CHAPTER VII of TOM AND SOME OTHER GIRLS by Mrs. George D. Horne Vasey. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. THE RECORD WALL There was no end to the surprises of that wonderful school. When Rhoda returned her cubicle to get tidy for dinner, she washed, brushed her hair, put an extra pin in her tie to make sure that it was straight, wriggled round before the glass to see that belt and bodice were immaculately connected, put a clean handkerchief in her pocket, nicked the clothesbrush over her skirt, and what could one do more? It seemed on the face of it that one could do nothing, but the other girls, had accomplished a great deal more than this, Rhoda never forgot the shock of dismay which she experienced on first stepping forth and beholding them.  The girls wore gym costumes, composed of the aforesaid knickers and a short tunic, Gert round the waist with a blue sash to represent the inevitable house color. Tomasina's aspect was astounding as she strode to and fro awaiting the gathering of her forces, and the new girls stared at her with distended eyeballs. Rhoda had registered a vow never to volunteer remark to the hateful creature, but Dorothy stammered out a breathless, You never said. We never knew. Is it a rule? Now compulsory, or I would have told you, you may do as you please. They wear gyms at Wickham in the afternoon, and we have adopted the idea to a certain extent. Most of the girls prefer it for the sake of the games, for it is so much easier to run about like this. For myself, I affect it for the sake of appearances. It is so becoming to my youthful charms, she simpered as she spoke, with an affectation of coiness that was irresistibly amusing. Dorothy laughed merrily and Rhoda resisted doing the same, only by an enormous effort of self-will. She succeeded, however, in looking sulky and bad-tempered, and went downstairs feeling quite pleased with herself for resisting an unworthy impulse. All the old girls were in gym costume, and a quaint sight it was to watch them descending the great central staircase.  Now and again would come a figure light and graceful as a fawn, the embodiment of charming youth, but as a rule the effect was far from becoming. Rhoda's criticisms, however, were less scathing than usual for she herself was suffering from an unusual attack of humility. If any reader of this voracious history has to do with the management of a self-confident high-spirited girl who needs humbling and ringing to her senses, let the author confidently recommend the pigtail and flat-heeled system to fasten back of mane of hair is at once to deprive the culprit of one of her most formidable means of defense. She has no shelter behind which to retire as an ambush from the enemy. She has nothing to toss and whisk from side to side, expressing defiance without a word being uttered. The very weight of the pigtail is the sobering influence. Its solemn, pendulent movement is incompatible with revolt. As for the slippers, well, try heal the shoes yourself and test their effect. They bring one to earth indeed in the deepest sense of the word. All very well to mince about in French shoes and think, what a fine girl am I. But once try mincing in flat square souls, and you'll realize that the days are over for that kind of thing, and that nothing remains but humility and assent. Dinner over the girls adjourned into the grounds, but as games, like lessons, could not be begun without some preliminary arrangement, most of the pupils contented themselves with strolling about, in twos and threes exchanging confidences about the holidays, and hatching plans for the weeks to come. Rhoda and Dorothy were standing disconsolately together when Miss Everett flitted past and stopped for a moment to take pity on their loneliness. What are you two going to do? You mustn't stand here looking like pelicans in the wilderness. You must walk about and get some exercise. I'm too busy to go with you myself, but, uh, Kathleen—she held up her hand and summons to the second term girl, who had volunteered information about the lords and commons. Here, Kathleen, you remember what it is to be a new girl. Take Rhoda and Dorothy round the grounds and show them everything that is interesting. Have a brisk walk, all of you, and come back with some color in your cheeks. She was off again, smiling and waving her hand, and the three girls stood gazing at each other in shy, uncertain fashion. Well, said Kathleen, where shall we go first? The beach walk, I suppose, is half a mile long, so if we go to the end and back we shall have a constitutional before looking at the sites. The grounds are very fine here, and there is lots of room for all we want to do. You can find a sunny bit or a shady bit, according to the weather, but it's only on really scorching days that we are allowed to lounge. Then there's a scramble for hammocks and the lucky girls tie them onto the branches of trees and swing about while the others sit on the grass. Once or twice we had tea under the trees, and that was fine, but as a rule they keep you moving. Games are nearly as hard work as lessons. But you needn't play unless you like. Oh yes, you must, unless you are ill or tired. You can get off any day if you don't feel well, but not altogether, and you would not wish to, either. It would be so horribly flat. Once you are into a team you are all anxiety to get into another, and I can tell you when you see your remove posted up on the board it is bliss, perfect bliss. The recruits laughed and looked at their new friend with approving glances. She was, so far, the only one of the girls who had treated them on an equality, and gave herself no air of patronage and they were correspondently appreciative. They asked eagerly in which game she had won her remove, and Rhoda at least was disappointed at the answer. Cricket. That's the great summer game. I've three brothers at home, and used to practice with them sometimes to make an extra one. They snubbed me, of course, but I'm not a bad bat, though I say it myself. And what about tennis? Kathleen pursed up her lips. We have courts, of course, but it is rather missy, don't you think? The sports captains looked down on it, and so, of course, it's unpopular. The little girls play occasionally. It keeps them happy. This was a nice way to speak of a game which had been for years the popular amusement of young England. Rhoda was so shocked and disappointed that she hardly dared mention croquet. And it seemed indeed, as if it would have been better if she had refrained, for Kathleen fairly shouted at the name. My dear, how can you? Nobody plays croquet, except old tab. I mean ladies who are too old to do anything else. Miss Bruce plays sometimes when she has the vicar's wife to tea. We hide behind the bushes and watch them and shake with laughter. Croquet. Indeed, I should like to see Tom's face if you mentioned croquet to her. It's a matter of perfect indifference to me what Miss Boulderstone thinks, said Rhoda loftily, but she veered away from the subject of games all the same and tackled lessons instead. Are you working for any special examination or just taking it easily? I'm going in for the Oxford senior in summer. My birthday is so horribly arranged that it comes just one week before the limit. A few days later would give me a year to the good, but as it is, it's my last chance. If I can only scrape through in preliminaries, I'm not afraid of the rest, but I am hopelessly bad in arithmetic. I add up with all my fingers, and even then the result comes wrong, and when so much depends upon it, I know I shall get flurried and be worse than ever. The great thing is to keep cool. If you don't lose your head, I shouldn't wonder if the excitement helped you. Say to yourself, don't be a fool and make yourself keep quiet, quote Miss Rhoda, with an air of wisdom which evidently impressed her hearers. They glanced first at her and then at each other, and the glance said plainly as words could speak, that here was a girl who had strength of mind, a girl who would make her mark in the school. I'll try, said Kathleen Meekly. I am terribly anxious about this exam, for if I do well and pass better than anyone else in the school, I shall get a scholarship of forty pounds towards next year's fees. That would be a great help to my parents, for they are poor, and have only sent me here that I may have a chance of getting on and being able to teach some day. I should be so thankful if I could help for it's hard to know the people at home are stinting themselves for your sake. I lay awake at night imagining that the report is in and I am first, and then I write a long letter home and tell them about it. Each time I invent a fresh letter, and they are so touching you can't think. I cried over one one night, and Tom came around to see what was the matter.  Never mind, nine months yet, I'll work like a slave and if I do fail no one can say it's my own fault. You won't fail. Don't imagine anything so horrible. You will get over your nervousness and do splendidly, and write your letter in real earnest, cried Dorothy cheerily. I'm going in for the Oxford too, but you need fear no rival in me. I'm one of those deadly uninteresting creatures who never reach anything but a fair medium. There isn't a distinction in me, and one could never be first at that rate. A scrape through pass is all I'm good for. I could get two distinctions at once. I know more German and French than ninety girls out of a hundred. Two distinctions, it's a big start. I wonder, I wonder if I could possibly be first, said Rhoda to herself and her breath came fast, and her cheeks grew suddenly hot. Nine months. Nine months if she studied hard and worked up the subjects on which she was behind, might she not have a chance with the rest? The first girl? Oh, if only it could be possible. What joy! What rapture! What a demonstration of power before the school! She went off into a blissful dream in which she stood apart, receiving the congratulations of Miss Bruce and her staff, and saw Thomasine his face regarding her with a new expression of awe. Then she came back to real life, to look remorsefully at her new friend, and noticed for the first time her pinched and anxious air. But I would give Kathleen the money, I want nothing but the honor, she assured herself, shutting her mind obstinately against the conviction that such a division might not be altogether easy to arrange. And Dorothy is going in, too. Lots of girls are going in, so why should not I? And if I enter, I must do my best, nobody could object to that. Nevertheless, there was an unaccountable weight on her heart, which made it a relief when the subject dropped, and Kathleen began to point out the various outbuildings scattered over the grounds. That's the pavilion, we keep all the games there, and it's so nicely furnished. There is quite a pretty sitting room and a stove and all the materials for making tea. On Saturday afternoons