A Popular Schoolgirl - Angela Brazil (best novels to read in english txt) 📗

in him if he once sees the chance of aiming at something higher than happiness. Please don’t say I’m preaching, for I hate to be a prig! Only we’d all made up our minds to do our ‘bit’ in ‘after the war work,’ and it seems such a pity if we forget, and let the tone of the school drop⁠—as it certainly has dropped lately. I’m sure if we all think about it we can keep it up, and Seniors and Juniors can work together without any horrid squabbles. We big girls were juniors ourselves once, and you little ones will be seniors some day, so that’s one way of looking at it. Now that’s all I’ve got to say, except that any Juniors who like can stay behind now and join the Junior Branch of the Rainbow League. We want to get up a special Scrapbook Union, and Miss Burd says she’ll give a prize for the best scrapbook, and also for the best homemade doll. She’s going to have an exhibition on breaking-up day.” XII The Rainbow League

Though Lispeth, in her agitation, had not said half the nice things she had intended to say, her little speech had good effect. It reminded the girls of some of the high ideals with which they had started the term, and which, like many high and beautiful things, were in danger of getting crowded out of the way by commoner interests. Everybody suddenly remembered the exhibition and sale which was to come off before Christmas, and made a spurt to send some adequate contribution. The juniors, flattered at having a special branch of their own of the Rainbow League, and time allotted in school to its work, dabbed away blissfully at scrapbook making, with gummy overalls and seccotiny fingers, but complacent faces. The prefects, with intent, dropped in when possible to admire the efforts.

“I believe,” said Lispeth to her special confidante Althea, “that perhaps we were making rather a mistake. You can’t have any influence with those kids unless you keep well in touch with them. I was so busy, I just let them slide before, and I suppose that was partly why they got out of hand, though the little monkeys had no business to get up that impudent strike! They’re as different as possible now, and some of them are quite decent kiddies. Dorrie Barnes brought me a rose this morning. I suppose it was meant as a sort of peace-offering.”

It was arranged to hold what was called “The Rainbow Fête” on breaking-up afternoon, and parents and friends were invited to the ceremony. There was to be both a sale and an exhibition. The best of the toys and little fancy articles were to be at a special stall, and would be sold for the benefit of the “War Orphans’ Fund,” and those that were not quite up to standard would nevertheless be on view, and would be sent away afterwards to help to deck Christmas trees in the slums. The stall, as the girls called it, was of course the center of attraction. It was draped with colored muslins in the rainbow tints, and though real irises were unobtainable, some vases of artificial ones formed a very good substitute. The homemade toys were really most creditable to the handicraft-workers, and had been ingeniously contrived with bobbins, small boxes, and slight additions of wood, cardboard, and paper, aided by the color-box. Windmills, whirligigs, carts, engines, trains, dolls’ house furniture, jigsaw puzzles, cardboard animals with movable limbs, black velveteen cats with bead eyes, beautifully dressed rag dolls, wool balls and rattles for babies, and dear little books of extracts, were some of the things set out in a tempting display. Fil, whose slim fingers excelled in dainty work, had contributed three charming booklets of poetry and nice bits cut from magazines and newspapers, the back being of colored linen embroidered with devices in silk. They were so pretty that they were all snapped up beforehand, and could have been sold three times over.

“You promised one to me⁠—you know you did!” urged Linda Slater, much aggrieved at the nonperformance of an order.

“Well, I thought I’d have time to do four, and could only manage three,” apologized Fil. “You see, they really take such ages, and Miss Strong was getting raggy about my prep.”

“You might make me one for my birthday!” begged Evie.

“Certainly not! Those that ask shan’t have!”

“Well, couldn’t you do some during the Christmas holidays?”

“No, I can’t and shan’t!” snapped Fil. “I’m sick to death of making booklets, and I’m not going to touch one of them during the holidays. You seem to think I’ve nothing else to do except cut bits out of magazines for your benefit!”

“There! There! Poor old sport! Don’t get baity!”

“You shouldn’t do them so jolly well, and then you wouldn’t get asked!”

The stall occupied a position of importance at the end of the lecture hall, and the rest of the exhibits were put round on trestle tables. They were what Ingred described as “a mixed lot.” Some of the animals were bulgy in their proportions, or shaky in their cardboard limbs, the wheels of the carts did not quite correspond, the windmills were apt to stick, or the puzzles would not quite fit. In spite of their imperfections, however, they looked attractive, and would, no doubt, give great pleasure to the little people who were to receive them, and who were hardly likely to be very critical of their workmanship.

To make the afternoon more festive, there was to be a tea stall, to which the girls brought contributions of cakes, and music was to be given from the platform, so that the scene might resemble a café chantant. Ingred had been chosen as one of the artistes, and arrayed in her best brown velveteen dress, with a new pale-yellow hair ribbon, she waited about in her usual agonies of stage fright. Learning from Dr. Linton, however improving it might be to