A Genius at the Chalet School (15 page)

Read A Genius at the Chalet School Online

Authors: Elinor M. Brent-Dyer

   "I've had eleven fines this term for forgetting that sort of things," Connie said with colossal calm. "It doesn't seem to have been much help, does it?"

   "And I've had sixteen," Francie chimed in. "So what?"

   Betsy had recovered has self-possession by this time. With a glare that reminded Emerence and Connie, at any rate, that they were there for execution, she said with an awful dignity, "I didn't ask for any impertinent comments, thank you. If that's all you have to say, I think you'd better be silent."

   But if Emerence and Connie were brought up short, it was more than Francie was. For some reason best known to herself, she had got up in a very bad mood and Betsy's scathing tones did nothing to improve it. Tossing the loose wisps of brown hair out of her eyes, she said cheekily, "I only asked because I wanted to know."

   The look she got in reply suddenly took the starch out of her. Betsy Lucy was small and slight and usually her face was alight with humour; but there was nothing humourous about it just now; and Francie wilted visibly.

   Betsy said no more for a moment or two. She took what was known as
The Black Book
out of the nearby shelf and glanced through the term's records of the three. At last she looked up, by which time the culprits were tired of standing first on one leg and then on the other.

   "Well," she said awfully, "no other girl in the school has had to pay so many fines or lose so many marks as you three - not even the new girls. You say that fines don't help you to remember. Very well! I'm going to try something else and see if that's any good."

   The three looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. What appalling idea was Betsy evolving? A horrid thought struck Connie.

   "Please, Betsy," she said in the meekest of meek tones, "you - you don't mean to give us Head's Reports, do you?"

   It had not dawned on an of them to then that this might happen and Emerence's face fell. Head's Reports were not, as a rule, given for such breaches of rules; but they had all been in trouble over and over again that term for this sort of thing. Every single prefect had had to pull them up at least once; and the mistresses had been equally busy over it. Emerence began to regret that she had spoken so pertly. She had contrived to keep out of anything really hair-raising that term. The results of a deliberate disobedience on her part last term had been the cause of Mary-Lou's accident, and there had been a whole terrible week when no one could say if the girl would be restored to them. Emerence had endured real anguish during that week, but not even that could reform her altogether in the course of a few months. If she had managed to keep out of the worst sins, she had certainly been heedless enough about minor crimes.

   "I - I'm sorry I was so rude," she muttered at this point.

   "Very well," Betsy said, still with that icy dignity. "That will wipe that part of it out. But do remember, Emerence, that if you're rude to prefects, you'll probably do on to be rude to mistresses and ultimately to the Heads." She paused and looked expectantly at the other two.

   Connie, who generally followed the last speaker, murmured, "I'm awfully sorry! I didn't mean to be rude!"

   But Francie dug her toes in. She shuffled her feel and said nothing. Neither did she look at the stately Betsy. That young woman gave her a full two minutes. Then she said, "Very well. You two have apologized, so we'll leave it at that. As for talking in English on a French day, instead of talking English to-morrow when we're busy in Hall with the stalls, you will speak French. Also, you won't be trusted alone. Emerence will be with me, Connie will be with Katharine and Francie will be with Carola." She had already discussed this idea with her two friends and they had agreed, though they had complained that having those little pests hanging round all the time would be a perfect nuisance. Having pronounced sentence, Betsy dismissed the first two, bidding Francie stay behind. She knew that to pass over such rudeness to a prefect would never do. Francie Wilford was a firebrand. Emerence seemed to be toning down at long last and Connie Winter could generally be handled; but there was a streak of obstinacy in Francie combined with a stubborn pride that hated to apologize for anything. If she were allowed to get away with the latest, she would be worse another time.

   "You two may go," Betsy said to Emerence and Connie, who got themselves out of the room as fast as they could.