the winning teams may stay behind and have tea there by themselves and buy cakes from the housekeeper. It's ripping. We look forward to it as the Saturday treats, and aren't you just mad if your side loses? That's the joiner's shop, you can have lessons if you like, and learn to make all sorts of things. But I've no ambition to be a carpenter, so I don't go. That's a summer house, but it's so earwiggy that we leave it alone. That was meant to be a swimming bath, but the water comes straight from a well and it is so deadly cold that the girls got cramped and Miss Bruce forbade them to use it any more. It looks wretchedly deserted now. If you want to be miserable all by yourself you couldn't have a better place. It's so still and dark and the birds have built their nests in the corners and come suddenly flying past and frighten you out of your wits. Those little patches are the girl's own gardens. You can have lessons in gardening and get a prize if you're clever. I don't go in for that either, for it's an extra expense. Oh, I must have a garden, cried Rhoda quickly. I adore flowers, and they could send me cuttings from home. I always had my own garden, but I didn't do the work, of course. I just said how it was to be arranged and what plants I wanted and everyone admired it and said how successful it was. I had big clumps of things, you know, not one straggling plant here and another there, but all banked up together. You should have seen my lily bed. I made the men collect all the odd bulbs and plant them together and they were a perfect show. The scent met you halfway down the path. It was almost overpowering. And then I had a lot of the new cactus dahlias and left only about two branches on each so that they came up like one huge bush with all the lovely contrasting colors. Many people say they don't like dahlias, but that is only because they haven't seen them properly grown. Oh well, I love them myself and I always shall do. You never get any satisfaction out of them, however pretty they may be. For as soon as people see them they begin groaning and saying, oh dear dear, autumn flowers already?  Dorothy sniffed derisively. It was evident that no support was to be expected from her on the dahlia question and Rhoda felt that only time and experience could prove to her the folly of her position. When all the outbuildings had been explained, Kathleen led the way down a winding path which seemed to lead to nowhere in particular, but rather to come to an abrupt cul-de-sac in the shape of a high gray wall. Her companions wondered at her choice, but she went forward with an air of determination so that there was nothing left but to follow and hope soon to return to more interesting scenes. When she came to the end of the path, however, she stood still and began to smile with the most baffling air of mystery. What did it mean? What were they expected to see? The girl swirled to and fro, looked at the paths, the beds, the flowers, frowned in bewilderment and then suddenly lifted their eyes to the wall and uttered simultaneous exclamations of surprise. The wall was dotted over with little tablets of stone, on each of which was a neatly engraved inscription, and each inscription bore the name of a girl at its head. Rhoda craned forward in red first one and then another. Winnettford Barton joined Hearst Manor September 1890, left Christmas 1890, the youngest pupil who ever obtained honors in mathematics in the Oxford local examinations. Elizabeth Charrington, an old pupil of the school, obtained first class in the honors school of modern history at Oxford. Eleanor Newman joined Hearst Manor September 1890, left mid 1890, beloved by her fellow students as the kindest and most loyal of friends, the most unselfish of competitors, held in grateful remembrance for the power of her influence and example. Fanny Elder for two years, games president of the school, winner of the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Tournament 1890, holder of Edinburgh Golf Cup 1890, a just and fearless sportswoman. The list of names went on indefinitely but Rhoda had read enough to inflame curiosity and wheeled eagerly round to confront Kathleen. What is it? What does it mean? Who puts them up? Is it just the cleverest girls? It's the record wall, said Kathleen. We are very proud of our record wall at Hearst, the cost of these tabluses paid by the pupils themselves, and they are put up entirely at their discretion. The teachers have nothing to do with it. If a girl has distinguished herself at work but is conceited and overbearing and makes herself disliked, no one wants to put up a tablet to her, so it is really a testimony to character as well as to cleverness.  I never knew her. She never passed a single examination, nor took a prize nor anything, and yet everyone loved her. She was a little, fair thing with curly hair, too short to tie back, and soft gray eyes. She wasn't a bit goody, but she always seemed waiting to do kind things and make peace and cheer the girls when they were homesick, and no one ever heard her say a cross word or make an uncharitable remark. And did she die? croaked Rhoda solemnly. A long experience of girls' stories had taught her that when girls were sweet and fair, and never said an unkind word, they invariably caught a chill and died of rapid consumption. She expected to hear the same report of Eleanor Newman, but Kathleen replied briskly. Die, not a bit of it. She married at nineteen a doctor down in Hampshire, and brought him to see the school on their honeymoon. The Greens escorted her in a body to the record wall, and when she saw her own name she covered her face with her hands and flew for her life. And her husband looked quite weepy. The girls said he could hardly speak. Ah, sighed Rhoda and was silent. She felt weepy, too, filled with a sudden yearning, a sudden realization of want. Eleanor Newman had risen to heights to which she could never attain.   Oh, I look at that empty space and wonder if this time next year I shall read there that I have passed first and won the scholarship. I wonder if ever, ever there will be a tablet with my name upon it. I expect there will be, said Dorothy. It's a lovely idea, and I can imagine every girl longing to see her name on the scroll of honour, but for my own part I never shall, not for this child. There's no hope for me unless they put me up as a good little tortoise who never fell asleep. The worst of it is that in real life the hare keeps awake, too, and spoils one's chance. I must be content to bloom an obscurity, a violet by a mossy dell, half hidden from the eye. But Rhoda already saw a new tablet twinkling on the empty space, a tablet recording phenomenal success and distinction, and the name at the head of the inscription was not Kathleen Murray, but one much more familiar in her ears. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. An Encounter Sunday afternoon was hopelessly wet, but the fact was less regretted than usual, as from three to four was the time put aside for riding home. So far a postcard to announce safe arrival had been the only word written, and each girl was eager to pour forth her feelings at length to tell the latest news and report changes of class. The two newcomers had a score of complaints and lamentations to record, and Rhoda at least entered unhesitatingly into the recital.  The girls were hateful, domineering, and unfriendly. Miss Bruce had spoken to her three times only. The food was good enough in its way, but so plain that she simply longed for something nice. The lessons were difficult, the hours unbearably long. It took three whole sheets to complete the list of grievances, by which time her hand was so tired that she read it over by way of a rest with the result that she was quite astonished to discover how miserable she had been. Everything she had said was true, and yet, somehow, the impression given was of a depth of woe which she could not honestly say she had experienced. Perhaps it was that she had omitted to mention the alleviating circumstances. Miss Everett's sweetness, for Aline's praise, hours of relaxation in the grounds, signs of softening on the part of the girls, early hours and regular exercises which sent her to the simple meals with an appetite she had never known at home. Five days at school and on the whole there had been as much pleasure as suffering. Then was it quite fair to send home such a misleading account? Rotor drew from her pocket the latest of the five loving letters penned by the maternal hand and read it through for the dozenth time. Sunday was a lonely day for newcomers, and the period occupied by the sermon in church had been principally occupied by Rotor in pressing back the tears which showed a presumptuous desire to roll down her cheeks and splash upon her gloves. It had been a sweet consolation to read over and over again the words which showed that though she might be one of a crowd at Hearst, she was still the treasured darling of her home. There was nothing original in the letter. It simply repeated a different word, the contents of its four predecessors, sorrow for her absence, prayers for her welfare, anxiety for the first long letter. I can hardly wait until Monday morning I am so longing to know how you are fairing. Rotor read these words and looked slowly down upon her own letter. Well it would arrive and the butler would place it on the breakfast table, and her mother would come hurrying into the room and seize it with a little cry of joy. She would read it over and then she would hand it to her husband and take out her handkerchief and begin to cry. Mr. Chester would poo-poo her distress, but she would cry quietly behind the urn, and despite his affectation of indifference, he also would look worried and troubled, while Harold would declare that everyone must go through the same stage before settling down, and that Rotor might be expected to make a fuss. She had been so spoiled at home. Rotor dug her pen into the blotting paper and frowned uneasily. Five days' experience at school had impressed her with the feebleness of making a fuss. If you are hurt, bear it. If you are teased, look pleasant. If you are blamed, do better next time.  