Pixie O'Shaughnessy Part 2

"But she wasn't much good, either!" interrupted Pixie, entering into the conversation with the ease and geniality of one whose remarks are in the habit of being received with applause. "I didn't pay much attention to her. I expect there's a good deal I don't know yet, but I'm very quick and clever, and can be even with anyone if I choose to try."

"Then please try, Pixie! I shall be disappointed if you don't!" said Miss Phipps promptly. Her cheeks had grown quite red with surprise, and she pulled in her upper lip, and bit at it hard as she looked down at her new pupil, and noted the flat nose, the wide mouth, and the elf-like thinness of the shabby figure. "Pixie! that's a very charming little name, but a fancy one, surely. What is your Christian name?"

Father and daughter gazed at each other appealingly. It was a moment which they had both dreaded, and the Major had fondly hoped that he might escape before the question was asked. He remained obstinately silent, and Pixie nerved herself to reply.

"Me name's not suited to me appearance," she said sadly. "I'd rather, if you please, that ye didn't tell it to the girls. I am always called Pixie at home. Me name's Patricia!"

Miss Phipps bit her lip harder than ever, but did managed to control her features, and Pixie was relieved to see that she did not even smile at the mention of the fatal name.

"It's rather a long name for such a small person, isn't it?" she said seriously. "I think we will keep to Pixie. It will make school more home-like for you, than if we changed to one to which you are not accustomed." Then turning to the Major, "I am sorry my head mistress, Miss Bruce, is not at home to-day, as I should have liked you to see her. She is very bright and original, and has a happy knack of bringing out the best that is in her pupils. She directs the teaching, and I am the housekeeper and sick-nurse of the establishment. Would you like to come upstairs, and see the room in which Pixie will sleep, or shall we wait perhaps until after tea?"

The Major declared that he could not wait for tea. He had kept the cab waiting at the door, and was all anxiety to get the parting over as quickly as possible and return to the fascinations of town, so he discussed a few business matters with Miss Phipps, and then took Pixie's hand and accompanied her up the staircase to the third-floor bedroom which she was to share with three other pupils.

Two windows looked out on to the garden in front of the house, and an arrangement of curtains hung on rods made each little cubicle private from the rest. Pixie's handbag had already been laid by her bed, and she felt quite a swelling of importance as she surveyed her new domain, wherein everything was to be her very own, and not shared with someone else, as had always been the case at home. The Major gushed over all he saw, and professed himself as more than satisfied, but he was plainly ill at ease, and after walking twice round the room was all eagerness to make his escape.

"I'll say good-bye to you now, Pixie," he said, "for your bag is there, I see, and you would be much the better for a wash and brush. It's no use coming downstairs again. Be a good girl, now, and Jack shall come often to see you! I'm happy to leave you in such good hands, and it's a lucky child you are to have such a school to come to! It will be your own fault if you are not happy."

"I've no doubt I'll be very comfortable, thank you," Pixie said pleasantly, lifting her cheek to receive her father's kiss, with little sign of the emotion dreaded by the two onlookers, for her mind was too full of the new excitements to allow her to realise his departure. He hurried out of the room, followed by Miss Phipps, and Pixie withdrew into her cubicle, pulled the curtains closely around her, and felt monarch of all she surveyed. A dear little white bed, so narrow that if you turned, you turned at your peril and in instant dread of landing on the floor; a wonderful piece of furniture which did duty as dressing- table, washstand, and chest of drawers combined; a single chair and a hanging cupboard. Everything fresh, spotlessly clean, and in perfect order; absolutely, if you can believe it, not a single broken thing to be seen! Pixie drew a quick breath of admiration, and wondered how long it could possibly be before she succeeded in cracking that lovely blue and white china, and exactly what would happen if she spilt the water over the floor! She was so much occupied in building castles in the air that ten minutes pa.s.sed by and she had not moved from her seat, when suddenly there came the sound of footsteps running up the stairs, the door was pushed open, and tramp, tramp, in came her future companions, hidden from sight, but talking volubly to each other as they took off hats and jackets after the afternoon walk.

"The new girl has arrived!" cried number one, in a tone of breathless excitement. "I saw her box as I came through the hall. I peeped at the label, but hadn't time to read it properly."

"I did, though!" cried another. "A funny name--O something or other.

