It was an old-established custom at The Gables that the autumn term should begin on a Tuesday afternoon. There were no lessons: the girls simply gathered together in the gymnasium to listen to a short address from Miss Kingsley, to be told in what forms they were placed for the coming school year, and to be given new text-books, with passages to prepare for the morrow, when serious work would begin at nine o'clock, and the wheels of school life would start to turn in real earnest. This first afternoon was regarded by most as somewhat in the nature of a festival. It was pleasant to meet again and compare notes about the holidays: the general change of forms lent an element of excitement, even the new books were more or less interesting, and many minor¹ details gave variety to the occasion.  
The gymnasium, whither all the girls were scuttling², was a moderate-sized wooden building that had been erected³, in pre-war days, at the side of the house. It served for many purposes, and was alternately drill-hall, concert-room, play-room, lecture-hall, art gallery or ball-room as the case might be. This afternoon, with a fresh coat of pink distemper, a big bowl of flowers upon the table, and [23]the sunshine coming through the skylight roof and shining on the nicely-polished floor and rows of varnished⁵ forms, it looked both business-like and attractive. The girls trooped in and took their seats. There were a few elder ones, but the majority were between eight and fourteen, with perhaps half a dozen kindergarten children on the front bench. Miss Turner, standing⁶ near the piano, controlled any excess of conversation, and reduced it to a subdued⁷ murmur⁸. As Miss Kingsley, brisk, smiling, and with a "Now we'll get to work!" air about her, mounted the platform and stood to review her school, forty-two pupils rose to their feet, and eighty-four eyes were fixed⁹ obediently upon her face. She focused their attention for a moment, then nodding to Miss Paget, who was seated at the piano, she announced:
 
"We will begin the new term as usual by singing the National Anthem¹⁰."
 
Miss Paget struck a few chords, and then the familiar strains of "God Save the King" rang through the room. It made a good commencement, for new girls and even the kindergarten babies could sing it, and thus take their part at once with the school. Forty-two voices, some fresh and clear, and some more or less out of tune¹¹, joined heartily¹² in the anthem, and the girls sat down with the consciousness of having made a united effort. Following her precedent¹³ of twelve years, Miss Kingsley had something to say to her pupils before she made the ordinary announcements of school arrangements.
 
[24]"It's always nice to feel we're making a fresh start!" she began cheerfully. "This is a new school year, and I want you all to join in helping¹⁴ to make it the best we've ever had. If there are any girls here who haven't done well before, now is the time for them to turn over a new leaf and show us that they can work. At this crisis in the world's affairs we don't want to bring up 'slackers'. Your fathers, uncles, brothers, cousins have answered their country's call and gone to defend Britain's honour, and you have been proud to see them go. The women of the Empire have played their part as nobly as the men, and it is these brave and splendid women whom you must try to imitate. Do you think they would have been able to give the help they have given to their country unless they had prepared their characters for it beforehand? I'm sure not. It's in the classroom that we train ourselves for what we may do afterwards. Every girl who tries her best in the little world of school is learning her part for the big world afterwards. We hope it is going to be a beautiful world when the war is over, but it can only be so if we remember the sacrifices that have been made, and determine to be worthy¹⁵ of those who gave up everything for us. 'A nation never rises higher than its women.' So you, who are going to be some of its women, must see to it that you raise and not lower the standard. It's a happy, hopeful thought to feel that you're helping to push the world on; and how splendid if we can think that The Gables is a centre from which real [25]helpfulness may radiate! Let us all join in trying to make it so. I'm going to tell you now about some things we shall be busy with this term, and I hope you will throw all your energies into them, and try your utmost to make them a success."
 
Miss Kingsley passed in rapid review the general scheme of work for the term for both seniors and juniors. It was a full programme, and included a wide range of subjects, from lectures on Greek antiquities¹⁶ to Swedish drill and rhythmic¹⁷ dancing. She was modern in her methods, and wished to cultivate every side of a child's nature till she was old enough to choose her own speciality. Lists of the various forms followed, and then Miss Kingsley turned to what, in the estimation of some of the girls at least, was the most important announcement of the afternoon.
 
