Chapter 5 I WANT YOU A MINUTE.

Monica Beauchamp returned home from her second day at school in high spirits. At last, she believed, she had found a friend, a girl of about her own age, who apparently had tastes somewhat similar to her own, to whom she could talk without restraint, and to whom she could confide all the hundred and one grievances of her everyday life at her grandmother's.

She felt so light-hearted about it that she even condescended to make an affable remark now and again, during the walk home, to the long-suffering Barnes, whom Mrs. Beauchamp insisted should accompany Miss Monica both to and from school, and who had had a sorry time so far. For Monica was so indignant at the idea of requiring a nurse-maid (as one or two of the girls had not hesitated to call the person whom they saw with Monica) that she had vented her spite on Barnes by marching sullenly along without saying a single word.

Barnes, who was accustomed to all sorts of treatment from "that Miss Monica," as she was wont to call her, confided to the other maids over their dinner that school was working wonders in their young lady already, and she wished she'd gone a good bit before.

"Not as I enjoys the constitootional twice a day," she added, "for I can't abear it, and it takes a sight of time. But still, if the missis will have it so----"

"I'm sure I'd just as lief go out a-walking, as tidy up all the rubbidge in her bedroom," sniffed Mary Ann, the under-housemaid, who privately thought herself far more suited to go than Barnes.

"You never need be expecting to, then," replied the maid, with conviction. "You're far too giddy."

"Dear, dear," was the mocking answer, "old maids isn't always the ones preferred!"

"There, that'll do, Mary Ann!" interposed cook good-temperedly; "don't be rude to Miss Barnes." And she adroitly changed the subject.

Meanwhile, Monica was having a tête-à-tête meal with her grandmother in the dining-room upstairs. The old lady had been out the previous afternoon and evening, and so had not had an opportunity of questioning Monica about her first experiences of school life. She proceeded to do so when the parlourmaid left them alone together.

Monica, still happy in the thought of her new-made friend, looked bright and lovable as she sat opposite her grandmother at the lavishly appointed luncheon table; even Mrs. Beauchamp, austere and undemonstrative as she was, felt for the moment a thrill of satisfaction in possessing so handsome a grandchild. But neither her words nor tones gave any indication of such a state of feeling.

"Now give me some account of your school-work, Monica," she said stiffly, as she toyed with a minute helping of orange jelly.

"Oh! I think I shall like it no end," was the girl's off-hand reply, as well as she could between huge mouthfuls of rhubarb tart, which she was discussing with her healthy school-girl's appetite. "It was a bit strange at first, but I chummed up to one of the girls to-day, so I feel quite at home."

"Really, Monica," expostulated her grandmother, "you must not use such expressions; you quite shock me. I do hope they will not allow you to speak improperly at this school." And she sighed voluminously.

"That isn't slang, really, grandmother; everybody says chum nowadays," was Monica's conciliatory reply. "At least, all young people do."

"I do hope you won't grow unladylike, I'm sure. It is doubtful if it was a wise step to send you to such a large school, I am afraid."

"Don't fidget, grandmother," said her grandchild soothingly. "I daresay I shall turn out all right in the end." And she added, mentally: "At any rate, dad, I won't disappoint you if I can help it."

"Well, what about this girl you've made friends with?" continued the old lady helplessly; "who is she?"

"One of Dr. Franklyn's daughters," began Monica, but Mrs. Beauchamp interrupted her.

"Oh! I'm glad you had the sense to choose a professional man's child. Although I don't know much of Dr. Franklyn, I think he is a very respectable medical man. But was there no girl in your own station, Monica, who would have been more suited as a companion for you?"

"I'm sure I didn't give a thought to what her father was," said Monica frankly. "I shouldn't have cared much if he had been a chimney sweep. I've taken a great fancy to Olive Franklyn, and she seemed friendly, so we have agreed to be chums."

"Well, I hope you have not been rash. I must make enquiries about these Franklyns before I can allow you to become further acquainted."

Monica muttered something under her breath, which sounded suspiciously like "What rubbish!" but the look on her grandmother's stern face warned her to be careful, if she would keep her friend.

"I thought Mr. Bertram said the Osmington clergy had daughters at the High School," remarked Mrs. Beauchamp after a pause; "would not one of them have done?"

"I think there's only Amethyst Drury in our form," was the scornful reply, "and I'm sure she's a little prig. She's great friends with Olive's twin sister Elsa, who is just such another as herself, I should think."

Her grandmother inferred from that remark that Monica had evidently chosen a kindred spirit, and she dreaded what might be in store, in the way of added unruliness. But she refrained from saying what was in her mind, and went on to enquire about lessons, and so forth.

