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Pixie O'Shaughnessy

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<h3>Chapter Eleven.</h3> <h4>Divided Opinions.</h4> “Girls,” announced Miss Phipps after tea, two evenings later, “I have something to tell you which I am sure you will be delighted, and also much touched to hear. You have, I suppose, taken for granted that no breaking-up party would be held this term, as I have unfortunately had to deprive you of all holidays and excursions. For myself, I had put the matter entirely aside, as out of keeping with our present position, but you have had an advocate whom I have found it impossible to refuse. Someone has pleaded your cause so eloquently that she has gained the day, and I have now to announce that your party will be held as usual on Wednesday next, a few days before we break up. Don’t thank me, please! It is someone else who deserves your thanks. Can you guess who it is?” The girls were jumping about in their seats, all excitement and delight. Ethel was tossing her curls, Flora beaming from ear to ear, Kate’s eyes were dancing behind her spectacles, Margaret was looking across the table at Pixie with an anxious, scrutinising glance. Who could it be—this unknown champion? There were whispering and consulting on every side, but the first suggestions fell wide of the mark. “Mrs Vane!” said one, mentioning the name of the giver of the “Alice Prize,” which was held in such importance in the school. But no, it was not Mrs Vane. “Miss Ewing!” cried another, naming a friend of Miss Phipps, who on one memorable occasion had begged a holiday for the entire school; but it was not Miss Ewing. “Nearer home, nearer home! She is in this room now!” cried Miss Phipps, laughing; and then it was impossible to look at Mademoiselle’s red cheeks and remain in doubt any longer. The gasp of surprise, of gratitude, of admiration that went round the room was the most eloquent acknowledgment of the generosity which had prompted the request, and Mademoiselle grew redder than ever, as she reflected that she would not have deserved any thanks had it not been for the suggestion of another. She looked instinctively at Pixie, and met a smile which reached from ear to ear, and was fairly beaming over with exultation. No one in the room looked so beamingly happy, but the next moment the smile gave way to a startled expression, as Miss Phipps continued slowly— “There is one girl whom I am unfortunately obliged to except in giving my invitation, and that is Pixie O’Shaughnessy. Whether she is guilty of really breaking Mademoiselle’s scent-bottle or not, it is impossible for me to say, but a suspicion has rested upon her which she has persistently refused to remove. I cannot allow a girl who defies my authority to be among us on such an occasion, and though the fact that she is in disgrace will cast a shadow over our evening, I consider that I have no choice in the matter. On Wednesday night, then, Pixie, you will have tea by yourself in the schoolroom, and go up to bed at seven o’clock.” “I will, Miss Phipps,” said Pixie faintly. She had blushed until her face was crimson from the roots of her hair to the tip of her chin, and her face stood out like a vivid peony among those of her companions. Everyone looked at her, and the glances were more kindly than they had been for many a day; for it is easy to be sympathetic when we get our own way, and have shifted the burden off our own shoulders on to those of another. When the Principal left the room, attention was almost equally divided between Mademoiselle and Pixie, who were each surrounded by a group of excited talkers. “Oh, Maddie, I do call you an angel! It was simply sweet of you to plead for us when you have been the one to suffer. I’ll love you for ever for this!” “So shall I, Maddie, and you’ll see how well I’ll do my verbs! I’ll never worry you any more, but be so good and industrious. Dance with me, do, the first waltz, and I’ll be gentleman, and not let you bump into anybody!” “Pixie dear, I’m so sorry, but you would rather the girls had their party even if you couldn’t go, wouldn’t you, dear?”—this from Margaret, while Lottie tossed her head and said— “She needn’t distress herself! There is nothing to make a fuss about. Party, indeed! A fine sort of party! No one comes, and it is just like any other night, except that you dance and wear your best things!” “And have programmes, and trifles, and jellies, and crackers, and all sorts of good things, and sit up until ten o’clock! But I’m awfully sorry you can’t come, Pixie. If I get a chance I’ll bring you something upstairs from the supper-table. You can’t put lumps of jelly in your pocket, but if there is anything dry, I’ll bring it to you when I go to bed!” “So will I, Pixie. My party frock has a baggy front, so I can carry a lot. I could get a whole cheese-cake in when no one was looking. Or would you rather have a mince pie?” “I think I’d rather have—both,” said Pixie sadly. “I shall be so hungry, lying alone repining! I have never been to a party except once, at Bally William, and that wasn’t a party either, for there was only me and two other boys, and the girls of the house, but we