The Jolliest School of All, Angela Brazil [rm book recommendations TXT] 📗
- Author: Angela Brazil
Book online «The Jolliest School of All, Angela Brazil [rm book recommendations TXT] 📗». Author Angela Brazil
"Now, what d'you mean by such impudence? How dare you go into our dormitory? Juniors aren't to play tricks on their seniors! That was bumped into my head when I was a kid, and I'll bump it jolly well into yours!"
The trio pouted.
"We thought you called yourself our Fairy Godmother," said Olive sulkily.
"Well! So I do!"
"Not much fairy about it, or godmother either. You do nothing for us now."
"You ungrateful little wretches! Haven't we settled Bertha and Mabel for you? Don't you get your biscuits all right at lunch now?"
"Oh, yes. But——"
"But what?"
"You haven't given us a candy party for ages," broke out Natalie. "You keep all your cakes and fun to yourselves."
"You promised us all sorts of things. We don't think Fairy Godmothers are any use," snorted Olive. "Ta—ta! We're off to a basket-ball."
"Some people make a mighty palaver over next to nothing," sneered Doris, as the trio linked arms and tore away.[232]
Peachy stood looking after them with wrinkled brows. She was a peppery little person, and her temper was up for the moment. All the same, Doris's parting shot struck home. Unfortunately it was true. The Camellia Buds had proclaimed themselves as "Fairy Godmothers, Limited," had adopted juniors with much flourish of trumpets, had certainly fought a crusade and defended them against injustice and infringement of their rights, and then—and then—alack!—in the excitement of other matters had almost forgotten all about them.
Peachy remembered clearly that for the first week of her championship she had made a point of speaking daily to Olive, Doris, and Natalie. Now, for a full fortnight she had scarcely nodded to them at the breakfast table. They had certainly had no opportunity of pouring their childish woes into the sympathetic and motherly ear which she had quite intended should be always open to them.
"I've a wretched memory," she ruminated remorsefully. "Poor kiddies. They've really got rather a grievance, though they needn't have been so cheeky—the young imps! I guess I'd better call a meeting of the Camellia Buds and see what's to be done. I don't believe any of us have taken any notice of them just lately."
Nine would-have-been philanthropists, reminded of past schemes of benevolence, blushed uneasily, and tried to revive interest in their protégées.
"They always seemed very busy with basket-ball[233] and other things, and not exactly hankering after us," urged Agnes in excuse.
"They could have come to us if they'd wanted, of course," added Mary.
"That wasn't entirely the pact," said Peachy, driving in her tacks with firm hammer. "We offered to 'mother' them, and then forgot all about them. No wonder they think us frauds. What's to be done about it?"
"Get some more cakes somehow and ask them all to a party," suggested Irene enthusiastically. "We have been pigs! I promised Désirée to paint something in her album, and the book's been in my drawer for weeks, and I've never touched it."
"How are we going to get the cakes?"
"Wheedle Antonio again, I suppose. We needn't have any ourselves. If there are two slices apiece for the kids, it will do. We must keep some of our biscuits from lunch so that we can seem to be eating something ourselves. Peachy, you can coax him."
"You always leave it to me. Antonio isn't so easy to manage. Sometimes he's an absolute Pharisee, and won't buy me so much as a single bit of candy. I'll do what I can. Those poor kids shall have a treat if it costs me my last dollar. We owe them something decent."
Antonio, whose lapses from duty were only occasional, and who had been reprimanded lately by Miss Rodgers, who suspected his delinquencies,[234] proved deaf on this occasion to Peachy's blandishments. He protested, with quite aggravating virtue, that it was as much as his place was worth to smuggle even a solitary cream-cake, and that for the future he must no more be the conveyor of contraband sweet stuff.
"Stumped in that quarter," mourned Peachy. "But I'm not going to let this beat me. I've been cultivating a friendship with the cook! Don't laugh! I thought it might come in useful some day. I gave her my blue butterfly brooch (I had two of them!), and I took a snap-shot of her in her Sunday clothes, and she was immensely pleased and flattered. I haven't developed it yet, by the by, but I will, and print her two copies and mount them. If that doesn't melt her heart into sparing me a little butter and sugar it ought to. We can square it this way: none of us ten must eat any butter or sugar at breakfast or tea to-morrow, then we'll have a real right to have it given us afterwards. Don't pull faces! You can have marmalade or jam. What sybarites you are!"
"Right-o," agreed the Camellia Buds, sorrowfully accepting the sacrifice.
"But couldn't the juniors contribute some butter, too?" added Sheila.
"It might be noticed if too many went without. Besides, it's the hostesses who ought to provide the party, not the guests."
Benedicta, the cook, was vulnerable, especially in[235] view of the self-restraint exercised by the heroic ten. She made a hasty calculation of the amount of butter they would normally have consumed, added a package of sugar, and lent them a pan and a spoon. Peachy carried away these spoils chuckling, and hid them carefully behind the summer-house. Then she racked her brains and composed what she considered a suitable and telling invitation:
"The time is fixed for half-past four, You'll have to squat upon the floor, We ask you all—but can't do more.
"Our summer-house is small but handy, Indeed we think the place most dandy, We're going to try and make you candy.
"So leave your game of basket-ball, And come and make a friendly call, You'll find a welcome for you all.
"From
"Your Fairy Godmothers."
