WHEN DEFEAT MEANT VICTORY !

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20821, 3 June 1939, Page 21 (Supplement)

WHEN DEFEAT MEANT VICTORY !

(Continued.)

•*To- day the name of the winner of this award'will be given, not by me but by someone whom you know even better than me; someone who, until a few weeks ago, w-as a great favourite with you all—Miss Joy Barranger.” And then, while Brenda, suddenly very white, stared with rounded, incredulous eyes at the dais, and the whole school broke out with a resounding cheer, the erstwhile captain, accompained by Colonel Pepperton, ofall people, appeared from the curtained side. “It’s Joy—it’s Joy! Oh, good old Joy! See her- And, my hat, doesn’t she look swell in those togs? Good old Joy! But Brenda, stricken, hardly knew how she felt ; there w-as such a conflict of emotions going on within her. Then Joy, stepped forward to the edge of the dais, plunged the whole assembly into the throes of staggered sensation and left Brenda more bewilder than ever, yet delirious with happiness. ••Hallo, everybody!” Joy began brightly. But 'instantly she became serious. “I know this is very irregular, my making this announcement, but you’ll understand when I’ve explained —just as our headmistress has already understood. First of all, I’ve a confession to make. You remember that somebody broke bounds this term and did some damage in Colonel Pepperton’s woods? Well—” Utter silence for a second or so. Brenda’s heart racing out of control, threatening to choke her. Then: “ that was me! Yes, I broke bounds that night. And I was the girl who wouldn’t own up. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I couldn’t. It wasn’t for me to decide. You see, I’d given my word to someone very dear to me that I would never let a soul know I was helping her.**

And, as Joy continued, Brenda’s face began to radiate a smile of overwhelming ecstasy. So her idol hadn't possessed feet of clay. Her idol was even finer than she’d believed if such a thing were possible. It appeared that Joy had been helping Colonel Pepperton’s own niece, who was in serious money trouble. On that fateful Thursday night Joy, having given the girl twenty pounds, was returning to St. Nelson’s when she w-as nearly caught. Had the colonel known it was Joy, he would have investigated, for she was a friend of the family, and once before, to his knowledge, had helped his niece out of a similar scrape. Since then he had threatened to disown the girl if ever such a thing occurred again. And she, spoiled, pampered, avaricious, had been terrified at that prospect. She had begged Joy to keep silent. And Joy had—at the price of her self-respect. “But,” she began to conclude, with & happy smile, “everything’s turned out fine'. The colonel's niece has just confessed. My lips needn't be sealed any longer. And so I can tell you the secret which someone else —someone in this very hall —has been nursing ever since the race against Barchester. Brenda Chisholm, I Want you to come up here.” Brenda nearly collapsed. She had to be pushed out of her place and almost guided on to the dais. And there Joy was waiting to greet her with loveliest of smiles and the warmest of handclasps. “You little heroine!” Joy whispered. *Tm proud of you!” “But —but I—really—l didn’t know —that is ” Brenda stammered. Then, gulping, she had to stand there and listen to this new idol of hers extolling her praises; telling how she had found the incriminating evidence in the woods; how it was that which had lost her the race; how she slipped it into that trunk; and how, all this time, she had suffered in silence. “Of course, I guessed what had happened as soon as I found the bag.” Joy stated. “I knew whereabouts I’d lost it, but there was no time to stop for it with a couple of determined gamekeepers haring after me, and some of the colonel’s prize mushrooms looking like a scrambled egg!” “Ha, ha, ha!” The spell of drama broken, everyone roared. Brenda laughed, too albeit somewhat nervously. And her face was as red as a turkey-cock's comb

when Joy herself pinned the glittering gold medal to her tunic and. an arm 7 about her shoulders, called for three cheers for the finest girl of the term. The school cheered itself hoarse. Brenda, lost in the confusion, could hardly think. She was a heroine, after

(By MARGERY MARR)

all. Her name would live as long as St. Nelson's. Brenda's mind was in a whirl as she made her way from the dais to her place in the hall again. She knew that everyone was looking at her, admiring her, cheering her. Cheering her! She, the outcast of the form, the despised, ridiculed swot! For the moment Brenda thought she was In the middle of one of her most wild, fantastic dreams; imagined that at any moment she might awake and find herself in the Fourth-form dormitory, the cheers changed to jeers of coaxing, to rouse her. But no, this was- real enough, her arm was aching from pinches she had given herself, so how could it be a dream? “Good old Brenda!” came the clamour from the Fourth, which was distinctly audible above the handclapping of the other forms assembled.

