Nancy was pointing out celebrities. "That must be Kathryn Fleming. Isn't she simply stunning?" she said, as a tall, fair-haired woman in gold-and-white brocade entered the Hall; "and there's Judge Weston and Miss Fisken--what a gorgeous gown!--looks Chinese. I wonder who that small, black-haired girl is! She looks as if she played the violin or wrote plays or something."

"She probably stays at home and dusts the drawing-room," said Judith, laughing.

"Don't be horrid," pouted Sally May. "Oh, there's Mrs. Dexter. Wouldn't it be thrilling to be President? You'd make a good President, Judy, you're so tall. Come on,[1]

They found numbers of the New Girls already standing about under the Chinese lanterns admiring the work of the Decorating Committee, and some of them, we regret to add, casting hungry glances at the rolls and salad which were already on the table.

Judith found herself seated next to Sally May and opposite Frances, who was to reply to the toast to "Our first days at York Hill."

How they enjoyed their supper! For once, to be able, while at School, to have exactly what you desired to eat, limited only, of course, by the amount of the tax levied on each member! Marjorie and Edith, who had been responsible for the ordering of the food, had many congratulations pa.s.sed down to their end of the table, and Sally May felt amply repaid for the trouble she and her committee had taken with the place cards when she heard the exclamations of delight on all sides.

Judith, already excited and keyed up by the events of the day, and susceptible as always to beauty in any shape or form, could hardly eat at all. It was an exquisite June evening. The magic and charm of the coloured lanterns, the warm splashes of colour made by the sweater coats and cushions, the soft, rosy glow of the fading sunset, and the silver of a young moon, all made for Judith a veritable fairy-land. If only she hadn't to answer the toast she could be perfectly and absolutely happy.

But all too soon lemonade gla.s.ses were refilled for the toasts, and Joyce fidgeted and cleared her throat preparatory to giving "The King."

"G.o.d save the King" was sung with a will, and then Frances proposed "Our Country" and this was followed by "O Canada," and "My Country, 'tis of Thee." Marjorie had brought her violin to accompany the songs, and the thin, silvery notes and the clear, fresh voices of the singers sent little shivery thrills of pleasure up and down Judith's spine.

Judith's toast was coming now. Quite suddenly she knew that she hadn't been able to realize before what York Hill stood for--to herself, to all these New Girls, and to all the Old Girls who had come back to pay a tribute to the School they loved. Whatever could she do? She tried to think of something else to say, but Frances Purdy was speaking now and the bursts of laughter all about were too infectious to withstand.

Frances was describing the woes of her first week. She had been told that she must say "ma'am" to all the Sixth-Form girls, and that new girls must get up before the others and have their baths before the bell rang, and she convulsed her audience by a description of her first ecstatic experience in the tuck shop. She had been informed that the School provided buns and milk at recess, and meeting a neighbour who was consuming a particularly luscious-looking Chelsea bun at recess-time, she enquired where they were to be found. She was directed to the tuck shop in the gymnasium, where she spent some happy moments choosing buns and cakes and sweets, all of which the presiding genius had a.s.serted, in answer to her enquiries, she might have at recess. Her admiration for a School where this kind of thing was done was only equalled by her dismay when she discovered her mistake and was requested to hand over twenty-three cents!

And now came the last and most important toast of all, and the School song was sung with a right good will. Judith stood up and found herself in the grip of an emotion stronger than herself. She looked out through the trees where she saw the lights streaming out from the dining-hall where the Old Girls were gathered; away off to the right was Miss Meredith's green-shaded lamp burning on her study table; in front she could see the lights in the common room and the library; here beside her was the gymnasium where most of her own particular friends were sitting at another table--and all these people were bound together by one thing--love and loyalty to York Hill.

The song was ended--they were waiting for her to speak; here and there in the semi-darkness she could distinguish a puzzled face; had they been waiting long? With an effort she opened her paper, no, it wouldn't do--she crushed it in her hand and waited for a minute till her heart should stop throbbing in her throat. Then she spoke, falteringly at first.

"Some of us were conceited--and--selfish. We thought about ourselves mostly when we came here last September, but York Hill has made us despise our littleness and long to be bigger and broader; some of us didn't know how to use our bodies or our brains, but the School has taught us how to be true sports and how to think straight; some of us had mighty small ideals about what things really mattered; but York Hill has shown us how 'to play the game, and be true to the best we know.'"

Judith faltered as she remembered how many times she had failed to live up to that best, her voice broke, and tears shone on her lashes. "Some of us are little fools--but we're going to see to it that we don't stay fools, we're going to be women that York Hill will be proud of when we come back to the Old Girls' Reunion."

And then she sat down feeling limp and tired and wishing that she could run upstairs to her room and hide her head under the pillows. But the girls were applauding whole-heartedly.

"It's awfully kind of them," thought Judith; "they know how miserable I feel breaking down like that--in front of everybody."

"You made the speech of the evening, Judy," said Sally May as Judith joined her a little later in the Gymnasium for the Sixth-Form Dance.

