02 Jo of the Chalet School (10 page)

In the yellow room Joey Bettany still had one of the window cubicles’ Juliet, as head of the dormitory, had the other. Paula von Rothenfels and Luigia di Ferrara had their little domains at the other end of the room.

In between came Evadne and Gertrud, Rosalie and Vanna. It was the usual thing for one of the ‘door’

people to ask Joey what the weather was like, when they first woke, and Juliet had got so accustomed to the query that she never paid any heed to it. So this morning, when she heard a rustling from Paula’s cubicle, she merely snuggled sleepily down under the
plumeau
after a glance at her watch. The next minute she was widely awake for, instead of the usual ‘Joey – Joey!
Quel temps fait-il?’
Paula had remarked, slowly and distinctly, ‘Joey! Prithee tell me, wench, doth it yet snow?’ And Joey had replied, ‘Nay! But I’ll warrant me ’twill come down yet ere the nightfall!’

A smothered giggle came from Luigia’s direction, followed by, ‘Mayhap ’tis time we were arising!’

Then, Joey, ‘Prithee, fair Juliet, shall we not arise?’

Juliet was spared the necessity of answering, for just then the bell rang, and five separate bumps told her that her dormitory was up – a fact which gave her further cause for wonder since, as a rule, there were groans when getting-up time came.

‘Marry, how dark ’tis!’ observed Rosalie. ‘In sooth, the night hath not given place to day! Lights, ho!’

In response, Paula switched on the electric lights, and then a scurry of feet told the senior that the first two girls were making for the bathroom. She was longing to get down to the other prefects to discuss things with them, but she had perforce to wait until the last junior had flung up her curtains over the rod and stripped her bed. Then, leaving them, to wedge open the door, she sped down to the big school-room, where Gisela, Bernhilda, and Wanda von Eschenau were standing round the big porcelain stove, warming themselves. She poured out her tale to them amid their exclamations, and then demanded their opinion.

‘I think we will wait and see what they will do,’ said Gisela in her careful English. ‘At least, it is not slang!’

‘No; it isn’t slang,’ agreed Juliet, ‘but it sounds so odd!’

The door banged open at that moment, and Frieda and Simone, who slept over at Le Petit Chalet, came racing in.

‘Good-morning!’ said Gisela pleasantly.

‘Good – good-morrow, sweeting!’ replied Simone rather nervously.

Gisela could scarcely believe her ears, and she received a further shock, for just then the members of the yellow room, with Marie von Eschenau, entered, and Joey, who was a little in advance of the rest, cried,

‘Well met, Gisela! How is’t with thee, sweet chuck?’

Juliet gurgled. She really couldn’t help it.

‘Joey!’ exclaimed Gisela. ‘You must not talk slang!’

‘Nor did I, pretty mistress!’ replied Jo, her black eyes dancing wickedly.

‘Surely “sweet ch-chuck” is slang!’ exclaimed Gisela, stumbling slightly over the unusual term.

‘Nay; tis the English of Will Shakespeare,’ responded naughty Jo.

Gisela had nothing to reply to that, and as the bell for
Frühstück
rang just then, they all filed into the
Speisesaal
in silence.

When they had sat down, Simone passed Frieda the rolls, saying, ‘Come! Fall to!’ and Frieda accepted, saying with a giggle, ‘I thank ye; and be blessed for your good comfort!’

Miss Maynard, who was at the head of the table, raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Meanwhile, Evadne, at the other table, turned to Bernhilda, and said, ‘How thinkest thou, gentle Bernhilda; will it snow?’

Bernhilda, dumbfounded at this unusual mode of address, said nothing. There really was little that cold be said. Miss Bettany had told them to read the classics and see how little slang was used there, and to try to model their own speech rather more on them than on that of cheap magazines filled with Americanese and language which might be suitable for boys, but was not allowable for girls.

The middles had taken her at her word, and
were
modelling their language on the classics. They had only gone rather further back than she had intended.

Miss Maynard was thoughtful throughout the meal. The head-mistress was not there. She had wakened up with a violent headache, and had had to stay in bed for the present. Jo, glancing round, had just realised that her sister was absent, and was wondering uneasily what was wrong. She was recalled to herself by Margia, who leant across the table, remarking sweetly, ‘How now! Thou dreamest! Where lies your grief?’

‘Margia, sit up!’ said Miss Maynard authoritatively. ‘You must not lean forward like that!’

‘I crave pardon, Madam,’ replied Margia.

