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قراءة كتاب Tom and Some Other Girls: A Public School Story
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Tom and Some Other Girls: A Public School Story
squash, was a much more agreeable method of spending a hot summer’s day than working like a charwoman. She carried her latest book into the garden forthwith, ordered the “squash,” and spent an hour of contented idleness before lunch.
The story, however, was not interesting enough to tempt a second reading during the afternoon, for the heroine was a girl of unimpeachable character, who pursued her studies at home under the charge of a daily governess, and such a poor-spirited creature could hardly be expected to commend herself to a girl who had decided for two whole days to go to the newest of all new schools, and already felt herself far removed from such narrow experiences. Rhoda cast about in her mind for the next diversion, and decided to bicycle across the park to call upon the Vicar’s daughter the self-same Ella Mason who had been her informant on so many important points. Ella would be indeed overcome to hear that Rhoda herself was to be a “Hurst” girl, and there would be an increased interest in hearing afresh those odd pieces of information which had fallen from the cousin’s lips.
She felt a thrill of relief on hearing that her friend was at home, and in finding her alone in the morning-room, which looked so bare and colourless to eyes accustomed to the splendours of the Chase. Something of the same contrast existed between the two girls themselves, for while Rhoda sat glowing pink and white after her ride, Ella’s cheeks were as pale as her dress, and her eyes almost as colourless as the washed-out ribbon round her waist. She was not a beauty by any means, but unaffectedly loving and unselfish, rejoicing in her friend’s news, though it would deprive her of a favourite companion, and she was all anxiety to help and encourage. She knitted her brow to remember all that the cousin had said of Hurst Manor, wishing only that she had listened with more attention to those pearls of wisdom.
“Yes, she said that they did a great deal of Latin. All the girls learn it, and it seems to be looked on as one of the most important subjects. They translate Horace and Livy and all kinds of learned books.”
“Humph! I shan’t!” declared Rhoda coolly. “I don’t approve of Latin for girls. It’s silly. Of course, if you intend to teach, or be a doctor, or anything like that, it may be useful, but for ordinary stop-at-home girls it’s nonsense. What use would Latin be to me, I should like to know? I shall take modern languages instead. I can read and write French fluently, though it doesn’t come quite so easy to speak it, and German, of course, is second nature after jabbering with Fraulein all these years. I should think in German if I would allow myself, but I won’t. I don’t think it is patriotic. There is not very much that any one can teach me of French or German!”
“Then what is the use of studying them any more?” inquired Ella, aptly enough; but Rhoda was not a whit discomposed.
“My dear, it is ever so much pleasanter doing things that you understand! The first stages are such a grind. Well, what next? What other subjects are important?”
“Mathematics. Some of the girls are awfully clever, and are ever so far on in Euclid. I did one book with father; but it worried me so, and I cried so much one day when he altered the letters and put the whole thing out, that he grew tired, and said I could give it up. You didn’t do any with Fraulein, I think?”
“No; it’s a nuisance. I wish I did now; but I’ll have to begin at once, that’s all! I’ll get Harold’s old books and cram up before I go, so that I can just bring in an expression now and then, as if I knew all about it. Girls are so patronising if they think you are a beginner... I’m pretty well up in history, and can say reams of poetry, and play, and draw, and paint in water colours—”
“Ye–es!” assented Ella feebly. She was afraid to say so much in words, but her conviction was that her friend’s methods of work would seem strangely antiquated when contrasted with the vivid strength of the new régime. She recalled Rhoda’s mild copies of village scenes, with cottages in the foreground, trees to the rear, and a well-regulated flight of swallows on the sky line, and mentally placed them beside her cousin’s vigorous sketches on the Slade system, where two or three lines seemed to do the work of a dozen, and prettiness was a thing abhorred! She remembered the lessons in theory and harmony, and trembled for her friend’s awakening. “Yes,” she repeated. “Oh, of course; and then there are other things besides lessons—a girl can make herself popular by being pleasant and obliging, and the outdoor life is so fascinating. Games every day, just as if you were boys, and each one trying to get into a higher team, and as keen and enthusiastic as she can be. You will enjoy the games, Rhoda!”
“Now that’s just one thing I wanted to talk to you about!” cried Rhoda earnestly. “I’m glad you reminded me. Of course, tennis and croquet are all right. I can play a very good set, and beat most ladies at croquet. One time this summer I made five hoops in one turn, and took my partner with me, but of course I don’t do that every day of the week. I’m all right for summer games, but winter is coming on, and I shall have to play that horrid old hockey, and I haven’t the remotest idea how it is done. I’ve never seen a match, but you have, and I want you to tell me all about it, so that I may know what to do, and not make an idiot of myself. You went to the Betham ground when you were staying there, and saw the girls’ team play. Go on! Describe it! Tell me all about it, and everything they did!”
Ella drew a deep breath, and looked awed and important.
“Well! it was a county match, and one team wore white blouses and the other pink. They had on blue skirts, very short, and awful feet! Some had great pads on each ankle, and some had leggings, and some had nothing at all. I should have swathings of cotton wool a foot wide, for it made my ankles ache just to see the sticks swinging about! It was an icy day; the wind went through us like knives and scissors, and we stood on little planks of wood and shuddered, with furs up to our ears, but they wore no hats or jackets, and their sleeves went flap, flap, as thin as possible. There was only one pretty one among them, all the rest looked—hideous! There was a goal at one end, here, and another, here.” Ella drew a rough map of the ground on the back of an envelope, and Rhoda looked on with breathless interest. “This team wanted to make a goal here, and the other side tried to prevent them. They whacked with their sticks, and off went the ball, and each side flew after it, trying to send it the way they wanted, and one poor, wretched girl stood before each goal to prevent the enemy’s ball from entering. I expected they would both die of consumption the next day, but I met them out at tea, quite spry and lively, and they said they didn’t feel cold a bit. I didn’t believe them, but that’s nothing. An umpire marched about in leggings, and blew a whistle, and called out ‘Off side! Off side!’”
“And what did he mean by that?”
Ella hesitated, uncertainly. Her knowledge of the game was of the slightest, but she was anxious to help her friend, and gallantly tried to recall odd explanations.
“Oh, well, I think one of the wrong side hit, you know, and there is a rule that you may not send the ball straight forward to one of your own side, but must hit it back to some one behind you.”
“But that’s silly! If you want to get on as fast as you can, why on earth must you go back? If they never hit forward, how can they win. Do you mean to say they never send it forwards towards the goal?”
“Oh, yes, yes! One girl was splendid. She hit magnificently. She ran like a man, and sent it flying before her, and made three goals herself.”
“Then how—why—what—what in