Читать книгу Schooldays at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 5

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“We must thank Miss Macey for these excellent seats,” said Miss Fraser. She had rested during the day, and was feeling much more fit for the enjoyment of the evening.

Janice was radiant. The big school hall had a tense atmosphere of expectation which she had felt the moment she entered, and her dark eyes were shining with eagerness and anticipation. Miss Macey had smiled at sight of her glowing face, and had noted with amused appreciation the evening frock of softest coral pink and the smooth dark-brown curls, while she was greeting the quiet Scottish aunt and welcoming her to England.

The centre of the hall was empty and so was the dais, but seats were arranged round the walls, raised in tiers, and chairs had been reserved in the back row for Miss Fraser and Janice. From their position they not only looked over those in front but were close to the platform and had a clear view of every corner of the hall. The walls were lined with visitors, and there was not an empty seat to be seen. The galleries were crowded with schoolgirls, wearing white frocks and all talking at once.

Janice, searching eagerly, caught sight of little Jen Robins, leaning excitedly over the railing, one of her yellow plaits drooping, her blue eyes watching every movement of the scene below. Presently, during an interval, Jandy saw her deep in conversation with a girl of her own age, whose black hair was short and smooth.

“The kiddy’s making friends. Miss Macey said she would,” she thought.

A girl in a white frock, standing just below the platform, struck up a gay tune on a violin. From every doorway girls came running, till the floor of the hall seemed full; girls in loose, swinging frocks of every colour, brightest red and blue, vivid gold and green and violet, all with white stockings and black dancing shoes. Some were bare-headed and carried ribbons which streamed behind them as they ran, and contrasted in colour with their frocks; others had no ribbons but wore little white caps on their hair.

For one moment the hall was a moving mass of colour. Then, at an imperative chord, the dancers formed into sets of several couples, girls with ribbons facing girls wearing caps. Another merry little tune began; the ribbons were caught by the partners, and began to pass over and under in arches, and then the lines separated, the ribbons flying again, and all seemed confusion. In a moment the lines appeared once more, the arches were formed, and the leading couple swung down under the ribbons to the bottom.

“It’s called the Ribbon Dance,” Janice cried softly, glancing at her programme. “Oh, isn’t it pretty? Oh, Aunty, how I’d love to dance like that! This is real dancing! Aren’t they all alive!”

“It’s delightful,” Miss Fraser agreed. “We shall enjoy this, Jandy.”

“I’m going to love every minute of it. I never saw anything so pretty before! Oh, look! What are they doing? Oh—how clever!”

The final arches brought the dance to a close and the “women” bobbed to their “men,” who bowed and then ran to throw down their ribbons at the fiddler’s feet. She changed her tune, and in a moment the hall was filled with rings, which swung gaily clockwise and back again.

“ ‘Gathering Peascods.’ Isn’t that fun?” Janice cried, as first the “men” and then the “women” clapped in the middle of their rings.

The next dance—“Hey, Boys”—was much quieter, in little groups of four. Then the girls, with scarcely a pause, formed in two long sets, facing their partners, reaching right down the hall, and “Haste to the Wedding” began.

“I’m glad we have programmes,” said Miss Fraser. “It’s nice to know the names of the dances.”

“I love the names! The next one’s called ‘We won’t go home till morning,’ ” Janice said, laughing.

The dance had hardly begun when a girl near the bottom of the hall raised a shout, which was taken up by everybody—“The Queen! The Queen!” In a moment the two sets had become one, leaving a wide aisle between two lines of cheering girls, who dropped, each on one knee, and clapped as a procession came slowly up the hall.

Janice gripped her aunt’s arm. “Aunty, look! The first one—the leader—with the lovely red hair! She must be one of the Abbey Girls. The maid said one of them was last year’s Queen. Oh, isn’t she pretty? But why did they let her wear that faded old crown? The flowers are almost dead!”

The leader of the procession was a bright-faced girl of sixteen, with long bronze hair hanging over her shoulders under a wreath of faded white narcissi. Like all the queens who followed her, she wore a white dress reaching to the ground and carried flowers in her hands; but her train, hanging from her shoulders and held by a fair girl in white, was of vivid green. After her came the queen who had reigned before her, a dark girl whose train was of strawberry pink; then came a tall brown-haired girl, who carried herself well and wore her golden robe and crown of yellow flowers with great dignity; and last came the White Queen, yellow-haired, with forget-me-nots painted on the border of her train. Each was received with a fresh outburst of cheering, which rose into a roar as the queens took their places on the platform.

The Strawberry Queen lifted the faded wreath from the reigning queen’s bronze hair and replaced it with a thick crown of forget-me-nots, which a small girl had carried on a white cushion; and the dancers sprang to their feet and cheered and shouted and waved hands and caps. The Green Queen stood alone, while her companions took their seats; she bowed and laughed, and made an appealing gesture.