Monica gave a very good description of all she had done, with the exception of the caricature episode, and having somewhat ingratiated herself with her grandmother, by repeating a few words of praise that had been bestowed upon her German exercise, she thought it a good opportunity to ask a favour.

"Oh! grandmamma," she said coaxingly, "don't you think I might go without Barnes? It seems so silly for a great girl like me to be obliged to have a maid to walk with me. The girls say nasty things about it, too," she added ruefully.

"I have been considering the matter, Monica," said Mrs. Beauchamp, as she rose from the table, "but I have not decided yet what I shall do."

"Can't I go by myself, grandmother? I'm sure you might trust me."

"I am not so sure, Monica," was the cold rejoinder. "I do not approve of young ladies tearing here, there, and everywhere by themselves, though it may be all very well for girls of the middle classes. I shall probably get a small governess cart, and Richards will drive you in and out."

A drive with the sedate old coachman who had been years in Mrs. Beauchamp's service, and who occasionally "spoke his mind to Miss Monica," was scarcely any improvement on walking with Barnes. But, at any rate, there would be no reason for the girls to ridicule her then. So she made no demur.

"Now, Monica, go to the schoolroom and do some of your lessons, and be ready at half-past-three to accompany me to The Knoll. Put on your cream serge frock, and make yourself as neat-looking as you possibly can, for Mrs. St. Quintin is very particular."

Monica was not over-pleased at the prospect of a longish drive, and drawing-room tea to follow, but even that was preferable to remaining at home alone. So she prepared to do as she was told, and behaved in so exemplary a manner during the rest of the day that Mrs. Beauchamp began to have great hopes from the new educational arrangements.

By the end of the week the governess cart was procured, and Monica was freed from Barnes's espionage. The girls were quick to see the fresh arrangement, and Lily Howell, who had been the one to talk about the nursemaid, was furiously jealous of the smart little turn-out. Her father, a retired soap-manufacturer, was extremely wealthy, and his only and much spoiled child was most extravagantly dressed; indeed, she had everything for which she expressed a wish. But for some unaccountable reason he would not go in for "hoss-flesh," as he called it, preferring to hire a landau from the livery stables when Mrs. Howell wished to drive; so that Lily's pet ambition, which was to drive herself, was not realised. A bicycle she might, and did, have, but she had tired of that, because it was such a "fag"; so that she was dreadfully annoyed when the new girl, with the uppish ways, passed her on her way to the High School, seated in just such a trap as her soul coveted. She made up her mind to vent her spite somehow upon Monica, who took absolutely no notice of her at all, while she was as "thick as thieves" with that Franklyn girl, whose father was as poor as a church mouse.

Now Lily was a sly, deceitful sort of girl, and was by no means a favourite with the others; but she was in the habit of spending money freely, simply because she wanted to show off; so that some of the more greedy girls made a sort of queen of her, and flattered her tremendously on account of the chocolate, and other good things, which she showered upon them. She was so lazy and indolent that she would have been continually getting into trouble with the governesses, had it not been for her little coterie, who managed, by one trick and another, to shield her from exposure; and somehow she managed to pass muster.

On the morning in question she nursed her jealousy of Monica until recreation time came round, and then she found a splendid opportunity, as she thought, of "paying her out."

The usual visit to the housekeeper's room, where the girls could buy various biscuits, and get milk, if they liked, for lunch, having been paid, some of the Fourth Form girls hurried off to secure one of the two asphalted tennis courts, Monica and Olive being among the number. But when they arrived on the scene, it was only to find that the Fifth Form had appropriated them both, and were practising with a view to a tournament which was to take place between the girls of the Osmington and another High School later on.

"Oh, I say! it's too bad of you girls to take both courts," cried Olive breathlessly.

"First come, first served, my dear," replied one of the elder girls condescendingly, as she returned a serve gaily, but so carelessly, that the ball was netted, and her partner groaned, as the umpire scored "forty--love."

"Well, let's have a game of fives, Monica," suggested Olive, as they left the tennis players. But, alas! the fives courts were all filled by then, so there was no amusement left but to saunter about the large playground arm-in-arm, as several of the others were doing, some, like themselves, in couples, and some in school-girl fashion, in strings of four, or even five.

"What do you do on Saturdays, Olive?" said Monica, as they left the tennis players behind them, and strolled round the quieter part of the playground, that nearest to Miss Buckingham's house.

"Oh! all sorts of things. In the summer we have picnics in Disbrowe woods, and sometimes on the river, when my brothers are home."

"You never told me you had any brothers but Pat," said Monica, in surprise. "Are they older than you?"

"Haven't I? Why, yes--Roger, that's the one at St. Adrian's Hospital, is twenty-two, and Dick is seventeen. He's with an uncle of ours who is an auctioneer. They'll both be home in August, and we can have some lovely picnics then, if Mrs. Beauchamp will let you come."

