But there was more to follow! There was a great dressing up in the cubicles after lunch, the girls making their appearance in pique skirts and crisp new blouses, and rustling into the grounds, all starch and importance. The "persecuting placards" had been withdrawn, and replaced by others directing the visitors' steps in the right direction. They followed meekly, "This way to the Opening Ceremony!" and found themselves on the south side of the lake, where a semicircle of chairs had been set for the teachers, and gaily-hued rugs spread on the gra.s.s to protect the freshness of the pique skirts. Here, no doubt, was the place appointed, but where was the Ceremony? The girls took their places, and began to clap in impatient fashion, speculating vaguely among themselves.

"What's going to happen now? Why do we face this way where we can't see anything except the lake? There's the landing place opposite--perhaps they are going to play water-polo? It wouldn't be bad fun in this weather."

"I think some one should have been here to receive us. It's rude to let your guests arrive without a welcome. If I had been on the Committee-- What's that--?"

"What? Oh, music! But where--where? It is growing nearer. It's a violin, and a 'cello--and someone singing. This grows mysterious! Oh, I say--Look! look to the right! To the right! Oh, isn't it romantic and lovely?"

The girls craned forward, and cried aloud in delight, for round the corner of the lake was slowly coming into view a wonderful, rose- wreathed barque, with Youth at the prow and Pleasure at the helm, clad in the most fanciful and quaint of garments. It would have been idle to a.s.sert that this wonderful craft was the old school tub, guaranteed to be as safe as a house, and as clumsy as hands would make it; for no one could have been found to listen to such a statement. Garlands of roses fluttered overhead; roses wreathed the sides, pink linings concealed the dark boards, and, as for the occupants, they looked more like denizens of another world than practical, modern-day schoolgirls. The oarswomen stood at their post, wearing pale green caps over their flowing locks, and loose robes of the same colour. The musicians were robed in pink, with fillets of gauze tied round their heads, and underneath the central awning sat a gorgeous figure who was plainly the Queen of the Ceremony.

Amidst deafening applause the boat drew up before the landing-stage, and, while the oarswomen stood to attention, the central figure alighted, and moved slowly forward until she stood in front of the semicircle of watchers.

"It's Rhoda Chester!" gasped the girls incredulously, pinching their neighbours' arms in mingled excitement and admiration; and Rhoda Chester in truth it was, transformed into a glorified vision, far removed from the ordinary knickerbockered, pigtailed figure a.s.sociated with the name.

A white robe swept to the ground, the upper skirts necked over with rose-leaves of palest pink; in the right hand she bore a sceptre of roses, and a wreath of the same flowers crowned her head. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she bore herself with an erect, fearless mien which justified her companions' choice.

When it had become necessary to apportion the _role_ of "Mistress June"

the Committee had unanimously agreed that it would be safest in Rhoda's hands. She would not quail at the critical moment, mumble her words, nor forget her duties; but, on the contrary, would rise to the occasion, and find the audience a stimulus to her powers.

It was her genius also which had invented the verses for recitation, so that there seemed a double reason for giving her the place of honour.

So Rhoda had sent home an imperious dressmaking order, and here she was, dainty as loving care could make her, her flaxen mane streaming over her shoulders, the sceptre extended in welcome--as fair a personation of "Mistress June" as one need wish to see--

"Friends and companions, and our teachers dear We give you welcome to our kingdom here.

Once more has kindly summer come to stay, And Mistress June resumes her wonted sway.

We are your hosts, and to our leafy bowers We welcome you to spend the sunny hours; In happy revels we will all unite, In song, and dance, and ancient pastimes bright; All cares forgotten, labours laid aside, Hearts turned to joy, and glad eyes open wide To watch, as when bright fay and sportive faun Wove their gay dances on the woodland lawn.

Alas! the stress of higher education Has vanished these, the poet's fond creation.

But nature--not to be denied--has sent Yet fairer forms for gladsome merriment, Who wait my nod. The beauty of the nation Are gathered here to win your approbation.

But you grow weary--Hither, maidens all, Forth from your bowers, responsive to my call, With roses crowned, let each and all advance, And let the Revels start with song and dance!"

It was astonishing how well it sounded, recited with an air, and to an accompaniment of smiles and waving hands. Little Hilary Jervis, the youngest girl in the school, remarked rhapsodically that it was "Just like a pantomime!" and the finale to the address was so essentially dramatic that her elders were ready to agree with her decision.