   They loathed their punishment. To have to be with prefects all the morning when the others would be enjoying complete freedom; to have to speak French when it was Saturday, anyhow, when English was the set language; it was beyond everything! However, it had produced an effect on them and so had Betsy's immense dignity which they had never encountered before. They scuttled off downstairs, wishing fervently that they had
not
talked English
and
kept on doing it after three warnings from their form prefect. Len Maynard had honestly tried to keep them out of trouble, but the three were excited about the end of term and Francie was in a bad mood and had openly defied Len when she had finally informed them that if they wouldn't keep to rules she was jolly well going to report them to the Head Girl! They had gone on and Len had kept her word as she invariably did. And
this
was the result! It was two very sorry girls that finally reached the commonroom of Ste. Thérèse's.

   "Well," Emerence said gloomily as they went to find seats near a window, "there's one thing we may be thankful for and that is that Betsy didn't cut us out of the Sale altogether."

   Connie turned a horrified face on her boon companion. "Oh, Emmie! What a ghastly idea! I never thought of that! But
could
she?" she asked, doubtfully.

   "I don't know. If she'd given us Head's Reports, the Head 'ud have done it, anyhow."

   "What's a ghastly idea?" demanded Margot Maynard, the youngest of Joey's triplets who usually made up a quartette with the others. "Where have you been anyhow? I've been looking for you all over the place."

   Margot was not in the same form as her sisters and her friends. In some ways she was the cleverest of al Joey's children, but she had a bad habit of working in fits and starts while Len went at things steadily and Con, the middle of the trio, was also a reliable worker unless she was in the throes of some ballad or epic when, as Joey herself had once said, she was no use to anyone. Luckily, these fits came at long intervals and did not make much difference to her general work. But the result of Margot's methods was that her groundwork was less reliable than her sisters' and while they, at twelve and a half, were in Upper IVb with girls who were anything from ten months to two years older than themselves, Margot was still only in Lower IVa with the rest of the twelves and thirteens. Consequently, she knew nothing of what had occurred during the morning's lessons.

   Emerence explained lugubriously and Margot exclaimed, "Oh, Emmy! What an utter ass you can be! Yes; I know we're in different Houses so we shouldn't be at the same stalls anyhow; but you can always manage to meet and have some fun together if you don't make a how d'ye do about it! If you three each have a pree doing sheepdog to you, though, there isn't a hope of that sort of thing!"

   "I know that," Emerence said, still in mournful tones. "Oh, well, I suppose it serves us right. Goodness knows Len warned us good and plenty."

   "But where's young Francie if the three of you were in it?" Margot demanded, sublimely ignoring the fact that Francie was a good two years older than herself.

   "Oh, she's made a bigger ass of herself than even we did," Connie said. "Emmy told Betsy she was sorry she'd been rude, so I did, too, but Francie wouldn't say a thing. You know what she's like when she gets going. Betsy washed it out with us two, but she wasn't going to let Francie get away with cheek like that, so she told her to stay when she turfed
us
out."

   "Silly goop - Francie, I mean," Margot said dispassionately. "Betsy's a sport all right, but no one's going to pass over cheek - for you seem to have been most ghastly cheeky, all three of you!"

   "All right! No need to rub it in. We know that as well as you," Emerence told her flatly. "But we
did
apologize afterwards."

   "And Francie didn't - wouldn't!" Connie added.

   "Is that Francie Wilford?" demanded Mary-Lou who had come into the room in search of Len Maynard just then. "I sometimes think that kid's crackers! What's she been doing
now
?"

   Had it been anyone else who spoke like that, it would have brought a suggestion that she should mind her own business. Emerence and Co. were at the stage when Middles all too frequently resent interference from Seniors, especially Seniors who are fairly near to them in age. But Mary-Lou had been Head of the Middle School last year and the rest had found that she was always ready to give a helping hand where needful and often managed to improve matters. Margot explained, therefore, and Mary-Lou frowned.

   "What a little goat Francie can be!"

   "Can't
you
do something?" Emerence suggested. "I mean she's been queer and edgy all day. She won't be any sweeter after Betsy's finished with her and you know, Mary-Lou, if she got into a
real
row with the Head, it might mean she was done out of the Sale."