"All members of the Sixth are appointed monitresses, and Lorraine Forrester is head of the school."
 
A wave of excitement surged instantly through the room. Lorraine! They had not in the least expected her to be chosen. So far she had seemed a rather retiring sort of girl who had not taken a very active part in school affairs. Last term, when war waged hot and strong between Lottie Carson and Helen Stanley, two of the monitresses, Lorraine had committed herself to neither party, though her form was divided to such an extent of partisanship¹⁸ that Dorothy Skipton and Vivien Forrester nearly had a fight one day on the landing. Lorraine! The matter required thought. [26]The school was so surprised that it could not decide how to take the announcement, and it was with a look of uncertainty¹⁹ on their faces that the girls, dismissed at last by Miss Kingsley, filed into their classrooms to receive their new books and be told their preparation for next day. This necessary business finished, they were free to don hats and coats and go home. In the cloak-room the pent-up conversation bubbled over.
 
"Well, what d'you think of it?" exploded Dorothy.
 
Patsie, sitting on the boot-rack, pulling on her shoes, made a round mouth and whistled.
 
"It's generally the unexpected that happens," she moralized. "Lorraine's a lucker! Cheer up, old Dollie! Don't look so glum²⁰! Bother! I've broken my shoe-lace. What a grizzly²¹ nuisance! Lorraine's not such a bad sort, after all!"
 
"I don't say she is—but to be head of the school!"
 
"Better than Vivien, anyway!" grunted²² Patsie, busy knotting her broken shoe-lace.
 
"I agree with you there—she'd have turned the place upside down. Here she comes, in a tantrum by the look of her."
 
Vivien, judging by the way she slammed down her new books, was certainly not pleased with the turn affairs had taken. Though she and Dorothy were generally on terms of flint and steel, she sought her now to air what she considered a common grievance²³.
 
"I couldn't have believed it of Miss Kingsley!" [27]she began. "Why Lorraine, of all people in the world? She's two months younger than I am, and her marks weren't as good as yours in the exam, if it hadn't been for that absurd essay that counted extra. How she's ever going to manage to run the societies, I can't imagine! I'm sorry for the school!"
 
Dorothy was adjusting her attractive hat in front of the mirror. She put in the pins carefully before replying.
 
"It's a rotten business!" she sighed.
 
"Disgusting! To have Lorraine set over us, while you and I are just ordinary common monitresses, the same as Audrey Roberts or Nellie Appleby. I'm fed up with it! It's going to be a hateful term; I shan't take an interest in anything! I wish I'd asked Father to send me to a boarding-school. I'm sick of The Gables!"
 
Patsie, whose shoe-lace was now triumphantly²⁴ mended, chuckled²⁵ softly.
 
"Poor old Gables!" she remarked. "I don't know that you'd find a 'better hole' so easily. It's a very decent kind of school. I intend to have some fun here this term, if you don't. When's that rhythmic dancing that Kingie talked about going to begin? I saw some in London, and I'm just wild to do it. This is how it goes!"
 
And Patsie, flinging out her arms and swaying from side to side, made a series of most extraordinary gyrations. Vivien and Dorothy burst out laughing.
 
"If that's what you call rhythmic dancing, give [28]me the good old-fashioned sort!" hinnied Vivien. "You look about as graceful²⁶ as an elephant!"
 
"And as jerky as a wound-up waxwork²⁷!" declared Dorothy uncomplimentarily.
 
"Well, of course, the movements are done to music; they look quite different when you've got a sort of classic Greek dress on, and somebody's playing a study by Chaminade or Debussy."
 
"It would need very good music indeed to make those antics look anything! I fancy you'll shine more at hockey, Patsie. I wonder what's going to happen to the team. I can't fancy Lorraine taking Lily Anderson's place. It'll be a let-down all round this term with Lorraine——"
 
"Sh, 'sh! Here's Lorraine herself!"
 
"Then I'm off! Come along, Dorothy!"
 
Vivien rammed²⁸ her hat on anyhow, seized her pile of new books, and bolted from the cloak-room almost as her cousin entered. Patsie, following more leisurely²⁹, stopped en route to give the new head girl a hearty³⁰ smack³¹ on the back.
 
