-conscious under Miss Firebrace’s eyes.”
Lesbia and Miss Chancellor yielded to amusement, and the latter followed her pupils to the dormitory.
“I suppose Miss Firebrace is really our second mother,” said Gwendolen. “Anyhow I do not know who is, if she is not. And I think people generally have second mothers. It is second fathers they do not seem to have. I don’t know why.”
“It is not the term I should apply to her,” said Esther.
“Now, be careful, Esther,” said Miss Chancellor. “You are over-tired, and may say things you will regret.”
“I will have Miss Tuke for my second mother. I think her feelings towards us come more from the heart. It is a mistake to come to bed so early. We shall have to cry for so long.”
“Well, really, Gwendolen, what a very odd compulsion!”
“You ought not to brush other people’s troubles lightly aside, Miss Chancellor. We have been torn from home and kindred.”
“Well, so have I, Gwendolen, and I am not going to cry.”
“Yes, but, Miss Chancellor, you can do as you like,” said Verity. “You are not forced to spend three months away from your natural surroundings.”
“No, I cannot do as I like, Verity; you are mistaken,” said Miss Chancellor, looking straight at her pupil as she made her admission. “I am also the victim of compulsion, a different one from yours, but quite as binding.”
“And then people say the age of slavery is past,” said Gwendolen, sitting down on her bed.
“Slavery, but not service, Gwendolen. I hope we shall never get beyond that.”
“Gwendolen, your quilt!” said Miss Tuke. “It is fresh today, and the bed has not been turned down.”
“I knew we had come upstairs too soon.”
“You are too old for such carelessness, Gwendolen,” said Miss Chancellor.
“I am too old for the things I do, and not old enough for the things I want to do. Fifteen is an intolerable age.”
“Indeed it is not, Gwendolen, if you would realise its opportunities. I wish I had realised them at that age and made the most of them.”
“So do I, Miss Chancellor. I already wish it,” said Maud.
“Well, I think that is rather premature, Maud. You can put off your regrets a little longer. You have still plenty of time to make up for any you have lost.”
“Poor Maud! Carrying a load of regret for a wasted youth!” said Verity. “I could see she carried some kind of burden.”
“What would you have been doing, Miss Chancellor, if you had used your opportunities?” said Esther. “Not what you are doing now?”
“The same sort of thing, Esther, but on a different plane and in a wider sphere,” said Miss Chancellor, looking fully at the speaker and using her unsparing note.
“You wish you had not seen any of us, Miss Chancellor. I shall cry longer than I thought.”
“Now that is not quite a fair way of putting it, Gwendolen. As you will see, if you think.”
“Of course we are unbearable creatures, and no one can tolerate us,” said Verity, approaching her bed to throw herself upon it, but dragging off the quilt before she did so.
“Thank you, Verity,” said Miss Tuke.
“I don’t know if it is very rude to ask you to speak for yourself, Verity,” said Miss Chancellor, laughing.
“Are those Clemence’s dresses, Miss Tuke?” said Esther.
“Yes. They are all together in her cupboard. Now no one is to interfere with them.”
The girls gathered round the wardrobe and handled the garments as if they had received the opposite injunction. Verity lifted herself off the bed and came with a languid stride to join them.
“What is that dress?” said Esther. “I mean, what kind of a dress is it?”
“Well, surely you can see that, Esther,” said Miss Chancellor. “A muslin dress meant for rather better occasions. There is no mystery about it.”
“I think there is one,” said Esther rapidly. “It is not good enough for a party and not much good for anything else. I find it a mystery.”
“It did for little, garden tea-parties,” said Clemence, just glancing at it.
“It would be most suitable for those,” said Miss Chancellor.
“Why did you bring it here?” said Gwendolen. “Did you expect to have garden-parties at school?”
“Oh, I suppose it was put in.”
“Don’t you see your own packing done?” said Esther.
“No, I do not trouble about it. Of course I have never had it done before.”
“Have you never been away from home?”
“Not alone, so that my things had to be packed separately.”
“Do you see your packing done, Maud?” said Verity, in her idle tone.
“I do it myself, Verity. There is no one to do it for me.”
“Cannot the servants do it?” said Esther, as though her bluntness were sufficiently established to justify itself.
“There are only two, Esther, and they have not time. My mother is not strong and needs a good deal of attention.”
“Could not your mother help you?” said Gwendolen.
“I should not dream of asking her, Gwendolen. I would rather manage by myself.”
“Has your mother a cold heart?”
“Well, really, Gwendolen! What will Maud think of you?” said Miss Chancellor.
“No, but she has not a strong one,” said Maud, her gravity unshaken in the face of a sound of mirth. “I feel it is for me to take things off her rather than put them on.”
“Gwendolen, you do not know the difficulties and demands of other households,” said Miss Chancellor, gravely.
“No, but I am trying to learn them, and my sympathies are growing wider.”
“I hope Maud’s are wide enough to embrace your childishness.”
“Did you bring more than one trunk, Clemence?” said Esther.
“I do not know. I am not quite sure.”
“Now I do know, Clemence,” said Miss Chancellor. “You brought one large, interesting one. I saw you and your mother arrive from my window. I happened to be looking out.”
“And the governess with them,” said Esther. “Clemence travels with an escort.”
“No, no governess, Esther. Clemence simply came with her mother, as you all did. You let your imagination run away with you.”
“Mine is not the only imagination that does that,” said Esther, in a light tone, separating the dresses with her hand.
“Where is your party dress, Clemence?”
“I expect at home. That kind of thing would be there. Do you have real parties at school?”
“There is the break-up party at the end of this term. It is regarded as the climax of the year.”
“Well, twelve weeks will give Clemence plenty of time to send for a dress,” said Miss Chancellor.
“I believe the muslin is her party dress.”
“Why, what a tone to use, Esther! You sound as if you were accusing her of a crime.”
“I should not mind if it was. What is the matter with it?” said Clemence, preparing the way for any eventual climax. “It is only a little, schoolgirl party, I suppose.”
“Well, that is what it would be, Clemence, in our present situation,” said Maud.
“What kind of parties did you have at home?” said Gwendolen.