Such were the Spartan rules of the new life and an unaccustomed shame rose up in her mind at the realization of the selfishness and weak betrayal of that first home letter. Was it not possible to represent the truth from the bright side, as well as the dark, to dwell on the kindnesses she had received and leave disagreeables untold? Yes, it was possible. She would do so and save her dear ones the pain of grieving for her unhappiness. So the thick sheets were torn across with a wrench which made Thomasina look up from her desk. As a head girl, Tom possessed a study of her own, to which she had prepared to depart earlier in the afternoon, but had been persuaded to stay by the entreaties of her companions. Tom, don't go, don't leave us. It's a wet day and so dull. Do stay with us, till tea time. You might, you might, urged the suppliant voices, and so Tom sat down to her desk in the house parlor, which was the property of the elder blues, and indicted letters on blue-lined manly paper with a manly quill pen. As her eyes rested on the torn letter and on the clean sheet of paper drawn up for a fresh start, she smiled a quiet understand all about its smile, which Rhoda chose to consider an impertinent liberty. Then down went her head again, and the scraped scrape of pens continued until four o'clock, by which time the girls were thankful to fold the sheets in their envelope and make them ready for a post. Rhoda read over her second effort in a glow of virtue and founded a model of excellence. No complaints this time, no weak self-pity, but a plain statement of facts without any personal bias. Her father and mother would believe that she was entirely contented, but Harold, having been through the same experiences, would read between the lines and understand the reserve. He would say to himself that he had not expected it of Rhoda, and that she had behaved like a brick, and Harold's praise was worth receiving. All together it was in a happier frame of mind that Rhoda left her desk and took her place in one of the easy chairs with which the room was supplied. From four to five was a free hour on Sundays, and the girls who were allowed to spend it as they liked without the presence of a teacher. This afternoon, talk was the order of the day, each girl in turn relating the doings of the holidays, and having her adventures capped by the next speaker. Tomasina, however, showed a sleepy tendency and kept dozing off for a short nap and then nodding her head so violently that she awoke with a gasp of surprise. In one of these intervals she met Dorothy's eyes fixed upon her with a wondering scrutiny, which seemed to afford her a cute satisfaction. Ah, she cried, sitting up and looking in a trice quite spry and wide awake. I know what you were doing. You were admiring me and wondering what work of nature I most resemble. I can see it in your face, and you came with conclusion that it was a codfish. No quibbles, please, tell me the truth. That was just exactly it, wasn't it? No, cried Dorothy emphatically, but the emphasis expressed rather contrition for a lost opportunity than for a wrongful suspicion. No, I did not, it seemed to say.  You really are, extraordinarily like. Huh! said Tomasina. Then you are the exception, that's all. All the newcomers say so and therein they are. It's not a cod at all. It's a pike. I am the staring image of a pike.  Even Rhoda laughed with the rest and reflected that if one were born ugly it was a capital plan to accept the fact and make it a joke rather than a reproach. Tomasina was the plainest girl she had ever seen. Yet she exercised a wonderful attraction and was infinitely more popular among her companions than Irene Gray with her big eyes and well-cut features. Next time you catch a pike just look at it and see if I'm not right. Continue, Tom, easily. But perhaps you don't fish. I'm a great angler myself. That's the way I spend most of my time during the holidays. I don't like fishing. It's so wormy, said Irene with a shudder. I like lolling about and feeling that there's nothing to do and no wretched bells jangling every half hour to send you off to a fresh class. Nervous, that's what I need in my holidays and I take good care that I get it. I don't want rest. I want to fly round the whole day and do nice things, said a bright-eyed girl in a wonderful plaid dress ornamented with countless buttons, lunches and teas and dinners and picnics and dances and plays. I like to live in a whirl and stay in bed to breakfast and be weighted on hand and foot. I don't say I get it but it's what I would have if I could. Well I'm a nice good little maid who likes to help her mother and be useful when I go back I say to her, now don't worry about me anymore dear leave all to me and I run the house and make them all cringe before me. Even the cook is afraid of me. She says I have such masterful ways. The speaker was a tall fair girl with a very large pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of an aquiline nose. She looked a masterful enough to frighten a dozen cooks and made a striking contrast to the next speaker, a mouse-like pinched little creature with an air of conscious though unwilling virtue. I spent the last half of these holidays with the clergyman uncle and helped in the parish. I played the harmonium for the choir practice and kept the books for guilds and societies. His daughter was ill and there was no one else to take her place so of course I went at once.  What? cried Rhoda and sat erect in her seat, sparkling with animation. Condolcen, I know it quite well. I often drive over there with my ponies. It is only six miles from our place and such a pretty drive. I know the vicarage quite well and the church and the funny little cross in High Street. She spoke perfectly simply and without thought of ostentation, for her parents' riches had come when she herself was so young that she had no remembrance of the little house in the manufacturing town, but looked as a matter of course upon the luxuries with which she was surrounded. It never occurred to her mind that any of her remarks could be looked upon as boasting, but there was a universal glancing and smiling round the room and Thomasina inquired gravely. Do you drive the same pair every day? Oh ponies, oh yes, generally replied Rhoda innocently. They are frisky little things and need exercise. Of course if we go a very long way I give them a rest next day and drive the cobs but as a rule they go out regularly. Thomasina shook her head and solemnest disapproval. That's a mistake. You should change every day. The merciful man is merciful to his beast. I can't endure to see people thoughtless in these manners. My stud groom has special orders never to send out the postilians on the same mounts oftener than twice a week. There was a moment's pause and then a shriek of laughter.  Girls stamped on the floor and rolled about as though they could not contain their delight. Girls mopped their eyes and gasped, oh dear, oh dear, and grew red up to the roots of their hair and Rhoda's face shown out pale and fixed in a white fury of anger.  I made an innocent remark and you twisted about so as to insult me before all the house. You will ask my pardon at once if you have any right feeling. I'm the head girl, my dear. The head girl doesn't ask pardon of a silly newcomer who can't take a joke. I fail to see where the joke comes in.  And I won't stand it any longer, and so I give you notice. Much obliged, but it's no use. The rules of this school are that the pupils must obey the head girl in her own department, and there can be no exception in your favor. Unpleasant as you find my yoke. Well, when I am a head girl I shall try to be worthy of the position. I'll be kind to new girls and set them a good example. I'll not jeer at them and make them so wretched that they wish they had never been born.  She made no reply. But there was no lack of speakers to vindicate her honor. Sneering voices rose on every side in a clamor of indignant protest. When she is head girl indeed, it will be a good time before that happens, I should say. Not in our day, let us hope. We are not worthy to be under such a mistress.  What a shining example you can see her wings, even now beginning to sprout. Nonsense, child, it's not wings. It's only round shoulders. These growing girls will stoop. You had better be careful, or you will be set in order next. Rhoda looked across the room with smart and tear-filled eyes. Don't alarm yourselves, I wouldn't condescend to bandy words. You are like our leader, not worthy of notice. Look here, Rhoda Chester. Say what you like about us, but leave Thomasina alone. We will not have our head girl insulted if we know it. If you say another word, we will turn you out into the passage. Thank you, Beatrice. No need to get excited. I can fight my own battles without your help. This little difference is between Rhoda and me, and we must settle it together. I think we could talk matters over more comfortably in my study without interrupting your rest hour. May I trouble you, Miss Chester, three doors along the passage. I won't take you far out of your way. Thomasina rose from her seat and waved her hand towards the door. She was all smiles and blandness, but a gasp of dismay sounded through the room, as if a private interview in the head girl's study was no light thing to contemplate. Rhoda's heart beat fast with apprehension. What was going to happen? What would take place next? It was like the invitation of the spider to the fly, full of subtle terror. Nevertheless, her pride would not allow her to object, and throwing back her head she marched promptly and without hesitation along the corridor. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George DeHorne Vasey This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Having it out Thomasina led the way into her study and shut the door behind her. It was a bare little room, singularly free from those photographs and knickknacks with which most girls love to adorn a private sanctum. It looked what it was, a workroom, pure and simple, with a pile of writing materials on the table and the walls ornamented with maps and sheets of paper containing jottings of the hours of classes and games.  There were three straight-back chairs supplied by the school and two easier ones of Thomasina's own providing, both in the last stages of invalidism. The mistress of this luxurious domain turned towards her visitor with a hospitable smile. Sit down, she cried. Make yourself comfortable, not that chair. The spokes have given way and it might land you on the floor. Try the blue and keep your skirts to the front so that it won't catch on the nails. I can't think how it is that my chairs go wrong. I'm always tinkering at them. Nice little study, isn't it? So cozy. Yes, assented Rhoda, who privately thought it the most forlorn looking apartment she had ever seen, but was in no mood to discuss either its merits or demerits. It was in no friendly spirit that she had paid this visit.  