A Patriotic Schoolgirl (WWI Centenary Series). Angela Brazil

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ members spend ages practising their speeches and studying their attitudes before the looking-glass, and they have gorgeous costumes made for them, and scenery and all the rest of it—a really first-rate business. Some of the prefects thought that it was rather too formal an affair, and suggested another society for impromptu acting. Nothing is to be prepared beforehand. Mrs. Morrison is to give a word for a charade, and the members are allowed two minutes to talk it over, and must act it right away with any costumes they can fling on out of the ‘property box’. They’ll be arranged in teams, and may each have five minutes for a performance. I expect it will be a scream.”

      “Are you fond of acting, Marjorie?” asked Mollie.

      “I just love it!”

      “Then put down your name for the Charades Tournament. We haven’t got a great number of volunteers from St. Elgiva’s yet. Most of the girls seem to funk it. Elsie, aren’t you going to try?”

      Elsie shook her curls regretfully.

      “I’d like to, but I know every idea I have would desert me directly I faced an audience. I’m all right with a definite part that I’ve got into my head, but I can’t make up as I go along, and it’s no use asking me. I’d only bungle and stammer, and make an utter goose of myself, and spoil the whole thing. Hallo! There’s the supper bell. Come along!”

      Marjorie followed the others in to supper with a feeling of exhilaration. She was immensely attracted by the idea of the Talents Tournament. So far, as a new girl, she had been little noticed, and had had no opportunity of showing what she could do. She had received a hint from Mollie, on her first day, that new girls who pushed themselves forward would probably be met with snubs, so she had not tried the piano in the sitting-room, or given any exhibition of her capabilities unasked. This, however, would be a legitimate occasion, and nobody could accuse her of trying to show off by merely entering her name in the Charades competition.

      “I wish Dona would play her violin and have a shy for the school Orchestra,” she thought. “I’ll speak to her if I can catch her after supper.”

      It was difficult for the sisters to find any time for private talk, but by dodging about the passage Marjorie managed to waylay Dona before the latter disappeared into St. Ethelberta’s, and propounded her suggestion.

      “Oh, I couldn’t!” replied Dona in horror. “Go on the platform and play a piece? I’d die! Please don’t ask me to do anything so dreadful. I don’t want to join the Orchestra. Oh, well, yes—I’ll go in for the drawing competition if you like, but I’m not keen. I don’t care about all these societies; my lessons are quite bad enough. I’ve made friends with Ailsa Donald, and we have lovely times all to ourselves. We’re making scrap albums for the hospital. Miss Jones has given us all her old Christmas cards. She’s adorable! I say, I must go, or I shall be late for our call over. Ta-ta!”

      The “Talents Tournament” was really a very important event in the school year, for upon its results would depend the placing of the various competitors in certain coveted offices. It was esteemed a great privilege to be asked to join the Orchestra, and to be included in the committee of the “Dramatic” marked a girl’s name with a lucky star.

      On the Saturday evening in question the whole school, in second-best party dresses, met in the big Assembly Hall. It was a conventional occasion, and they were received by Mrs. Morrison and the teachers, and responded with an elaborate politeness that was the cult of the College. For the space of three hours an extremely high-toned atmosphere prevailed, not a word of slang offended the ear, and everybody behaved with the dignity and courtesy demanded by such a stately ceremony. Mrs. Morrison, in black silk and old lace, her white hair dressed high, was an imposing figure, and set a standard of cultured deportment that was copied by every girl in the room. The Brackenfielders prided themselves upon their manners, and, though they might relapse in the playground or dormitory, no Court etiquette could be stricter than their code for public occasions. The hall was quite en fête; it had been charmingly decorated by the Seniors with autumn leaves and bunches of chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies. A grand piano and pots of palms stood on the platform, and the best school banner ornamented the wall. It all looked so festive that Marjorie, who had been rather dreading the gathering, cheered up, and began to anticipate a pleasant evening. She shook hands composedly with the Empress, and ran the gauntlet of greetings with the other mistresses with equal credit, not an altogether easy ordeal under the watching eyes of her companions. This preliminary ceremony being finished, she thankfully slipped into a seat, and waited for the business part of the tournament to begin.

      The reception of the whole school lasted some time, and the Empress’s hand must have ached. Her mental notes as to the quality of the handshakes she received would be publicly recorded next day from the platform, with special condemnation for the limp, fishy, or three-fingered variety on the one side, or the agonizing ring-squeezer on the other. Miss Thomas, one of the music mistresses, seated herself at the piano, and the proceedings opened with a violin-solo competition. Ten girls, in more or less acute stages of nervousness, each in turn played a one-page study, their points for which were carefully recorded by the judges, marks being given for tone, bowing, time, tune, and artistic rendering. As they retired to put away their instruments, their places were taken by vocal candidates. In order to shorten the programme, each was allowed to sing only one verse of a song, and their merits or faults were similarly recorded. Several of the Intermediates had entered for the competition. Rose Butler trilled forth a sentimental little ditty in a rather quavering mezzo; Annie Turner, whose compass was contralto, poured out a sea ballad—a trifle flat; Nora Cleary raised a storm of applause by a funny Irish song, and received marks for style, though her voice was poor in quality; and Elsie Bartlett scored for St. Elgiva’s by reaching high B with the utmost clearness and ease. The Intermediates grinned at one another with satisfaction. Even Gladys Woodham, the acknowledged prima donna of St. Githa’s, had never soared in public beyond A sharp. They felt that they had beaten the Seniors by half a tone.

      Piano solos were next on the list, limited to two pages, on account of the too speedy passage of time. Here again the St. Elgiva’s girls expected a triumph, for Patricia Lennox was to play a waltz especially composed in her honour by a musical friend. It was called “Under the Stars”, and bore a coloured picture of a dark-blue sky, water and trees, and a stone balustrade, and it bore printed upon it the magic words “Dedicated to Patricia”, and underneath, written in a firm, manly hand, “With kindest remembrances from E. H.”.

      The whole of Elgiva’s had thrilled when allowed to view the copy exhibited by its owner with many becoming blushes, but with steadfast refusals to record tender particulars; and though Patricia’s enemies were unkind enough to say that there was no evidence that the “Patricia” mentioned on the cover was identical with herself, or that the “E. H.” stood for Edwin Herbert, the composer, it was felt that they merely objected out of envy, and would have been only too delighted to have such luck themselves.

      They all listened entranced as Patricia dashed off her piece. She had a showy execution, and it really sounded very well. The whole school knew about the dedication and the inscription; the Intermediates had taken care of that. As their champion descended from the platform, they felt that she had invested St. Elgiva’s with an element of mystery and romance. But alas! one story is good until another is told, and St. Githa’s had been reserving a trump card for the occasion. Winifrede Mason had herself composed a piece. She called it “The Brackenfield March”, and had written it out in manuscript, and drawn a picture of the school in bold black-and-white upon a brown paper cover. It was quite a jolly, catchy tune, with plenty of swing and go about it, and the fact that it was undoubtedly her own production caused poor Patricia’s waltz to pale before it. The clapping was tremendous. Every girl in school, with the exception of nine who had not studied the piano, was determined to copy the march and learn it for herself, and Winifrede was immediately besieged with applications for the loan of the manuscript. She bore her honours calmly.

СКАЧАТЬ