CHAPTER XI
Gipsy turns Champion
Each Form at Briarcroft had its own teacher, but in addition there were a certain number of visiting masters and mistresses who came out from Greyfield to give lessons at the school. A few were popular, some were tolerated, and one or two were cordially disliked. Among those who had the ill fortune to encounter strong opposition was Fräulein Hochmeyer, the singing mistress. She was a most conscientious teacher and a clever musician, but so intensely German in both accent and methods that she offended the British susceptibilities of her pupils, and inspired more ridicule than respect. Poor Fräulein meant so well, it was really very hard that her efforts did not meet with better results. She treated her classes exactly as she would have dealt with similar ones in Germany; but what might have pleased apple-cheeked, pig-tailed Gretchens did not at all suit the taste of the Briarcroft-ites, particularly the members of the Lower School. They refused even to smile at her heavy Teutonic jokes, mocked her accent, rebelled at the numerous German songs they were expected to learn, whispered, giggled, and talked during the lesson, and generally made it extremely difficult for her to keep order. In vain she alternately pleaded, conciliated, flustered, fumed, and even threatened. The girls would not behave seriously, and though they did not deign to laugh at her attempts at humour, they treated her as a joke. As she was decidedly stout and rosy they nicknamed her "German Sausage", and made fun of her almost to her face.
A part of Fräulein Hochmeyer's system of voice production which her pupils much detested was learning the proper position of the mouth. It was of course a most important and necessary part of the lesson, but owing to the way it was enforced the silly girls turned it all into ridicule. Fräulein would stand upon the platform giving a practical demonstration to show how the lips must be well drawn back, revealing the teeth parted about the third of an inch, so as to offer no obstruction to the free passage of the voice; and she would require her pupils to stand at attention with their mouths thus fixed before beginning the preliminary exercises.
"We look like a set of grinning imbeciles!" complained Lennie Chapman, "with Sausage for the arch-lunatic of us all. I wish to goodness we had a decent English teacher! I don't like these foreign ways."
"You'd like it still less if you were turned into a pattern pupil like me!" grumbled Gipsy. "I hate making an exhibition of myself."
Gipsy, being an apt copyist, was able to set her mouth at exactly the right angle, and in consequence her approving teacher would frequently beckon her on to the platform with the invitation:
"Dear friendt, com here and show ze ozers how you do open ze mouz."
The letters "th" were an impossibility to Fräulein's German tongue, and the girls giggled continually at the "z's" that replaced them. Gipsy was not at all proud of being forced to set an example to the class, and would ascend the platform with an ill grace, and look the reverse of flattered at the encouraging pats that were bestowed upon her shoulders. Really Fräulein had the kindest heart in the world, and tried, in her heavy fashion, to be on excellent terms with her pupils, but she did not in the least comprehend the mind of the British schoolgirl.
"She treats us exactly as if we were kindergarten babies!" sneered Hetty Hancock. "I don't know how German girls of our age would enjoy her silly jokes, but I think she's a rotter!"
"And she's so sentimental!" hinnied Daisy Scatcherd. "I nearly had a fit when she began to troll out that love song, with her hand laid touchingly on her heart."
"That sort of rubbish may go down in the Fatherland, but it doesn't here."
The girls had waxed restive at many of the Lieder which they were obliged to learn, but when Fräulein turned up one morning with a volume of songs of her own composition, their discontent verged towards mutiny.
"Ze original vords are, of course, in German," explained Fräulein, "but I have had a translation made for you by a friendt of mine, and it is sehr gut. Ze first it is a cradle song. Now, I ask has any girl in ze class got at home a leetle, leetle brozer or sister?"
"I have," volunteered Mary Parsons bluntly. "A brother."
"And how old?"
"Six months."
"Ach! Zat is beautiful! You shall sing zis song to ze leetle baby in ze cradle, vile you rock him gently, gently, till he sleep!" and Fräulein gazed ecstatically at Mary, as if calling up a mental picture of her sisterly attention.
"He'd soon squall if I did!" grunted Mary to her neighbour, who exploded audibly.
"You, who are not so all-fortunate as to have a baby in ze home, must sing it to ze child of a neighbour," went on Fräulein, evidently determined that the value of the lullaby should receive a practical trial.
"And what are we boarders to do?" enquired Lennie Chapman ironically.
"Sing it to the cat!" whispered Hetty, whereat the bystanders tittered.
"You've stumped her there!" murmured Fiona.
Fräulein certainly for a moment looked a little at a loss, but she soon recovered her presence of mind.
"Vait till ze holidays, zen you sall see!" she returned with an engaging smile. "I shall now sing von or two of ze lieder to you, to show you vat zey are like."