   "I wonder Francie hadn't the sense to think of that for herself," Mary-Lou responded. "I don't see what I can do about it. Francie must stand her own consequences."

   Emerence's face fell. "You generally manage to butt in on things," she murmured. "You can get away with a lot more than most of us even dream of trying on, Mary-Lou."

   "That's a nice character you're giving me!" that young woman retorted. "And as for talking in English, we're all doing that now. Sorry, you folk! I should have remembered." She went on in her French that was fluent if not always Parisian in accent, "I don't say I won't do anything, but that I don't quite see how I can. If I do get a chance, I will, though. That's a promise. And you three just see if you can keep out of any more trouble for what's left of the term," she added as she left them to catch Len, who had suddenly appeared, and give her the message with which Miss Dene had entrusted her.

   Francie appeared at Mittagessen, still looking defiant, and when the others tried to get out of her what had happened, she flatly refused to tell them anything.

   "Never you mind! It's
my
business! But Betsy Lucy's a complete beast!"

   As she added to her sin of forbidden slang by speaking in English again, she deserved Retribution to fall on her once more. But Retribution held her hand for once and she got away with it. Meanwhile, she sat through the meal with an outsize in black dogs on her back and would speak civilly to no one.

   Mary-Lou naturally said nothing to anyone about what she had been told. She was full of work at the moment and Francie kept away from everyone - even her faithful friends. However, someone else was to come to the rescue - and a most unexpected someone.

   This being the last Friday of term, there was no preparation to worry about that night. The next day was Saturday. On Monday the whole day would be taken up by the Sale and on Tuesday they broke up. Lessons had ended at midday and the rest of the day was spent in finishing up any oddments for the stalls. They had a short walk in the afternoon, as it was gloriously fine and no one would hear of their missing the chance of
some
outdoor exercise. They were back again by half past fifteen, however, and from then onwards, except for meals, they were all hard at it. This made it easy for Francie to go off by herself, even if Betsy had not forbidden her to have anything to do with the fun and awarded her a long poem to be learned by heart and repeated before she might be free.

   Francie flounced off after the walk to get her poetry book and then marched up to the prefects' room whither she had been bidden that Betsy might keep an eye on her and her doings. As she had not entirely lost her senses, she set to work on the poem, but it was with a very bad grace.

   The other prefects were none too pleased about the whole affair, though they fully agreed with the Head Girl that Francie Wilford must be brought up with a sharp turn or goodness knew what she would be like next term! But to have her in with them was a nuisance. It meant that they had to watch their chatter and by degrees they departed to other sanctuaries and Betsy was left along with the impenitent Francie who, nevertheless, was beginning to regret that she had not guarded her tongue more carefully. Not that she was prepared to tell the Head Girl so as yet. Her pride was too deeply touched for that. But it was very boring up here, with that poem to learn and only a very chilly Betsy for company.

   Half-way through the time, Betsy received a summons to the study. She stood up.

   "Stay here till I come back," she said severely to the sinner. "I'll hear you when I return." Something in the sulky face made her add more gently, "If you can say a fair amount of it correctly, we'll call it quits and I'll cancel the rest."

   She departed after that and Francie was left alone. Her first reaction as the sound of Betsy's footsteps died away down the corridor was to fling her book on the floor in a fit of childish temper.

   "Pig!" she exclaimed aloud. "How I loathe that girl!"

   Her next one was rather saner. She picked up the book and looked at the next verse. So far, she had managed to learn five verses of Alfred Noyes's
Sherwood
. It was a pity that Betsy's choice had fallen on this, for normally it was just the poem to appeal to Francie. As it was, she felt she never wanted to see it again. She found her place again and, urged thereto by Betsy's final remark, set to work again.

   Five minutes later, the door opened and Nina looked in.

   "Oh, Katharine -" she began. Then she saw that the room was empty save for the sulky Francie, so she altered her words. "Oh, Francie, do
you
know where Katharine Gordon is? Miss Burnett wants her and I've looked pretty well everywhere and I can't find her."

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