"Cheero, Lorraine!" she remarked. "Just at the moment you look like Atlas³² shouldering the heavens. Haven't you got over the shock of the announcement yet? Did Kingie spring it on you all at once? Or had she prepared you beforehand for your laurels³³?"
 
"As a matter of fact, she sent for me yesterday and told me," smiled Lorraine.
 
"And I suppose, like Julius Cæsar, you waved away the crown? Or was it Oliver Cromwell, by the by? My history's always shaky!"
 
[29]"Well, I felt inclined to have a few dozen fits, certainly!"
 
"I don't say it's exactly a cushy post, but you're a lucker all the same! Old Dolly and the Duchess would have liked to butt³⁴ in, I can tell you. They're absolutely green, the pair of them!"
 
Lorraine's face clouded.
 
"I was afraid Vivien would be disappointed. She thought—and so did I—indeed everybody thought——"
 
"Then they thought wrong, and a good thing too!" pronounced Patsie. "Take my advice, Lorraine, and don't stand any nonsense with Vivien. Kingie's the right to make anybody head girl she wants, and I'm glad she's chosen you. If the Duchess and old Dollie can't lose in a sporting way, they're blighters. You hold your own, and I'll back you up. You'll have most of the school on your side. Ta-ta, and cheer up, old sport!"
 
Patsie, jolly, good-natured and slangy, swung out of the cloak-room with what she called a "khaki stride". Lorraine looked after her and laughed. No one took Patsie seriously, but it was pleasant to feel that she was an ally, even though she might not prove a very stout³⁵ prop³⁶ to lean upon. That she would need all available help in her new task, Lorraine was well aware. It would be difficult to follow in the footsteps of so capable and energetic a head girl as Lily Anderson; the irrepressible intermediates were likely to prove a handful, and in the ranks of the Sixth itself she foresaw trouble brewing³⁷. It was a [30]decidedly thoughtful Lorraine who walked down the school garden, out through the gate, and along the cliff road that led to the western portion of the town. She had reached the wall below the windmill when Monica, her eleven-year old sister, came panting after her.
 
"Lorraine! Do wait! Why did you go off without me? I hunted for you everywhere, till Ida James told me you'd gone. What a blighter you are to leave me!"
 
"Sorry, Cuckoo! But you see I thought you'd gone, so there we are!" said Lorraine, smiling indulgently at the impetuous little figure that overtook her and seized her arm. "I'd have waited if I'd known."
 
"I forgive you!" accorded Monica graciously. "Only to-day of all days, of course I wanted to walk home with you. D'you know, Tibbiekins, I'm proud of you! Aren't you bucked³⁸? Well, you ought to be. I never got such a surprise in my life as when 'Lorraine Forrester' was read out 'head of the school'! Betty Farmer pinched me so hard that I nearly yelled. But I say, Tibbie, it's a stunt³⁹! Didn't you get nerve shock when you heard your name?"
 
"I knew yesterday what was coming," admitted Lorraine.
 
"Was that why you went to see Miss Kingsley? And you never told me a word! Well, I think you are the limit!"
 
"Miss Kingsley made me promise on my honour not to tell a single soul."
 
[31]"I couldn't have helped telling. Think of having that secret all the evening, and not giving me the least teeny weeny atom of a hint, even! I wonder you could keep it in! The girls are pleased—most of them. Betty says you're a sport, and Mabel King says she feels she's going to worship you, and Nora Hyland said I was a lucker to have you for a sister. Of course a few of them had plumped for Vivien, and let off steam, but they'll soon get over it. Vivien looked like a thunder cloud. She won't forgive you in a hurry! You may look out for squalls in her quarter. Hallo, here's Rosemary come to meet us. I must tell her the news. She knows already? Why, you said it was a secret! Well, you are mean to have told Rosemary and not me! I'm not friends with you any more, so there!"
 
Lorraine answered her sweet-faced elder sister's look of enquiry with a nod of comprehension.
 
"Yes, it's all un fait accompli," she replied, "and on the whole I think the school has borne it beautifully. Come along, Cuckoo, don't pout⁴⁰! Rosemary must have some secrets I can't tell to the family baby. Remember, you score in other ways. It's luck to be born youngest."
 
