Chapter VIII: Plans for Being Brave

Margot had felt very much subdued during her first days at the Cliff School; there was no doubt about it. The events of the first evening and her interview with Miss Read had had their effect, and the new idea that had dawned upon her then--that it would be necessary to consider herself one of many and a small one at that, instead of being the one and only prime mover at home--had not been an easy one. The independent little girl from Australia had felt shy and rather sensitive in her new surroundings. Until her recital of the doings of Long Jake, Margot’s voice had hardly been heard, even in the dormitory. On that occasion, however, she had thrown all selfconsciousness to the winds, and had burst into the conversation with her old fervour.

Gretta had understood Margot’s mood pretty well, and had refrained from showing her sympathy, knowing that her cousin would “feel all right in the end.” She herself was living more intensely than she had ever lived before through every minute of this very new kind of life, and--but for the home-sick feeling that voiced itself in her first letter to the doctor, when she “wished he could be here too!”--there was no fly in the ointment to spoil her enjoyment of school.

As for Sybil, _she_ had begun to settle in easily enough; already she had made and broken and re-made various friendships with other small girls; already she had been snubbed and smiled at alternately by the older girls, and had sulked or smiled back engagingly in return. She had already, although this was only the fourth day of term, experienced her first “returned lesson,” and--after the thrill of pride in such a distinction had passed into a feeling of self-pity at having to re-write such a “perfectly-good” exercise--she had then forgotten all about the matter; that is, until it was brought to her notice again somewhat forcibly by the mistress who had set, but had not received, the said imposition. She was adopting, however, along with the school slang, some of the orderly manners and ways of the Cliff School girls; Gretta wondered at this Sybil, so carefully pigtailed, so well brushed and neat after a week of nurse’s stern regime, and felt that now only one thing remained to come before her happiness should be complete; she had not yet had the first of the promised violin lessons!

These would be, said Miss Slater--who had spoken to the child herself about the music arrangements desired by Mrs. Fleming--on every Monday evening, and the first of the course would be given in the following week. “Your aunt says that she hopes much for your music, Gretta,” explained the head mistress, “and so I am to see whether Monsieur Villon, our French master, will think it worth his while to give lessons to so young a girl as you are.” Miss Slater had heard a good deal from Mrs. Fleming about the home life of the little Greys, and she felt a particular interest in the children for that reason. “Are you fond of playing?” she asked kindly.

Gretta’s “Yes,” spoken eagerly, while her heart beat high, and her eyes glowed like stars, showed the head mistress how keenly the girl felt on the subject; Miss Slater was, for that reason, not so surprised as otherwise she might have been when, on meeting Monsieur Villon, after the first lesson, he gave utterance to volumes of praise. “Mais, it ees magnificent! Such playing I ’ave never heard at zee Cliff School!”

“Oh, Monsieur Villon, this child is only fourteen! Don’t you remember Maud Adams who left a year ago?”

“Mees Adams! But not to compare with little Mees Grey.” The professor held his hands expressively.

“But she has had so few lessons, Monsieur Villon,” pursued Miss Slater.

“That does not signify. Bien, I can give ’er lessons. Mais oui, but--music, eet ees in ’er.”

The professor departed, still chattering volubly; Miss Slater wrote rather more guardedly to Mrs. Fleming, and Gretta, knowing nothing but that her first lesson had been like the realization of her most happy dreams, and already longing impatiently for the next one, went about her work like a girl transformed, her eyes bright and joyous.

“There’s something in Margaret Grey, after all,” announced her form mistress, who had been more than a little distressed at the appearance of such a very backward fourteen-year-old on the first day of term. “I thought she was stupid, but I don’t think she’s exactly that.”

“If you’d been listening to that child’s practising,” remarked Miss Read, the house-mistress, who “understood music,” as the other mistresses said, “you’d use a very different word; there’s going to be a surprise for Gretta’s people over her violin-playing; of that I’m quite sure.”