Silence fell, and Janice wondered breathlessly if the Abbey Girl would make a speech.

“Thanks just awfully much, everybody. I’ve loved being Queen,” she said.

There was a shout of laughter and approval, and then more cheering, as she came down the steps, followed by her maid. The girls sprang hurriedly into their lines again, and she went slowly down the room and disappeared.

When she came back after a moment’s absence she was followed by a small child in white, carrying a violet cushion on which lay a starry white crown of flowers. Behind her came the new Queen, her train of rich violet carried by a tall dark girl, whose white frock had touches of violet embroidery and a girdle to match. At sight of the Violet Queen a murmur ran round the hall, and the girls in the gallery watched the visitors’ faces expectantly, and then laughed to one another at their astonishment.

“She’s the Green Queen’s double!” Janice whispered. “Aunty, there are two of them, just alike! They might be twins! It must be the other Abbey Girl; nobody told us she was the new Queen!”

“They’re very much alike,” Miss Fraser agreed, gazing as every one else was doing at the second red-haired girl, who, bare-headed and carrying white flowers, was following the abdicating Queen slowly up the hall.

“They’re only cousins,” Janice murmured. “The maid said they were cousins. Odd that they should look like twins! They’re just the same age, so far as I can see.”

A lady sitting in front took pity on her bewilderment and looked round at her. “Joan is a month older than Joy. Their fathers were twins and were very much alike, and the girls take after them. They’re sixteen now. My girl, Muriel—Muriel Bayne—is Joan’s maid-of-honour and carries her train; so I have heard a good deal about them.”

“Oh, thank you so much! But we must watch; I know something’s going to happen. Just one more thing, please! Which is Joan and which is Joy?”

“Joan is the new Queen. Joy is just going to crown her.”

The Violet Queen was kneeling before the group of former queens, who had risen to receive her. Queen Joy took the crown from its cushion and laid it on her cousin’s hair, taking very great care that it should be straight and firm; and again the girls in the gallery laughed. Then the ex-Queen bent and kissed her successor, took her hand and raised her.

Queen Joan faced the crowded hall and bowed, over and over again, as the girls and visitors cheered. She turned to the four queens into whose company she had entered, and curtseyed to the golden girl and then to the rest. They welcomed her with laughing greetings, and she flushed at the warmth of their words. She turned again to face the crowd, and bowed and curtseyed, then shook her head vehemently in response to a shout of “Speech!” With a quick gesture she took her seat on the centre throne, with Joy on her right hand and the Golden Queen on her left.

On Joy’s right sat the White Queen, and now she rose and sang two verses of a little song with a merry dance time; a welcome to the new queen, it seemed to be.

“What a jolly voice!” Janice whispered. “Oh, Aunty, look! I wondered if they wouldn’t have a maypole! Oh, that makes it perfect! I’d have been just a little bit disappointed if they’d left that out!”

Several men were setting up a maypole in the centre of the hall. The dancers came running to seize the ribbons, which were violet and green, gold and white.

“They couldn’t put pink among those,” Janice murmured, watching the dance with fascinated eyes. “They’ve put the Pink Queen as far as possible from all that red hair! Don’t they make a lovely show, with their maids-of-honour and flowers and crowns?”

“A very pretty group,” her aunt agreed. “I like the new queen’s face.”

“Oh, so do I! But I like them all. I wonder if the girls choose the queen themselves?”

“Certainly they do,” said Mrs. Bayne, speaking from the row in front again. “Muriel told me there was no doubt or discussion this year. Every one was determined to have Joan for Queen, so there was no voting—or rather, there was a unanimous vote. It doesn’t always happen.”

“How marvellous for her to know that!” Janice exclaimed, her eyes on the Abbey Girls, who were talking under cover of the music while they watched the maypole dance critically, with anxious sympathy.

“They’re afraid somebody will make a mistake,” Mrs. Bayne said, laughing. “But it’s safely plaited. Very pretty, isn’t it?”

“I’ve always longed to see it,” Janice said, in a burst of confidence. “We’ve just come from Australia. There may be schools there who do the maypole, but I’ve never happened to see it. I’m glad I waited for this; it seems so much the real thing, here in this country place.”

“It is very much the real thing,” Mrs. Bayne agreed. “The Hamlet Club may be run by schoolgirls, but they have caught the spirit of May and of country dancing.”

“The Hamlet Club?”

“The Hamlet Club chooses and crowns the queen and teaches the dancing. The Gold Queen is the president; she started the club, and she and the White Queen do most of the teaching of the dances.”

“Thank you for telling me. I don’t know a thing about it.” Janice gazed at the Gold Queen, understanding now her critical gaze as she watched the dancers. “She must be glad she started all this,” she said to herself, as the dancers dropped the ribbons and formed up for another longways set.