# The Leader of the Lower School/Chapter 10
### CHAPTER X The Millionairess

"Heard the news?" enquired Barbara Kendrick one afternoon towards the end of February, lounging into the Juniors' recreation room with a would-be casual air, and whistling a jaunty tune which she fondly hoped was expressive of superior indifference to news of any kind. Two girls sitting reading by the fire closed their books, and three at the table, who were in the agonies of three separate games of patience, temporarily laid aside their cards.
"No; what's up? Anything decent?" asked Norah Bell.
Barbara strolled leisurely to the fireplace, and spread her hands to the blaze. Being a member of the Third, and having a most interesting piece of information to communicate, she did not intend to make it too cheap, and wished to excite the curiosity of the Fourth Form girls before she vouchsafed to enlighten them.
"Oh! something I heard just now downstairs. I was passing the Seniors' door, and Allie Spencer came out and told me."
"Well?"
"She said it concerned your Form."
"Why us particularly?"
​"What's going to happen?"
"Is it anything worth knowing, or not?"
"Really, that depends how you take it," said Barbara, enjoying herself.
"Look here, kiddie, you get on and tell us!"
"Gee up, stupid!"
Barbara paused, prolonging for one more blissful moment the joy of tantalizing her audience; but in that moment her chance was lost, for the door opened suddenly, and in burst Hetty Hancock, like a tempestuous north wind, proclaiming without either hesitation or reserve the important tidings.
"I say, isn't it a joke? There's actually a new boarder coming to-morrow."
"New girls seem to choose odd times to come nowadays," said Lennie. "Why didn't she wait till the half term—it's only about two weeks off?"
"Perhaps she's been shipwrecked, like I was," suggested Gipsy.
"Not a bit of it! She doesn't come from far. Her home's only about ten miles off, I believe. Her name's Leonora Parker."
"Parker! Parker! Surely not the Parkers of Ribblestone Abbey?" commented Norah Bell.
"I really don't know."
"But I know!" put in Barbara Kendrick, delighted to score at last by her superior information. "They are the Parkers of Ribblestone Abbey."
"Then they're most enormously rich people."
"Yes, millionaires! And Leonora's the only child."
"So she's an heiress!"
​"Rather—an heiress of millions."
"You might call her a millionairess, in fact," chuckled Gipsy.
"Good for you, Yankee Doodle!"
"I say, it's rather a joke her coming here, isn't it?" said Norah Bell. "A millionaire's daughter! I wonder what she'll be like?"
"Sure to have the best of everything," said Daisy Scatcherd; "the loveliest dresses and the most expensive hats."
"She won't be able to wear anything but her school 'sailor' here!" commented Dilys. "You needn't imagine she'll come decked out with diamonds, Daisy."
"She'll have absolutely unlimited pocket-money."
"And be able to buy chocolates and walnut creams by the pound!" added Barbara enviously.
"Wonder what Form and what dormitory she'll be in?"
"Well, at any rate I shan't be the last new girl," said Gipsy. "I'm glad to retire from the position."
"Yes, Yankee Doodle. Your little nose will be quite put out of joint."
"A millionairess at Briarcroft! Doesn't it sound magnificent?"
"What a set of sillies you all are!" said Dilys. "I'm not going to make any fuss over Leonora, even if she can buy chocolates by the pound. I'll wait and see how I like her before I give my opinion. She mayn't be nice at all."
In spite of Dilys's attitude of aloofness the others could not help anticipating with the keenest eagerness ​the advent of a fresh fellow boarder. The personality of the "millionairess", as they nicknamed her, was a subject of much speculation, and a whole row of noses was flattened against the panes of the Juniors' sitting-room window to witness her arrival. The glimpse the girls got of her was distinctly disappointing. She wore a tweed coat and skirt, and the orthodox Briarcroft "sailor", with its narrow band and badge.
"I thought she'd have come in a velvet coat and a big picture hat full of feathers!" said Barbara, with rueful surprise in her tone.
"I never dreamt she'd drive up in only a station cab!" said Norah Bell. "Why didn't she arrive in her own motor?"
When Leonora was introduced by Miss Poppleton to her schoolfellows at tea-time, she certainly did not answer the expectations which had been formed of her. She was short and rather squat, with heavy features and nondescript eyes and hair.
"A most stodgy-looking girl," whispered Hetty. "I don't take to her at all. She's not one half as nice as Gipsy. By the by, where is Gipsy? I haven't seen her since four o'clock."