Rhoda backed gracefully to the spot where her flower-decked chair had been placed by her attendants, and having taken her seat, clapped her hands as a signal to her handmaidens. Instantly from behind the shelter of the trees there tripped forward a band of pink and green-robed figures, bearing in their hands garlands of many-coloured roses. The roses were but paper, it is true, and of the flimsiest manufacture, but at a little distance the effect could not have been improved, and when the dance began to the accompaniment of music "on the waters" the effect was charming enough to disarm the most exacting of critics. It was an adaptation of the "scarf dance" practised by the pupils, but the dresses, the circ.u.mstances, the surroundings added charm to the accustomed movements, and there were, of course, deviations from the original figures, noticeably at the end, when, with a simultaneous whirling movement, the dancers grouped themselves round their Queen, holding up their skirts so as to entirely conceal their figures. The greens were on the outside, the pinks arranged in gradually deepening lines, and Rhoda's smiling face came peeping out on top; it was evident to the meanest intellect that the final tableau was intended to represent a rose, and--granted a little stretch of imagination--it was really as much like it as anything else!

This first item of the programme over, the dancers grouped themselves in att.i.tudes of studied grace, while little green-robed heralds led the way to what, for want of a more high-flown name, was termed "The Rose Bower," where various sports and compet.i.tions had been organised. Roses were, indeed, conspicuous by their absence; but there was an archery ground, an amateur Aunt Sally (clad, one regrets to state, in the garb of a University Examiner!) and many original and amusing "trials of skill." Tom came off victorious in an obstacle race, in the course of which the compet.i.tors had to pick up and set in order a prostrate deck chair, correctly add up a column of figures, unravel a knotted rope, and skip with it for fifteen or twenty yards, thread a needle, and hop over the remaining portion of the course; while Dorothy, who held a stick poised in her hand, called out in threatening tones, "You _would_ pluck me in arithmetic, would you? Take _that_!" and let fly with such energy that the "Examiner" fell in fragments to the ground.

It was a scene of wild hilarity, for even the teachers threw off their wonted airs of decorum, and entered into the spirit of the occasion, and to see severe Miss Mott throwing for cocoa-nuts, and fat little Fraulein hopping across the lawn, were by no means the least entertaining items in the programme.

Rhoda sat enthroned on her rose-wreathed chair, looking on at the revels, well content with idleness since it was the badge of superiority. The pleasantest part of her duties was still to come, and the girls realised for what purpose the sixpence-a-head contribution had been levied by the Games Captains, as they saw the prizes which were awarded the successful compet.i.tors. No one-and-eleven-penny frames this time; no trashy little sixpence-three-farthing ornaments; nor shilling boxes supplied with splinty pencils and spluttering pens; but handsome, valuable prizes, which any girl might be proud to possess. Dorothy was presented with an umbrella with a silver handle; another lucky winner received the most elegant of green leather purses, with what she rapturously described as "scriggles of gold" in the corners; Tom won a handsome writing-case, and a successful "Red" the daintiest little gold bangle, with six seed pearls encircling a green stone, concerning the proper name of which it was possible to indulge in endless disputations.

Rhoda was in her element distributing these gifts, and afterwards in leading the way towards the pavilion, which had been transformed into a veritable bower by the hands of willing workers, and in which were displayed a supply of the most luxurious refreshments. Miss Bruce had contributed generously towards the afternoon's entertainment, and as the girls sat about upon the gra.s.s, and were waited upon by the "Rose Maidens," no one had need to sigh in vain for "something nice." The choice of good things was quite bewildering, and little Hilary Jervis was reported to have reverted twice over from coffee to lemonade, and to have eaten an ice-cream and a ham sandwich in alternate bites. She was blissfully happy, however, and so was everyone else, and when at last Mistress June returned to her Barque, and the singers started the first notes of "Good Night," two hundred voices took up the strain with a strength and precision which made the unrehea.r.s.ed effect one of the most striking in the programme.

And so ended "Revels"--the happiest day which many of the students were to know for long weeks to come.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

DRAWING NEAR.

A week after "Revels" had taken place the very remembrance seemed to have floated away to an immeasurable distance, and only wonder remained that any interest could have been felt on so trivial a subject. From morning to night, and from night till morning, the same incessant grind went on, for of what rest was sleep when it opened the door for fresh torture, as, for instance, when a Cambridge Examiner condescended to the unfair expedient of kidnapping a candidate's wardrobe, leaving her to decide between the alternative of staying at home or attending the examination room attired in a _robe de nuit_? On other occasions it appeared that by some unaccountable freak of memory one had forgotten about the examinations until the very hour had arrived, and was running, running--trying to overtake a train that would _not_ stop, not though one leapt rivers and scaled mountain heights in the vain attempt to attract attention! It was really more restful to lie awake and study textbooks by the morning light, which came so early in these summer days; or so thought Rhoda, as she sat up in bed and bent her aching head over her task. Her head was always aching nowadays, while occasionally there came a sharp, stabbing pain in the eyes, which seemed to say that they, too, were inclined to rebel. It was tiresome, but she had no time to attend to them now. It was not likely that she was going to draw back because of a little pain and physical weakness.