"I expect I shall have to go to the seaside with her again, like we did last year," was Monica's gloomy reply. "She always goes to Sandyshore for a whole month, because it's quiet and restful, she says. It's a hateful little place, I think--no niggers, or band, or anything to amuse you all day long. I do wish we needn't go there this year."

"Oh, dear," sighed Olive lugubriously, "I wish I had half a chance of a month by the dear, darling sea! We are so dreadfully poor that father can never afford a holiday at the seaside for us. At least, we haven't been for years, though we did have a fortnight once, when Elsa and I were about eight or nine, but it is so long ago I can hardly remember it."

"Wouldn't it be awfully jolly if grandmother would let you come with us?" said Monica eagerly.

"If pigs might fly!" was her friend's merry response, as the bell clanging out warned them that "rec." was over.

"Olive Franklyn, I want you a minute."

The girl turned round at the sound of her name, and saw Lily Howell beckoning to her mysteriously from a little distance.

"Whatever does she want? I suppose I must go and see," said Olive, as she slipped her arm out of her companion's. "I'll catch you up in half a minute, Monica."

"All right; I'm glad she doesn't want me. I can't bear that girl."

"Nor I."

Monica went leisurely round the corner towards the entrance the girls generally used; several of them, hurrying past, advised her not to be late.

"I'm just coming," she said, and turned back to look for Olive. There was no one in sight now, except a girl called Maggie Masters, who came flying round the corner in great haste.

"Olive Franklyn told me, if I saw you, to ask you to go back to the tennis courts a minute. It is something particular."

If Monica had been a little more up to school-girls' tricks she would have scented something wrong in the way the girl delivered her message, and then rushed into school. As it was, she hastened back to the tennis courts, only to find the place absolutely deserted, and no trace of Olive anywhere! Feeling sure there was some mischief afloat, Monica retraced her steps hurriedly, determined to find out the originator of the trick. But alas! when she reached the school door it was bolted from within, and rattle at the handle as she would, no one appeared to open it. Growing more angry every minute, she rushed round the playground to the other entrance, only to find that fastened likewise!

Scarcely knowing what to do, Monica was just about to pull the door-bell, when she remembered that the Fourth Form windows were accessible to the playground. She hurried across the small plot of grass, nicknamed "The Square," and by dint of standing on tiptoe could just see into the classroom.

All the girls had taken their places, with the exception of Olive, who was vainly endeavouring to make Fr?ulein Wespe understand that Monica Beauchamp must have got shut out. But Fr?ulein, who was a very fresh importation from Germany, either could not, or would not understand, so she merely motioned to Olive to take her place, while she ejaculated "Ach, so!" and smiled benignantly.

A hurried glance round the room revealed to Monica that she had been the victim of a practical joke, for Lily Howell and Maggie Masters, who were seated at a desk just under the open window, were engaged in a whispered conversation about her non-appearance while Fr?ulein's attention was being taken up with Olive.

"We've put a spoke in her ladyship's wheel, now," whispered Lily, an ugly sneer upon her thin lips.

"Nasty, uppish thing to look down on you, dear!" purred Maggie, who had vivid remembrances of the delicious milk-chocolate she had just been enjoying at Lily's expense.

"I'll be even with them yet," remarked Monica mentally, as she moved to the next window, from which the two conspirators would be unable to see her. Here she rapped loudly on the pane, to attract Fr?ulein's attention. That lady was, of course, astonished beyond anything to see one of the pupils still out in the playground, and she began to question volubly in German as to the cause of such behaviour, leaving her desk, as she did so, and walking over to the window.

Now it so happened that Monica was not a bad German scholar, for her age, one of her long-suffering governesses having insisted upon German conversations, and Monica had picked up a very fair smattering of the language during her six months' reign. Therefore she made it sufficiently intelligible to Fr?ulein that she had been the victim of a practical joke for that worthy to express pity for the girl who would evidently be one of her best pupils, and, in broken English, she bade some one go and unfasten the passage door.

Olive, of course, was the first to run and do her bidding, and in the second or two they were together Monica learnt that Olive had been decoyed into entering the school by the other door, under some pretext or other, Lily Howell having assured her that she had seen Monica go in the usual way a minute before. Neither of the girls could think of any reason for the trick, except that Olive thought it was "just like Lily Howell."

"She'll hear more about it one of these days," said Monica sententiously, as she entered the classroom, with her haughtiest air, and took her place, without deigning even to glance at the conspirators, who were burning with curiosity to know just how much Fr?ulein had been told, and whether any exposure would follow. But as no further notice was taken of the affair, probably on account of Fr?ulein Wespe's ignorance of rules, Lily Howell began to feel that her little manoeuvre to get the new girl into disgrace had fallen rather flat!