A World of Girls: The Story of a School

On the morning when the girls signified their choice of subject, Mrs Willis came into the school-room and made one of her little yearly speeches with regard to the right spirit in which her girls should try for these honours. The few and well-chosen words of the head-mistress generally roused those girls who loved her best to a fever of enthusiasm, and even Hester, who was comparatively a newcomer, felt a great wish, as she listened to that clear and vibrating voice and watched the many expressions which passed over the noble face, that she might find something beyond the mere earthly honour and glory of success in this coming trial. Having finished her little speech, Mrs Willis made several remarks with regard to the choice of subjects. She spoke of the English composition prize last, and here she heightened the interest and excitement which always hung around this special prize. Contrary to her usual rule, she would this year give no subject for an English theme. Each girl might choose what pleased her best.

On nearing these words Annie Forest, who had been sitting by her desk looking rather dull and dejected, suddenly sprang to her feet, her face aglow, her eyes sparkling, and began whispering vigorously to Miss Good.

Miss Good nodded, and, going up to Mrs Willis, said aloud that Annie had changed her mind, and that from not wishing to try for any of the prizes, she now intended to compete for the English composition.

Mrs Willis looked a little surprised, but without any comment she immediately entered Annie’s name in the list of competitors, and Annie sat down again, not even glancing at her astonished school-fellows, who could not conceal their amazement, for she had never hitherto shown the slightest desire to excel in this department.

On the evening of this Friday the girls of the three first classes assembled for the first time in the South Parlour. Hitherto these meetings had been carried on in a systematic and business-like fashion. It was impossible for all the girls who belonged to these three large classes to assemble on each occasion. Careful selections, therefore, were, as a rule, made from their numbers. These girls formed a committee to superintend and carry on the real preparations for the coming treat, and the others only met when specially summoned by the committee to appear.

As usual now the three classes found themselves in the South Parlour – as usual they chattered volubly, and started schemes, to reject them again with peals of laughter. Many ideas were put forward, to be cast aside as utterly worthless. No one seemed to have any very brilliant thought, and as the first step on these occasions was to select what the entertainment should be, proceedings seemed to come to a standstill.

The fact was the most daring originator, the one whoso ideas were always flavoured with a spice of novelty, was absolutely silent.

Cecil Temple, who had taken a seat near Annie, suddenly, bent forward and spoke to her aloud.

“We have all said what we would like, and we none of us appear to have thought of anything at all worth having,” she said; “but you have not spoken at all, Annie. Give us an idea, dear – you know you originated the fancy ball last year.”

Thus publicly appealed to, Annie raised her full brown eyes, glanced at her companions, not one of whom, with the exception of Cecil, returned her gaze fully; then, rising to her feet, she spoke in a slightly contemptuous tone.

“These preparations seem to me to be much ado about nothing; they lake up a lot of our time, and the results aren’t worth the trouble – I have nothing particular to say. Oh, well, yes, if you like – let’s have blind man’s buff and a magic lantern;” and then, dropping a mock curtsey to her companions, she dashed out of the South Parlour.

“Insufferable girl!” said Dora Russell; “I wonder you try to draw her out, Cecil. You know perfectly that we none of us care to have anything to do with her.”

“I know perfectly that you are all doing your best to make her life miserable,” said Cecil, suddenly and boldly. “No one in this school has obeyed Mrs Willis’s command to treat Annie as innocent – you are practically sending her to Coventry, and I think it is unjust and unfair. You don’t know, girls, that you are ruining poor Annie’s happiness.”

“Oh, dear! she doesn’t seem at all dull,” said Miss West, a second-class girl. “I do think she’s a hardened little wretch.”

“Little you know about her,” said Cecil, the colour fading out of her pale face. Then, after a pause, she added, “The injustice of the whole thing is that in this treatment of Annie you break the spirit of Mrs Willis’s command – you, none of you, certainly tell her that she is guilty, but you treat her as such.”

Here Hester Thornton said a daring thing.

“I don’t believe Mrs Willis in her heart of hearts considers Annie guiltless.”

These words of Hester’s were laughed at by most of the girls, but Dora Russell gave her an approving nod, and Cecil, looking paler than ever, dropped suddenly into her seat, and no longer tried to defend her absent friend.

“At any rate,” said Miss Conway, who as the head girl of the whole school was always listened to with great respect. “It is unfortunate for the success of our entertainment that there should be all this discussion and bad feeling with regard to Miss Forest. For my own part, I cannot make out why the poor little creature should be hunted down, or what affair it is of ours whether she is innocent or not. If Mr Everard and Mrs Willis says she is innocent, is not that enough? The fact of her guilt or innocence can’t hurt us one way or another. It is a great pity, however, for our own sakes, that we should be out with her now, for, whatever her faults, she is the only one of us who is ever gifted with an original thought. But, as we can’t have her, let us set to work without her – we really can’t waste the whole evening over this sort of talk.”

Discussions as to the coming pleasure were now again resumed with vigour, and after a great deal of animated arguing it was resolved that two short plays should be acted; that a committee should be immediately formed, who should select the plays, and apportion their various parts to the different actors.

The committee selected included Miss Russell, Miss Conway, Hester Thornton, Cecil Temple, and two other girls of the second-class. The conference then broke up, but there was a certain sense of flatness over everything, and Cecil was not the only girl who sighed for the merry meetings of last year – when Annie had been the life and soul of all the proceedings, and when one brilliant idea after another with regard to the costumes for the fancy ball had dropped from her merry tongue.

