The Nicest Girl in the School: A Story of School Life by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER VI

  Albums

  "I want you to put something in my album, Patty," said Winnie Robinsonone afternoon, producing a dainty little volume reserved for souvenirsof her friends. "You're clever at drawing, so please let it be apicture, and if you can colour it, so much the better."

  "I hope I shan't spoil your book," replied Patty, turning over theleaves to look at the various artistic efforts and poetical quotationswith which about half the pages were filled.

  "Of course you won't! I expect yours will be one of the nicest. I wantevery girl in the class to either paint or write something, and then Ishall have a keepsake of the Upper Fourth. Maggie Woodhall drew thispretty little dog, and Ella Johnson those roses, and Enid has promisedto make up a piece of poetry on purpose."

  "It was only half a promise," declared Enid.

  "Then you must write half a poem."

  "Suppose the Muse deserts me?"

  "Oh, rubbish! You can always make up verses. They seem to flow just asif you turned on a tap."

  "Have you an album, Patty?" enquired Avis.

  "No," said Patty. "I never saw one like Winnie's before. It's somethingquite new to me."

  "Oh! then you must get one. They're the fashion just at present, andevery girl in the class has one."

  "We're rather fond of fads at The Priory," explained Winnie. "We have arage for some particular thing, and are quite silly over it for a while,until we grow tired of it, and take up something else. This is about thefifth craze since I've been at the school. They never last long."

  "The first was foreign stamps," said Enid. "Don't you remember how keenwe were about collecting them, and how we envied May Firth because shehad an uncle in Persia?"

  "Maggie Woodhall got several stamps from Mexico," said Avis. "I thinkher collection was one of the best."

  "I was very enthusiastic about mine," said Enid. "I exchanged three newlead pencils once for a Japanese stamp, and I asked Mother for an albumfor my birthday present. It was a beauty, too. Then, in the holidays, Iwent to stay with my godmother, and she had a whole pillow-case full ofold letters, mostly foreign ones. She let me tear the stamps off all theenvelopes, and I got at least twenty new kinds. I was delighted withthem; but when I came back to school the fashion had changed, everybodywas tired of stamps, and nobody cared to look at mine, so I gave thebook to my brother. The boys in his class were collecting, and he wasonly too pleased to have it."

  "I believe crests came next," said Avis reflectively. "Vera Cliffordintroduced them, because she was so proud her family has one of its own.She put it on the front page, and showed it to everybody."

  "Yes, and she never forgave Doris Kennedy for making fun of it."

  "What did Doris say?"

  "Well, you see, the Clifford crest is a lion holding a shell, and themotto is a Latin one which means, 'Do not touch!' Doris said the lionwas holding a purse, and the motto meant, 'What I've got I'll keep'. Itwas a good hit at Vera, because she's very stingy, although she hasplenty of pocket money. She only gave twopence to the Waifs and StraysFund--it was less than anybody else in the class; and she'll hardlyever lend her things, either, though she often borrows from othergirls."

  "She used all my Indian ink last term, and never gave me any back whenshe bought a new bottle," said Winnie. "She's certainly rather mean."

  "The crests looked beautiful when they were pasted into albums," saidAvis. "Beatrice Wynne used to paint borders round hers in red, and blue,and gold. Her book was like an old illuminated manuscript."

  "It was a difficult craze, though, to keep up," said Winnie, "because wecouldn't most of us collect enough crests to fill a book. Post-markswere much easier. We used to arrange them according to the differentcounties they were in. Miss Harper encouraged that fad; she said ittaught us geography."

  "So it did; but we made the most absurd mistakes sometimes. I rememberputting Abingdon down under Devonshire, and Ilkley under Lincolnshire. Iused to have to look the places up in the atlas. It was rather too likelessons to be very popular, so we all took to drawing pigs instead."

  "Drawing pigs!" exclaimed Patty.

  "Yes, with your eyes shut. It's most amusing to have a pig book. You geteach of your friends to close her eyes tightly, and then draw a pig,putting in its tail and its eye, and to sign her name to it afterwards.You can't think what funny pictures people make. The eye's generally inthe middle of the pig's back, and the tail twirling away anywhere but inthe right place."

  "All except Miss Harper's pig," said Winnie, "and that was because shedrew the eye first. It wasn't quite fair, because you're supposed to putit in last of all; but of course none of us dared to tell her so. I haveit in my book still, signed E.J.H.; it's got the most impertinent snout,and large peaked ears. I'm sure she must have been practising drawingpigs before she did it."

  "Ghost signatures were nearly as much fun," said Enid.

  "What are those?" enquired Patty, to whom all these schoolgirl pastimeswere unknown.

