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Iva Payne, the hateful thing, sent a Cubist picture of an infant falling downstairs, but Warble couldn't make it out so its pre-natal influence didn't amount to much. Daisy Snow, innocent child, sent a beautiful edition of How to Tell Your Young, a treatise of the bird-and-bee-seed-and-pollen school, and Faith Loveman sent her own marked copy of Cooks that Have Helped Me.
You must not add your own name to it, and you have no need to tell anybody how you voted. The whole principle of a ballot is that it is done in secret. Are you ready? Then please begin." The little ceremony was soon over, the girls scribbled rapidly, folded their papers, and passed them along the benches to Nesta and Iva, who collected them and gave them to Miss Mitchell.
Puzzled, and considerably distressed at a certain offensive attitude exhibited by Sybil and others, Mavis and Merle walked across the garden to the hostel. Iva had cleared all the younger girls out of the boarders' sitting-room, and was waiting in company with Nesta, Muriel, Aubrey, Edith, and Kitty. As soon as the Ramsays and Sybil came in, she closed the door.
Muriel was canvassing among the juniors as hard as she could go." "I might have canvassed among the new boarders! Why didn't I think of it?" wailed Aubrey. "Well, really, it's your own stupid fault! Don't blame me!" snapped Merle. "Iva and Nesta said they didn't mean to ask for votes." "Well, they'd no need to. They were both jolly certain that Miss Pollard would make them monitresses.
The treat of the afternoon was when Mildred Lancaster began to play, and her entire mastery of her instrument was a revelation to most of the girls. They had never before had the opportunity of listening to such glorious music. "The gramophone will sound like a ghost after this, however good the records!" declared Iva. "I wish I could hear her again."
"Never said I was," retorted Iva, shortly, and Warble said, "Stop this nonsense, it makes too much kicking. Now we're going to play the game I learned in Buda Pesth." She led them to the picture gallery which had been prepared for the game by having many sheets of fly-paper placed on the floor, sticky side up. "It's Fly-paper Tag," she said. It was Fly-paper Tag she was quite right.
Iva, making a supreme effort, called to the girls for silence, but they were too much out of hand to listen to her and only went on talking.
A bit of climbing ivy converts a hideous ruin into a bower, as the Alp roses and the Iva make a garden for one short month of the roughest rocks in the Grisons. Only that which lives and of which the life is beautiful can reconcile us to those surroundings which would otherwise offend our sense of harmony, or oppress us with a dullness even more deadly than mere ugliness can ever be.
Yet even as she spoke, she overheard Trymie whispering to Iva Payne, "Yes, I believe that the new art era into which we are now slipping, will worship beauty for itself alone, and that art, sublimated by " She turned away, sick at heart. Why bother, her tortured soul cried out. Yet the irrepressible impulse of reform egged her on and it was a perfectly good egg.
Big girls, little girls, new girls, and old girls sat on the forms in giggling anticipation, chattering like swallows on the eve of migration, and determined to have a good time and enjoy themselves. "You're the eldest! Open the ball!" said Iva, pushing Nesta forward. But Nesta had turned shy.
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