Chapter Twenty One

Stealing Hearts

When Annie ran out of the South Parlour she found herself suddenly face to face with Mrs Willis.

“Well, my dear child,” said the head-mistress in her kindest voice, “where are you running to? But I suppose I must not ask; you are, of course, one of the busy and secret conclave in the South Parlour?”

“No. I have left them,” said Annie, bending her head, and after her usual habit when agitated, shaking her hair about her face.

“Left them?” repeated Mrs Willis, “you mean, dear, that they have sent you for some message.”

“No. I am not one of them. May I go into the garden, Mrs Willis?”

“Certainly, my dear.”

Annie did not even glance at her governess. She pushed aside the baize door, and found herself in the great stone hall which led to the play-room and school-room. Her garden hat hung on a peg in the hall, and she tossed it off its place, and holding it in her hand ran toward the side door which opened directly into the garden. She had a wild wish to get to the shelter of the forsaken hammock and there cry out her whole heart. The moment she got into the open air, however, she was met by a whole troop of the little children, who were coming in after their usual short exercise before going to bed. Miss Danesbury was with them, and when Annie ran out by the open door, she entered holding two little ones by the hands. Last in this group toddled Hester’s little sister Nan. The moment she saw Annie her little face broke into smiles; she held out two hands eagerly, and fled to the young girl’s side.

“Where dat pitty toy?” she said, raising her round face to Annie’s; “some one did buy dat toy, and it’s vedy pitty, and me wants it – where’s dat toy?”

Annie stooped down, and spoke suddenly and impulsively to the little child.

“You shall have the toy for your very own, Nan, if you will do something for me?”

Nan’s baby eyes looked straight into Annie’s.

“Me will,” she said emphatically; “me want dat toy.”

“Put your arms round me, little darling, and give me a great, tight hug.”

This request was great fun to Nan, who squeezed her little arms round Annie’s neck, and pressed her dimpled cheek to her lips.

“Dere,” she said triumphantly, “will dat do?”

“Yes, you little treasure, and you’ll try to love me, won’t you?”

“Me do,” said Nan, in a solemn voice; but then Miss Danesbury called her, and she ran into the house.

As Nan trotted into the house she put up her dimpled hand to wipe something from her round cheek – it was a tear which Annie Forest had left there.

Annie herself, when all the little ones had disappeared, walked slowly and sadly down toward the shady walk. The sun had just set, and though it was now nearly May, and the evenings long, the wind was sufficiently cold to cause Annie to shiver in her thin house frock. At all times utterly fearless with regard to her health, she gave it no thought now, but entering the walk where she knew she should not be disturbed, she looked up at the hammock, and wondered whether she should climb into it. She decided, however, not to do so – the great and terrible weight of tears which had pressed close to her heart were relieved by Nan’s embrace; she no longer cared to cry until she could cry no longer – the worst of her pain had been soothed by the sweet baby graciousness of the little one.

Then there darted into poor Annie’s sore heart and perplexed brain that dangerous thought and temptation which was to work so much future pain and trouble. She already loved little Nan, and Nan, as most children did, had taken a fancy to her. Annie stood still, and clasped her hands as the dark idea came to her to steal the heart of little Nan from Hester, and so revenge herself on her. By doing this she would touch Hester in her most vulnerable point – she would take from her what she valued most. The temptation came swiftly, and Annie listened to it, and thought how easy it would be to carry it into effect. She knew well that no little child could resist her when she chose to exercise her charms – it would be easy, easy work to make that part of Nan which was most precious all her own. Annie became fascinated by the idea; how completely then she would have revenged all her wrongs on Hester! Some day Hester would bitterly repent of her unjust prejudice toward her; some day Hester would come to her, and beg of her in agony to give her back her darling’s love; ah! when that day came it would be her turn to triumph.

She felt more than satisfied as the temptation grew upon her; she shut out persistently from her view all the other side of the picture; she would not let herself think that the work she was about to undertake was cruel and mean. Hester had been more than unjust, and she was going to punish her.

Annie paced faster and faster up and down the shady walk, and whenever her resolution wavered, the memory of Hester’s face as she had seen it the same night in the South Parlour came visibly back and strengthened it. Yes, her turn had come at last. Hester had contrived since her entrance into the school to make Annie’s life thoroughly miserable. Well, never mind, it was Annie’s turn now to make her wretched.

Chapter Twenty Two

In Burn Castle Wood

In concentrating her thoughts of revenge on Hester Annie ceased to trouble her head about Dora Russell. She considered Hester a crueller enemy than Dora. Hester belonged to her own set, worked in her own class, and would naturally, had things not turned out so unjustly, so unfairly, have been her friend, and not her enemy. Dora had nothing to say to Annie, and before Hester’s advent into the school had scarcely noticed her existence. Annie therefore concentrated all her powers on punishing Hester. This gave her an aim and an occupation, and at first she felt that her revenge might give her real pleasure.

Susan Drummond now shared Annie’s bedroom, and Annie was rather startled one evening to hear this phlegmatic young person burst out into a strong tirade against Hester and Dora. Dora had managed, for some inexplicable reason, to offend Susan, and Susan now looked to Annie for sympathy, and boldly suggested that they should get up what she was pleased to call “a lark” between them for the punishment of this very dignified young lady.

Annie had never liked Susan, and she now stared at her, and said in her quick way —