She never complained, but amidst all the bustle of preparation the teachers kept a keen eye on their pupils, and Rhoda found more than one task mysteriously lightened. No remark was made, but Miss Mott reduced the amount of preparation; Miss Bruce sent an invitation to tea, which involved an idle hour, and shortcomings were pa.s.sed over with wonderful forbearance. Only Miss Everett "croaked," and, dearly as she loved her, Rhoda was glad to keep out of Miss Everett's way just now. It was unpleasant to be stared at by "eyes like gimlets," to be asked if one's head ached, and warned gravely of the dangers of overwork.

"When I went up for the Cambridge Senior," began Miss Everett, and the girl straightened herself defiantly, on the outlook for "sermons."

"When I went up for the Cambridge Senior I was not at school like you, but studying at home with a tutor. My sister was delicate, so an old college friend of my father's came to us for three hours a day. He was delightful--a very prince of teachers--and we had such happy times, for he entered into all our interests, and treated our opinions with as much respect as if we had been men like himself. I remember disputing the axioms of political economy, and arguing that a demand for commodities _must_ be a demand for labour, and the delight with which he threw back his head and laughed whenever I seemed to score a point. Instead of snubbing me, and thinking it ridiculous that I should presume to dispute accepted truths, he welcomed every sign of independent thought; and there we would sit, arguing away, two girls of fifteen and sixteen and the grey-headed man, as seriously as if history depended on our decision. Later on, when I was going in for the examination, I joined some of his afternoon cla.s.ses at a school near by, so that I could work up the subjects with other candidates. There was one girl in the cla.s.s called Mary Macgregor, a plain, una.s.suming little creature, who seemed most ordinary in every way. When I first saw her I remember pitying her because she looked so dull and commonplace. My dear, she had a brain like an encyclopaedia!--simply crammed with knowledge, and what went in at one ear stayed there for good, and never by any chance got mislaid.

You may think how clever she was when I tell you that she pa.s.sed first in all England, with distinction in every single subject that she took.

She won scholarships and honours and went up to Girton, and had posts offered to her right and left, and practically established herself for life. Well, to go back a long way, to the week before the Cambridge.

We had preliminary examinations at school, and had worked so hard that we were perfectly dazed and muddled. Then one day `Magister,' as we called him, marched into the room to read the result of the arithmetic paper. I can see him now, standing up with the list in his hands, and all the girls' faces turned towards him. Then he began to read: `Total number of marks, one hundred. Kate Evans, eighty-nine; Sybil Bruce, eighty-two; Hilda Green, seventy-one;' so on and so on--down, and down and down until it came to thirties and twenties, and still no mention of Mary or of me! The girls' faces were a study to behold. As for the `Magister' he put on the most exaggerated expression of horror, and just hissed out the last few words--`Laura Everett, _twelve_! Ma-ry Mac-gre- gor, _ten_!' We sat dumb, petrified, frozen with dismay, and then suddenly he banged his book on the table and called out, `No more lessons! No more work! I forbid any girl to open a book again before Monday morning. Off you go, and give your brains a rest, if you don't wish to disgrace yourselves and me. Give my compliments to your mothers, and say I wish you _all_ to be taken to the Circus this evening.' He nodded at us quite cheerfully, and marched out of the room there and then, leaving us to pack up our books and go home, Mary and I cried a little, I remember, in a feeble, helpless sort of way; but we were too tired to care very much. I slept like a log all the afternoon, and went to the Circus at night, and the next day I skated, and on Sat.u.r.day spent the day in town, buying Christmas presents, and by Monday I was quite brisk again, and my mind as clear as ever. I have often thought how differently that examination might have turned out for Mary and for me if we had had a less wise teacher, who had worked himself into a panic of alarm, and made us work harder than ever, instead of stopping altogether! I am convinced that it was only those few days of rest which saved me."

"There!" cried Rhoda, irritably; "I knew it! I _knew_ there was a moral. I knew perfectly well the moment you began, that it was a roundabout way of preaching to me. If I am to have a sermon, I would rather have it straight out, not wrapped up in jam like a powder. I suppose you think my brain is getting muddled, but it would go altogether if I tried to do nothing but laze about. I should go stark, staring mad. I must say, Evie, you talk in a very strange way for a teacher, and are not at all encouraging. I don't think you care a bit whether I get the scholarship or not."

"Yes, I do! I hope very much that you will _not_! Wait a moment now; I am very fond of you, Rhoda; and I hope with all my heart that you will pa.s.s, and pa.s.s well--I shall be bitterly disappointed if you don't; but I want Kathleen to get the scholarship. She _needs_ it, and you don't; it means far, far more to her than you can even understand."