Gipsy came in just then, and took her seat at the table, looking cold and rather dejected.
"Where've you been?" whispered Hetty.
"Arranging my new room. Didn't you know? I've been moved out of our dormitory to make way for Leonora. Miss Edith carried all my things upstairs this morning."
​"How sickening! Is that girl to have your bed?"
"Of course."
"And where are you put?"
"In that little box-room on the top floor. The boxes are all piled at one end, to make room for a camp bed."
"You don't mean it? Well, I didn't think Poppie was capable of such a horrid piece of nastiness."
"There's no other place for me at present. I may be extremely grateful to have that attic, so I'm informed. You forget I'm a charity girl!" said Gipsy bitterly.
Poor Gipsy was smarting sorely from a brief conversation she had had with Miss Poppleton. The Principal had reminded her in very plain terms of her dependent position, and had questioned and cross-questioned her as to whether she could remember any possible clue by which her father's whereabouts might be traced. Gipsy had already told all she knew, so the fresh catechism only seemed to her like the probing of an old wound. She felt so utterly helpless, so unable to offer any suggestions, or any way out of the difficulty. But she stuck tenaciously to her faith in her father.
"Dad promised to come back for me, and he will!" she said, with a gleam in her dark eyes.
"I'm afraid I know more of the world than you do, Gipsy, and it looks bad—very bad indeed!" replied Miss Poppleton, with a dismal shake of her head. "Some men are only too anxious to cast off their responsibilities."
​Even Miss Edith, kind as ever though she was, seemed to take a gloomy view of the case.
"I'm sorry, dear—very sorry!" she said, as she introduced Gipsy to her attic bedroom. "I don't like to have to turn you out of your dormitory—and I'm sure Miss Poppleton doesn't either! But, you see, we're obliged to put Leonora there—and there's no other place but this. If your father hadn't behaved so queerly, of course it would have been different. I'm very sorry, Gipsy—it's hard on a girl to be left like this. I wonder he could have the heart to do it. And it's hard on my sister too. She has to think of ways and means. Dear, dear! what an amount of trouble there is in the world! And you're young to have to begin to feel it. There! I've made you as comfortable as I can here, child. After all, you'll be downstairs most of your time."
When Miss Edith had gone away, Gipsy sat down on the one chair in her room, with a blank, wretched feeling that was beyond the relief of tears. It was not that she minded a camp bed in the least, and she had often slept in far rougher places than her new attic; but the change seemed the outward and visible sign of her forlorn circumstances. Both Miss Poppleton's uncompromising remarks and Miss Edith's well-meant sympathy hurt her equally, for both expressed the same doubt of her father's honour. Not until that afternoon had Gipsy thoroughly realized how utterly alone she was in the world. Every other girl in the school had home and parents and relations, while she had nobody at all except a father who had—no, not ​forgotten her! that she would never allow; but for some strange, mysterious reason had been kept from communicating with her.
Gipsy had too generous a nature to bear Leonora any grudge for having taken her place in the dormitory. She even volunteered to give some valuable hints to the newcomer, knowing by experience the thorns that were likely to beset her path. Leonora, however, did not seem at all afflicted by many things which would have been most trying to Gipsy. She went her own way stolidly, without reference to her schoolfellows' comments, good or bad. This attitude did not satisfy Briarcroft standards, and by the time she had been there a week she had been weighed in the balance of public opinion and found decidedly wanting. She was the exact opposite of what the boarders had expected. Far from being liberally disposed, and inclined to spend her superabundant pocket-money for the good of her companions, she appeared anxious to take advantage on the other side. She readily accepted all the chocolates and caramels that were offered her, but made no return; and if she bought any sweets she ate them herself in privacy. She appropriated other girls' hockey sticks, books, or fountain pens unblushingly, but had always an excuse if anyone wished to sample her possessions.
"She's the meanest thing I ever met in my life," said Lennie Chapman indignantly one day. "She borrowed my penknife three times this morning, and when I asked her what had become of her own, she said it was such a nice one, it seemed a pity to use it."
​"She spoilt my stylo. yesterday," complained Norah Bell, "and she never even offered to buy me another."
"She's greedy, too," said Daisy Scatcherd, swelling the list of Leonora's crimes. "When I handed her my box of candied fruits, she picked out the very biggest!"
"How piggie!"