“Three cheers for the heroine of the hour. Hip, hip ” And they wete given so lustily, with so much sincerity, - that the rafters of the hall rang with their cries, and the next words the Governor spoke were positively lost in the hubbub. After the hasty dismissal Brenda tried to make a gateway, but she was unlucky. The Fourth-formers had found a heroine in their midst, moreover, a girl who had always been an outcast, and now they were going to make up for their shabby treatment. “Hoist her. girls! Don't let her get away!” This from Dulcia Swanage, whose languid voice was athrili with excitement, so much so that it had completely lost its former grandeur. “Well done, Brenda!” and she clapped her on the back. “I—l’m s-sorry for what I—l said to you, you know!” And that from the Eton-cropped girl of the form must be sincere, for never before had she been known to own up to her faults.

Brenda stammered a “That’s quite all right, Dulcia,” and backed as the crowd of girls approached her. Olive Clancy caught told of Brenda, and between them four girls lifted her shoulder-high, and thus in this place of honour usually jealously reserved for a newly-elected form captain, she was borne to her study. “A feed, a feed!” was the general clamour, and Brenda, set down on her feet, happily pulled out the two leaves of the study table and laid a spotless white cloth. Olive Clancy set the ball rolling by fetching two new loaves from her study, cutting off generous slices, and converting each with great vigour and enthusiasm into toast by instrumentality of a large toastingfork. Others trooped to their studies and brought back boxes and foodstuffs of all descriptions, until the table literally groaned under an excessive load of agreeable edibles, which were, for the most part, in the form of plates and plates of pastries, toast thickly buttered, and many different kinds of jam. And Olive, her zeal at the fire being awarded by loud acclamations, set to and poured from the huge teapot, which stood at one end of the table, that stimulating beverage into the many cups. When all werer seated, and were hoppilv munching the toast, Oiive rose from seat, and took her cup by the handle and held it high. “Girls!” she addressed the happy throng, “I suggest a toast ” “In tea to Brenda!” sang out a gay, well-known voice from behind the partly-opened study door. And Joy Barranger enered, her pretty fiace wrinkled in a smile. “Pour me out a cup too, will you, Olive?" Olive needed no second bidding: she clattered her cup down in fts saucer and complied to the ex-head 1 girl's wishes with so much vigour ; that she succeeded in spilling quite | a considerable amount of tea on to the i tray, much to the amusement of the ! ether girls. “Thank you,” smiled Joy, as she took | the tea. “ And now, girls,” she said | as she held her cup high, “let us I raise our cups to Brenda Chisholm, the | staunchest of friends, and the pluckiest of all girls!” i “Hear, hear!” echoed the girls, and j although the crush rather forbade the | raising of cups, .every one was held | up, and all eyes were directed on the | Hushing Brenda, who sat rigid in her seat. j The next moment the girls were clamouring for a speech, and it was I with some uncertainty that Brenda ! arose. That encouraging smile, which j Joy had so often flashed her, placed confidence in her, and although she was trembling with excitement, her words came clear and emphatically. “Thank you all very much, girls. I cannot say how ' here she paused and quavered a little, “bow much 1

appreciate your kindness. Thank you very, very much!” Then she sat down in her seat with a bump, and her face crimsoned. But it was the Form's intention to make up to Brenda, not to increase her embarrassment, for cries of “Don’t thank us!” and “Nonense!” were voiced. “Good old Brenda!” That made the ex-outcast flush the more; the Form calling her “good old Brenda!” Her, “Mothballs,” “Botany Bee.” It seemed all too good to be true. But it was true, true enough, and the Form showed how sorry it was by the 4 celebrations that evening. Never before had Brenda spent such an enjoyable Lime. And added to everything—but far transcending everything else in her blind—was the knowledge that Joy Barranger had proved herself as glittering an example as she had once believed. Brenda wanted nothing more than that. Jt meant even more than her triumph next term, when she walked off with sports cup and simply made Barchester look Jike a brood of tortoises.