"In one way, perhaps--not another! She wants the money, which she could have in any case; but she is not half so keen as I am for the honour itself--and, after all, that's the first thing. I can't do anything in a half-and-half way, and now that I have taken up examinations I am just burning to distinguish myself. It would be a perfect bliss, the height of my ambition, to come out first here, and go up to Oxford, and take honours, and have letters after one's name, and be a distinguished scholar, written about in the papers and magazines like--like--"

"Yes! Like Miss Mott, for instance. What then?" Rhoda stood still in the middle of her tirade, and stared at the speaker with startled eyes.

_Miss Mott_! No, indeed, she had meant n.o.body in the least like Miss Mott. The very mention of the name was like a cold douche on her enthusiasm. The creature of her dream was gowned and capped, and moved radiant through an atmosphere of applause. Miss Mott was a commonplace, hard-working teacher, with an air of chronic exhaustion. When one looked across the dining-room, and saw her face among those of the girls, it looked bleached and grey, the face of a tired, worn woman.

"The idea of working and slaving all one's youth to be like--Miss Mott!"

Rhoda exclaimed contemptuously, but Miss Everett insisted on her position.

"Miss Mott is a capital example. You could not have a better. She was the first student of her year, and carried everything before her. Her position here is one of the best of its kind, for she is practically headmistress. She would tell you herself that she never expected to do so well."

"I think it's very mean of you, Evie, to squash me so! It's most discouraging. I don't want to be the _least_ like Miss Mott, and you know it perfectly well. It's no use talking, for we can't agree; and really and truly you are the most unsympathetic to me just now."

Miss Everett looked at her steadily, with a long, tender gaze.

"I _seem_ so, Rhoda, I know I do, but it is only seeming. In reality I'm just longing to help you, but, as you say, you think one thing and I think another, so we are at cross purposes. Come and spend Sunday afternoon with me in my den, dear, and I'll promise not to preach. I'll make you so comfy, and show you all my photographs and pretty things, and lay in a stock of fruit and cakes. Do; it will do you good!"

But Rhoda hesitated, longing, yet fearing.

"I'd love it; it would be splendid, but--there's my Scripture! I want to cram it up a little more, and Sunday afternoon is the only chance.

I'm afraid I can't until after the exam., Evie, dear. I need the time."

"A wilful la.s.s must have her way!" quoted Miss Everett with a sigh, and that was the last attempt which she made to rescue Rhoda from the result of her own rash folly. Henceforth to the end the girl worked unmolested, drawing the invariable "list" from her pocket at every odd moment, and gabbling in ceaseless repet.i.tion, nerved to more feverish energy by the discovery that her brain moved so slowly that it took twice as long as of yore to master the simplest details. She felt irritable and peevish, disposed to tears on the slightest provocation, and tired all over, back and limbs, aching head, smarting eyes, weary, dissatisfied heart. Did every ambition of life end like this? Did it always happen that when the loins were girded to run a race, depression fell like a fetter, and the question tortured: "Is it worth while? Is it worth while?" What was the "right motive" of which Evie had spoken?

What was the Vicar's meaning of "success"? They, at least, seemed to have found contentment as a result of their struggles. Rhoda groped in the dark, but found no light, for the door was barred by the giant of Self-Will.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE EXAMINATION.

Four o'clock on the morning of Examination Monday. The clock on the wall chimed the hour, and Rhoda awoke with a start, and sat up wearily in bed. The pale, grey light already filled the room, and the birds clamoured tumultuously in the trees outside. Three hours before the gong rang--the last, the very last chance of preparing for the fray!

She slipped noiselessly out of bed, sponged her face with cold water, seized the eau-de-Cologne in one hand and a pile of books in the other, and settled herself against a background of cushions. There was silence in the room, broken only by fitful cries from Dorothy, who was given to discoursing in her sleep, and more than once in the course of the first half-hour Rhoda's own eyes glazed over, and the lids fell. Nature was pleading for her rights, but each lapse was sternly overcome, and presently nerves and brain were fully awake, and battling with their task. She learned by heart pa.s.sages marked as likely to be useful, searched to and fro for answers still unknown, and worked out imaginary calculations. One thing was no sooner begun than she recalled another which needed attention, and so on it went from arithmetic to Shakespeare, from Shakespeare to history, from history to Latin, back and forward, back and forward, until her head was in a whirl.

The clock struck six, the girl in the next cubicle murmured sleepily, "Such a noise! Something rustling!" and Rhoda held her breath in dismay. Her haste in turning over the leaves had nearly brought about discovery, but henceforth she moved with caution, turning from place to place with wary fingers. Her back ached despite the supporting cushions, and her head swam, but she struggled on until at last the roll of the gong sounded through the house, and the girls awoke with yawns and groans of remembrance.

"Black Monday! Oh! Oh! I wish I'd never been born!"