A gasp went round the table, but the mistress took no further notice of it than to say, ‘Go on with your meal!’

Conversation rather languished after that. The others wanted Jo to give them a lead; but Jo was worrying over her sister’s absence, and never opened her mouth. As soon as
Frühstück
was over, she dashed off upstairs to the little room on the second landing where Madge slept, and tapped gently at the door.

‘Is that you, Joey?’ said Miss Bettany. ‘You can come in for a minute.’

Joey stole in, and came over to the bed. ‘What’s wrong, Madge?’

‘Just a headache,’ replied her sister wearily. ‘Oh, it’s better than it was, so you needn’t look so scared.

Soak this bandage again for me, will you?’

Joey soaked the bandage in the cologne-perfumed water nearby, and put it on the hot forehead. ‘Would you like some tea,’ she asked softly.

‘No; nothing, thanks! I’ve had some, and some aspirin, and I shall go to sleep, I think. Don’t look so worried, Baby! I shall be all right presently!’

Jo nodded. She lifted two chairs and set the towel-rail on top of them. Over that she hung her sister’s flannel dressing-gown, effectually darkening her bed. Madge smiled her thanks. The creamy casement curtains at the window didn’t do much to keep out the light, and the darkness was a relief.

‘Run downstairs now, Joey,’ she murmured. ‘I shall sleep beautifully, now you have put me in the dark.

Tell Miss Maynard not to worry; I shall be quite all right. You can come up and see if I am awake at eleven if you like. Don’t tap; just come straight in. Bye-bye for the present!’ She stretched out a slender hand and squeezed Joey’s, then she settled back, and her small sister went quietly out of the room to find Miss Maynard and give her message.

The other middles found her decidedly quiet and dull. It was such an unusual thing for Madge to be poorly, that Jo felt scared. She adored her sister, though wild horses wouldn’t have dragged it out of her, and she felt rather miserable. Bernhilda and Gisela, understanding, took her off with them when they went over to Le Petit Chalet to explain things to Mademoiselle, so that the others might not bother her with questions – which, by the way, was remarkably forgiving of them.

Luckily, when eleven o’clock came, Jo found her sister sleeping quietly, and went downstairs, much relieved; and
Kaffee
at sixteen o’clock brought a message to her from the study, where Madge, her headache completely gone, sat waiting for her. Jo went into the room rather apprehensively.

‘You goose!’ laughed Miss Bettany. ‘You look scared out of your existence!’

‘I was!’ returned Joey truthfully. ‘It isn’t often
you’re
ill, you know!’

‘No; I know that! But I can’t help having a headache now and then! Now, you know how I feel when there’s anything wrong with
you
; so perhaps you’ll try to avoid doing mad things that give you cold!’

‘I haven’t had
one
cold all this year!’ cried Joey in injured tones.

‘I know! I’m only warning you! Now sit down and pour out the tea, will you? I’d rather have tea to-day, and I’ve scarcely seen you; so I thought you’d like to have it with me for once.’

‘Well, rather!’

Joey had a joyful hour with her sister, and then went back to the others in high spirits.

Gisela came over to her at once. ‘How is Madame?’ she asked.

‘Nearly all right, thanks awfully!’ replied Jo. ‘She’s not coming into school at all to-day, but she’ll be there tomorrow.’

‘I am so glad,’ returned Gisela. ‘We do not like it when Madame is ill!’

Then she sent the middle back to her own quarters, where she was promptly seized on by the others, who demanded to know how Madame was.

‘I am glad she is better,’ said Simone. ‘It has been so triste all day!’

‘In sooth it hath been a weary length,’ returned Joey, suddenly remembering their plans. ‘I pray you, tell me, doth it yet snow?’

‘Nay, damsel, but the wind is howling much!’ replied Evadne promptly.

The spirits of all the middles had gone up with a bound. How they managed to get through prep without any trouble was a mystery, or they were all wildly excited, giggling and whispering as much as they dared.

After prep Bernhilda appeared to say that there would be no dancing that night, but that they were all to get their sewing, and Miss Durrant had offered to read aloud to them.

‘Woe is me!’ sighed Jo. ‘I cannot stomach sewing!’

Bernhilda gasped. ‘Will you all please hurry,’ she said, when she had recovered her breath. Then she left them.

‘I’ll warrant me I startled her full sore!’ laughed Joey, as she got out her much -abused petticoat. ‘Oh dear!

How I hate sewing!’

Work in hand, they trotted off to the big school-room, where the found the others ready, waiting for Miss Durrant, who happened to be late.