Peachy wrote her effusion upon a sheet torn from her best pad, folded it, sought out Olive and handed it to her, telling her to pass it round the form.[236] The juniors grinned at its contents. They had felt themselves neglected, but were quite ready to forgive past omissions on the strength of a present invitation.
"Better late than never," decreed Doris. "I suppose we'll go?"
"It sounds as if it might be rather nice," agreed the others.
So once more the Camellia Buds were placed in the position of hostesses. Owing to the difficulty of the catering they judged it best to make the candy before the very eyes of their guests, so that they might see for themselves how little there was of it and not grouse if the supply only ran to one bit apiece.
"Otherwise they might think we'd had first go and only given them the leavings," remarked Peachy, who was a born diplomat.
They had counted on borrowing the spirit-lamp which the seniors used for brewing their after-dinner coffee, but at the last moment they found the bottle of methylated spirit was empty.
"What a nuisance! There's no time to send for more. Never mind! We won't be 'done.' Let's light a camp-fire and cook on that. We must manage somehow."
"We certainly can't disappoint them!"
"Not after all this fuss."
The back of the summer-house, as being a particularly retired and secluded spot, was chosen as[237] the rendezvous, and when the nineteen juniors, interested and appreciative, came fluttering up the garden, they were met by scouts, conducted round, commanded to squat in a circle on the ground, and requested to make less noise.
"D'you want the whole of the school to butt in?" warned Jess. "Then keep quiet, can't you? Much taffy you'll get if Rachel catches us. Your only chance is to lie low, you little sillies."
"Rachel's playing tennis!" giggled Evelyn Carr.
"There are other prefects as well as Rachel. Pull yourselves together and don't get so excited."
The juniors, who had been talking at the top of their voices, squealing, and otherwise raising the echoes, restrained their transports and contented themselves with whispers and giggles. The Camellia Buds were fetching fuel, which they had purloined from the gardener's wood-shed. They commenced to build a camp-fire.
Before very long the flames were dancing up. Now, the hostesses in their enthusiasm to be hospitable had foolishly forgotten that it is one thing to stir a pan over a methylated spirit lamp, and quite another to hold it over a camp-fire. Peachy, Agnes, and Mary tried in turns and scorched their hands, egged on by the interested circle watching their performance.
"Make a big bonfire, and let it die down, and put the pan in the hot ashes, just as we cook chestnuts," proposed Irene.[238]
It was, at least, a feasible suggestion. Anything seemed better than open failure before those nineteen pairs of expectant eyes. Volunteers went off for fresh supplies of wood, which was soon crackling merrily. But alas! the Camellia Buds, being rather overwrought and flustered with their experiments, did not calculate on the fact that the smoke of their bonfire would give away their secret. Rachel had handed her tennis racket to Phyllis, and was taking a turn among the orange trees to try to memorize her recitation for the elocution class.
she repeated; then, catching sight of the gray cloud rising from the back of the summer-house, "Hello! What's Giovanni burning? He'll set those orange trees on fire if he doesn't mind."
Abandoning Shakespeare Rachel stalked away to investigate, and surprised the candy party by a sudden appearance in their midst.
"Good gracious, girls! Whatever are you doing here?" she demanded in idiomatic, if hardly strictly classical English.
At the unwelcome sight of the head prefect the juniors one and all simply stampeded, and I regret to say that the more timid of the Camellia Buds[239] followed their example. Peachy, Irene, Lorna, Delia, and Jess stood their ground, however.
"We—we were only giving those kids a little fun," answered Peachy.
In dead silence Rachel reviewed the pan, its contents, and the blushing faces before her. Then she said:
"Rather dangerous fun. If that tree catches it will set the summer-house in a blaze next. You know your fire drill? Well, each fetch a bucket of water and put this out! Right turn! Quick march!"
At the words of command the luckless five fled to the house and into the back hall where the fire buckets were kept. They returned with what speed they could, and thoroughly soused their bonfire. Rachel assured herself that it was safely out, then commenced further inquiries.
"We didn't mean any harm," explained Peachy, much on the defensive. "We were only trying to amuse those juniors. They never have a chance to get hold of the tennis courts, and they're tired of eternal basket-ball, and they've rather a thin time of it. We started taking them up because they were so bullied. Bertha and Mabel used to snatch their biscuits away from them at lunch."
Rachel's face was a study.
"Bertha and Mabel snatched their biscuits?" she repeated.
"Yes; we stopped that though."[240]
"I never saw it!"
"They took jolly good care you shouldn't."
"Why didn't you come and tell me?"
Peachy looked embarrassed.
"Well, if you really want to know," she blurted out, "you're so aloof and superior nobody cares to come and tell you anything. We managed it by ourselves."
Rachel winced as if Peachy had struck her a blow.
"I'm sorry if—if that's how I seem to you," she faltered. "I must have failed utterly as head girl if you can't confide in me. The prefects want to be the friends of all the school."
Peachy shrugged her shoulders eloquently.
"I don't quite see where the friendship comes in," she murmured. "You bag the best tennis courts and have the best dormitories, and give your own stunts there. You never ask any of us to them. Do you, now?"
"No, I'm afraid we don't," admitted Rachel, still in the same constrained, almost bewildered, manner. "We really never thought of it."
The four Camellia Buds, listening to their friend's outspoken comments, expected an explosion of wrath from the head prefect, but Rachel only told them to take the buckets back to the house.
"And that too," she added, pointing to the pan. Peachy
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