The three girls turned in at a gate and walked up a flower-bordered drive to a comfortable ivy-covered house. "Pendlehurst" was a modern house, and in Lorraine's opinion not at all romantic, but, with the exception of herself, the Forrester family was not particularly given to romance. Her father, in choosing a residence, had paid more [32]attention to drains, number of bedrooms and hot-water facilities than to artistic⁴¹ beauty or æsthetic associations. He was a practical man with a bent⁴² towards mathematics, and counted the cubic space necessary for the requirements of seven children to be the matter of most importance. He had an old-established practice as a solicitor⁴³ in the town, and had lived all his life at Porthkeverne. Of the large family of children only the three youngest remained at home. Richard and Donald were at the front, in the thick of the fighting; Rodney was in training for the Air Force, while Rosemary, anxious also to flutter from the nest and try her wings in the world, was to go to London to study singing at a College of Music. Her term began a little later than Lorraine's, so the two girls had still a few days left to spend together. They ran upstairs now to their joint⁴⁴ bedroom, where packing was in progress. A big box stood under the window with a bottom layer of harmony-books and music tightly arranged. To Rosemary it meant the fulfilment of a long-cherished dream. As she looked at it, her imagination skipped three or four years and showed her a golden vision of herself—in a pale pink satin dress with a pearl necklace—standing on a concert platform and bowing repeatedly to the storm of applause which had greeted her song.
 
"I can't tell you how hard I'm going to work," she confided⁴⁵. "I shall just practise and practise and practise. I know that wretched theory will rather stump⁴⁶ me, but I'll wrestle⁴⁷ with it. There'll [33]be such a musical atmosphere about the place, it can't help inspiring one."
 
"The hostel⁴⁸ will be fun, too," said Lorraine, going down on her knees to inspect the dainty afternoon tea service that was being rolled up for safety in soft articles of clothing. "I can just picture you in your room, making a cup of cocoa before you go to bed."
 
"And having in a few friends. It'll be the time of my life! I always wanted to go to boarding school, but this will be even better, because in a way I shall be my own mistress. I never thought I'd work Dad round to it. I've been in a sort of quiver ever since he said 'yes'. Who's there?" (as a loud series of rappings resounded⁴⁹ on the door). "Oh, I can't have you children in here just now! Go away!"
 
"We must come in!" urged Monica, following up her words by a forcible entrance. "There! there! Don't get excited! You'll welcome us when you know what we've come for! Chips and I have brought you a present. We thought you'd like to pack it now."
 
Mervyn, otherwise "Chips", an overgrown boy of thirteen, was embracing a large parcel, which he plumped on the floor and unfolded. It contained a fretwork basket, stained brown and still rather sticky with varnish⁴. The corners fitted indifferently, and the handle was slightly askew⁵¹.
 
"We've made it between us!" said Mervyn proudly. "It'll either do for a work-basket, or you could plant ferns in it and have it in your window."
 
[34]"You didn't guess the least little atom what we were doing, did you?" asked Monica anxiously.
 
"Not a scrap⁵²!" said Rosemary, gallantly⁵³ accepting the embarrassing offering with the enthusiasm it demanded. "You're dears to have made it for me. I can keep all sorts of things in it: cocoa and condensed milk, and bits of string, and everything I'm likely to lose. Thanks ever so! Isn't it a little sticky to pack yet?"
 
"Not very!" said Mervyn, applying a finger as practical demonstration⁵⁴: "I'm glad you like it. It's our first really big bit of work with those fret⁵⁰ saws. Now, Cuckoo, if you want to come, there'll be just time to develop those films before tea."
 
When the children had gone, Rosemary lifted up the rather crooked⁵⁵ basket, looked at it critically, and laughed.
 
"I'm sure it was a labour of love," she commented. "Of course, I shall have to take it with me, though it will be a nuisance to pack. And they're so proud of it! I hope my own first efforts at the College of Music won't be considered equally crude by the authorities!"
 
"Or mine at The Gables! We're each starting on new lines this term. What heaps and loads we shall have to talk about at Christmas!"