"And yet she's plenty of pocket-money."
"Oh, yes, heaps, as much as she likes to ask for."
"I don't see what's the use of being a millionairess if you're a miser at the same time!" remarked Dilys scornfully.
A girl who receives everything and dispenses nothing is never popular among her companions, so it was scarcely surprising that Leonora won no favour. A few mercenary spirits, encouraged by the reputation of her millions, made tentative advances of friendship, but rapidly withdrew them on the discovery that it was likely to prove a one-sided bargain.
"I wouldn't be friends with her if she owned the Bank of England!" declared Lennie. "I think she's too contemptible for words."
"By the by, girls," said Dilys, "it's Miss Edith's birthday on the 1st of March. Aren't we Junior boarders going to get up anything in the way of a present? I know the Seniors are giving her one."
"Rather!" said Fiona Campbell. "I'd stretch a point for Miss Edie if I was on the verge of bankruptcy. I vote we open a subscription list. I'm good for half a crown."
"I expect most of us are," replied Lennie, taking ​paper and pencil to write down names. "Except Leonora Parker!" she added with a laugh.
"Don't you think she'll give?"
"Not generously."
"Oh, she'll have to!"
"I declare, we'll make her for once!" said Dilys indignantly. "She shan't sneak out of everything."
"I don't see how you're going to make her."
"The millionairess won't fork out unless she feels inclined, I can tell you that, my child."
"Just you leave it to me. I'll manage it by fair means or foul."
"Won't a subscription list make it rather awkward for Gipsy? You know she can't give anything," whispered Hetty Hancock to Dilys.
"Not at all, the way I'm going to do it. I'll take care of Gipsy, you'll see—make it easy for her, but nick in Leonora for more than she bargains."
"You're cleverer than I thought you were."
"Ah, you haven't plumbed the depths of my genius yet, my good child. Now when Leonora——"
"Hush! Here she comes."
The millionairess walked to the fireplace, and stood leaning over the high fender, sharpening a cherished stump of lead pencil.
"We're getting up a subscription," began Dilys, opening the attack without further delay. "It's to buy a present for Miss Edith's birthday. You'd like us to put your name down, wouldn't you?"
"Well, I'm not sure," replied Leonora cautiously. "What are most of you giving?"
​"Half a crown," replied a chorus of voices.
"I've been at Briarcroft such a short time," demurred Leonora. "Perhaps it would really be better if the present came from you, who are all old pupils."
"There's something in that," said Dilys. "Both you and Gipsy Latimer have only been here a little while, so it would be more appropriate, after all, to leave you both out of it, and let it be an old girls' gift. Lennie, do you hear? You're not to put down either Gipsy or Leonora, however much they beg and pray."
"Right-oh!" said Lennie rather sulkily. She thought that Dilys, in her delicacy for Gipsy, was sparing Leonora too much. But Dilys gave her a withering look, which so plainly implied: "Trust me to mind my own business" that she began hastily to hum a tune.
"Perhaps you'd like to give Miss Edith something on your own account," suggested Dilys craftily to the millionairess.
"Exactly. It would be far better than my joining with the rest of you," agreed Leonora, jumping at such an easy way out.
"Tell me what it's to be, then, and we'll ask Miss Lindsay to order it."
"Oh! I can get it myself, thanks."
"We're not allowed. All shopping has to be done through Miss Lindsay. I should suggest a book."
"I dare say that would do. There was one of yours that Miss Edith was looking at yesterday."
"Do you mean my small 'Christina Rossetti'? All ​right. Lennie, put down that Leonora Parker wants to order a copy of Christina Rossetti's poems."
Thus cornered, Leonora was obliged to consent. Dilys's little book was a shilling edition—not ruinous, certainly, to the purse strings; so comparing that with a subscription of half a crown she considered she had escaped cheaply.
"You've let her off too easily," grumbled Lennie afterwards, as she added up her list. "It's a shame the richest girl in the class should give the least."
"I haven't finished with her yet, my friend—I've only begun!" chuckled Dilys. "Let me go to Miss Lindsay."
Dilys had a deep-laid scheme, which she considered too good to be divulged at present, but which she hoped would be the undoing of Leonora. She went to the mistresses' room with the subscription list, and handed the collection of half-crowns to Miss Lindsay.
"Would you please order a Russia leather blotter for Miss Edith?" she said. "We've decided on that, unless you know of anything she'd like better. Leonora Parker would like to give her a separate present, quite on her own account."