The music of the songs was beautiful, that was allowed by even the most unappreciative of the girls. There was a joyous lilt and a true melody about them that put them high in the rank of composition, and the accompaniments played with Fräulein's delicate touch were harmonious and suitable. The words, unfortunately, were childish in the extreme, and more fit for youngsters of five than girls of eleven to fourteen. Even the members of the Lower Third turned up supercilious noses. They were further marred by Fräulein's accent, and when she unctuously rendered
"Hush, my baby, sweetest, best,
Little mousie's gone to rest",
as
"Hosh, my baby, sveetest, best,
Leetle moozie's gone to rest",
a ripple of mirth passed round the class.
Having gone through one or two as specimens, Fräulein selected the lullaby and set the girls to work at it. I am afraid that, instead of doing their best, they only sang in mockery. Fiona Campbell made a pretence cradle of her arm, and rocked it for Mary Parsons' benefit; and Gipsy put an amount of sham sentiment into her execution calculated to convulse the others. At the end of the lesson the class trooped away in a state of frank rebellion.
"Really, this is too much!" protested Dilys Fenton. "We can't be expected to sing her silly songs."
"It's just baby nonsense!" exclaimed Norah Bell.
"The music's pretty," said Joyce Adamson.
"Oh, yes, the music—but look at the words!" scoffed Gipsy, turning over the pages of the new copies. "Did you ever see anything so absolutely idiotic in all your life as this?
"'Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun,
And skipping and prancing
He's bent upon dancing.
Just see how he spins
On his dear little pins!'"
"It's an affront to ask us to learn such rubbish!" declared the outraged girls. "We shall really have to speak to Poppie about it."
"Yes, a good idea! Let's complain to Poppie."
"If she'll listen."
"She's not generally so ready to hear our grievances."
"Well, something will have to be done, for we can't go on week after week with this baby stuff. It's like turning back to one's A B C. I declare we'd more sensible songs when I was in the Kindergarten."
"I'll take my book home, and perhaps I can get my mother to write a letter to Poppie about it," suggested Mary Parsons.
"You! Why, you're the one who's to sit serenading over your infant brother's cradle!"
"Perhaps Sausage will bring a doll to school next week and make us practise with it in turns! She'd be quite capable of it," sniggered Maude Helm.
Nobody plucked up sufficient courage to interview Miss Poppleton on the subject. It is one thing for schoolgirls to growl, and quite another to venture to remonstrate with the Principal about the lessons. Miss Poppleton was not an approachable person, and except in extreme cases her pupils did not venture to get up deputations. Gipsy voiced the opinions of the class, however, in airing their grievances to Miss Edith, and gave her an animated account of their special bugbear, the new song book.
"Oh, dear me, Gipsy! I'm very sorry!" said Miss Edith, puckering up her forehead anxiously. "I'm afraid you girls behave very badly in the singing class. You ought to have more respect for Fräulein Hochmeyer. I hope Mary Parsons' mother won't write about it. It puts Miss Poppleton in a most awkward position when parents make complaints. We don't want to change our singing mistress, Fräulein's system of voice production is so very good. She was a pupil of Randegger, I believe. There's no other first-class teacher in Greyfield either except Mr. Johnson, and he doesn't take half the trouble with his pupils that Fräulein does. I wish you girls would try to appreciate her more."
Gipsy screwed up her mouth and looked humorous in reply.
"But she's a beautiful character, if you only knew!" urged Miss Edith. "She's so simple and kind-hearted; and she works so hard! She has an invalid father to keep. He's quite dependent on her, I believe. They live in lodgings in Greyfield. I'm sure I'm often sorry for her, going about to her pupils in all weathers. It's too bad of you girls to make such fun of her! She's a stranger in a strange land, poor thing, with no friends here, and her living to make. Girls are a thoughtless set, as I've found out long ago. You might try to have a little more consideration for her, Gipsy. Just imagine yourself in her place, and fancy you were teaching a class of German girls! Yes, as I said before, I'm sorry for Fräulein Hochmeyer. She has a hard time of it."
Gipsy said nothing, but she retired with ample food for thought. It had never struck her before to take the view of Fräulein that Miss Edith had just presented. The little foreign peculiarities and eccentricities had excited her mirth, but she had quite missed the sterling good qualities that lay underneath them. "'A stranger in a strange land, with no friends here'—I know what that means!" muttered Gipsy to herself. "It's brave of her to work to keep her father! Don't I just wish I—" but here she sighed, for the unuttered wish seemed so entirely hopeless and futile.
After revolving the matter carefully, Gipsy made up her mind that Fräulein Hochmeyer deserved to be helped instead of hindered.
"Though how I'm to do it when she insists on forcing those absurd baby songs upon us, I can't tell. Stop! I've an idea. Oh, I don't know whether I can, but I mean to have a jolly good try! No time like the present. I've half an hour before tea." And furnishing herself with pencil and paper, she ran up to her attic, and was soon puckering her brows in the agonies of composition. As the result of that and several other half-hours of work, she covered two pages of foolscap; then, seeking out Miss Edith, she unfolded her scheme and begged for help.