She looked expectantly at Thomasina, and Thomasina stood in front of the chimneypiece with both hands thrust into the side pockets of her bicycling skirt, jingling their contents in an easy gentlemanly fashion. From her leathern band depended a steel chain which lost itself in the depths of the right-hand pocket. Rhoda felt an unaccountable curiosity to discover what hung at the end of that chain and rattled in so uncanny a fashion. Well, began Thomasina, tilting herself slowly forward on the points of her flat wide shoes. Well, and now about this little matter, I asked you to step in here because I think differences of opinion are more easily settled without an audience, and, as it were, man to man. She buried her chin in her neck-tie and gazed across the room, with a calm, speculative glance. The likeness between her and the pike-like gentleman grew more startling every moment. Now we've known each other barely a week, and already I have offended you deeply, and you, without knowing it, have hit me on a tender spot. It is time that we came to an understanding before going any further, however, there are one or two questions I should like to ask. You have had time to notice a good many things since you arrived. You've seen me constantly with the girls. Do they dislike me? Do they speak of me hardly behind my back? Do they consider me a bully or a sneak? Should you say on the whole that I was popular or unpopular? Popular, said Rhoda, firmly. Whatever happened, she would speak the truth and not quibble with obvious facts. They like you very much. And you wonder how they can? Nevertheless, it's true. I'll tell you something more. I'm the most popular head girl at Hearst. You ask the other colors tomorrow, and they'll tell you to a man that you are lucky to have me. Very well, then, Rhoda, who's to blame if you think the opposite? Yourself and nobody but yourself, as I'll proceed to prove. You come to school with a flourish of trumpets, thinking you are doing us a mighty big favor by settling among us, and that you are to be allowed to amble along at your own sweet will, ignoring rules you don't like, graciously agreeing to those you do, and prepared to turn into a wildcat the first moment anyone tries to keep you in order, then when you are unhappy, as you jolly well deserve to be, you turn and rend me and say it is my fault. If all the new girls behaved as you have done, I should have been in my little tomb long ago, and you would have someone else to deal with. It seems to me, my dear, that you don't recognize my duties. I am placed in a position of authority, and imbound to enforce the rules, if the girls are obedient, well and good. If they kick, well and good also. I break them in. I'm going to break you in, Rhoda Chester, and the sooner you realize it, the happier you'll be. Rhoda looked at her, fully, with a firmness of chin, a straightness of eye, which argued ill for the success of the project. You will never break me in, as you call it, by domineering and treating me like a child. I know it, my dear, I haven't been studying girls all these years without learning something of character. Some fillies you can drive with a snaffle, others need the curb. You drive yourself and understand what I mean. I can see quite well that you are a proud, sensitive girl, with a good heart, hidden away behind a lot of nonsense. If it were not for that heart, I shouldn't trouble myself about you, but simply give my orders and see that they were obeyed. But there's nothing mean about me, and I'd scorn to take an unfair advantage. Now, I'll tell you straight that I have come to the conclusion that I judged you wrongly about that pony business, and that you didn't mean to brag. I saw by the way you flared out that you were really hurt, and I was sorry. I've no pity on brag, but when I judge a girl wrongly I feel sick. If it's any relief to your mind to know it, I believe that little episode upset me more than it did you. When you said I was not worthy of my position and made newcomers wretched, you hit me very hard, Rhoda. Very hard indeed. She stopped short and jingled furiously at her chains, then suddenly looked up, gave a roguish smile, and cried insinuatingly, There, I've done my part. I've acknowledged I was wrong. You were no coward, so you will do as much.  Rhoda looked at her and hesitated.  I've never been accustomed to be ordered about. I'm sorry if I was disagreeable, but I never, never meant to give myself errors. But you did, though, all the same, cried Thomasina briskly.   Now, just make up your mind like a sensible girl to forget your own importance, and don't always be on the lookout for insults to your dignity. Your dignity will look after itself, if it's any good, and you'll be a heap happier if you give up coddling and fussing over it all day long. There was that little matter of the pigtail the other morning. It wasn't my wish that you should tie back your hair, I don't mind telling you that it's much less becoming than it was, but I was simply acting as the mouthpiece of Miss Bruce, as you might have known, if you had taken one minute to consider. Your friend, Dorothy, whatever she calls herself, behaved like a sensible girl and did as she was told without making a fuss. But you must needs work yourself into a fury. You'll have a fit one of these days if you are not careful.  When we went down to breakfast I tried to be friendly, just to show there was no ill-feeling, and you went and starved yourself rather than accept a crumb from my hands. It reminded me awfully of my little cousin of three. When he is made to do what he doesn't like, he refuses to eat his bread and milk. He seems to think he is punishing us somehow, but bless your heart, we don't mind. We know he is strong and hearty, and that it will do him no harm to starve once in a way. I wasn't in the least anxious about you, but I don't want you to go on feeling wretched in my house. So I'll do my best to consider your feelings. I warn you, however, I can't stop chaffing. If I think of a funny thing to say, I must say it or burst, and if you don't like it you can comfort yourself by thinking that it's for your good, and will teach you to control your temper.  The cool, unemotional tones of the other had effectually dried her tears, but the softened expression remained, and her voice had almost unhumble intonation. I'll try. I know I'm touchy, but I shan't mind so much now that you have explained. I think you've been very generous. All right, interrupted Thomasina briskly, don't gush. I loathe, gush. That's all right then, and I'll tell the girls I was wrong just now. They will all tweet you decently if I tell them to, so behave sensibly, and don't be a young jackass, and all will be well. I beg your pardon. Don't mention it. Thomasina beamed amably over her shoulder.  The gong will ring in ten minutes, so you'd better be off to your room. Please, to have seen you. Good afternoon. Come again another day. CHAPTER X CHAPTER X of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George D. Horn-Vezy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. HARD WORK From that day forward matters moved more smoothly for Rhoda. Dorothy reported that Tom had returned to the house parlor to explain her regret at having misjudged a newcomer, and her desire that her colleagues would second her effort to make Rhoda happy.  That very evening several of the girls took an opportunity of exchanging friendly remarks with Rhoda, while its supper an amount of attention was bestowed upon her plate which was positively embarrassing. It was a delightful change, but through all the relief rang the sting of remembering that it had been accomplished by Tomasina, not herself, that the new friendliness was the result of Tomasina's orders rather than her own desserts. To her fellow students she was still an insignificant newcomer, with no claim to distinction. If she excelled in one subject she was behind in the next, while at games she was hopelessly ignorant. It was warm wood and gall to be obliged to join the battlings at hockey and be coached by a girl of twelve. But Rhoda set her teeth and determined that if pluck and energy could help it would be a short time indeed before she got her reward. Oh, those first few games! What unmitigated misery they were! The ankle-paths got in her way and made her waddle like a duck, and when at last she began to congratulate herself on overcoming the first difficulty, they tripped her up and landed her unexpectedly on the ground. Although she was repeatedly warned to keep her stick down, it seemed to fly up of itself and bring disgrace upon her, and then alas the ball followed its example, bounded up from the ground, and landed neatly on her cheek immediately beneath her left eye. A hideous swelling and discoloration was the result, but after the first rush to see that the damage was not serious, no one seemed in the least agitated about the mishap. Early chase would have been convulsed with panic from addict to seller, but Tomasina only struck an attitude and exclaimed, Oh, my eye! and even Miss Everett smiled, more in amusement than horror as she cried, In the wars already, Rhoda, you have begun early. Mrs. Chester would hardly have recognized her darling in the knickerbockered girl with her curly mane screwed into a pigtail, her dainty feet scuffling the ground, and her face disfigured by a lump which changed to a different color with each new dawn. If she could have had a glimpse of her during that tragic period it is certain that Rhoda's term at Hearst would have been short indeed, but she was not informed of the accident, while each letter showed an increasing interest in work and play. Rhoda had put her back into her studies and worked with an almost feverish earnestness. The hours of preparation were all too short, but she found a dozen ways of adding to their length so that from morning to night her brain was never allowed to rest. She grew white and tired and so perceptibly thin that Miss Bruce questions her class mistress as to the change in her appearance. She is an ambitious girl, was the reply, and does not like to feel behind. She is working hard and making progress, but she never complains or appears to feel ill. Oh well, everything in moderation, see that she is not overworked, there will be no time gained in that way, said the principal, and forth wish banished the subject from her busy brain. There came a day, however, halfway through the term when Rhoda collapsed and found it impossible to rise from her bed. Three times over she made the effort, and three times sank back upon her pillow, faint and trembling and then in despair. She raised her voice and wailed a feeble, Tom, Tom came promptly, buttoning her magenta jacket and went through a most professional examination. To the best of my judgment, she announced finally, you were sickening for scarletina, tonsillitis, and housemaid's knee, but if you stay in bed and have an invalid's breakfast I should say you would be fairly convalescent by twelve o'clock. Snottled down and all seen nurse as soon as I'm dressed and put her on the track. I want Miss Everett, sighed Rhoda plaintively and Tom gave a grunt of assent. I expect you do all the girls want her when they're ill. She's no time to spare, but I'll tell her and probably she'll squeeze in five minutes for you after breakfast.  