04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School (24 page)

“Well, it’s so weird!” retorted Mary. “Of all the business-like ways of doing things! I don’t think I quite like it.”

“I think it’s rather a good idea,” said Deira, joining in the conversation. “You get what you give. Jolly neat, I think!”

Mary shook her head. She didn’t approve, in spite of Grizel’s murmured, “It’s the custom, you ass!

They’ve always done it like this!”

The girls had all been warned to bring money, so when the other guests had put in their contributions, they advanced and slipped their
Schillings
into the old lady’s hand.

“She might look a bit more cheerful over it,” murmured Jo to the faithful Simone, who was standing beside her. “It might be her own funeral she was attending!”

As the commentator was standing very near the lady, it was just as well that the latter had very little English, and didn’t understand the remark, otherwise she would have been hurt. It is no part of the
Ehrenganger
to show gratification at the gifts. They are not for her, but for the wedded pair, and they must thank their friends – not she. When the giving was over, they passed on to where Marie and Andreas stood side by side, she with a glass of wine in her hand, he with a huge bun, both greasy and solid, with which the guests were presented as they left the “pay-table.” The wine had to be drunk to the health of the newly wedded pair, and the bun was taken away to be eaten at some future date.

Knowing Mrs. Russell’s ideas on the subject, Marie was careful to give the girls mere sips of the wine, though she might have laid herself open to the charge of meanness by so doing. Luckily, the people knew that at the foreign school the girls had little to drink but water, milk, and coffee, so there was no unpleasantness.

The Robin surveyed her huge bun with a plaintive expression. “Me, I am so full, I cannot eat him now,”

she complained to Grizel, who was hard put to it not to laugh.

“You can take it home to eat, darling,” said the head-girl, when she had bitten her lips hard to straighten her face. “Put it away in this bag. They are going to dance now.”

And how those peasants did dance! Some of them were content with merely waltzing round and round; but some of the young men went in for far more spectacular doings. Jo was spinning round the room in the arms of good Herr Braun when one of Marie’s younger uncles suddenly fell on his knees with a resounding bang, and, folding his arms across his breast, bent backwards till his head touched the ground, when he kept up a rhythmic tap-tapping with it, while his partner continued dancing round him. As suddenly as he had gone down, he sprang to his feet, his arms still folded, and, catching the pretty girl with whom he had been dancing, went on as if nothing had occurred.

Others among the men were not so vigorous as this, but kept up a continuous slapping of the soles of their shoes, and all in strict time to the music. Two or three athletic youths fell on their knees, and moved round and round on them, beating the floor in a way that made the girls ache for very sympathy, though these hardy young fellows made nothing of it, and after a minute or two of it would spring up, and go on waltzing as if they had never stopped.

“Goodness!” gasped Rosalie to Gertrud, with whom she was dancing. “Have they
any
skin left on their knees?”

The Tyrolean girl laughed. “Oh yes! They are accustomed to doing this, and they don’t mind it. What you ought to see – only we cannot have it here, as the ceiling is so high – is the figure where the girl swings up her man and then goes on revolving, while he dances with his feet on the ceiling and his hands on her shoulders.”

Rosalie stopped dead. “Are you pulling my leg?” she demanded.

Gertrud shook her pretty head. “No. It is really so. I have heard my father speak of it. I do not know if it is done in this valley; but I know it is in some. I have heard my father say that he has seen a couple dance like this for six minutes without stopping.”

Rosalie gave it up, and continued her waltz. It was beyond her.

After about an hour of this kind of entertainment the musicians stopped playing, and one of the young men sprang up and sang a couple of lines, his partner standing beside him, her eyes modestly on the floor. Miss Maynard, who knew that sometimes these
Schnadahupfler
, as they are called, are inclined to be questionable, was rather worried, but there was nothing to trouble her, and presently the orchestra went on.

Jo, who had given the bridegroom his promised dance, and was rather weary now, slipped aside, and watched the trio with deep interest. There was a pipe, a zither, and a
Hackbrettel
. This last is a weird arrangement of bits of wood of various lengths and shapes, fixed on plaits of straw, and struck with a wooden mallet. Each gives out a different sound according to its size or form, and the result is not so bad as might be expected. Finally, there was a little silence, in which people crowded back to the dining-room to quench their thirst, and then began the
Ehrentanz
, which is danced by the bridal couple, the nearest of her relations, and any guests whom the bridegroom specially wishes to honour. The rest of the dancers crowd round the walls and watch it in silence, while the host and his wife stand near the musicians. As the couples waltz slowly round the room, these two present each with a full glass of wine, of which the lady sips a little.

