Urged on by hope of fossil round, She stepped on some perfidious ground, So now behold our luckless Ray Plunged in the midst of horrid clay.

The mud had nearly reached her waist, She called aloud in frantic haste: "I sink, I sink in quagmire sable, To free myself I am unable!"

Her friend, who hurried to her shout, Had much ado to drag her out.

See! thick with mud and faint with fright, She bravely bears her woeful plight.

Her tender teacher's anxious fears She soothes, and dries her friends' fond tears, Declaring, with a courage calm, The outing had been worth th' alarm.

"Humph! Good for you, Ardiune!" commented Raymonde. "Not much tenderness about Gibbie, though! And I didn't see anybody's fond tears! You all laughed at me! My feet weren't a yard long, anyway!"

"Poetic and artistic license allows a few slight exaggerations. Even Shakespeare took liberties with his subjects!" returned the auth.o.r.ess blandly. "If not exactly a yard long, your feet, not small by nature, looked absolutely enormous! It's the truth!"

CHAPTER XVIII

Mademoiselle

"Parlez-vous francais, Mademoiselle?

She opened the window, and out she fell.

And what happened next I've never heard tell, Parlez-vous francais, Mademoiselle?"

chanted Raymonde, dancing into the dormitory and plumping down on Fauvette's bed amid a pile of chiffons, muslins, and other flimsy articles of wearing apparel. "Why, what's the matter, child? Whence this spread-out? You look weepy! Packing to go home? Mother ill? Or are you expelled?"

"Neither," gulped Fauvette with a watery smile. "It's only her--Mademoiselle! She's turned all my drawers out on to the floor, and says I've got to tidy them. She lectured me hard in French. I couldn't understand half of what she said, but I knew she was scolding. And I've to sort all these things out, and put them neatly away, and mend up everything that needs mending before this evening, or else she'll tell the b.u.mble to come and look at them, and I shall get 'sadly lacking in order' down in my report again. It's too bad!"

"It's positively brutal of Mademoiselle!" said Raymonde reflectively.

"If it had been Gibbie, now, it would have been no surprise to me.

Don't cry, you little silly! You look like a weeping cherub on a monument! Shovel your clothes back again into your drawers, and put a tidy top layer. That's what I always do!"

"So do I," wailed Fauvette. "But it won't work this time. Mademoiselle was really cross, and I could see she means to come to-night, and hold what she calls 'une inspection'. She said something about making me an example. Why, if she wants an example, need she choose me?"

"It's certainly breaking a b.u.t.terfly," agreed Raymonde. "I'm afraid there's something seriously wrong with Mademoiselle. She's completely altered this last week. She never used to worry about things, and she's suddenly turned as fussy as Gibbie."

Raymonde was not the only one who had noticed the change in the French mistress. It was apparent to everybody. Her entire character seemed suddenly to have altered. Whereas beforetime she had been easygoing, slack, and ready to shut eyes and ears to school-girl failings, she was now keenly vigilant and highly exacting. In cla.s.ses and at music lessons she demanded the utmost attention, and no longer pa.s.sed over mistakes, or allowed a bad accent. She prohibited the use of the English tongue altogether during meals, and insisted upon her pupils conversing in French, requiring each one to come to table primed with a suitable remark in that language. The number of fines which she inflicted was so heavy that the missionary box filled with a rapidity more gratifying to the local secretary of the society than to the contributors. The girls were considerably puzzled at this change of face on the part of Mademoiselle, but Morvyth and Katherine gave it as their opinion that Miss Beasley lay at the back of it.

"The b.u.mble's probably had a talk with her, and told her she must buck up or go!" suggested the former. "I'm sure she always thought Mademoiselle a slacker--which she certainly was! Possibly she's given her till the end of the term to show what she's capable of, and if she doesn't come up to the mark, we shall start next term with a new French governess."

"I shouldn't care!" said Raymonde easily. "I never liked her much. We used to call her 'the b.u.t.terfly', but she's 'the mosquito' now. She's developing a very unpleasant sting."

Whatever might be the truth of Morvyth's surmises as to the reason of Mademoiselle's new att.i.tude, the fact loomed large. Having determined to demonstrate her powers of discipline, she overdid it. She was one of those persons who cannot keep order and enforce rules without losing their tempers, and she stormed at the girls continually. She developed a mania for what she called "surveillance." She was continually paying surprise visits to dormitory or schoolroom, and pouncing upon offenders who were talking, or otherwise neglecting their duties. It was even suspected that she listened behind doors.

Fauvette, whose babyish characteristics led her into many pitfalls, seemed suddenly to become the scapegoat of Mademoiselle's freshly acquired vigilance. Fauvette lacked spirit, and went down like a ninepin before the least word of reproof. Her feelings were easily hurt, and her tears always close to the surface. She sat now and sobbed pathetically upon her pillow, without making the least effort to tidy up her belongings. Raymonde shook her head over her.

