CHAPTER II.
HIGH LIFE AND LOW LIFE.

Amongst the many girls who attended the Great Shirley School was one who was known by the name of Cassandra Weldon. She was rapidly approaching the proud position of head girl in the school. She had entered the Shirley School when quite a little child, had gone steadily up through the different classes and the various removes, until she found herself nearly at the head of the sixth form. She was about to try for a sixty-pound scholarship, renewable for three years; if she got it she would go to Holloway College, and eventually support herself and her mother. Mrs. Weldon was the widow of a man who in his time had a very successful school for boys, and she herself had been a teacher long ago in the Great Shirley School. Cassandra and her mother, therefore, were from the very first surrounded by scholarship; they belonged, so to speak, to the scholastic world.

Mrs. Weldon could scarcely talk of anything else. Evening after evening she would question her daughter eagerly with regard to this accomplishment and the other, to this change or that, to this chance which Cassandra might have and to the other. The girl was extremely clever, with a sort of all-round talent which was most remarkable; for in addition to many excellent accomplish-ments, she was distinctly musical. Her musical talent very nearly amounted to genius. If in the future she could not play in public, she resolved at least to earn her living as a music teacher. Mrs. Weldon hoped that Cassandra would do more than this; and, to tell the truth, the girl shared her mother's dreams. Besides music, she had worked very hard at botany, at French and German, and at English literature. She would be seventeen on her next birthday, and it was against the rules for any girl to remain at the Great Shirley School after that time. Cassandra had, however, two more terms of school-life before her, and these terms she regarded as the most valuable of her whole education.

In appearance Cassandra was a tall, well-made girl, graceful in her movements, and very self-possessed in manner. Her face was full of intelligence, but was rather plain than otherwise, for her mouth was too wide and her nose the reverse of classical. She had bright intelligent brown eyes, however, a nice voice, and a pleasant way. Cassandra was looked up to by all her fellow-students, and this not because she was rich, nor because she was beautiful, but simply because she was good and honourable and trustworthy; she possessed a large amount of sympathy for nearly every one, her tact was unfailing, and she was never self-assertive.

Now Cassandra, who had many friends in the school, had amongst them, of course, her greatest friend. This girl was called Florence Archer. Florence was pretty and clever, but she had neither Cassandra's depth nor power of intellect. She was naturally vain and frivolous, except in the presence of her dearest friend. She was easily influenced by others, and it was her habit to follow the one who gave her the last advice. Her passionate love for Cassandra was perhaps her best and strongest quality; but of late she had exhibited a sense of almost unwarrantable jealousy when any other girl showed a preference for her special friend. Florence was a very nice girl, but jealousy was her bane. She thought a good deal of herself, for her father was a rich man, and only took advantage of the Great Shirley education because it was incomparably the best in the place. There was no rule against any one attending the school, and he had long ago secured a niche in it for his favourite daughter. Florence loved it and hated it at the same time. She was fond of her own companions, but she could not bear the foundation girls. These girls made a large percentage in the school. In all respects they were supposed to be Florence's equals, but as a matter of fact they were kept in a very subordinate position by the paying girls. On every possible occasion they were avoided, and there must be something very special about any one of them if she was taken up by the aristocrats - as they termed themselves - of the school. A sport the fee-paying girls enjoyed was to urinate on the naked bodies of the foundationers, confident that the girls would not complain and in the absence of clothing have no additional laundry. Florence was one of those most enthusiastic in this sport, doing so on one unfortunate or another at least once a day, whilst the teachers kept both eyes and nose averted.

But Cassandra as a rule was perfectly sweet and pleasant to the foundation girls, and this trait in her friend's character annoyed Florence more than anything else.