'Shog-nessie,' or something like that. Such a shabby old trunk! Looked as if it came out of the Ark."

"It will be rather fun having an Irish girl, don't you think?" number two suggested. "They are untidy and quarrelsome, of course, but it is funny to hear them talk, and they make such droll mistakes. I shouldn't like to be Irish myself, but it will be a pleasant change to have a Paddy among us!"

"Well, I hope she isn't quarrelsome in this room, that's all!" said a third speaker, who had hitherto been silent, "because if she is, I shall feel it my duty to give her a taste of Home Rule that she may not appreciate. And if she snores I shall squeeze my sponge over her, so you may tell her what she has to expect. There's nothing like training these youngsters properly from the beginning!"

"Twelve years old! I call it mean to put a child like that in this room! You are fourteen, I'm fourteen, Ethel is fifteen; we ought to have one of the older ones with us. We will make her f.a.g for her living. She shall get the hot water, and fold up our nightgowns, and pick up the pins. All the same, I shall be kind to her, for the credit of the country, for Irish people are always imagining themselves ill- used by England. If I had thought of it I would have drawn a picture for her cubicle, as a delicate little mark of attention. An Irishman with his--what do you call it?--s.h.i.+-lee-lah!"

The speaker stopped suddenly as she p.r.o.nounced this difficult word, for a curious m.u.f.fled sound reached her ears. "What's that?" she asked quickly; but her companions had heard nothing, so she retired into the cubicle next Pixie's own to brush her hair, slightly raising her voice, so as to be heard more easily by her companions.

"She lives in a castle! I heard Miss Phipps telling Miss Bruce when she was sending the labels. 'Knock-kneed Castle,' or something like that.

Every second house in Ireland is called a castle, my father says. It's no more than a villa in England, and all the people are as poor as Job, and have hens in their parlours and pigs on the lawn. They don't know what it is to keep order. What are you grunting for, Ethel? It's quite true, I tell you!"

"Dear me, I'm not grunting, I'm only was.h.i.+ng my hands," cried Ethel, aggrieved. "What's the matter with your ears this afternoon? I don't care where she lives, so long as she behaves herself, and knows how to respect her elders. I wonder what she is like!"

"Irish girls are mostly pretty."

"Who told you that?"

"Never mind, I know it. It's always raining over there, and that is supposed to be good for the hair, or the complexion, or something. And they are so bright and vivacious. If an author wants to make a specially lively heroine in a book, the father is Irish, and the mother is French. Perhaps she'll be the beauty of the school, and then won't someone we could mention tear her hair with rage?"

"Well, I don't know about being pretty," said Pixie's neighbour reflectively. "We have had lots of Irish servants, and they were plain enough. But the name sounds interesting--'Miss Shog-nessie--the Castle--Ireland.' It certainly sounds interesting. I'd give something to know what she is like."

"If ye'll step inside the curtain, ye may judge for yerself," said a deep rich voice suddenly from behind the curtain which was farthest from the door.

There was silence in the bedroom--a silence which might be felt!

CHAPTER FOUR.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

Pixie's first week at school was a period of delirious excitement.

Above all things in the world she loved to be of importance, and occupy a foremost place with those around her, and she was proudly conscious that her name was on every lip, her doings the subject of universal attention. New girls were wont to be subdued and bashful in their demeanour, and poor unfortunates who arrived after the beginning of the term to find other pupils settled down into regular work, were apt to feel doubly alone. By this time those arrangements are determined which are of such amazing importance to the schoolgirl's heart--Clara has sworn deathless friends.h.i.+p with Ethel; Mary, Winifred, and Elsie have formed a "triple alliance," each solemnly vowing to tell the other her inmost secrets, and consult her in all matters of difficulty. Rosalind and Bertha have agreed to form a pair in the daily crocodile, and Grace has sent Florence to Coventry because she has dared to sharpen pencils for Lottie, the school pet, when she knew perfectly well that it was Grace's special privilege, and she is a nasty, interfering thing, anyhow, and ought to be snubbed! What chance has a poor late-comer against such syndicates as these? There is nothing for her but to take a back place, and wait patiently for a chance at the beginning of another term.

