Part 17 (1/2)

Babs hurried off to the Fifth cla.s.sroom, and arrived just in time for the geography lesson. She was settling herself as usual at the bottom desk, when her neighbour, rather a dull girl, for whom she secretly felt a sort of contempt because she took no interest in her lessons, but only learned them from conscientious motives, began making advances to her.

'Barbara,' she whispered, nudging the new girl in a familiar way that was meant to be sociable. Babs, having sat next to her for fourteen days without extracting a single remark from her, was considerably startled.

'What do you want?' she asked impatiently. She was taking a last frantic look at the capes of Scotland, and the interruption was agonising.

'Would you like to be my partner, next time we practise running with Hurly-Burly?' proceeded Mary Wells, with an air of extreme benevolence.

She was rather glad that Jean Murray had made it up with the new girl, for it had not been amusing to sit perpetually next to some one with whom she was not allowed to a.s.sociate.

'Why, no, of course not!' answered Barbara, giving up the capes of Scotland in despair, and turning rather crossly to the tiresome neighbour who had never bothered her before. 'We're not a bit evenly matched, and it wouldn't be fair. Ask Angela Wilkins, if you want a partner; she doesn't run _much_ faster than you do.'

If there had been time, her amazed neighbour would no doubt have told her what she thought of her. It was bad enough to have her friendly suggestion thrown back in her face, but to be offered a gratuitous criticism of her running powers into the bargain was intolerable. However, Miss Tomlinson said 'Silence!' before Mary could express her feelings, so Babs remained in comfortable ignorance of them.

She was not to be left alone for long, however, and it soon became impossible even for Barbara not to see that a change of some sort had come over her school-fellows. During the two weeks she had been at school, meal-times had been delicious periods of peace, when every one had babbled round her but never to her, and n.o.body had interrupted her if she wanted to dream. But to-day, when they all met in the dining-room for lunch, in the ten minutes' 'break' that occurred in the middle of the morning, it was evident that her time for dreaming was gone by. This was the opportunity that the children of the junior playroom had been eagerly awaiting since the moment when Angela had succeeded in moving them to charitable designs. So Babs had scarcely made her appearance in the dining-room, than a crowd of eager penitents descended upon her, jostling one another in the attempt to be first. One rushed at her with the biscuits, another with a gla.s.s of milk, and a third with a plateful of bread and jam.

'I say, don't bother! Thanks awfully, don't you know,' stammered Barbara, who was a little fl.u.s.tered at finding herself the object of so much attention. She helped herself to bread and jam, accepted the milk, which the bearer insisted on holding for her till she felt inclined to drink it, and then tried to slip away as usual to a retired corner. But her way was barred by another group of girls, headed by the zealous Angela herself.

'I wonder if you'll help me with my algebra in French cla.s.s,' began the latter, beaming upon her former enemy with the air of one who was conferring a favour. 'I always get in such a bog over it.'

'You're so splendid at algebra, Babs, aren't you?' added another, with great warmth.

'She's good at lots of things! She'll get to the top of the Fifth in no time, won't she?' cried Angela, with her ordinary disregard for facts.

'Oh, no,' said Barbara, earnestly. 'There's my spelling; you're forgetting that.'

'Ye--es,' allowed Angela, unwillingly; 'but spelling isn't everything.'

'Should think not, indeed!' echoed the chorus of enthusiasts.

'And I don't know any arithmetic,' proceeded Barbara, desperately. It really hurt her regard for truth to have all these absurd remarks made about her.

'What's arithmetic?' demanded Angela, loudly.

'Only think of the piles of history you know!' chimed in some one else.

'Yes, indeed!' said the chorus.

'And Latin!' proclaimed another admirer.

'I--I wish you wouldn't,' murmured Babs, unhappily.

She could not think what had come over them all; and they made her feel foolish. Fortunately, somebody noticed just then that she had finished the bread and jam; and they all rushed off, jostling one another again as they went, to find fresh provisions. Barbara seized the opportunity to escape, dodged the placid bearer of the milk, and went in search of Jean Murray. She had an uncommonly shrewd suspicion that Jean Murray was somehow at the bottom of this new and irritating persecution.

She found her hidden away in a corner of the big dining-room, occupying very much the position that Barbara herself had enjoyed until now. Her appearance was dejected, and she looked as though the encouragement of n.o.ble sentiments did not agree with her nearly so well as the strife and wrangling in which she usually indulged. The truth was that her new pose of friendliness was making her feel unpleasantly self-conscious; and she was afraid of being laughed at by the big girls for having so meekly accepted her late enemy for a friend. The big girls, of course, worried themselves so little about the petty quarrels of the junior playroom, that they had no more intention of laughing at her than Barbara had; but it was impossible for so important a person as Jean Murray to realise that. So she gave a guilty start when Barbara, heated, aggrieved, and bubbling over with resentment, suddenly pounced upon her in her corner.

'I say, look here,' began Babs, impetuously; 'I thought you'd made it up, and it's a shame!'

'What are you talking about?' demanded Jean Murray. 'I have made it up, long ago.'

'Then whose fault is it that all those girls keep bothering me?' exclaimed Barbara, growing more indignant as she went on. 'I haven't had a moment's peace all the morning, and it makes me feel silly. I don't like being made to feel silly. Why don't you tell them to leave me alone?'

'But I don't know what you're talking about,' said Jean. 'How are they making you feel silly?'