The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School Life — John Shaqi
The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School LifeBrazil, Angela
General
The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School Life
Brazil, Angela
Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
At tea-time Miss Poppleton's accustomed place was empty, and speculation
ran high among her pupils. All kinds of wild rumours circulated round
the table, but there was no means of verifying any of them, and the
girls were obliged to go to preparation with their curiosity still
unsatisfied. At seven o'clock, however, when the Juniors had finished
their work and trooped back to their own sitting-room, they found the
mystery solved. In front of the fire, warming her hands between the bars
of the high fender, and looking as comfortably at home as if she owned
the place, stood the stranger who had skipped so quickly out of the cab
that afternoon. She was a girl who, wherever she was seen, would have
attracted notice--slim and erect and trim in figure, and a decided
brunette, a real "nut-brown maid", with a pale olive complexion, the
brightest of soft, dark, southern eyes, and a quantity of fluffy, silky,
dusky curls, tied--American fashion--with two big bows of very wide
scarlet ribbon, one on the top of her head and one at the nape of her
neck. She smiled as the others entered, showing an even little set of
white teeth, and four roguish dimples made their appearance at the
corners of her mouth. She seemed to have assumed proprietorship of the
room so entirely that the Juniors stopped short in amazement, too
dumbfounded for the moment to do anything but stare. The stranger
stepped forward with almost an air of welcome and, dropping a mock
curtsy, announced herself.
"Glad to make your acquaintance!" she began. "Miss Poppleton said she'd
introduce me to the school, but I guessed I'd rather introduce
myself--thought I'd do the thing better than she would, somehow. I don't
like stiff introductions--I'm not at all a starchy sort of person, as I
dare say you can see for yourselves; and I prefer to make friends after
my own fashion. My name's Gipsy Latimer, and I'm American and British
and Colonial and Spanish all mixed up, and I've travelled half round the
world, and been in seven different schools, and I was fourteen last
birthday, and I arrived here this afternoon, and I'm going to stop on a
while, and I just adore cricket, and I detest arithmetic in any shape,
and I'm always ready for any fun that's on the go. There! I've told you
all about myself," and she curtsied again.
The girls laughed. There was something decidedly attractive and breezy
about the newcomer. Her dark eyes danced and twinkled as she spoke, and
there was an unconventional jollity in the very high-pitched tone of her
voice, and an infectious merriment in her dimples.
"What did you say your name was?" asked Hetty Hancock, by way of making
the first advances.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account