She then hands the rest over to her partner, who drains it. While this is going on, the brother of the bride sings a short rhyme in praise of his new brother-in-law as that worthy passes him every time he goes the round of the room. Sometimes this is turned into rather a rowdy affair, but on this occasion everyone liked the groom, so no one rose to challenge all that Fritzel Pfeiffen sang about Andreas.

Naturally Jo, Grizel, and the Robin were requested to join in the dancing, and so were Mademoiselle, Miss Maynard, and Miss Carthew. It is impossible to refuse without giving hurt to the feelings of the happy pair, so they joined in, and waltzed slowly round in imitation of the others. When it was over, Marie and Andreas set out for their home, and the guests prepared to give themselves full swing. The girls also left the dancing-room at the quiet suggestion of Herr August, who had danced the
Ehrentanz
with Mademoiselle, and went to watch the shooting-matches, of which they soon tired. It was two o’clock by this time, and the sun was growing hot. Several of the little ones were tired out, and were inclined to be fractious, so Miss Carthew and Mademoiselle took them off home, where they were sent to bed, and left to have a quiet nap till four o’clock. The others stayed where they were or wandered about on the grass, where several couples, temporarily tired of the dancing, were doing likewise.

Among them was Herr August, as they all called him, to distinguish him from his brother, Herr Pfeiffen.

He was one of the men on the little steamboats which run on the Tiern See in the summer, and the girls knew him well, and liked him immensely. Evadne, Jo, Margia, Simone, Paula, Frieda, and Cornelia, who had patched up a temporary peace with Jo, ran up to him when they saw him by himself, and demanded accounts of other weddings which he had attended. He was very willing to accede to their requests, and sat down with them round him, and told them stories of shooting-matches and
Schuhplattler
exhibitions, in which the most marvellous feats had been performed.

When he had exhausted his repertoire, he sat silent for a minute. Then he turned to Jo. “Fraulein Joey, I have heard that the demon who tried to bear away the little Fraulein Robin has been seen again of late.”

Jo sat up – she had been lounging against Frieda – and demanded, “Where?”

“Up on the haunted glen. He is as you say – tall, and with white hair and very blue eyes. He wears deerskins, and has neither hat nor shoes, and he dances and sings all the while.”

“Horrid old thing!” said Jo, with an involuntary shudder.

“Who is it?” asked Cornelia, who had not heard of this before.

They nearly fell over themselves to tell her, till Joey, shrieking above the others, induced them to be quiet and let her tell it. She told it as well as she had told those legends during the previous term, and, hot day as it was, Margia averred that her blood ran cold at Jo’s description of the maniac’s anger when they had sent Rufus off with the Robin.

Cornelia listened with bated breath. “What an adventure,” she said.

“It was indeed a terrible happening,” said Herr August. “Luckily Our Blessed Lady was watching over
das
Engelkind
, and so saved her from being dragged down to the demon’s lair.”

“It wasn’t!” cried Frieda indignantly. “At least, I mean, it was Grizel and Joey who saved her! Our Lady helped them, but they were there!”

“Ah, but it was our dear Lord and His Holy Mother who prompted the thought to take the dog,” said Herr August, who possessed the simple, unquestioning faith of his race. “I think, too, that They watched over
die
Fraulein
in their hour of peril, and saved them from the wrath of the demon.”

“I’m jolly
sure
it was God,” said Jo in her own language. “If He hadn’t been with us all the time, goodness only knows
what
would have happened!”

“Joey,” said Margia abruptly, “what do you think that cleft was?”

“A hole in the mountains,” responded Jo promptly.

“Yes; but
what
hole?”

“Why, just any hole! What d’you mean? Are you driving at something?”

“Well, I don’t
know
, of course, but-” Margia paused.

“But – what? Oh, get on,” cried Jo impatiently. “What’s your idea – if you’ve
got
one, that is!”

Margia looked at them all. Herr August had got up, and sauntered off, seeing that the little ladies were well occupied. They were all literally hanging on her words.