‘Here’s snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash!’ quoted Margia as she shook out her sewing.

‘Away, thou rag!’ retorted Jo as she sat down. Then she turned to Bernhilda: ‘What sweeting; all amort?’

‘Joey, be quiet,’ said Gisela. ‘And please do not use such language! I am sure Madame would not like it!’

‘Nay; this to me!’ retorted Jo. ‘Thou very paltry knave -’

‘Josephine,’ said a quiet voice behind her.

Jo turned round in dismay. There stood her sister.

‘When I told you to model your language on that of the classics,’ said Madge, ‘I never meant you to use Shakespearian expressions, and you knew it!’

Eleven people looked down, their cheeks scarlet. Miss Bettany surveyed them, a little smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

‘Please don’t do it again,’ she said, and then left them.

‘I suppose it was your plan, Joey?’ she said later to her small sister, who had come to say ‘Good-night’ to her. ‘You
are
a naughty child!’

‘Oh, don’t be cross!’ pleaded Joey. ‘We spent
ages
reading Shakespeare, and now it’s been nearly all wasted!’

‘And serve you right!’ was the answer. ‘You are an impertinent monkey to have twisted my words round like that!’

Joey looked at her doubtfully. ‘We know a lot more about him, anyway,’ she said irrelevantly. ‘And it’s awfully hard not to be able to say “jolly,” and “decent,” and “awful!” Really, it is, Madge! And Shakespeare used such
gorgeous
words!’

Madge gave it up and laughed. ‘Got o bed,’ she said. ‘You are a bad, incorrigible child!’

‘I won’t use Shakespeare’s expressions any more,’ promised Joey, rubbing her head against her sister’s arm like an ingratiating pussycat. ‘And we
may
say “jolly,” and things like that, mayn’t we?’

‘Good-night, you baby!’ was the only reply she got.

However, as the prefects relaxed their vigilance a little, the middles thought it was fairly safe to take it for granted that Miss Bettany did not mind a
little
slang; so their Shakespearian studies had not been in vain.

‘it was all my own fault!’

Next day the snow came, and with it the winter. All that day and the next it snowed, a huge whirling blizzard, and the clouds were so heavy with it that they seemed to be lying on the mountain-tops, and still the snow fell. On the Thursday there as a lull which lasted for two hours,, and the girls, well wrapped up, played about the Chalet during the whole time. As Miss Bettany said, they would have to take advantage of fine weather when they could. So from ten o’clock until twelve they rushed about in the dry, powdery white, which was so unlike English snow, and had a glorious time. Just before twelve the great flakes began drifting down again, and they had to go in, and then once more everything was veiled in whirling white, and the blizzard raged until the Sunday. When the girls got up in the morning the wind had gone down, the snow had ceased to fall, and it was freezing hard.

Joey, sitting up in bed gazing out of the window, gave a cry of ecstasy as she saw the beauty before her.

Mountains, path, and level grass were thickly covered with a white mantle against which the lake lay, still and black beneath its veiling of thin ice. Overhead was a leaden sky, giving promise of yet more snow, and the whole world seemed to be wrapped in a mantle of stillness.

‘Oh, wonderful!’ gasped Joey. ‘Juliet! Wake up! Isn’t it glorious?’

There was a groan from the other occupants of the dormitory.

‘Joey,
do
be quiet! It’s Sunday – the only day we get a really decent time in bed!’ complained Juliet. ‘I can see it’s stopped snowing without sitting up. It’s going to come down again, though! Just look at that sky!’

‘How it is cold!’ shuddered Gertrud in her own language. ‘Joey! Does it freeze?’

‘I should think it did! The lake’s absolutely black, and the snow looks so white!’

‘May I come into your cubicle to see?’ asked Paula from the other end of the room.

‘No,’ said Juliet. ‘Sorry, Paula; but it’s against the rules. If you want to see it you can get up and get dressed. It’s twenty-five past eight now, and the rising-bell will be going in five minutes’ time, so it won’t matter for that.’

The members of the yellow room hopped out of bed, and dressed as quickly as possible. Sunday dressing was always a longer affair than week-day, for there were white petticoats to get into, and deep-brown velvet frocks with muslin collars and cuffs to adjust, and the people with long hair were allowed to have it hanging loosely. Jo, the only short-haired member of the party, was ready first, and trotted off gaily, while other people struggled with hair-ribbons and curls; and Juliet, after brushing out her fair, heavy man, fastened it with a clasp instead of plaiting it as usual.