The Youngest Girl in the Fifth | Page 2

month about going if I were you. Hello! There's
the bell. Ta-ta, I'm off! I wish you luck!" and Ida Bridge fled to the
region of her own classroom, with a grin on her impish face.
Though she might rail at the impudence of the small fry, Gwen was not
above taking a hint--headmistresses do not lightly brook being kept
waiting--so she started at a run up the passage, turning over in her mind
every possible crime which she might unwittingly have committed.

"Can't remember using the front gate, or not changing my boots, or
talking on the stairs, or--oh, wow! Here I am at the library! Well,
whatever I've done, I suppose I'm in for it now! I hope she won't
absolutely wither me up!"
So far from looking withering as Gwen entered the room, the Principal
wore an unusually encouraging and benign expression. She was a
handsome, large, imposing woman, with a stern cast of features, and
was held in great awe by the whole school. As a rule, Seniors and
Juniors quailed alike under the glance of her keen dark eyes.
"Come here, Gwen," she said blandly, as her pupil stood hesitating near
the door. "I want to have a little talk with you. I've been looking over
your reports for the last few weeks, and I find that you've done well--so
well, that I consider the standard of the Upper Fourth is too easy for
you. I think you ought to be able to manage the work of the Fifth Form,
and I'm going to move you there."
Gwen stared at Miss Roscoe, too surprised to answer. Such a proposal
as a change of Form was absolutely the last thing she could have
expected. In the middle of a term it was surely an unprecedented
happening. For the moment she scarcely knew whether to be alarmed
or flattered at the honour thus thrust upon her.
"You may find the mathematics a little difficult," continued Miss
Roscoe; "but Miss Woodville shall coach you until you've caught up
the rest of the class. She can also go over the arrears of Latin translation
with you. With that help you shouldn't be so far behind. I've spoken to
both Miss Slade and Miss Douglas about it, and they fully agree with
me. Do you think yourself you'll be able to manage the work?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," stammered Gwen. "I expect I'm behind in
maths.--but--"
"But you must try your best. I shall trust you to make a great effort. I
should be very sorry to have to put you down again. Come with me
now, and I'll take you to your new Form."

Gwen followed the Principal with her head in a buzzing whirl. It
seemed like a dream to be suddenly translated from the Lower School
to the Upper. She wished she could have had a little time to get
accustomed to the idea: she would have liked a day's preparation at
least, so as to think the change over and discuss it at home. Miss
Roscoe, however, always did things in a hurry; she never had a moment
to waste, and at present she whisked her pupil along the corridor and
into the Fifth Form room with almost breathless energy.
"Here's Gwen Gascoyne, Miss Douglas," she announced. "We'll try if
she can manage the work, and I've arranged with Miss Woodville to
give her the extra coaching we spoke about. She can bring her books
from her old classroom at eleven."
Thus saying, she bustled away to take a history lecture, leaving the new
member of the Fifth standing in much embarrassment. The eyes of
every girl in the room naturally were glued upon Gwen, who felt
herself twitching with nervousness under the scrutiny; but Miss
Douglas motioned her to an empty desk in the back row, and went on
with the lesson as if nothing had happened. I am afraid Gwen was too
agitated to absorb much knowledge that morning. She had not brought
notebook or pencil with her, and though at Miss Douglas's request her
neighbour rather ungraciously lent her a sheet of paper and a stump of
pencil, the notes which she took were scrappy and inadequate. She kept
stealing peeps at the other girls, but turning away when she met the
anything but friendly glances directed at her. The teacher asked her one
or two questions, then, seeing that she did not quite grasp the subject,
kindly ignored her.
"Talk of a fish out of water," thought Gwen; "I feel like an eel in a
frying pan. I believe these girls are going to be detestable. I shall have
to look out for squalls."
Nor was she mistaken. At eleven o'clock the storm broke. Directly Miss
Douglas had left the room for the