Dumps – A Plain Girl

“I have been introduced to you,” she said, “by special letter from my friend Lilian St. Leger. And you are Dumps?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Good! You do look jolly. I am Rosalind Mayhew. I am a great friend of Lilian’s. Of course, I am younger than she is – I am a year younger – and I am going to be at school for another year, so I’ll see you through, Dumps; Lilian has asked me to.”

“Sit down and tell us about every thing,” I said. “You know we are such strangers.”

“Washed up on this inhospitable shore, we scarcely know what we are to do with ourselves, or what savages we are to meet,” said Hermione very merrily.

“Then I’ll just tell you everything I can. You know, Mademoiselle Wrex would be wild if she knew that I had come up to see you this evening. She said I was not to do so, but to leave you in peace. Well, I could not help myself. I slipped out to come here, and I told Elfreda and Riki and Fhemie and Hortense that I could not resist it any longer.”

“What queer names!” I said.

“Oh, Riki – she’s a German comtesse; and Elfreda is a baroness; but we always call them just Riki and Elfreda. They are very jolly girls. Then as to Fhemie, she is more English than I am; and Hortense is French of the French. There are all sorts of girls at our school. The Dutch girls are some of the nicest. I will introduce you to them. Then there are Swedes, and several Americans. The Americans are very racy.”

“How many girls are there altogether at the school?” I asked.

“Well, between twenty and thirty. You see, the Baroness Gablestein is exceedingly particular.”

“Who is she?”

“My dear Dumps! You don’t mean to say that you have come to this school without knowing the name of our head-mistress?”

“A baroness? Gablestein?” I exclaimed.

“Yes; she really represents a sort of all-round nationality. To begin with, she is an Englishwoman herself by birth – that is, on one side. Her mother was English, but her father was French. Then she married a German baron, whose mother was a Dutchwoman, and whose grandmother was Italian. Her husband died, and she found, poor baroness! that she had not quite enough to live on, and so, as she was exceedingly well educated and had many aristocratic connections, she thought she would start a school. Her name in full is Baroness von Gablestein. She is most charming. She talks excellent English, but she also talks French and German and Italian like a native. She has a fair idea of the Dutch tongue, and is exceedingly kind to her Dutch connections; but I think her most valued pupils hail from the island home. But there! I don’t think I ought to stay any longer to-night. I don’t want Comtesse Riki to become curious and to poke her aristocratic little nose in here. She is a very jolly girl, and as nice as ever she can be; still, she is not English, you know. Oh, you’ll find all sides of character here. I can’t tell you how funny it is, particularly with regard to the French and German girls; they are so interested about their dot and their future husbands and all the rest. I tell you it is life in this place! We do have good times; it isn’t a bit like a regular school. You see all sorts and conditions – good, bad, and indifferent; but I suppose the good preponderate. Now kiss me, Dumps. You will be quite a fresh variety. I believe you are blunt and honest – but, oh, don’t break the Salviati glass!”

“How very wrong of Lilian to have told you that story!” I said.

“My dear good creature, do you think that Lilian St. Leger could keep anything to herself? She is about the maddest young woman I ever came across; but we do miss her at school. Her name will be ‘Open sesame’ to you to every heart in the place. She is just the nicest and most bewitching of creatures. I only wish she was back.”

“She is coming out in about a month,” I said.

“Poor thing, how she always did hate the idea!”

“She won’t when the time comes,” said Hermione.

“Once she is plunged into that fun she will enjoy it as well as another.”

“I never should,” I said.

Rosalind glanced at me and laughed.

“Oh, perhaps you’ll change too,” she said. “Well, you look awfully nice. Your breakfast will be brought to your rooms to-morrow morning sharp at seven o’clock. We have déjeuner at twelve, afternoon tea at four, dinner at seven. The rest of the day is divided up into all sorts of strange and odd patterns, totally different from English life. But, of course, the meals are all-important.”

“Why,” I said, “I did not think you were so greedy.”

“Nor are we; but you see, dear, during meals we each speak the language of our native country, and I can tell you there is a babel sometimes when the Baroness is not at the head of her table. All the rest of the time the English girls must talk French, German, or Italian; and the French ones must talk English, German, or Italian; and the German girls must talk French, English, or Italian; and so on, and so on.”

“Oh, you confuse me,” I said. “How can any one girl talk three languages at once?”

“Day about, or week about – I forget which,” said Rosalind. “Now, good-night, good-night.”

She vanished.

“I declare I am dead-tired,” I said, and I sank down on the sofa.

“What a good thing Augusta wasn’t here!” said Hermione.

“Yes; she wouldn’t have understood a bit,” I said.

I went to Augusta’s room that night before I lay down to rest. She was sound asleep in the dress she had travelled in. She had not even taken the trouble to put a wrap over her. She looked tired, and was murmuring Latin verses in her sleep.

“It is not the right place for her; she will never, never get on with these baronesses and comtesses, and all this medley of foreign life,” I could not help saying to myself.

I covered her up, but did not attempt to awake her; and then I went to my own room, got into bed, and went to sleep with a whirl of emotion and wonder filling my brain.

Part 2, Chapter IX

First Impressions

It seemed to me that I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep before I was awakened again by seeing Justine standing by my bedside with a tray of very appetising food in her hand.

“Here are your rolls and coffee, mademoiselle,” she said.

As she spoke she laid the little tray on a small table by the side of my bed, evidently put there for the purpose; and taking a dressing-jacket from the wardrobe, she made me put it on, and admonished me to eat my breakfast quickly, as I must rise and attend prayers in the space of three-quarters of an hour.

Here was hurry indeed. I munched my delicious rolls, and sipped my coffee, and thought of the new life which was before me, and then I got up with energy and washed and dressed. When I had completed my toilet I went into the sitting-room, for although our rooms opened one into the other, there were other doors on to an adjoining landing. Here I found Hermione waiting for me.

“Where’s Augusta?” I said.

“I don’t know – surely she is dressed.”

“I’ll go to her room and find out,” I said.

I went and knocked at the door. A heavy voice said “Come in,” and I entered. Augusta was now lying well wrapped up in the bedclothes. She had not touched either her coffee or her rolls.

“Aren’t you getting up?” I said. “The bell will ring in a moment for prayers. We are expected to go down.”

“I have a headache,” said Augusta.

“Are you really ill, Augusta? I am sorry.”

“I am not ill, but I have a headache. I had bad dreams last night.”

“And you never got into bed at all.”

“I fell asleep, and my dreams were troublesome. I can’t get up yet. No, I won’t have any breakfast. I wish I hadn’t come; I don’t like this place.”