We shall see your fairy form among us before many hours are past. Perhaps so, nevertheless it was good to be coddled once more, to lie snugly in bed and have a tray brought up with a teapot for one's very own self and egg and fish and toast, actually toast, instead of thick slices of bread and scrape. The luxury of it took away one's breath. It was pleasant also to have nurse fussing around in motherly fashion and hear her reminiscences of other young ladies whom she had nursed in days gone by and brought back from the jaws of death. From her manner it is true she did not appear to suffer any keen anxiety about her present patient, but as Rhoda looked at the empty dishes before her she blushingly acknowledged that, after all, she could not have been so ill as she had imagined. After breakfast came Miss Everett, sweet as ever, and looking refreshingly pretty in her pale blue blouse and natty collar and cuffs. If one did not know to the contrary she would certainly have been mistaken for one of the elder girls, and her manner was delightfully unprofessional. Well, my poor dear, this is bad news. I was sorry when Tom told me. What is it? Headache? Backache? Pen in your throat? Her heart has stretched herself lazily and considered the question. A kind of general all overishness, if you know what I mean, I feel played out, I tried to get up, but it was no use, I simply couldn't stand. I feel as if I had no back left. Weak as a kitten. Miss Everett looked at her quietly. Then her eye roved round the room and rested meaningly on half a dozen pieces of paper fastened up in conspicuous positions. One sheet was tacked into the frame of the looking-glass, another into a picture, a third pinned against the curtain and each was covered with Rhoda's large writing easily legible across the few yards of space, rules of Latin grammar, lists of substantives, tenses of verbs, they stared at one in the face at every turn, and refused to be avoided. Miss Everett laid her hand upon the bed, and something rustled beneath her touch. Yet another sheet had been concealed beneath her pillow. Oh, Rhoda! she cried reproachfully. Oh, Rhoda! the girl put on an arrow protest. What? There's no harm in it, is there? I can't catch the others up unless I work hard. I have not enough time in preparation so I put these up and learn them while I dress and undress, and every time I come in to prepare for a meal. You have no idea what a lot I get through, and I keep a list in my pocket too and take it out at odd moments. Miss Murray is surprised at the way I am getting on. I have been surprised, too, to see you look so ill, with such white cheeks and heavy eyes. I understand it now. But Miss Everett, I must work. I must get on. If I'm behind, I must catch up. Even if I'm tired, I must get on in my class. Why? Why? Why must she get on? It was such an extraordinary question to come from a teacher that Rhoda could only gasp and bewilderment. Why? You ask why? Yes, I do. One always has some object in work. I wonder what yours might be. Why are you so terribly anxious to come to the front? A dozen answers rose to Rhoda's lips. To impress Thomasina? To show her that if I do think a good deal of myself, it's not without cause? To take the conceit out of the girls who patronized me? To be able to patronize in my turn and not remain always insignificant and powerless? To show Harold how clever I am? And to have my name put on the record wall when I leave? They were one and all excellent reasons, yet somehow she did not care to confide them to Miss Everett. Instead, she hesitated and answered by another question. I suppose you think there is a wrong and a right motive? I suppose you think mine is the wrong one? What is the right then? I'm ill and reduced in my mind, so it's a good time to preach. I'll listen meekly. And disagree with every word I say, cried Miss Everett, laughing. No, no, Rhoda, I never preach. I know girls well enough to understand that that doesn't pay. There are some secrets that we have to find out for ourselves, and it is a waste of time telling the answers before the hearer is ready to receive them, only when one has oneself suffered from ignorance and sees another poor dear running her head against the wall, one is sorry, that's all, and one longs to point out the danger signals. Find out, dear, what your motive is, and be satisfied that it's a good one. Meantime, I'm going to take away these papers, do you see? Every single one. She walked round the room, confiscating the lists, and putting them in her pocket with an air of good nature determination. Let that tired head rest and believe me, my dear, that your elders understand almost as much about girls as you do yourself. We are never blamed for underworking at Hearst, and you may take for granted that the hours for workers long as you can stand, the short time spent in your cubicle is not intended for work, but for rest of all kinds. Rhoda blushed guiltily. During the first days at school, the morning hymn had been both a delight and a stimulus. She had listened to the words with a beating heart and whispered them to herself and devout echo. They had seemed to strike a key note for the day, and send her to work full of courage, but alas! For the weeks passed the strains had fallen on deaf ears, and the lips had been too busy conning Latin substantives to have leisure for other repetition. Her sense of guilt made her meek under the confiscation of her lists, and, pathetically, grateful for the kiss of farewell. Thank you for coming, I know you were busy, but I wanted you so, it's nice to see you.   I'm above such silly vanities, my dear. She looked, however, extremely pleased, and quite brisked up in fact, and so delightfully like a girl that Rhoda took heart of grace and inquired. I wish you would tell me your object. That wouldn't be preaching, and you were so young to be working so hard. I have often wondered. Ah! cried Miss Everett, in a curious look, passed over her face. Half glad, half sad, holy proud. I'll tell you my object, Rhoda, it's my brother Lionel. I have an only brother, and he's a genius. You remember his name. And when you are an old lady in a cap and mittens, you can amuse other old ladies by telling how you once knew his sister, and she prophesied his greatness. At school he carried all before him, and he is as good as he is clever and as merry as he is good. He won a scholarship at Oxford, but that was not enough. My father is the vicar of Stourley, indeed shire, and has such a small stipend that he could not afford to help him as much as was needed. Then I wrote to Miss Bruce and asked her if she could give me an opening. She's an old family friend, and I knew that I had done well at examinations, and was good at games. The younger teachers here must be able to play with the girls, it's one of the rules. So she gave me my present position, and I am able to help the boy. He went up last year and did famously. But I have had sad news this week. He had been obliged to go home and convalesce after an attack of influenza, and is so weak still that the doctor says he will want any amount of rest and feeding up before he can go back. So, you see, I am more thankful than ever to be able to help. I don't see it at all, said Rhoda bluntly. I should be mad. What's the good of your slaving here if, after all, he can't get on with his work? You might as well be comfortably at home. Rhoda. Rhoda, be quiet this moment. It's bad enough to fight against my own rebellious feelings without hearing them put into words. I won't stay another moment to listen to you. She gave a playful shake to the girl's shoulder and ran out of the room, while Rhoda snuddled down to think over the conversation. Well, then I suppose her motive is love. Love for her brother and thinking of him before herself. She comes here and slaves so that he may have his chance. She's an angel, of course, an unselfish angel, and I'm a wretch. She lays still for a few moments, frowning fiercely. Then suddenly the bedclothes went up with a wrench. I don't care. She's ambitious, too. She thinks he is clever, and wants him to be great. Well, so do I want to be great. If it isn't wrong for one person, it can't be for another. My motive is success. And I'll work for it till I drop. examination. A day in bed renewed Rhoda's energy, and she took up her work with unabated fervor. The lists were perhaps less conspicuously displayed than before, but were nonetheless in readiness when needed. And if Miss Everett disapproved, the Latin mistress was all praise and congratulation. I certainly have a gift for languages. And with lessons during the holidays, I shall soon be steaming ahead, Rhoda told herself, proudly, I'll ask a mother to let Mr. Mason coach me. He is a splendid teacher, and if I have an hour a day I shall learn a lot. Won't the girls stare when I come back, and go soaring up the class? I shouldn't wonder if I've got to remove. It will be impossible to work up to Thomasina and her set, but at any rate, I'll be past the baby stages and not disgrace myself in the examinations. All the world seemed bounded by examinations at present. Thomasina and the elder girls working steadily towards the goal of the matric. Kathleen and her friends dreaming night and day of the Oxford, while nearer at hand, loomed the school examinations, which ended the term. Rhoda was in a fever of anxiety to quit herself well in the eyes of her companions on this occasion, and could think, speak, and dream of nothing else. Even her joy of getting her removed from the bandlings into a higher team was swallowed up in the overwhelming interest, while Dorothy was filled at once with admiration and disgust at the monotony of her conversation. I don't know, and I don't care. She replied callously, when anxiously consulted about a point in mathematics.  You are getting a regular bore, Rhoda. It's like walking about with Magnal's questions.  Well, Rhoda told herself, it was no wonder if Dorothy were medium if this was the way she regarded her studies. If she took no more interest than this in the coming contest, what could she expect from the result? She would be sorry, poor dear, when she saw her name at the bottom of the list. There was no help to be expected from Dorothy, but Rhoda stored up a few naughty questions, and took the first opportunity of asking Tom for a solution. She had discovered that Tom liked nothing better than to be consulted by the younger girls, and had a tactful way of asking help in return which took away the sense of obligation. Oh, by the by, she would call to Rhoda in her elegant fashion.  