Pixie O'Shaughnessy, however, has never taken a back place in her life, and has no intention of beginning now. On her very first evening the two head girls entered the school parlour to find a small, ugly girl seated in the middle of the hearth rug on the most comfortable chair which the room afforded, and were invited in the most genial manner to, "Shtep forward and take a seat!"

"It's rhemarkably cold for the time of year!" remarked the small person, making no sign of giving up her seat, but waving blandly towards the cane chairs by the wall. "I'm the new girl, I come from Ireland. Me father brought me. I'm the youngest of six, and I've come to school to correct me brogue, and be polished up. As soon as I've finished I shall go back to me home!"

The head girl came over to the fireplace, and stared downwards with wide grey eyes. She looked almost grown-up, for her hair was twisted round and round like a lady's, and her dress reached to her ankles.

"That's very interesting!" she said slowly. "I am glad you have made yourself comfortable, for from what you say I expect we shall have you with us for quite a long time. Can't you tell us some more family details while you are about it?"

"I can so!" said Pixie with emphasis, and sitting erect in her seat she folded her hands in her lap, and began to talk. The room was filling by this time, for the quarter of an hour before tea was a cosy holiday- time, when the girls could talk without restraint, and compare notes on the work of the day. One by one they approached the fireside, until Pixie's chair was surrounded by a compact wall of laughing young faces, and thirty pairs of eyes stared at her from head to foot, back again from foot to head. Her black skirt was so short that it was like a flounce, and nothing more; from chest to back there was no more width than could be covered by the scraggy little arm, the feet dangled half- way to the floor, and the hands waved about, emphasising every sentence with impa.s.sioned gestures.

At the end of ten minutes what the pupils of Holly House did not know about the O'Shaughnessy family may be safely described as not worth knowing! They had been treated to graphic descriptions of all its members, with ill.u.s.trative anecdotes setting them forth in their best and worst lights; they had heard of the ancient splendours of the Castle, and the past glories of the family, and--for Pixie was gifted with a most engaging honesty--they had also heard of the present straitness of means, the ingenious contrivances by which the family needs were supplied, and even of one tragic episode when the butcher refused to supply any more meat, just when one of the county magnates was expected to dinner! It had been a ghastly occasion, but Bridgie went and "spoke soft to him," and he was a decent man, and he said it wasn't for "all the mutton in the world," he said, that he would see her shamed before the quality, so all ended as happily as could be desired!

"I wouldn't tell stories like that if I were you, Pixie," said the head girl gravely, at the end of this recital. She had not laughed as the others had done, but looked at the little chatterbox with a grave, steady glance. Margaret had gained for herself the t.i.tle of "School- Mother", by thinking of something better than the amus.e.m.e.nt of the moment, and being brave enough to speak a word of warning when she saw a girl setting out on a path which was likely to bring her into trouble.

"I wouldn't tell stories like that!" she repeated, and when the swift "Why not?" came back, she was ready with her reply. "Because I am sure your people would not like it. It is all right for you to tell us about your brothers and sisters, and it was very interesting. I wish Bridgie and Esmeralda had come to school with you; but we don't tell stories of our home doings of which we are,"--she was about to say "ashamed," but the child's innocent eyes restrained her--"about which we are sorry! We keep those to ourselves."

"But--but we got the mutton! He gave us the mutton!" cried Pixie, agape with wonder. It seemed to her an interesting and highly creditable history, seeing that Bridgie had had the better of the butcher, and maintained the family credit in the eyes of the neighbourhood. She could not understand Margaret's gravity, and the half-amused, half- pitiful glances of the older pupils.

The girl standing nearest to her put an arm round her neck, and said, "Poor little girlie!" in such a soft, tender voice that her tears overflowed at the moment, and she returned the embrace with startling fervour. Pixie's emotions were all on the surface, and she could cry at one moment and laugh at the next, with more ease than an ordinary person could smile or sigh. When the gong sounded for tea, she went downstairs with her arms twined fondly round the waists of two new friends, and there was quite a quarrel among the girls, as to who should sit beside her.