  "You have a special autograph book for them," explained Enid. "Youdouble a page in half, and write your name inside exactly on the creaseof the paper; then you fold the two halves together again withoutblotting it and press hard. It smudges your signature into such a queershape. Everybody's comes out differently. One looks like a caterpillar,and another like a butterfly, or perhaps a fish's backbone. EllaJohnson's was the exact image of an oak tree."

  "And Maud Greening's was like a pressed fern," said Winnie. "Do youremember the fad we had for pressed flowers and skeleton leaves? We usedto keep them inside all our books."

  "Yes, we soaked the leaves in water till they turned into skeletons. Wepressed the flowers in blotting paper, and they were often lovely."

  "Some of the girls were quite sentimental over them. Cissie Gardiner hada pansy picked from Wordsworth's garden at Grasmere, and a sprig ofrosemary that she said came from the grave of Keats. Her aunt brought itto her from Rome, where he's buried. She pasted it on to a piece ofpaper, and wrote underneath: 'Here's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Ipray you, love, remember.' She said Keats was her favourite poet. Shethought it was so romantic for him to die so young of a broken heart,and she admired his portrait at the beginning of his poems, and if onlyshe could have lived a hundred years earlier, then perhaps she mighthave known him."

  "It was all Cissie's fault that we lost our collections," said Avis.

  "What happened?" asked Patty, who found the reminiscences interesting.

  "Well, we used to keep the leaves and flowers inside our books, and lookat them during class whenever we had an opportunity. One day, duringgrammar, Cissie was sitting gazing at her piece of rosemary, and, Isuppose, thinking of Keats, for she didn't hear when she was asked aquestion. Miss Rowe repeated it, and Cissie gave such a start that allher treasures fell from her book on to the floor. Miss Rowe looked verygrim, and told her to pick them up, and ordered each girl to take everysingle leaf and flower out of her book also. Then she made Cissiecollect them all, and fling the whole pile into the grate. Poor Cissiewas in tears. She tried hard to save her sprig of rosemary: she beggedMiss Rowe to let her keep it, and said she'd put it away in her drawer,and never bring it to class again; but Miss Rowe said she wouldn'tencourage such nonsense, and the best place for it was the fire."

  "It was just like Miss Rowe," said Enid; "she always uses what my fathercalls 'drastic measures'. Cissie's tired of Keats now. She's made a heroof General Gordon instead, and has his portrait hanging up in herbedroom, with a piece of palm over it. She says she should like to marrya soldier some day, only she'd be so afraid of his getting killed."

  "Cissie's a goose," said Winnie; "she can think of nothing but soldierssince her brother went to Sandhurst. She even drew one in my album, andit's not particularly well done. Patty, are you going to paint anythingfor me, or are you not? I'll leave the book with you for a week, and atthe end of that time I shall expect to see something nice."

  Patty was rather clever at drawing. She could copy very exactly, a
ndeven make original sketches sometimes. Mr. Summers, the art master,thought well of her work, and had praised her study of a group of applesmore highly than those of the other girls. It was quite a consolation toPatty to excel in something. She found the afternoon spent in the studiothe pleasantest in the whole week, and wished the drawing lessons cameoftener. She was not without a secret hope that some of her work mightbe considered good enough to secure a place in the small exhibition ofArts and Crafts which was held yearly at the school, and to which onlyvery creditable efforts were admitted. The neat drawings with which sheillustrated her botany schedules were the admiration of her classmates,though they did not always meet with the appreciation from Miss Harperwhich they deserved. On one occasion Patty had taken immense trouble tocopy a harebell as an example of the order _Campanulaceae_. She hadshaded it carefully in Indian ink, with very fine cross hatchings, andhoped it might win an extra mark, or at any rate a word of approbation.Disappointment, however, was in store for her. Miss Harper handed backthe book with the remark:

  "If you would spend less time on drawings, and more on thesubject-matter of your exercises, Patty Hirst, I should be bettersatisfied with your work."

  "It's so difficult to remember all those long, hard botanical terms,"Patty complained afterwards to Jean. "I love the flowers, and I like topaint them and learn their English names, but I don't care in the leastif their stamens are hypogynous or their cotyledons induplicate! I thinkit spoils them to pull them to pieces. They look so much prettier justas they're growing!"

  The painting of a spray of honeysuckle which Patty did for Winnie was sobeautifully done, that it was greatly envied by the other girls, all ofwhom begged for contributions to their own albums, and kept the littleartist quite busy on half-holidays, or in any other leisure momentswhich she could spare. It was such a pleasant occupation that Patty didnot grudge the time spent over it, and she was magnanimous enough toforget old grievances and to allow even Vera Clifford, Maud Greening,and Kitty Harrison to have specimens of her work, though Enid said theydid not deserve it.