Just read over that passage for me. I've been puzzling over it for the whole of the evening, and then would follow some blissful moments when Rhoda would skim lightly over the difficulty and feel the eyes of the girls fixed admiringly upon her. In the present instance, a wet Saturday afternoon afforded a good opportunity for the desired questioning. The Hearst girls did not stay indoors for an ordinary drizzle, but this was a downpour of so hopeless a character that even the most enthusiastic athletes felt that the house parlor was preferable to the soaking, windswept grounds. They gathered together, stoked up the fire, and prepared to spend the two hours' leisure, as fancy should dictate. Some girls' reading, some sewing, and some making themselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and doing nothing at all with every appearance of enjoyment. If we had only some chestnuts, said one of the lazy ones, how happy we might be. I have a wild craving for chestnuts. It came over me suddenly just now, sitting looking at that fire. I think, said Irene Gray solemnly, it's very sad, but I do think a school like this makes one horribly greedy. You get so tired of the food, and have such a longing for something that isn't wholesome. I assure you, my dears, there have been occasions when the center-table has had beef, while we have had mutton. When I could have wept, simply wept. I should like to order a meal regardless of everything but what I like. Lobster mayonnaise, and salmon, and veal cutlets, and ice pudding, and strawberries and cream, and fizzy lemonade. That would be something like a dinner better than old joints and milk puddings. The girls groaned in sympathy and wrote it took advantage of their absorption to cross to Tom's desk and consult her quietly on the naughty points. The solutions were remarkably simple when you knew them, and Tom delivered herself solemnly on the subject. You don't think, my dear, you don't reflect. Your brain would help you out, but you don't give it a chance. It's what I'm always saying to this room. It's not cram you need. It's intelligence. Use your reason. Cultivate your faculties. Now then I'll tell you what I'll do. She raised her voice suddenly and swung round in her seat. I'll give you girls an examination myself. You need some practice before the real business begins. And it will be just the thing for this wet afternoon. Get out your books and pencils and I'll dictate the questions. It's to be a general intelligence paper and the examiner's instructions are use your wits. They will not be the ordinary blunt straightforward questions manufactured by the masculine mind and intended mainly for the course masculine ability, but full of depth and subtlety so that they will require careful consideration. If you go scribbling down your answers before you have read the questions, you'll be sorry. That's all. But don't say you were not warned. Now then, are you ready? We will begin our studies today, young ladies, with a problem in calculation.  Attention to the board. If a room were 20 feet long, 13 feet broad, 11 feet high, and 17 feet square, how much Liberty wallpaper 27 inches wide would be required to paper it allowing five feet square for the fireplace and seven by three for the door. The girls wrote down the question, not however without some murmurs of protest. If there's one kind of some, I hate more than another. It's these horrid old wallpapers, declared Bertha Stacy, I shall never be a paper hanger. So I don't see why I should worry my head. I don't call this general intelligence. I expect we shall have a taste of most subjects. But really, Tom, really now the room could not be 17 feet square. If your other measurements were right, argued Irene, who knew arithmetic to be her strong point, and was not sorry to impress the fact on her companions, you have made a mistake. She expected the examiner to be discomforted. But Tom fixed her with a glittering eye, and demanded if perchance, she had seen the room in question since she was so positive. No, of course not. But then you know quite well. Well, I have so perhaps you will allow me to know better. Go on young ladies and the next one who dares to raise any objections gets 10 bad marks to begin her list. I must have perfect submission. Five minutes allowed for working. The time proved all too short for some of the workers. For the less expert they were, the more elaborate became their calculations until page after page was filled with struggling figures. Tomasina made a round of inspection, frowning over each book in turn, protesting and scolding, marking the result with a big black cross. According to her verdict, everyone was wrong, although five girls had arrived at the same result, and Irene obstinately disputed the decision. I know it is right. Work it for yourself and see it's the simple enough sum and anyone could tell. That's apparently just what they can't do. I don't deny that you may be correct in a broad vulgar sense, but that is not good enough for me. I expect you to grasp the inner meaning. Now the real answer to this question is that there can be no answer. To a perceptive mind, it would be impossible to reply without further information. It entirely depends on how the paper is cut out and the amount of waste incurred in matching the pattern. The girls shrieked aloud and mingled protest and delight. It was too bad. It was ripping. It was mean. It was killing. They all spoke together and at the pitch of their voices and alternately abused and applauded until they were tired. The des normaux had taken them by surprise, though in truth they knew their head too well to have taken the examination seriously. When Tom played schoolmistress there was bound to be a joke in ambush and they settled down to question number two with mine's alert for a trap. We will now young ladies take an excursion into the realms of literature and test your insight into human nature. I will ask you, if you please, to compare the respective characters of Alfred the Great and Miss Charlotte Young, Joe March and Joseph Chamberlain. For great and it will be obvious to all strongly defined personalities I shall be interested to hear your distinctions. It appeared, however, as if there would be little to interest, for most of the girls stared blankly into space as if powerless to tackle such a subject. Rhoda was one of the few exceptions and scribbled unceasingly with a complacent sense of being on her own ground until the limit of time was reached. Tom had evidently noticed her diligence, for she called out a preemptory, Rhoda, read aloud your answer, which was flattering if at the same time slightly alarming. In the historical character of Alfred the Great we find, combined, the characteristics of courage and simplicity he waged along an unequal fight and was equally inspired by failure or success. In the person of Miss Charlotte Young we discover the same virtues, but in a softer and more feminine mold. Her heroes are, for the most part, refined and cultivated young men, actuated by the highest motives. Stop! Stop! screamed Thomasina desperately. For pity's sakes bear us the rest, such deadly propriety I never encountered. It reminds me of the Fairchild family at their very worst. If that's the sort of thing you're going to write, Rhoda, I pity the poor examiners. What do you mean by Alfred fighting? He was a most peaceful creature so far as I have heard. Thomasina, the war with the Danes, all those years. You must remember. I don't remember a thing about it. How could a man fight the Danes living in a peaceful retreat in the Isle of Wight, as Tennyson did for Tennyson? Tennyson? Who spoke of Tennyson? Oh, it was too bad. Too mean. How on earth could anyone be expected to guess that Tom had meant Tennyson when she had expressly said Alfred the Great? Rhoda protested loudly, and the other girls backed her up, but Tom was obdurate. And isn't Tennyson known as Alfred the Great as well as the other critter? It is just another example of want of intelligence. You read the words and never trouble about the connection. Who in their sane senses would ask you to compare a warrior king with old Miss Young? A little reflection would have saved you from the pitfall into which you have all fallen headlong. Five bad marks each. Now then for the next two. What have you got to say about the two Joes? Very little, apparently. No one had tackled the comparison in Rhoda's grandiose fashion. But a few pithy sentences were to be found scribbled on the sides of exercise books. Joe March was very clever, and my father says Mr. Chamberlain is too, from one dutiful pupil. Joe March was a darling, and Chamberlain is not, from another of radical principles. Both wore eyeglasses and wrote things for magazines, and other such exhaustive criticisms. You were all plucked in literature, announced Thomasina solemnly, and I am deeply pained by the exhibition. I will give you one more chance in arithmetic, before going on to the higher branches, because, as you are aware, this is the most vital and important subject. Write down please. A and B each inherited 30,000 pounds. A invested his capital in gold mine shares to bring in 18% interest. B put his money into the post office savings bank and received two and a half percent. State to three places and decimals of respective wealth of each at the expiration of 27 years. Or with what deduction for current expenses, queried Irene with an air. She had been snubbed once, but was not in the least subdued. What were their current expenses? There were none. Thomasina, what bosh there must have been. They couldn't live on nothing. Well, they did, then, since you were so particular, I may tell you that they were in prison. They had their once supplied by their native land. I'm not going to do sums about convicts. My mother wouldn't like it, said Dorothy, shutting up her book with a bang. She leaned forward and whispered in Rhoda's ear. Don't bother. It's only another joke. What's the use of worrying for nothing? It's practice, said Rhoda, and away went her pencil, scribbling, calculating, piling up row upon row of figures. To her joy, the answer came out the same as Irene's, which surely must prove it right. Yet as Dorothy had prophesied, Tom was once more sweeping in denunciation. Wrong, wrong, all wrong. The gold mine failed and left A, a popper, while B lived happily ever after.  