For it's hip, hip, hooray For a long holiday!'"

Then there's one instead of that dreadful

"'Little Freddie had run to his nurse, Because his poor headache was worse,'"

continued Gipsy. "I've called it 'Briarcroft'.

"'There's a school near the edge of the fell, That all of us girls know full well, For at Briarcroft Hall There's a place for us all, And the tale of its fame we would tell.

_Chorus_

"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!

We'll make it a general rule That we Briarcroft-ites Shall stand up for its rights, And be true to the dear old School!

"'There are teachers we love and revere, And customs and ways we hold dear.

Give a clap for each one, And a cheer when you've done, For all who have worked with us here.

_Chorus_

"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!

We'll make it a general rule That we Briarcroft-ites Shall stand up for its rights, And be true to the dear old School!'"

"Very creditable, Gipsy. Really not at all bad," commented Miss Edith.

"I know they're not up to much," said Gipsy apologetically, "but oh!

Miss Edith, I believe the girls would much rather sing them than the other words. They're about the school, you see. I daren't ask Fraulein myself; do you think you could?" and Gipsy turned quite red at the boldness of her own suggestion.

"It might be a good idea. Give me the paper, and I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, thanks so much! I hope Fraulein won't be offended."

Miss Edith's gentle tact could often accomplish things where other measures might have failed. n.o.body ever heard how she explained the situation and persuaded Fraulein Hochmeyer to adopt the alterations, but before the next singing lesson all the obnoxious song books were collected and Gipsy's versions, neatly printed by hand on slips of paper, were pasted over the old words of the two songs in question.

"I hear you not like to sing about hares and babies?" commented Fraulein. "So! It must be all about school? Yes. You have among you von who can write in verse" (nodding cheerily to the abashed Gipsy). "My friendt, you shall make for us some more verses to suit ze ozer songs!"

Having determined to act as Fraulein's champion, Gipsy tried her utmost to sway popular opinion in favour of the luckless singing mistress. It was a far harder task, though, than she had antic.i.p.ated, and put her powers of leadership to a severe test. It had been easy enough to induce the Juniors to stand up for their own rights, but it was considerably more difficult to make them realize anybody else's claims to consideration.

"Do let's be nice to her!" pleaded Gipsy. "She's really a very decent sort on the whole. She can't help being a foreigner and talking with a queer accent."

"Why, you were the first to make fun of her last week," objected some of the girls.

"I know, but it was rather horrid. Her story's quite romantic, don't you think?"

"Can't see much romance about our homely German Sausage!" giggled Daisy Scatcherd.

"Put a bunch of forget-me-nots in her hair, and she'll look a heroine!"

t.i.ttered Norah Bell.

"Yankee Doodle, when you ride a hobby you ride it to death! What's induced you to take such a sudden and violent affection for the Sausage?"

"You'll be standing perennially on the platform now, holding your teeth like a dentist's advertis.e.m.e.nt, to show us how to 'open ze mouz'!"

"I wish you'd revise the schoolbooks and cut out the difficult parts!"

"Go on! Rag me as much as you like. I don't care!" retorted Gipsy st.u.r.dily.

"I've brought this picture of a sausage," piped one of the smaller girls. "I'm going to pin it on to the piano. She knows we call her 'Sausage'! She'll be in such a rage!"

"You little horror!" said Gipsy, seizing the picture and tearing it into shreds before the eyes of its enraged owner.

On the whole, though her championship was treated as a joke, Gipsy's influence had a beneficial effect, and the general behaviour in the singing cla.s.s began steadily to improve. Her Briarcroft songs were appreciated, and the girls sang them l.u.s.tily and trolled out the chorus with vigour. The tunes were very catchy and bright, and everybody seemed constantly to be humming them, in season or out of season.

"Your 'Hurrah! for the dear old School!' has got in my brain, Yankee Doodle," said Mary Parsons. "It haunts me all day long, and I can't get rid of it."

"We'll sing it in the lecture hall on the last day of the term. Poppie'd be quite flattered," said Hetty Hanc.o.c.k.

"With a special cheer for Fraulein Hochmeyer, then!" added Gipsy.

CHAPTER XII

A Spartan Maiden

THE Spring Term was pa.s.sing rapidly, and Gipsy had now been nearly six months at Briarcroft. It felt a very, very long time to her since the first evening when she had introduced herself in so sprightly a fashion to her fellow boarders, and had given them a graphic account of the shipwreck. The old Gipsy of last October and the new Gipsy of the present March seemed like two different people, with a whole world of experience to divide them. The well-conducted regime of Briarcroft had had its due effect, and had considerably toned down her unconventional Colonial ways; while the trouble through which she was pa.s.sing, like all seasons of adversity, had made her older and more thoughtful than before. There was still no news of any kind from her father, and no answer had yet been received from the cousins in New Zealand. Miss Poppleton's manner towards Gipsy hardened a little more each week that mail day arrived and brought no solution of the problem where her school fees were to come from. At present her att.i.tude was that of grim acceptance of a most unwelcome burden. She was not actively unkind, and no doubt thought she was behaving very generously in keeping Gipsy at Briarcroft at all, but in a variety of small ways she made the girl feel the humiliation of her position.

To poor Gipsy the difficulties appeared to acc.u.mulate more and more. The clothes which her father had bought for her in Liverpool were fast wearing out, and there seemed not the slightest prospect of renewing any of them. In a school where the girls were always well, if simply dressed, it was not pleasant to be the only one in worn skirts, washed-out blouses, patched boots, mended gloves, and faded hair ribbons. Gipsy had never before been stinted in either clothing or pocket-money, and it hurt her pride sorely. But in spite of her shabby attire she looked a distinguished little figure, with her straight, upright habit of carriage, and quick alertness of manner. The sadness in her dark eyes gave her a new dignity, and though a few girls might pa.s.s ill-natured remarks about her clothes, her general prestige in the school remained the same. There was an individuality about Gipsy which marked her out, and raised her above the ordinary level. She was full of original ideas, and had a persuasive way of stating her views that invariably won her a following. The girls were becoming accustomed to consult her on any important topic, and tacitly if not openly regarded her as the Captain of the Lower School. With some the fact that she was "down on her luck" invested her with a flavour of romance, more especially as she was very reserved on the subject.

"I never dare ask Gipsy a word about her father," said Hetty Hanc.o.c.k.

"She shuts up like an oyster if one throws out the faintest hint."

"Do you think she still believes in him?" queried Mary Parsons.

"Rather! And I admire her for it. She's shown splendid spirit all this time, and never once given in. She's a real Spartan."

"Yes, Gipsy's as game as can be," commented Dilys. "She never looks beaten, however hard Poppie snubs her, and Poppie's just abominable sometimes."

"I'm often dying to help Gipsy," said Hetty. "But one can't help her.

She'd be desperately offended if one offered to lend her pocket-money, or anything."

"You'd better not try! No, I believe Gipsy's pride wouldn't let her borrow so much as a yard of hair ribbon, however badly she needed it."

"Rather different from Leonora, who borrows everything she can persuade people to lend her."

"Don't speak to me of Leonora! I rue the day she came into our dormitory. She snores at night till I have to get up and shake her. We call her 'Snorer' now, instead of 'Leonora'. I wish Poppie'd put her in the attic, instead of Gipsy."

"Trust Poppie not to banish the millionairess! She's ever so proud of having her at the school."