Etheldreda the Ready: A School StoryVaizey, George de Horne, Mrs.
History
Etheldreda the Ready: A School Story
Vaizey, George de Horne, Mrs.
Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
Now Norah had had paper games on a recent occasion when she had played
the part of hostess, so she felt herself snubbed, and sulked for the
whole afternoon, disdaining to take any notice of the whispering and
laughing, the rushings to and fro, the wholesale confiscation of
"properties," indulged in by Dreda and her troupe.
When the evening arrived she put on her second best dress, and purposely
dallied until the very last moment before entering the drawing-room.
She wished and expected to annoy Dreda by slighting her hospitality, but
Dreda was too much absorbed in the excitement of the moment to remember
past differences, so that the reluctant Norah found herself greeted with
the most radiant of smiles, and was promptly escorted across the room
and introduced to Mademoiselle in characteristic fashion.
"Mademoiselle, may I introduce my friend Miss West? Miss West is quite
a distinguished example of our _jeune fille_ sportive! I am sure you
will like to know her. Miss West--Mademoiselle Saudre."
Mademoiselle chuckled with delight, and subdued splutterings of
amusement sounded round the room while the _jeune fille_ sportive took
her seat with a very red face, miserably conscious that she was
handicapped with a new nickname which would remain with her for the rest
of her school life.
It was amusing to note the expression, half-approving, half-dismayed,
with which Miss Bretherton watched the self-possessed young hostess.
These evening At Homes had been instituted with the express design of
preparing the elder pupils to be of social use to their mothers on their
return home; to be able to make an introduction in due form, and to
overcome awkward self-consciousness. It was a trifle disconcerting,
however, to behold so very full-fledged a bantling, to find oneself
treated with benevolent patronage, and to see the old rules set at
naught in favour of startling innovations. Dreda had requisitioned two
of the maids to take charge of the tea-table, and ordered their
movements with the air of a commander-in-chief; she strolled about the
room--taking part in the conversations of the different groups, and,
when necessary, introducing new subjects with unblushing inconsequence.
As, for instance: "Yes; it has been terribly foggy. Quite the worst
October on record. Have you ever been in Switzerland?"
The startled hearers were dumb for some moments, and then one of the
number announced that she was going to Saint Moritz in January to take
part in the winter sports, whereupon everyone was full of interest and
curiosity, and Dreda swept onward to another bored-looking group, and
hurled another conversational arrow.
At last--far sooner than usual, as everyone allowed--the clock struck
eight, and immediately the two maids came forward, and, still under
Dreda's superintendence, moved all the seats to the far end of the room,
shutting off the portion by the door by means of three outstretched
screens. The dramatic impersonations were about to begin!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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