"Indeed?" said Miss Lindsay, who had not yet grasped the new pupil's economical tendencies. "Then I suppose she wishes it to be something handsome?"
"She mentioned a copy of Christina Rossetti's poems, but she said nothing about the price," returned Dilys stolidly.
"Christina Rossetti's poems? Then she must surely mean that beautiful illustrated edition that we were ​talking about at tea-time yesterday. I remember Miss Edith said how immensely she would like to see it. No doubt Leonora made a mental note of it. It was a kind thought of hers, which Miss Edith will appreciate, I am sure."
"Is the edition expensive?" enquired Dilys casually.
"Fifteen shillings net, but of course to Leonora that is a mere nothing—no more than sixpence to most girls. Still, perhaps I'd better send for her and ask her."
"She's having her music lesson," put in Dilys quickly.
"The order ought to go off at once, if we are to have the presents in time for the 1st of March," said Miss Lindsay, glancing at the clock. "I must write now to catch the post. I think I may venture to send Leonora's commission without consulting her. She must certainly mean the illustrated edition, and in her case we really need not trouble to consider the question of the price."
Dilys went away, rubbing her hands with satisfaction.
"Serves you right, Leonora Parker!" she chuckled to herself. "Your little effort at economy is going to cost you rather more than you bargained for. Miss Lindsay's an absolute trump. I hate mean people who hoard up their money and keep it all for themselves."
She confided her success to the others, but exacted a promise of strict secrecy.
"We'll simply say Miss Lindsay has sent for the ​book," she advised. "I believe Leonora would be capable of countermanding the order if she knew the amount of the bill. It will be a surprise for her later on."
"And a ripping joke for us!"
"It's Miss Lindsay's fault, though. She named the edition."
"Oh, yes, of course! We understand that, my dear girl!"
The presents arrived by return of post, just in time for Miss Edith's birthday—a splendid blotter of delicious-smelling leather, and the edition of Christina Rossetti's poems, a large and handsome volume full of beautiful illustrations. Miss Lindsay brought them into the Juniors' sitting-room, and showed them to the delighted girls.
"It was so nice of you, Leonora dear, to think of giving such a lovely gift to Miss Edith all on your own account," she remarked; "so thoughtful to have fixed upon the very thing she wanted. You meant this edition, of course? I knew I could hardly be mistaken. Miss Edith will be particularly pleased that a new girl should show such appreciation. The pictures are perfect gems. We'll wrap the book up again in its various papers, and you must hide it carefully away until to-morrow. Would you like to give me the fifteen shillings now, or will Miss Poppleton stop it out of your allowance?"
Leonora's face was a study. Blank amazement struggled with disgust, and for a moment she seemed almost tempted to deny all responsibility for having ​given the order. Pride, however, at the sight of the sneer at the corners of Dilys Fenton's mouth, came to her rescue. She knew the girls had tricked her, and she was determined not to afford them the satisfaction of an open triumph.
"Thank you very much, Miss Lindsay, for getting the book," she replied calmly. "I'll give you the money now, please. I'm glad it's the edition Miss Edith wants," and taking her parcel, she sailed from the room, without deigning to glance at the others.
"Done her this time!" chuckled Dilys. "It'll do her good to shell out for once."
"She took it awfully well, though! Perhaps on the whole she wasn't altogether sorry. Miss Edie's such a dear, anyone would want to give her nice things who'd got the money," sighed Gipsy, whose own offering was limited to a little pen-and-ink drawing of the house.
"She's not so bad on the whole, though she isn't liberal in the way of sweets," remarked Daisy Scatcherd.
"You greedy pig!" said Dilys. "We don't want her to keep us provided with chocolates. As long as she's fair, that's all I care about. I think it's sickening to try and truckle to her because she's so rich. If you wanted to get anything out of her, I'm glad you were disappointed. 'Give and take' and 'Share and share alike' are the best mottoes for school."
"Thanks for the sermon!" said Daisy sarcastically.
"I don't care if you do call it preaching!" retorted Dilys. "When first Leonora came, some of you made ​such a ridiculous fuss over her, I was quite disgusted. A girl ought to be judged on her own merits, not by what her father's got. If she shows herself ready to take a fair part in everything, and be of some service to the school, then I'll approve of her, and not till then."
"Hear, hear!" cried Hetty Hancock.