A Popular Schoolgirl by Angela Brazil (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📕

headmaster of the School of Art, and, to the place of honor in the middle, Sir James Hilton, the Member of Parliament for Grovebury, who was to conduct the ceremony of the afternoon. He was a pleasant, genial-looking man, and though, as he assured his audience, he had never before had the opportunity of addressing a room full of girls, he seemed to be able to rise to the occasion, and made quite a capital speech.

“You’re lucky to have this handsome building in which to do your lessons,” he concluded. “Our environment makes a great difference to us, and I think it is far easier to turn out good work in the midst of beautiful surroundings. Grovebury College has reaped a well-deserved reputation in the past, and I trust that its hitherto excellent standards will be maintained or even surpassed in the future. As member for the town there’s a special word I wish to say to you. Train yourselves to be good women citizens. Some day, when you’re grown up, you will have votes, and in that way assist in the self-government of this great nation. The better educated and the more enlightened you are, the better fitted you will be for your civic responsibility. Every girl who does her duty at school is helping her country, because she is making herself efficient to serve it in some capacity. At present England stands at a great crisis; if we are to keep up the traditions of our forefathers we want workers, not slackers, in every department of life. Even the smallest of those little girls sitting in the front row can do her bit. As for you elder girls, think of yourselves as a Cadet Corps, training for the service of the British Empire, and let every lesson you learn be not for your own advantage, but for the good you can do with it afterwards to the world. I have very great pleasure in declaring this new building open.”

After Sir James had sat down, the Mayor and several other people made short speeches, and when all the clapping had finally subsided, the piano struck up, and the school sang an Empire Song and the National Anthem. Then the door at the back of the platform opened again for the exit of the visitors, who, chatting among themselves, made their way to Miss Burd’s study to be hospitably entertained with tea and cakes. The whole ceremony had barely occupied an hour, and it was not yet four o’clock. The girls, in orderly files, marched from the lecture-hall, and betook themselves first to their new form-rooms, where textbooks were given out with preparation for the next day, and desks allotted; then, when the great bell rang for dismissal, to the playground and cloakrooms, en route for home.

Ingred, with a goodly pile of fresh literature under her arm, walked slowly downstairs. She was not in any hurry to leave the classroom, and lingered as long as the limits of Miss Strong’s patience lasted. She knew there was a certain ordeal to be faced with her form-mates, and she was not sure whether she wanted to put it off, or to get it over at once.

“Better let them know and have done with it,” she said to herself after a few moments’ consideration on the landing. “After all, it’s my business, not theirs!”

It was a rather airily-defiant Ingred who strolled into the cloakroom and put on her hat. Francie Hall, trying to thread her boot with a lace that had lost its tag, looked up, smiled, and made room for her on the form.

“Cheery-ho, Ingred! How do you like our new diggings? Some removal, this, isn’t it? I must say the place looks nice. It’s topping to be here at last. By the by, I suppose you’ll be getting in Rotherwood soon? Or have you got already?”

Ingred was stooping to lace her shoe, so perhaps the position accounted for her stifled voice.

“We’re not going back there.”

“Not going back!” Francie’s tone was one of genuine amazement. “Why, but you said it was being done up for you, and you’d be moving before the term started!”

“Well, we’re not, at any rate.”

“What a disappointment for you!” began Beatrice Jackson tactlessly, as several other girls who were standing near turned and joined the group. “You always said you were just longing for Rotherwood.”

“Do the Red Cross want it again?” queried Jess Howard.

“No, they don’t; but we’re not going to live there. Where are we going to live? At our bungalow on the moors, and I’m a weekly boarder at the hostel. Are there any other impertinent questions you’d like to ask? Don’t all speak at once, please!”

And Ingred, having laced both shoes, got up, seized her pile of books, and, turning her back on her form-mates, stalked away without a goodbye. She knew she had been rude and ungracious, but she felt that if she had stopped another moment the tears that were welling into her eyes would have overflowed. Ingred had many good points, but she was a remarkably proud girl. She could not bear her schoolfellows to think she had come down in the world. She had thrown out so many hints last term about the renewed glories of Rotherwood, that it was certainly humiliating to have to acknowledge that all the happy expectations had come to nothing. On the reputation of Rotherwood both she and Quenrede had held their heads high in the school; she wondered if her position would be the same, now that everybody knew the truth.

As a matter of fact, most of the girls giggled as she went out through the cloakroom door.

“My lady’s in a temper!” exclaimed Francie.

“Lemons and vinegar!” hinnied Jess.

“Why did she fly out like that?” asked Beatrice.

“Well, really, Beatrice Jackson, after all the stupid things you said, anybody would fly out, I should think,” commented Verity Richmond. “I’m sorry for Ingred. I’d heard the Saxons can’t go back to their old house. It’s hard luck on