04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School by Elinor Brent-Dyer

Author:Elinor Brent-Dyer [Brent-Dyer, Elinor]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-28T23:00:00+00:00

As it was Sunday, the juniors came over to the Chalet to spend the day as usual, and there was enough noise made to justify Miss Maynard’s remarks about “rnonkey-houses.” This was the one day in the week when the girls might speak their own language all the time without let or hindrance, and they made the most of it. French, German, and Italian were the chief languages, but there was English, of course, and some Norwegian, for there were four Norwegian girls in the school now; and a little Hungarian. As Miss Wilson had once said when they all got started, the Tower of Babel wasn’t in it!

Simone regarded Jo very shyly. She had not been near her idol since that unlucky Friday when Johad quarrelled with everybody in her disappointment. Jo, with a feeling of reproach – after all, it hadn’t been Simone’s fault that she had caught cold – made a point of being specially nice to her, and Simone would have forgiven her beloved Jo any crime, so things were soon all right between them.

In the afternoon they passed the time in the usual way, and Kaffee was taken by themselves as usual, the staff having a much-deserved rest over at Le Petit Chalet. The prefects were in charge, and Luise was in the kitchen with Rosa, the sister next in age to her – a treat always allowed the maid on Sundays.

After a while the talk turned on to the legends which surrounded the place. The Tyrol is full of stories of various kinds, and Jo Bettany had learnt as many of them as possible, with an eye to the future, when she meant to use them in the books she was going to write. Frieda’s father had been born and brought up by the Tiern See, and he had told the future novelist many tales, rejoicing in the deep interest she showed in them.

This afternoon, when they had finished their Kaffee und Kuchen, and had carried the china back to the kitchen as was the rule, the little ones insisted that Jo should tell them some of the stories.

“Tell how the Tiern See became a lake, Joey,” pleaded Margia Stevens’ little sister Amy. “I love that story.

I’m going to make a ballad of it some day.”

Like Jo, Amy had resolved to be a writer when she grew up, but her bent was for verse, and she had written some very pretty things already. Their father was foreign correspondent to one of the big London dailies, and the two girls had lived in many places on the Continent, leading a gipsy life till they had been sent to the school four years before this. Both were clever children, and their wandering years had given them a wide knowledge, as well as a fairly full vocabulary in more languages than little girls generally attain. Amy was a great favourite at school, where she had been baby till the arrival of the Robin. So when she clamoured for the tale, the rest joined in, and Joey, nothing loth, began at once.

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