Miss Phipps was at one end of the table, and Mademoiselle, the resident French teacher, at the other, and between them stretched a long white s.p.a.ce flanked by plates of bread-and-b.u.t.ter, and in the centre some currant scones, and dishes of jam. These latter dainties were intended to supply a second course when appet.i.te had been appeased by plainer fare, but the moment that grace was said the new-comer helped herself to the largest scone she could find, half covered her plate with jam, and fell to work with unrestrained relish, while thirty pairs of eyes watched with fascinated horror. She thought that everyone seemed uncommonly quiet and solemn, and was casting about in her mind for a pleasant means of opening the conversation, when a sound broke on her ears which recalled one of Pat's prophecies with unpleasant distinctness. Mademoiselle was talking in her native tongue, and it was not in the least like the French which she had been accustomed to hear in the schoolroom at Bally William. The agonising presentiment that her ignorance was about to be discovered before her schoolmates reduced Pixie at one blow to a condition of abject despair. She hung her head over her plate, and strove to avoid attention by keeping as quiet as possible.

"They speak too quick. It's rude to gabble!" she told herself resentfully. "And I know some French meself. '_J'ai, tu as, il a, nous sommes, vous etes, ils sont_.' Listen at that, now!" She felt a momentary thrill of triumph in her achievement, but it quickly faded away, as further efforts showed how scanty was the knowledge upon which she could draw. "_Je suis faim_" was the only phrase which occurred at the moment, and appropriately enough too! She stretched out her hand to take a second scone, but was immediately called to order by Miss Phipps's soft voice.

"Bread-and-b.u.t.ter this time, Pixie! You are not supposed to take scones until you have had at least three pieces of bread. You must do as the other girls do, you know, dear!"

"Oi like a relish to my tay!" sighed Pixie sadly, and five separate girls who happened to have their cups to their mouths at the moment, choked immediately, and had to be patted on the backs by their companions. All the girls were laughing; even the victims smiled amidst their struggles, and Mademoiselle's brown eyes were sparkling with amus.e.m.e.nt. There was not one of them half so beautiful as Esmeralda, nor so sweet as Bridgie, but they were good to look at all the same, reflected the new pupil critically. Right opposite sat her three room- mates--Flora, plump and beaming; Kate, sallow and spectacled; Ethel, the curious, with a mane of reddish brown hair, which she kept tossing from side to side with a self-conscious, consequential air. Margaret sat by Miss Phipps's side, and helped her by putting sugar and milk into the cups. Glance where she would, she met bright, kindly smiles, and her friend on either side looked after her wants in the kindest of manners.

Pixie did not know their names, so she addressed them indiscriminately as "darlin'," and was prepared to vow eternal friends.h.i.+p without waiting to be introduced.

"Do you always speak French at meals?" she asked under cover of the general conversation a few minutes later, and the reply was even worse than her fears.

"We are supposed to speak it always, except in the quarter of an hour before tea, and on Sundays, and holidays. But of course, if you do not know a word you can ask Mademoiselle, or look it up in a dictionary, and the new girls get into it gradually. Miss Phipps is a darling; she can't bear to see a girl unhappy, and of course it is difficult to get into school ways when you have been taught at home. I have been here for two years, and am as happy as possible, though I cried myself sick the first week. If you do what you are told and work hard, you will have a very good time at Holly House."

Pixie looked dubious.

"But aren't you ever naughty?" she asked anxiously. "Not really bad, you know, but just mischeevious! Don't you ever play tricks, or have pillow fights, or secret suppers up in your room, or dress up as bogeys to frighten the others?"

"Certainly not!" Eleanor Hopton was a proper and dignified young lady, and the straightness of her back was quite alarming as she frowned dissent at the new-comer. "Frighten people, indeed! Do you not call that naughty? It's a wicked and dangerous thing to do, and you would be punished severely if you attempted it. I have read of people who died of fright. How would you feel if you played bogey, as you call it, to startle one of the girls, and she had a weak heart and died before your eyes? You would feel pretty miserable then, I should say."

"I would so! I'd get the fright myself that time. But suppers, now,-- suppers don't hurt anyone!" urged Pixie, pus.h.i.+ng aside one objectionable proposition and bringing forward the next with unconscious generals.h.i.+p.

"Don't you ever smuggle things upstairs--sausages and cakes, and sardines and cream--and wake up early in the morning--early--early, before it is light--and eat them together, and pretend you are ladies and gentlemen, or s.h.i.+pwrecked mariners on desert islands, or wild Indians, or anything like that, and talk like they talk, and dance about the room?"