"I'm afraid you'll think it fearful cheek of me," she began, "but you see the trouble at present in the singing class is that we all abominate those silly little songs. They really sound foolish for girls of our age. Of course Fräulein's composed them herself, and the tunes are very nice. Do you think she'd mind changing the words? It wouldn't matter to her what we were singing so long as the music was the same, would it? But it would make all the difference to us. I made up a few verses that go with the tunes just as well. They're here, if you don't mind looking at them," and Gipsy modestly unfolded her manuscript. "This one's instead of
Old hare's little son
Is up to good fun.'
I've called it 'The End of the Term'
"'Now classes are done
And vacation's begun,
Of fun and of leisure
We'll have our full measure.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!
"'So to lessons goodbye,
While to pleasure we fly.
No rules now need bind us,
All care's cast behind us.
For it's hip, hip, hooray
For a long holiday!'"
Then there's one instead of that dreadful
Little Freddie had run to his nurse,
Because his poor headache was worse,'"
continued Gipsy. "I've called it 'Briarcroft'.
There's a school near the edge of the fell,
That all of us girls know full well,
For at Briarcroft Hall
There's a place for us all,
And the tale of its fame we would tell.
Chorus
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!
We'll make it a general rule
That we Briarcroft-ites
Shall stand up for its rights,
And be true to the dear old School!
"'There are teachers we love and revere,
And customs and ways we hold dear.
Give a clap for each one,
And a cheer when you've done,
For all who have worked with us here.
Chorus
"'So hurrah! for the dear old School!
We'll make it a general rule
That we Briarcroft-ites
Shall stand up for its rights,
And be true to the dear old School!'"
"Very creditable, Gipsy. Really not at all bad," commented Miss Edith.
"I know they're not up to much," said Gipsy apologetically, "but oh! Miss Edith, I believe the girls would much rather sing them than the other words. They're about the school, you see. I daren't ask Fräulein myself; do you think you could?" and Gipsy turned quite red at the boldness of her own suggestion.
"It might be a good idea. Give me the paper, and I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, thanks so much! I hope Fräulein won't be offended."
Miss Edith's gentle tact could often accomplish things where other measures might have failed. Nobody ever heard how she explained the situation and persuaded Fräulein Hochmeyer to adopt the alterations, but before the next singing lesson all the obnoxious song books were collected and Gipsy's versions, neatly printed by hand on slips of paper, were pasted over the old words of the two songs in question.
"I hear you not like to sing about hares and babies?" commented Fräulein. "So! It must be all about school? Yes. You have among you von who can write in verse" (nodding cheerily to the abashed Gipsy). "My friendt, you shall make for us some more verses to suit ze ozer songs!"
Having determined to act as Fräulein's champion, Gipsy tried her utmost to sway popular opinion in favour of the luckless singing mistress. It was a far harder task, though, than she had anticipated, and put her powers of leadership to a severe test. It had been easy enough to induce the Juniors to stand up for their own rights, but it was considerably more difficult to make them realize anybody else's claims to consideration.
"Do let's be nice to her!" pleaded Gipsy. "She's really a very decent sort on the whole. She can't help being a foreigner and talking with a queer accent."
"Why, you were the first to make fun of her last week," objected some of the girls.
"I know, but it was rather horrid. Her story's quite romantic, don't you think?"
"Can't see much romance about our homely German Sausage!" giggled Daisy Scatcherd.
"Put a bunch of forget-me-nots in her hair, and she'll look a heroine!" tittered Norah Bell.
"Yankee Doodle, when you ride a hobby you ride it to death! What's induced you to take such a sudden and violent affection for the Sausage?"
"You'll be standing perennially on the platform now, holding your teeth like a dentist's advertisement, to show us how to 'open ze mouz'!"
"I wish you'd revise the schoolbooks and cut out the difficult parts!"
"Go on! Rag me as much as you like. I don't care!" retorted Gipsy sturdily.
"I've brought this picture of a sausage," piped one of the smaller girls. "I'm going to pin it on to the piano. She knows we call her 'Sausage'! She'll be in such a rage!"
"You little horror!" said Gipsy, seizing the picture and tearing it into shreds before the eyes of its enraged owner.
On the whole, though her championship was treated as a joke, Gipsy's influence had a beneficial effect, and the general behaviour in the singing class began steadily to improve. Her Briarcroft songs were appreciated, and the girls sang them lustily and trolled out the chorus with vigour. The tunes were very catchy and bright, and everybody seemed constantly to be humming them, in season or out of season.
"Your 'Hurrah! for the dear old School!' has got in my brain, Yankee Doodle," said Mary Parsons. "It haunts me all day long, and I can't get rid of it."
"We'll sing it in the lecture hall on the last day of the term. Poppie'd be quite flattered," said Hetty Hancock.
"With a special cheer for Fräulein Hochmeyer, then!" added Gipsy.