"Don't be silly, Sally May. I failed, that's what I did, and just when I wanted badly to say 'thank you' to the School."

"Of course she made the best speech," said Nancy, putting her arm through Judith's, "Florence has been telling me about it." And Judith greatly comforted went off to have the first dance with Nancy.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Transcriber's Note: Page 253, text ends in mid-sentence in original.

CHAPTER XVII

PRIZE-GIVING

AFTER the excitement of the previous day, Sat.u.r.day morning felt a little flat and insipid. There was still plenty to do--desks to clean, trunks to pack, the last preparations to be made for to-night's play--a hundred and one things in fact.

The crew of the "Jolly Susan" were not particularly jolly; they were tired, and they hated to take down pictures and curtains, and dismantle their pretty rooms.

Next year wouldn't be the same, they a.s.sured each other; they'd never be all together again: Sally May wasn't even sure if she were returning to York Hill. Josephine expected to be back and Jane probably, and Nancy and Judith. Judith was glad that there wasn't any question as to whether Nancy would return. She was rapidly coming to the place where she felt that she simply couldn't live without Nancy. Indeed, the summer holidays, even with Daddy and Mother home again, had seemed long and blank until she had received permission to invite her special friend to spend a month at the Benson's camp in the North.

"Of all the ships that sail on land, There's none like 'Jolly Susan'; Her crew works well with heart and hand, And sometimes they're amusin',"

sang Josephine in her deep voice. "It's the number of things I've got to remember that's weighing down MY young mind. Judy, do come in here and help me--you're so supernaturally tidy, perhaps _you_ can tell me how to separate the sheep from the goats."

"Tidy, nothing," said Judith cheerfully, surveying Josephine's wardrobe and personal belongings spread over the entire room. "But why sheep?"

"Sheep-things I keep for prize-giving, and the play and the journey; goats--the rest, all of which must go into the big trunk and depart in two hours for the station. I know I'll pack my white slippers or my toothbrush or something equally important unless some kind soul will take me--and mine--in hand."

"Let's make a list of what you'll want for the journey," said Judith, setting to work with a will, "then you sort and I'll pack."

"Jack and Tom are coming to-night," said Nancy, bursting into the "Jolly Susan" a little later, holding an open letter in her hands. "Isn't Miss Meredith a brick? She sent them special invitations when I told her Jack was still in town."

Nancy looked excited and beckoned Judith into her room where she pointed to two violet-coloured boxes.

"They've sent us the loveliest flowers," she said in a low tone; "it's a shame we can't have them at prize-giving, but only the Sixth carry flowers--let's put them in water and we'll wear them to-night at the play."

Judith took off the wrappings. "AREN'T they adorable? I never saw such darling little roses--how AWFULLY nice of them!"

Judith had never had flowers sent to her before and she felt that it was quite an occasion, and in some mysterious way marked the fact that she was growing up and next year would be in the Sixth. It WAS exciting.

"The play's to begin at seven sharp," called Jane. "Did you see the notice?--early lunch and an hour's quiet before prize-giving. What a bore!"

"I'll be glad of it," said Sally May. "I'm not altogether sure of some of my speeches. I know I'm going to be fearfully nervous."

"I'll hear you after lunch," said Judith--"'I have a high respect for your nerves, Mrs. Bennet. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least!'"

"I believe you know at least half of 'Pride and Prejudice' by heart,"

said Nancy admiringly.

"Well, not half," Judith laughed, "but I love it. I'd rather play Elizabeth myself than any other part I know, and so I'm just crazy glad that Catherine's going to do it. Miss Marlowe didn't want to give Catherine another heavy part after being Viola and she tried Helen and Esther, but they simply couldn't do it. Catherine is too sweet for words. You should hear her say to Mr. Collins, 'Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you!' Catherine an elegant female! Mr. Collins is simply killing. I do hope Eleanor will be careful of the coat--it's really too tight for her."

"You're a brick, Judy," said Josephine appearing in the doorway. "The trunk is ready for Brodie. My word, what stunning roses! No, don't tell me who sent 'em. I'll have three guesses."

"Come on," cried Judith hurriedly, "we've got to see that everything is in place for to-night. Patricia said we were to be in the gym by eleven sharp."

And she rushed off followed more slowly by Josephine who vowed that she wasn't going to escape a chaffing by such diplomatic exits.

Patricia and several of the Properties Committee were already at work.

Brodie and Robert had put up the extension to the platform, the footlights and the big green curtains, and had brought over from Miss Meredith's house some charming pieces of old mahogany; the scenery painted by the Studio cla.s.s was stacked against the wall; in fact all the materials out of which was to be evolved an eighteenth-century drawing-room were ready at hand.

"Josephine, you and Rosamond take this list and check it over please to make certain that everything's ready for Edith. Be SURE you don't forget a single thing--we'll be in a fearful rush after prize-giving.

Seven is a perfectly awful hour to begin. Now keep your wits about you, Josephine--go over everything carefully."