  "They wouldn't any of them sit next to you when we were playing gameslast night," she declared, "and they were quite rude, and left you outaltogether in the proverb questions. I think it is very cool of them toask you. As for Muriel, I wonder she can bear to look at the lovelypoppies you painted in her book, when she treats you so horridly."

  It was Patty's birthday on the 24th of October, and for fully a weekbefore that event she could not help noticing an unusual amount ofmystery in the conduct of her friends. Several of them would be talkingtogether with the greatest animation, and would drop suddenly intosilence on her arrival. Enid twice began a sentence and stopped in themiddle at a warning glance from Jean; and once, when Patty cameunexpectedly into the classroom, there was a scuffle, the lid ofWinnie's desk was banged down violently, and Winnie herself, togetherwith Avis Wentworth and Cissie Gardiner, looked extremely conscious, asthough they had been almost caught in some act which they wished to keepa secret. Patty wondered mildly why Enid seemed so anxious to ascertainwhether she preferred red or blue, and whether she did not think abright colour was always nicer than black; and she could not understandwhy her friend should one day be poring over a catalogue from theStores, nor why she shut it up in such a hurry, remarking ratherpointedly that Miss Lincoln had lent it to her.

  "It's a queer book to choose!" laughed Patty. "I thought you werehalfway through 'A Chaplet of Pearls'? I shouldn't think it's veryamusing to read lists of groceries and household linen."

  "On the contrary, I find it most interesting," replied Enid. "I neverknew before how much shopping one could do at the Stores. They seem tohave a department for everything."

  On the morning of the birthday most of the members of the Fourth Classhurried away after breakfast with conspicuous haste. Patty stayed for afew minutes in the refectory to talk to some of the fifth class girls,and was in the middle of a conversation with Olive Hardman and BellaAshworth, when Jean entered in search of her.

  "Come, Patty," she said, "you're wanted in the classroom."

  "Why, it's too early. It's only twenty-five minutes to nine," saidPatty.

  "Never mind. The girls are all there waiting."

  "Waiting for what?"

  "Waiting for you."

  "Why for me?" asked Patty, in much surprise.

  "Come along and you'll find the reason," replied Jean, taking her armand leading her down the passage without further delay.

  Considerably mystified at Jean's impatient hurry, Patty was still moreastonished to discover the whole of both the Upper Fourth and the lowerdivision collected round the fire in the schoolroom, and evidentlyanticipating her arrival with much eagerness.

  "Here she is!" cried Jean. "Now, Enid, you can begin."

  "We want to wish you very many happy returns of the day, Patty," saidEnid, who seemed to be acting as mouthpiece for the rest. "And we hopeyou'll accept this birthday present; it's from us all."

  "Thank you so much," said Patty, taking the offered parcel and beginningto untie the string. "I never expected that any of you would remember mybirthday. Why, how lovely! Oh, it is good of you! The very thing in allthe world I'd rather have than anything else."

  The object which lay under the many folds of tissue paper was an album.It was bound in bright-blue morocco with gilt edges, and had smoothpages inside for writing, interleaved with pages of drawing paper forwater colours. At the beginning was neatly printed:

  PATTY HIRST

  With love from the Fourth Class.

  It was certainly a very appropriate present for the girls to have made,and one which Patty appreciated immensely. She had greatly longed topossess an album of her own, but had not liked to ask her mother to buyher one, and the beauty of this handsome gift far surpassed all herdreams.

  "You'd done such lovely paintings in our books, that we felt we wantedto put something in yours," said Avis, "though I'm afraid ourproductions won't be very nice. I can't draw a stroke, and my writing'snot at all elegant. I think you'd better not ask me."

  In spite of Avis's protestations, Patty naturally asked her and the restof the class for contributions, and the twenty-one souvenirs whichresulted went a long way towards filling her volume. They varied much,both in quality and quantity, from Maggie Woodhall's fine pen-and-inkdrawing to May Firth's washy little attempt at a landscape, or the shortpoetical quotation signed "Beatrice Wynne". Cissie Gardiner, always of aromantic turn of mind, copied "Has sorrow thy young days shaded?" fromMoore's _Irish Melodies_, in her neatest handwriting. Naughty Winnie,who liked to make fun of Cissie, added a version of her own on theopposite page, which greatly destroyed the sentiment of the first, andprovoked much laughter in the class. It ran thus:--

  "Has sorrow thy young days shaded? Are schoolbooks and inkpots thy fate? Too soon is thy fair face faded By working at Euclid so late. Doth French thy bright spirit wither, Or Grammar thy happiness sear? Then, child of misfortune, come hither, I'll weep with thee tear for tear."

  "It's too bad!" said Cissie. "It spoils my verses; and Moore's myfavourite poet just now. I like him far better than Keats; I think hispieces about soldiers and glory are simply splendid."