I must say, young ladies, you are coming exceedingly poorly through my test. I cannot congratulate you on your insight. I doubt whether it is any use examining you any further. Oh yes, let us have the higher branches, Tom. Do let us have the higher branches. Who knows? Perhaps we may distinguish ourselves at last. Give us another chance, pleaded the girls mockingly. And, thus challenged, Tom could not but consent. She tackled zoology and giving the three divisions of planta grata, pina grata, and digita grata added a list of animals to be classified accordingly. When it is said that the list included such widely diverging creatures as a camel leopard, a duck-billed platypus, Thomasina Boulderson, and Springhill Jack, it can be imagined with what zest the pupils began their replies. Tom professed to be mortified beyond endurance to find her fairy tread unanimously clasped under the first heading, and begged the blues to take notice that if any girl pined to call her splay-footed to her face, she might do so and take the consequences. No one accepted the challenge, however, so she proceeded to Latin and, with much jingling of keys, gave out a sentence for translation. Aquium memento rebus in arduous savari mentum. The girls smiled at this, confident of their powers. The students at Hearst prided themselves on their Latin, and could have stood a much severer test without wavering. The seniors did not trouble to write their answers but waited complacently until the time came when they should have an opportunity of airing their proficiency. It never came, however, for Tom chose to disappoint expectations by reading aloud her own translation from her position in front of the fire. Memento, remember, mentum and mind, savari to hold up, Aquium, your mare, in rebus arduous going up the hill. That translation, young ladies was given by an undergraduate in the University of Oxford. He afterwards rode stroke in the varsity boat and was the best billiard player of his year, so it would ill become us to dispute his conclusions. You will observe the valuable moral lessons inculcated in the words, and, I trust, take them to heart. Remember and mind? A laugh sounded from the direction of the door. And there stood Miss Everett, looking round with mischievous eyes, rodent noted with relief that she looked brighter than for days past, as if some good news had arrived from the home about what she was so anxious. This sounds improving, she cried merrily. Tomasina, holding a Latin class, I'm glad you found such an exemplary way of passing the afternoon. I'm afraid you must stop, however, as the gong will ring in five minutes and, meantime, I must break up the class. I want, her eye moved inquiringly round the room, I want Rhoda. Certainly, Miss Everett, anything to oblige you, Rhoda, my love, you have my permission to retire. Drawed Tomasina, wagging her head in languid assent, and Rhoda left the room in no little wonder as to the reason of the summons. Arrived in the corridor, Miss Everett laid both hands on the girl's shoulders and asked a quick laughing question. What about that hamper? Hamper, echoed Rhoda, hamper. Her air of bewilderment was so unaffectedly genuine that the other's expression became in turn doubtful and uncertain. Yes, yes, the hamper, the hamper of good things that has just arrived from my brother. I thought you—I know nothing about it, truly I don't, I wish I did, but—but, my dear girl, it came from your home. There was a game label upon it, with your father's name in print, from Henry Chester, early Chase. There cannot be two Henry Chesters living at houses of the same name.  It's mother, of course it's mother. It's just the sort of thing mother would do. I told her that your brother had been ill and that you were anxious about him, and so she set to work to see how she could help. That's just like mother. She's the kindest dear. I believe she sits down in her armchair after breakfast every single morning, and plans out how many kind things she can do during the day. Bless her heart, cried Miss Everett devoutly. Well, Rhoda, she succeeded this time. My mother has written me all about it. It was a dull, wet day, and Lionel seemed depressed, and there was nothing nice in the house, and nothing nice to be bought in the little village shops. And she was just wondering, wondering how in the world she could cheer him, and manufacture a tempting lunch out of hopeless materials when, tap, tap, tap, came the carrier's man at the door. Then in came the hamper and Lionel insisted upon opening it himself, and was so interested and excited. There were all sorts of good things in it, game and grapes and lovely, lovely, hot house flowers filling up the chinks. They were all so happy. It was such a piece of cheer arriving in that unexpected fashion. And mother says the house is fragrant with the scent of flowers. Lionel arranged them himself. It kept him quite happy and occupied. How can I thank you, dear? Don't thank me. It was not my doing. It's mother. But how did your mother know where we lived? How did she know who we were? Well, Rhoda smiled and flushed. Naturally, I tell her the news. I suppose I must have mentioned that your father was Vicar of Storley. I don't remember, but then I've so often written about you, and she would naturally be glad to do anything she could, for she knows you've been kind to me, and that I'm very fond of you. Miss Everett bent down quickly and kissed her on the cheek.   You don't know how you have cheered me many a time.  I've given you lots of trouble. Perhaps, but you've been affectionate, too, and seem to like me a little bit in spite of my lectures, and if it had not been for your kind words the hamper would never have come.  Many, many thanks, dear. I shall always re— She stops short, suddenly, her attention arrested by the scraping of chairs within the parlor, and concluded in a very different tone. The girls are coming, for pity's sake. Don't let Tom find us sentimentalizing here. Fly, Rhoda, fly! And off she ran along the corridor, flop, flop, flop, on her flat-soled shoes, as much in fear of the scrutiny of the head girl as the youngest blue in the house. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George D'Horne Vasey. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Home again. The week of examination passed slowly by. And the morning dawned when the all-important lists were to be read aloud. The girls were tired after the strain, the teachers exhausted by the work of reading over hundreds of papers, and it was consequently a somewhat pale and dejected-looking audience, which assembled in the hall to hear the report. Rhoda sat tense on her seat, and puzzled for some moments over the meaning of a certain dull, throbbing noise before discovering that it was the beating of her own heart. It seemed, to her, morbid sensitiveness, that every eye was upon her, that everyone was waiting to hear what place the new girl had taken. When Miss Bruce began to read, she could hardly command herself sufficiently to listen, but the first mention of her own name brought her to her bearings with a shock of dismay. After all her work, her care, her preparation to be so low as this, to take so poor a place, the mortification was so bitter that she would fain have hidden herself out of reach of consolation. But to her surprise, so far from condoling, teachers and pupils alike seemed surprised that she had done so well. You have worked admirably, Rhoda. I am pleased with you, said Miss Murray. Well done, Fuzzy, cried Tom, and even Miss Bruce said graciously, very good progress for a first term, Rhoda. It was evident from their manner that they meant what they said. And another girl might have gleaned comfort from the realization that she had expected too much of her own abilities. Not so, Rhoda. It was but an added sting to discover that she had been ranked so low that an even poorer result would have created no astonishment. She was congratulated for sooth on what seemed to her the bitterest humiliation. If anything was needed to strengthen the determination to excel at any and every cost, this attitude of the school was sufficient. In the solitude of the cubicle, she vowed to herself that the day should come and that speedily when she would be estimated at her right value. She stood in the damp and cold, gazing up at the record wall and renew the vow with fast beating heart. The sun struggled from behind the clouds and lit up the surface of the tablets, and the honor's girl, and the BA girl, and the girls who had won the scholarships, seemed to smile upon her and wish her success, but Eleanor Newman's name was in the shade. The sun had not troubled to light it up.  The last two days were broken and unsatisfactory, and Rhoda longed for the time of departure to arrive, yet it was not without a pang of regret that she opened her eyes on the last morning and gazed round the little blue cubicle. It was delightful to be going home. Yet school had its strong points, and there were one or two partings ahead which could not be faced without depression. How nice it would be if she could take all her special friends home. Dorothy and Kathleen and Miss Everett and, yes, Tom herself, for wonderful to state, she was unaffectedly sorry to part from Tom. What fun they would have had running riot in early chase and summoning the whole household to wait on their caprices. The gong rang, and all the little bells followed suit in their usual objectionable fashion. But the girls yawned and lay still for another five minutes, aware that leniency was the order of the day. The roll of the organ and the first two lines of the hymn found them still in bed, and the words were clearly distinguishable. Awake, my soul, and with the sun, thy daily course of duty run.  And then she tumbled out of bed and listened no more. The rest of the morning seemed a comical Alice in Wonderland repetition of the day of arrival. The same long cues were formed to march down instead of upstairs. The teachers stood on the landings to say goodbye instead of welcome. The Black Mariahs bore the pupils to instead of from the station where the saloon carriages stood waiting as before. The blues crowded into one carriage, and Tom seated herself by Rhoda and with twinkling eyes called attention to the undulating beauty of the landscape. It was all exactly the same, yet delightfully different, for now there was no shyness nor restraint, but the agreeable consciousness of liberty to chaff in return and be as cheeky as one chose. There was unceasing talk on the journey, yet each girl realized as the trains teamed into Houston that she had forgotten to say the most important things and was divided between regret and anxiety to look out for friends waiting on the platform. Rhoda had heard that Harold was to meet her and presently, there he was, handsomer than ever, or looking so after the three months separation and as immaculate as if he had stepped out of the traditional band box. There he is. That's Harold. That's my brother. She cried with a thrill of pride in the tall frock coated figure and Tomasina looked and rolled her little eyes to the ceiling. What a beautiful young man, a perfect picture. Give him my fond love, Fuzzy, and say that I am desolated not to be able to stay to make his acquaintance, but I must make a bolt for my train. She seized her bag as she spoke and hurried to the door, prepared to jump on to the platform at the first possible moment, while her companions impatiently followed in her wake. Rhoda had a vague recollection of promising to write regularly to half a dozen girls and then she was shaking hands with Harold and laughing in pure joy at seeing the familiar face. Here I am, here I am, I've come back at last. So I see. He swept a glance over her, half smiling, half startled. Offly land to see you, got your luggage in the van. Don't know how on earth we shall get hold of it in this crowd. What, excuse me, an appalling set of girls. I thought so too at first, but they look different when you know them. Some of them are sweet and awfully pretty. Huh, said Harold skeptically. They are not