had crackers all the same, and I got an elegant little fan. The same I offered to you, Lottie, when you went out last time!” “I remember, but it didn’t go with my dress. That’s another thing, Pixie—you haven’t a dress to wear, so it’s just as well you aren’t asked, after all! I managed to make you presentable for a half-term evening, but that old frock of yours would never do for a breaking-up party.” Well, Lottie evidently intended to be comforting, but she had an extraordinary tactless way of going about it, Kate reflected angrily. She herself had a much happier inspiration, when she said with an elaborate affectation of relief— “And it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good! What we should have done without you to help us to dress, I really don’t know! Mind you come to me first now. Ethel doesn’t need you half so much, for her hair curls naturally, and mine always takes an unruly turn when it sees my best dress, and refuses to lie as I want it.” The listeners opened their eyes significantly, for no one had ever seen Kate’s hair untidy, and it was impossible to imagine the lank locks exhibiting roving propensities; but Pixie smiled, and that was all that had been desired. Pixie flicked the tears away and cried eagerly— “I’ll plait it in four, like I used to do Bridgie’s when she went visiting. You wouldn’t believe the style there is to ut. Esmeralda said no one would believe that it was really her own. It was for all the world as if she had bought a plait and stuck it on. I’ll make yours look like that too, if you’ll give me time!” “Oh, I’ll give you time!” laughed Kate pleasantly. Her conscience misgave her when she thought of her behaviour during the last days, and saw how ready the child was to forgive the cold contempt with which she had been treated. It was pleasant, too, to hear again of Bridgie and Esmeralda, who had been so long unmentioned, and who must really be the funniest creatures! And now that the poor little scrap was to be punished in such drastic fashion, one might venture to show pity without being accused of encouraging wickedness. After all, she had so far been convicted of no worse crime than obstinacy. Unfortunately for Pixie, some of her companions took a different view of Miss Phipps’s decision, seeing in it a proof that the Principal at least was convinced of her guilt, and so felt themselves bound to follow her example by ostracising the offender. Some of Lottie’s followers were among the number, and that young lady found herself in the difficult position of being drawn two ways at once, for she had vowed to befriend Pixie, yet was loth to risk her popularity by acting in opposition to the general feeling. She took refuge in an easy neutrality, remaining silent when gibing words were passed from mouth to mouth, and avoiding every opportunity of coming into contact with Pixie herself. With so many girls about and the rush of examination work on hand, this was easy enough to accomplish, for Lottie was ambitious, and made special effort to come out in a good position on the list. Every evening she pored over books to “stew” up the subject of the next day’s exam, and every morning seated herself before her desk, and became immediately immersed in the paper before her. Oh, those papers, what agony and confusion of spirit they brought to one poor scholar at least! Pixie had been informed that the secret of examination work was to carefully read over the list of questions, and then set to work at once on the one she could answer best, be it number one or six; but what was a poor girl to do when she was convinced that she could not answer one at all? No one had even imagined such a position, and yet it was the one in which she found herself over and over again during those last miserable days. She was so unused to examination work that the formal wording of the questions frequently disguised their meaning, and made her imagine ignorance when in reality she could have answered correctly enough; and oh, what misery to look around the room and see every other girl scribbling for her life, and looking as if the only difficulty was lack of time to write all she knew! Pixie’s mode of proceeding was to print an elaborate heading to her paper, and while away a quarter of an hour in adding ornamental flourishes to the double lines, and in elaborately darkening the down-strokes of her capitals. Then she would scribble on her blotting-paper, dropping intentional blots upon a clean page, and weaving them into a connected picture with no little skill and ingenuity. At this point a sharp reminder from teacher or scholar would bring her back to another melancholy perusal of the paper, and she would read and read the questions, in the melancholy hope of finding them grown more easy for the time of waiting. Sometimes a query was put in so straightforward a form that it was possible to answer it in a single word, and then with glee Pixie would print “Question two” in ornamental characters, and write “Yes!” underneath it with a glow of exhilaration. At other times, as in the grammar paper, a question would make no calls on the memory, but would, so to speak, supply its own material, when she attacked it with