"You're the sort of girl who ought to go through life with a nurse or a maid to look after you; you're not fit to take care of yourself,"

she decided. "Look here, how much wants doing to your clothes before the Mosquito comes buzzing round to inspect?"

"Shoals!" sighed Fauvette wearily. "I'm afraid I've left my mending.

There are stockings, and gloves, and--all kinds of things."

"Can you get it done in time?"

"Impossible!" and the tears dripped again on to a dainty muslin collar.

"Then there's nothing for it but to get up a Mending Bee, and help you! We seven are sworn to stick together."

"There'll be squalls if you're caught in the dormitory during recreation. I was told to stay here," cautioned Fauvette.

"We've got to risk something," returned Raymonde cheerily, scurrying off in search of the remaining five of the Mystics.

"You've all got to fetch work-baskets and come this instant," she commanded. "It's an urgency call, like last term when we made T bandages for Roumania, and nose-bags for the horses, only it's even more important and urgent."

Armed with their sewing materials, the girls slipped one by one upstairs, and, settling themselves upon the beds in the immediate vicinity of Fauvette's, set to work. It was a formidable task. Their comrade had brought a large a.s.sortment of garments to school with her, and had happily left them unmended, trusting to take them home to be repaired. At present they were mixed in a hopeless jumble on the floor and on her bed, just where Mademoiselle had tipped out the drawers. Stockings, underclothes, gloves, handkerchiefs, photos, old letters, ribbons, ties, beads, lockets, books, and an a.s.sortment of odd treasures were lying together in utter confusion.

Fauvette brightened at the sight of her friends, mopped her eyes, and pushed back her fluffy hair from her hot forehead.

"Brace up!" Raymonde encouraged her. "We're not going to help unless you'll do your own share. Sort those things out, and be putting them in your drawers while we do your mending. Morvyth, take these stockings; Katherine, you're artistic, so I'll give you baby ribbon to thread through these bodices. Ardiune, you may mend gloves. Ave, collect those hair ribbons, and put them neatly inside that box, and stack those photos together. Why they're not in an alb.u.m I can't imagine!"

"Because I generally sleep with one or two of them under my pillow,"

confessed Fauvette. "Why shouldn't I, if I like? There's no harm in it. Oh! please be careful with those beads, you'll break the strings!"

"I can't think why you need so many empty chocolate boxes," commented Aveline, sweeping up treasures with a ruthless hand. "Your drawers will be so full they won't shut. Throw half of them away!"

"No, no! I always keep them to remind me of the people who gave them to me. You mustn't throw any of them away. They're chock-full of memories."

"Rather have them chock-full of chocs, myself!" remarked Morvyth dryly. "Fauvette, you're interesting and pretty--when you don't cry (for goodness' sake look at your red eyes in the gla.s.s!); but you're as sentimental as an Early Victorian heroine. You ought to wear a bonnet and a crinoline, and carry a little fringed parasol, and talk about your 'papa'! If you don't get safely engaged to an officer before you're out of your teens, you'll turn into one of those faded females who bore one with sickly reminiscences of their past, and spend the remainder of your life pampering a pet poodle. Here, I've mended two pairs of stockings for you."

"And I've done three pairs," said Raymonde, folding up the articles in question and putting them in her friend's second long drawer. "We're getting on. Kathy, have you finished the bodices? We'll soon have you straightened up, Baby, and if Mademoiselle----Oh!"

Raymonde's sudden e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n was caused by a vision of no less a person than Miss Gibbs, who was standing in the doorway of the dormitory regarding the sewing party in some astonishment.

"What are you girls doing here?" she demanded, making a bee-line for them among the beds.

n.o.body answered, and for a moment or two blank dismay spread itself over the countenances of the Mystics. Then Raymonde's lucky star came to the rescue, and popped an inspiration into her head.

"You were telling us in Social History cla.s.s yesterday, Miss Gibbs, about the necessity of women co-operating in their work if they are ever to command a higher scale of pay," she explained glibly; "so we thought we'd better begin to put our principles into practice.

Fauvette had fallen into arrears, and was in danger of--er--trouble, so we all came just to boost her up to standard, and let her get a fair start again. It's on the basis of a Women's Union or--or--Freemasons. We thought we were bound to help one another."

Miss Gibbs was not a remarkably humorous person, but on this occasion the corners of her mouth were distinctly observed to twitch. She mastered the weakness instantly, however, and remarked:

"I'm glad to hear that you are interested in co-operation. This is certainly a practical demonstration of the theory, and Fauvette ought to be grateful to you. Be quick and finish straightening the things, and, if anybody asks questions, you may say that you have my permission to remain here until tea-time."

The girls sat at attention till the door closed upon their mistress, then their mingled amazement and grat.i.tude burst forth.

"Good old Gibbie!"

"She's an absolute sport to-day!"