conspicuous. I don't see a decent looking girl anywhere except who's the girl in the gray hat? That's Miss Everett, our house mistress, the one I'm so fond of, the one who has the invalid brother, you know, to whom mothers sent the game. Teacher, is she? I thought she was a pupil. Sorry for her, poor little thing, if she has to manage a lot of girls like you. Ah, Arcee, that's your box at last. I'll get a porter to put it on a four-wheeler. Watch where I go and keep close behind. He strolled forward and such was the effect of his imposing appearance and lordly ways that the porters flew to do his bidding and piled the luggage on the cab while others, who had been first on the steam, were still clambering for attention. Wrote a glance proudly at him as they drove away together, but the admiration evidently was on one side for he frowned and said critically, you look pale. You've lost your color. I've been working hard. You've grown thinner. Games, I suppose, we are always running about. Oh, what has become of your hair? Wrote a first stared and then laughed. Oh, my pigtail, I forgot that you hadn't seen it. I hated it too at first, but I've grown accustomed to it and find it very comfortable. It worries me now to have my hair blowing about and tickling my face. All the same, my dear, you'd better untie it before we get home. We will lunch at the station hotel and you can comb it out there. It will give the maider a shock if she sees you looking so changed. She would hardly know you, I think. The tone of disapproval hit hard. And to hide her chagrin, Wrota adopted an air of indifference. Oh, we don't trouble ourselves about appearances at Hearst. So long as we are comfortable, we are satisfied. If a girl worries to dress up, we chaff her unmercifully. The more foolish you, I hope and pray, Wrota, that you are not going to develop into one of the strong-minded young women one meets nowadays who seem to spend their lives in trying to be as much like man as possible. It will be a mistake if you do. Be as learned as you like and as sensible as you like and as hardy as you like. That is all to the good. But for pity's sake, be pretty too and dainty and feminine. We don't want to have all our women kind swallowed up in athletes weren't to be hard kicks or useful forwards. We want them to play the ornamental part in life and be pretty and sweet and attractive. Yes, that's the man's point of view, quote Wrota loftily, and her brother smiled good-naturely as the cab stopped before the hotel. It is, my dear, that's very certain, and as you will probably meet a good many men as you go through life, you might as well study their opinion. It may be regrettable, but it is certainly true, that you will have more influence if you are agreeable to look at. You would have more influence over me at this moment if you would kindly walk upstairs and make yourself look a little more like your old self. Oh, I don't mind. Anything to please you, said Wrota carelessly, and strode upstairs after the chambermaid, smiling to herself in lofty superiority at Harold's dandy ways. She did not smile, however, when oncoming suddenly in front of the mirror she caught a full-length reflection of herself, for her brother's presence had unconsciously altered her point of view, so that she saw herself no longer from the standpoint of Hearst Manor, but that of early Chase. Yes, Harold was right. It was not only the pigtail. There was an indefinable difference in her whole appearance. The clothes were the same, the girl was the same, but there was no longer the immaculate neatness, the dainty care, the well-groomed look which had once characterized her, in her usual impetuous fashion she had rushed from one extreme to the other in discarding vanity had run perilously near neglect. I look a nasty, horrid, hijous fright, she cried aloud, staring in disgust at the unwelcome vision. I couldn't have believed it. I really couldn't.  Harold was right. Mother would have been shocked. She slipped off coat and hat, and with the aid of the well- stocked dressing bag went through such a process of dusting, brushing, and combing out as she had not known for weeks past. Finally the old Rhoda seemed to smile upon her in response, in her own eyes at least, but when early Chase was reached some hours later Mrs. Chester was far from satisfied with her darling's appearance. Her anxious eyes took in at a glance, every change in the beloved features, and nothing could shake her conviction that the child had been starved and overworked. An elaborate system of coddling was inaugurated to which Rhoda submitted with wonderful meekness. Oh, the delighted being home again, of being loved and fussed over and indulged in one's pet little weaknesses, how beautiful everything looked, the richly furnished rooms, the hall with its turkey carpet and pictured walls, the dinner table with its glittering glass and silver, how luxurious to awake in her own pretty room, to hear the fire crackling in the grate and to sit up in bed to drink the early cup of tea. I never realized before how nice home was. Side Rhoda to herself and for four whole days, she succeeded in forgetting all about school and in abandoning herself to the enjoyment of the festivities of the season. Christmas Day once over, however, recollections came back with a pang, and she was all eagerness to begin the proposed lessons with the vicar. To her surprise, father and mother looked coldly upon the project, and so far from admiring her industry, thought it a pity to introduce work into the holidays. It needed a hard struggle to induce them to consent to three lessons a week instead of six, and she had to face the certainty that private study would be made as difficult as possible. Even Harold elevated his eyebrows and inquired, why this tremendous hurry, as if he had never been to a public school himself and known the necessity for advance. Rhoda betook herself to the faithful Ella in no very gentle mood and stormed about the small vicarage garden like a young whirlwind. Well, I must say, grown-ups are the most tiresome, aggravating, unreasonable creatures that were ever invented. First they want you to work and urge you to work and go do to work, and, oh, my dear, it would do you all the good in the world to compete with other girls.  No, I'm not angry, I'm perfectly calm, but it makes me ill. I can't stand being thwarted in my best and noblest ambitions. If I had a daughter and she wanted to cram in her holidays, I'd be proud of her and try to help, instead of throwing hindrances in the way. It's very hard, I must say, to get no sympathy from one's nearest and dearest. Even your father looked at me over his spectacles as if I were a wild animal. I thought he would have been pleased with my industry. He is, I know he is, but he thinks you may overdo it. You know, Rhoda, you are impetuous. When you take up an idea, you write it to death, and in lessons that doesn't pay. Slow and sure wins the rubbish humbug. It will never win in my race, for I have a definite time to run it in and not a day more. It has to be a gallop and a pretty stiff one at that. For goodness' sake, Ella, don't you begin to preach. You might be grown up yourself sitting there posing in that horribly well-regulated fashion. I'm not well-regulated, cried Ella, and sensed by the insinuation. I was only trying to calm you down because you were in such a temper. What is the use of worrying? You've got your own way. Why can't you be happy? Leave the wretched old Latin alone and tell me about school. There are a hundred things I'm longing to hear, and we have not had a proper talk yet. Tell me about the girls and the teachers and the rules and the amusements and what you like best and what you hate worst. It was a large order, as Harold would have said, but Rhoda responded with enjoyment for what can be pleasanter than to expitiate on one's own doings to a hearer with sufficient knowledge to appreciate the points and sufficient ignorance to prevent criticism or undue sensitiveness as to consistency of detail. Rhoda told of the chill early breakfasts of the 7 o'clock supper when everything looked so different in the rosy light, especially on Thursdays when frolics and best clothes were the order of the day, of Miss Mott with her everlasting attention to the board, the Latin mistress with her eyeglasses, froline with a voice described by Tom as sounding like a gutter on a rainy day, and of Miss Everett, the sweetest and best loved of all. Lastly, she told of the record wall and Ella was fired as every girl hearer invariably was fired with interest and emulation. When Rhoda went off to her lesson in the study, the poor little stay at home recalled the words of Eleanor Newman's inscription and capped them by one even more touching. Ella Mason, a student of exceptional promise, voluntarily relinquished a career of fame and glory to be a cheerful and uncomplaining helper at home. Oh, alas, poor Ella, at the word cheerful her lips twitched and at uncomplaining the big tears arose and trickled down her cheeks. For the rest of the holidays Rhoda worked more persistently than anyone suspected, with the exception of her tutor, who invariably found the allotted task not only perfectly accomplished but exceeded in length, even making allowances for the girl's undoubted gift for languages, he was amazed at her progress and complimented her warmly at the close of the lessons, watching with half amused, half pitying eyes, the flush of pleasure on the girl's cheeks. You are very ambitious, Rhoda, very anxious to distinguish yourself. Yes. Well, well, you're young, it is natural. Remember only that there are different kinds of success and aims for the best. When I was your age, I had dreams of a denary or a bisophric, but I have remained all my life in this sleepy village. My college companions have soared over my head, yet I can never feel myself an unsuccessful man. I've had great compensations and have discovered that obscurity has many lessons which I needed badly to learn. Don't be too anxious for honor and glory. There are other things better worth having. The worst of old people is they will preach, Rhoda said to herself as she walked home across the park. He is a good old thing, the vicar, but a terrible bore. Unsuccessful.  No wonder he gets prosy. Young people understand young people best and Miss Everett was quite right when she said it was no use trying to stuff lessons down your throat until you were ready to swallow them. If all the fathers and mothers and brothers and vickers in the world were to lecture me now and tell me to take it easy and not to worry about the examination, it would have no effect. In another two days, I go back to school and then then she stood still in the midst of the bear wintry scene and clasped her hands together passionately. Rhoda Chester, you must work, you must win. If you don't do well in that examination, it will break your heart. End of chapter 12.