  All the girls exerted themselves so much on Patty's behalf, that heralbum seemed to bring out an amount of talent lying dormant in the classwhich nobody had suspected before. Inspired by Winnie's original lines,several of the others set to work to make up verses, and the resultswere so satisfactory, that the authors felt themselves quite buddingpoetesses. Ethel Maitland, a quiet girl in the lower division,astonished everybody by the following composition, which was the moreunexpected as nobody had ever considered her in the least clever.

  TO PATTY

  I thank the chance that doth afford Th' occasion fair and happy, Upon this page to thus record My gratitude to Patty. Within my album she hath wrought A picture of red roses, All painted with most cunning skill, The prettiest of posi
es. Had I but talent, in return A masterpiece I'd draw her, But failing that, I pen these lines Which now I place before her.

  "It's not very good," declared Ethel. "It was so hard to make it scanproperly. I know 'happy' and 'Patty' don't really rhyme, but what elsecould I put? The last line's rather tame, but then again I couldn't finda rhyme for 'draw her'. I thought at first of putting 'And hope theywill not bore her', or 'To show how I adore her', but perhaps it'sbetter as it is."

  Patty, who had no talent for poetry, was immensely impressed by theselines. She showed them to everybody in the class, and Ethel's work wasmuch admired until it was entirely eclipsed by a contribution from JeanBannerman. Jean had drawn a funny picture of a kitten with a pile ofbooks under its arm. She had copied it from a magazine, but the versewhich she wrote under it was her own composition. She called it:

  AN ENTHUSIAST

  Her head well stored with copious knowledge, Miss Fluffy Purrem goes to College, Secure that never yet she's failed. Her subjects will not be _cur_tailed: On _cat_acombs she'll wax ecstatic, Yet much objects to be _dog_matic. She's great on ornithology, And also on astrology; She lets the Dog Star go astray, But revels in the _Milky Way_. She claims the _Manx_ to be a nation, And holds strong views about cre(a)mation; At _Mew_nham they declare she's sure A first-class try_puss_ to secure.

  This delighted the girls, because the kitten's face really looked alittle like Patty's, which was round too, and what Jean described as"purry",--"that's to say, looking pleased at everything, as if she werepurring," she explained.

  Enid had reserved her efforts until the last, and her page in the albumwas considered the very best of all. It was headed by a picture whichwas a curious notion of her own. When glanced at casually it might betaken for a sketch of a crocodile, but when examined closely it showedthat the body was made up of girls walking along two and two, thesmaller ones tapering down in height, and vanishing in the distance toform the tail. Though the details were not particularly well drawn, thewhole effect was wonderfully good, and as "crocodiling" was the popularterm at The Priory for walking two and two, the idea was mostappropriate. Enid described it in the accompanying verses:

  THE BALLAD OF THE SWEET CROCODILE

  Oh! haven't you heard of the sweet crocodile? It lives in the mud on the banks of the Nile. 'Neath the tropical sunshine it sits with a smile, And feeds on the niggers who live by the Nile. Oh, the sweet crocodile! The sweet crocodile! It lives in the mud on the banks of the Nile.

  But if you must live in this cold British isle, It's not often you'll meet with the sweet crocodile. The specimens here are as far as they're few, And we treasure them carefully up in the Zoo. Oh, the sweet crocodile! The sweet crocodile! It doesn't thrive well in this cold British isle.

  Yet if about Morton you'll walk for a mile, You may see an uncommonly sweet crocodile. It looks very neat, with its trim little feet, And the people all smile when the creature they meet. Oh, the sweet crocodile! The sweet crocodile! It walks about Morton for many a mile.

  But if you'll examine this sweet crocodile, You'll see it's composed all of girls in a file. And there's one, who's called Patty, with such a sweet smile, That the people all rave on this sweet crocodile. Oh! this Patty of mine, with the extra sweet smile, She's a gem in the tail of the sweet crocodile.

  This proved by far the most popular of all the contributions to Patty'salbum, and as numerous girls from other classes asked to look at thecrocodile picture, the book was in danger of too much wear and tear, andat Miss Harper's suggestion it was placed temporarily in the schoolmuseum, so that everybody might have a chance of seeing it, yet itshould be safe from careless hands. Enid was, of course, asked afterthis to compose so many poems for so many various albums, that had sheconsented her collected effusions might have filled a volume; but shesteadfastly declined.

  "I made this up specially for Patty, and on purpose to try and make heralbum a little different from anybody else's," she declared. "If I wroteverses and drew pictures for you all, there'd be nothing particularlyout of the common about this. I don't intend to do a single thing forone of you, so please don't ask me again, for I shall only go on saying'No'."