more haste than discretion in her delight at finding something which she could really accomplish. To give an example—Miss Bruce, the English teacher, quoted the sentence, “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is an ungrateful child!” and asked to have it paraphrased so as to show the two predicates which made it into a complex sentence. Pixie licked her lips over this opportunity, and squeak, squeak, squeak, went her pen along the paper, making the other girls look up and raise their eyebrows at one another in surprised comment. Writing at last, and so eagerly too! Pixie must surely have an inspiration at last; and so she had, for the big straggly writing set forth an extraordinary sentence: “How sharper it is to have an ungrateful child, than it is to have a serpent’s tooth!” “Humph!” mused Pixie, gnawing her pen, “there’s a queer sound to it too. If I didn’t know for sure it was right, I’d be just as certain it was wrong!” and so the paraphrase remained, to astonish the eyes of Miss Bruce, and give her a hearty laugh in the midst of the dreary work of reading examination papers that evening. “Well, who comes out first in the exams it is impossible to say, but there is no doubt who will be last! I don’t think Pixie O’Shaughnessy will get more than a dozen marks for a single paper she has written,” was the remark of a certain Evelyn, one of the leaders of the anti-Pixie faction, on the day before the breaking-up party. “We used to think her clever, but it was only a bubble, which has collapsed utterly the last few weeks. A guilty conscience—that’s my explanation! I call her a hardened little wretch, for she doesn’t seem to mind a bit not being allowed to come down to-morrow. You might have thought that she would be perfectly miserable, but instead of that she really seems in better spirits than before.” “She does, and she likes to hear about the party, too! Just watch her when we are talking about it, and she is all eyes and ears. We saw some of the refreshments coming in to-day, and she positively beamed! I said, ‘Those are for supper to-morrow!’ and she said, ‘Are they as nice as usual? Do you think it will be as grand as last year? Will you have every single thing just the same as if Miss Phipps hadn’t been angry?’ I said that if Miss Phipps did a thing at all, she would do it properly, and that I was quite sure it would be quite as ‘grand,’ and she chuckled with delight, just as if she were going herself. I can’t make her out.” “Perhaps she thinks that Miss Phipps will relax at the last moment, but if she does, she is very much mistaken. There will be no pardon for her until she speaks the truth. As I said before, I believe she is just a hardened little wretch who doesn’t care what happens to her, and that is why she doesn’t show any sign of feeling.” “She has looked miserable enough until now. Why not give her the benefit of the doubt, and believe that, whether she is guilty or not, she is generous enough to be glad that the whole school is not to be punished?” asked Margaret gently. “Whatever Pixie has done, she is too warm-hearted to be called ‘hardened,’ and I think some of you girls make a great mistake in treating her as you do. You will never do any good by bullying, for she is so terrified at anything like unkindness that it makes it still more difficult to speak. You would have more influence if you were kinder to her.” “Oh, Margaret, you are so absurdly good-natured! It’s always the same cry with you. You would forgive everybody, if you had your way!” cried Evelyn impatiently, and promptly flounced across the room, leaving Margaret and Lottie alone by the fire. They looked at each other in silence, and then Margaret summoned up courage to make an appeal which she had been meditating for some days past. “They won’t listen to me, Lottie, but they would if you asked them. It is really cruel to be always gibing and jeering as they are, and the older girls ought to set a better example. You are fond of Pixie too, and want to do the best for her. Can’t you persuade your friends to treat her better for the rest of the term?” Lottie shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and frowned in worried, discontented fashion. “It is only three days longer. What is the use of making a fuss? It is idiotic of Pixie not to tell what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room, and I can’t go about lecturing the whole school because she chooses to be obstinate! I am going to invite her to stay with me in the holidays, and will give her a good time to make up for all this. What’s the good of worrying? The girls will be too busy packing and preparing for the party to think of her any more now.” This was true enough, so true that Margaret could say no more, though she could not suppress the reflection that Lottie might have given the clue weeks before, if she had been so disposed. “But, as she says, the worst is over. Nothing much can happen in three days,” she told herself consolingly; wherein she was for something very exciting indeed was fated to happen before half that time had elapsed! <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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