Auntie wrote telling her older niece that Miss Slater thought it wise for her to continue the lessons with Monsieur Villon, and adding that on her visit to Redgate she had found the doctor very busy and looking well, and that although, of course, he missed the two little girls, he seemed to be managing as well as could be expected under the care of Ann, who was turning out “quite capable!”

“If she’ll only _keep on_ being like that,” said Gretta with a sigh at the remembrance of the varying moods of the maid, “then I shall be the happiest person in the whole world.”

This was to Margot, who, being form-companion as well as room-mate of her cousin, had easily slipped into being prime confidante as well; and who proved quite as companionable and understanding in her ways as any girl of Gretta’s own age could have been.

“Oh, she’s sure to,” she now broke in. “Mother’ll manage it. She can manage everyone.”

“I should just think she can,” agreed Gretta whole-heartedly. “I think she’s just the most wonderful person in the world.”

“That’s just what Long Jake used to say,” remarked Margot, nodding sagely. “She did a lot for him, you know.”

“What! That brave man!” questioned Gretta. “What could she do for _him_?”

“Well, he wasn’t brave before he met her; that’s what he used to say. I couldn’t understand it quite, but he used to say it.”

“I wonder what he meant?” said her cousin.

“Well, he came out to Australia from England, you know. He had been to college, and he’d been ‘sent down’ from Oxford. I don’t exactly understand, but I know he was in some kind of disgrace. And then his people wouldn’t speak to him, or something, for some reason that mother didn’t tell me about, and he didn’t either. Of course, he’d been travelling round some time before he struck us; but the _first_ time I saw him he was just a sundowner, in quite torn clothes, and he hadn’t had anything to eat for ages, and----”

“Oh, poor thing!” exclaimed Gretta sympathetically.

“You wouldn’t call him that now,” laughed Margot. “We wanted a new hand then, though, and dad was away selling sheep, and mother took him on. He looked _dreadful_, but mother says she always knows about people. Anyhow, he grew to be dad’s great chum, and when dad went to the diggings he stayed behind and worked the farm with mother and me, and the rest of the men. He _loves_ mother, and he says she made a man of him again. Oh, _what_ a height he is, and _so_ broad!”

“Is he in Australia still?” inquired Gretta, with interest.

“Oh, yes, but he’s coming home when he’s got a certain sum of money. I forget how much, but he said he wouldn’t come home with less. He’s got something he has to do in England, he said. I’ll show him to you, Gretta, for, of _course_, he’ll come to see me. It’s really because of him that I’m up in your form, isn’t it? He taught me Latin and arithmetic very well; though I must say he wasn’t much good at history and geography. Miss Tate says I’m awfully bad at those. When he comes perhaps he’ll tell us some stories of the things he’s done, and we might get ideas for the bravery prize. Have you thought of anything yet?”

It was Friday afternoon and the usual walk was in progress; Gretta thought for a minute before she answered. “I _know_ I haven’t any chance of it, Margot; I’m not like you. You were born brave, I believe, and Josy’s the same kind. Now, I’m almost afraid of anything happening that people have to be brave about, like mad bulls and rescuing, and things of that kind. If they came along I’d have to _try_ to do them, of course, but it somehow seems to me that if I look out for big brave things to do all the time, then I shan’t do my music properly, and I shall forget the rules, and I shall make a muddle of everything. I’m not clever, you see. So I’m just going to go on and do my best at lessons; it’s my first term and I’m so backward, and I’m not going to think much about winning the prize, because I _know_ I couldn’t.”

“Well, _I_ don’t know,” said Margot, who had listened patiently through the long speech; “I’d just love to capture burglars, or discover---- Oh, Gretta,” she broke off, “I meant to tell you. Has Sybil been telling you what she means to do?”

“Sybil! No. What?” inquired Gretta uneasily.

“Well, it’s the prize, I think, that she’s after, and I believe we ought to stop her. She wants to do something brave, and she said----”

“Well?” inquired Gretta apprehensively.

“Well, I suppose it’s not telling tales to tell you! She was talking quite loud to Adela about it, and she said that I had said--and I _did_, you know--that it would be a brave thing to go and find out about that little house with no windows on the cliff, and she said that she meant to go.”