On the morning after Ruth Craven had been admitted to the school Cassandra was one of the first arrivals. She was standing in the wide courtyard waiting for the school doors to be opened. She looked, as usual, bright and capable. A stream of girls were surrounding her, each smiling and trying to draw her attention. Cassandra was a girl of few words, and after nodding to her companions, she gave them to understand that she did not intend to enter into any special conversation. Her neat satchel of school-books was slung on her arm. She wore a very dark-blue serge dress, and her white sailor-hat looked correct and pretty on her shining brown hair. Cassandra, with her face beaming as the sun, made a sort of figure-head for the smaller girls. Presently three foundation girls entered the gates side by side and glanced up at her. This trio formed perhaps the most objectionable set in the school. One was called Kate Rourke; she was a girl of fifteen years of age, showy, with flashing eyes. Hanging on Kate's arm might have been seen Hannah Johnson, in all respects that young lady's double. Clara Sawyer, a fair-haired little girl about fourteen, with a heavy fringe right down to her eyebrows, completed the trio. They glanced at Cassandra, and then nodded to one another and joked and laughed. 'I have no doubt,' said Kate, 'that Cassie will take her up. '

She said the word 'Cassie' in a loud voice. Cassandra heard her, but she took not the slightest notice. 'She is safe to,' continued Kate. 'Now, such a girl oughtn't to be on the foundation at all. If you only knew the snubbing she gave me yesterday. I quite hate her, with all her pretty face and her mincing ways. '

 'Never mind, Kitty,' said Hannah Johnson. 'She may snub you as much as she likes, but you have got me to cling on to.'

'And you've got me, too, Kitty,' said Clara Sawyer. She snuggled close up to Kate and slipped her hand through her arm.

 'Nasty thing!' said Hannah. 'I feel every word you say, Kate. Do you know, I offered to walk home with her yesterday, and she said, 'No, I thank you; I prefer to walk home alone.''

 Florence was pretty and clever, but she had neither Cassandra's depth
nor power of intellect..

As Hannah made this speech she adopted the mincing tones which she supposed Ruth Craven had used. The two other girls burst out laughing. 'Oh, do say what you are laughing about!' said another girl, running up to the group at this moment. Her name was Rosy Myers. 'You always have a joke among you three, and I want to share it. Do say - do say! I've got a lot of toffee in my pocket.'

'Hand it out, Rosy, and perhaps we'll tell you,' said Kate.

Rose produced a packet of sticky sweetmeat, and a moment later the four were sucking peppermint toffee and making themselves thoroughly objectionable to their neighbours. 'But what about the girl - the person you are laughing about?' asked Rose.

'Oh, it's that stupid, tiresome Ruth Craven,' answered Hannah. 'Why, she's nobody. The governors and the mistress ought not to allow such a girl in the school. It's all very well to be on the foundation, but there are limits. Why, her old grandfather kept nothing better than a huckster's shop. It doesn't seem right that a girl of that sort should belong to this school, and then take airs.'

'But the question is,' said Cassandra suddenly, 'does she take airs?' The girls all stopped talking, and gazed up at Cassandra with astonishment in their faces.

'I have overheard you,' said Miss Weldon calmly. 'I presume you are alluding to Miss Craven?'

This trio formed perhaps the most objectionable set in the school.

'We are talking about Ruth Craven,' said Kate Rourke; 'and you will excuse me, Cassie, but I never saw a girl more chock-full of pride. She is so conceited that she is intolerable.'

'I heard of her yesterday, but have not had an opportunity to form any estimate of her character,' continued Cassandra. 'I should prefer that you did not call me Cassie, if you please, Kate. I will watch her and find out if I agree with you. I only noticed yesterday that she is remarkably pretty. I will ask her to walk home with me to-day and have tea. I should like to introduce her to mother.'

'Well, I never!' said Hannah. 'And you really mean that you would introduce that girl to Mrs. Weldon?'

'I think so. Yes, I am almost certain. Here she comes. I like her face. Don't let her hear you giggling, please, Kate; it is very unkind to make a new girl feel uncomfortable.'

Kate smothered a laugh and turned away. The doors of the school were now thrown open, and the girls disappeared by their special entrances.

It was just at that moment that Ruth with her sweet and most beautiful face, joined the group of girls who were going into the school. She was without a companion. The other girls went in by twos, each clinging to her special crony. Cassandra now changed her position, and found herself within a yard or two of Ruth Craven. She was examining Ruth with great care, but not at all from the unkind point of view; hers was a sympathetic aspect. Those perky nipples made something come up in Cassandra's throat, and she longed beyond words to run her tongue over them. Ruth's buttocks were also much to be desired, but she was tanned by prolonged exposure to the sun which had burnt her skin in places to a dull brown. But, notwithstanding the breast and the buttocks, there was the face. The face was most lovely, and the small of her back was covered by hair as black as jet, and curling and rippling in the sunshine.