“Get on!” said Jo again. “What is it?”

“Well,” began Margia, “do you remember what Marie said Wanda’s fiance’s father said about our lake?”

Jo shook her head. “No – oh yes, though, I do! He said that there were some wonderful caves either near it or under it. D’you mean, Margia, that you think that hole was the way in?”

“Well, it looks rather like it, doesn’t it? It’s in the part they all swear is haunted. None of the lake folk will go near it. You heard what Herr August thought of that old looney? I’ll bet you what you like that’s the way into the caves, and he lives there.”

There was a thrilled silence after she had finished speaking. Then Jo spoke slowly. “I see what you mean.

If one of them is all glittering and crystally, he might think it was Fairyland. That’s why he’s got that crack-brained notion about taking our Robin there. Oh, Margia! Supposing he had! Supposing we
hadn’t
got there in time?”

“Well, you did,” said Margia, in matter-of-fact tones, for Jo looked rather as if she might cry. “The thing is: If that’s the way, then the caves can he found; and if they’re safe, they can be used as you said.”

“Oh!” Jo sat up again, her face blazing at the thought. “And it’s
us
- it’s the school that will have helped to discover them! Oh, Margia! You brain!”

“Come along, you people! I’ve been yelling at you till I’m hoarse! Why on earth can’t you listen, you little nuisances?” It was Grizel, of course, and an irritated Grizel, who had to walk across from the other side of the pasture under the blazing sun to bring them.

They got meekly to their feet, but, just as Jo was about to announce their glorious idea, the head-girl cut in with, “Now don’t talk! Come along at once! It’s nearly four o’clock, and we have to get
Kaffee und Kuchen
for ourselves today. You can hold your tongue, Jo.”

Thus adjured, Jo held it in a disgusted silence which lasted till they reached the Chalet, where they found the rest bringing their afternoon meal out into the flower garden, and setting the tables in the shade of the two big trees that grew at one end of it.

“Come, children!” cried Miss Maynard, as she saw them. “Run along and change your frocks, and then come and help. What has made you so long in coming?”

She did not pause for an answer, and they went off to change and wash before they came downstairs to help bring out the china and cakes. Then the little ones came racing across from Le Petit Chalet, and since all mention of the Robin’s adventure before any of them had been banned, they were obliged to be silent.

The chances are, however, that they would have discussed it some time during the evening, and the seniors would have heard of it, in which case much might have been saved. But just as Mademoiselle was marshalling the little ones off to bed, Miss Maynard’s brother appeared on the scene. He came straight across to Jo. “Go and get your hat,” he said. “Put on strong shoes, and come at once.”

Miss Maynard who was standing near, turned white. “Jack! What is it?” she asked.

“Mrs. Russell has a little son, born this morning, and she wants Jo,” he said brusquely. Jo was off like a shot, and was back in almost less time than it takes to tell. They set out for the Sonnalpe, leaving a startled and troubled school behind them, and all thought of the caves passed completely out of the minds of everyone for the next twenty-four hours. It was not till a flushed and, wonderful to relate, tearful Jo reappeared on the scenes that they settled down to tranquillity again.

She had very little to say, but she assured them that the baby was a darling, and Madge was all right – now.

She was to go up again on Sunday, and stay for a few days, and they hoped that Grizel and the Robin would be able to go up two weeks later. That was all she would say, and she remained uncannily reserved and taciturn for her. When Cornelia referred to the caves, she shook her off. “Bother the old caves! I don’t care a toss for them! Go away and leave me alone!”

Cornelia went; but the patched-up peace was at an end as far as she was concerned. She would take jolly good care to get her own back somehow!

ON THE SUNDAY, Jo departed for the Sonnalpe, accompanied by Miss Maynard, who wanted to see her brother, and bearing a message from the school to her sister, as well as a big armful of flowers from the garden, which the girls had all joined in gathering. Grizel, the Robin, and Miss Carthew escorted them to the lake-landing where the Chalet School boat was moored, and saw them off, Miss Carthew, who was holding the baby firmly, calling after them that they were to stay as long as they wanted, since everything would go well in their absence, while Grizel waved her hand silently. “Jo seems different since Thursday,” she said to the mistress as they turned to go back, the Robin running on in front.