'What wouldn't every other girl in the school give to have such a face as that, and such hair as that?' thought Cassandra. 'I must speak to her.'

She was just bending forward, meaning to touch Ruth on her shoulder, when there came a commotion near the entrance, and the excited face of Alice Tennant came into view. Alice was accompanied by a tall, showy American girl. The girl had a very vivid colour in her cheeks, intensely bright and roguish dark-blue eyes, black hair which was a mass of waves and tendrils and fluffiness, and on which a little dark-blue velvet cap was placed.

'I am not going to be shy,' cried the new-comer in a hearty, clear, loud voice. 'Leave off clutching me by the arm, Alice, my honey, for see my new companions I will. Ah, what a crowd of girls! - nymphettes we call them in America. Oh, glory! how am I ever to get the names of half of them round my tongue? Ah, and isn't that one a beauty?'

'Hush, Jenny - do hush!' said Alice. 'They will hear you.'

'And what do I care if they do, darling? It doesn't matter to me. I mean to talk to that girl; she's won my heart entirely.'

Before Alice could prevent her, the American girl had sprung forward, pushed a couple of Great Shirley girls out of their places, and had taken Ruth Craven by the arm.

'It's a kiss I'm going to give you, my beauty,' she said. 'Oh, it's right glad I am to see you! My name is Jenny Weinburg, and I hail from America. Ah, though! it's lonely I'm likely to be, isn't it, deary? You don't deny me the pleasure of your society when I tell you that in all this vast crowd I stand solitary - solitary but for her; and, Gosh! I'm not certain that I take to her at all. Let me kiss you, sweetest.'

A titter was heard from the surrounding girls as Jenny pressed her lips against Ruth's and her tongue probed her teeth. Ruth turned very red, then she looked into Jenny's eyes.

'You mean kindly,' she said, 'but perhaps you had better not. You, too, are a stranger.'

'Are you a stranger?' asked Jenny. 'Then that clinches the matter. Ah, yes; it's lonely I am. I have come from my dear mountain home to be civilised; but civilisation will never suit Jenny Weinburg. She isn't meant to have it. She's meant to dance on the tops of the mountains, and to gather flowers in the valleys. She's made to dance and joke and laugh, and to have a gay time. Ah! my people at home made a fine mistake when they sent me to be civilised. But I like you, honey. I like the shape of your face, and the way you are made, and the wonderful look in your eyes when you glance round at me. It is you and me will be the finest of friends, sha'n't we?'

Before Ruth could reply the girls had entered the great hall, which presently became quite full.

'Don't let go of me, darling, for the life of you. It's lost I'd be in a place of this sort. Let me clutch on to you until they put me into the lowest place in the school.'

'But why so?' asked Ruth, glancing at her tall companion in some astonishment. 'Don't you know anything?'

'I? Never a bit, darling. I don't suppose they'll keep me here. I have no learning, and I never want to have any, and what's more - '

'Hush, girls! No talking,' called the indignant voice of a form-room mistress.

Jenny's dark-blue eyes grew round with laughter. She suddenly dropped a curtsy.

'Mum's the word, ma'am,' she said, and then she glanced round at her numerous companions.

The girls had all been watching her. Their faces broke into smiles, the smiles became titters, and the titters roars. The mistress had again to come forward and ask what was wrong.

'I have come from my dear mountain home to be civilised; but civilisation will never suit Jenny Weinburg. '

'It's only me, miss,' said Jenny, 'so don't blame any of the other innocent lambs. I'm fresh from old America. Oh, miss, it's a beautiful country! Were you never there? If you could only behold her purple mountains, and let yourself go on the bosom of her rushing streams! Were you ever in the old country, miss, if I might venture to ask a civil question?'

'No,' said Miss Atherton in a very suppressing tone. 'I don't understand impertinent questions, and I expect the schoolgirls to be orderly. - Ah, Ruth Craven! Will you take this young lady under your wing?'

'Didn't I say we were to be mates, dear?' said Jenny Weinburg; and as they passed from the great hall, Jenny's hand was still fondly linked on Ruth's arm.