# The Leader of the Lower School/Chapter 8
### CHAPTER VIII Daisy Forgets

Though Gipsy was accustomed to try to enjoy herself in any place where circumstances chanced to fling her, and though she had contrived to settle down fairly happily at Briarcroft, she nevertheless thought often of her father, far away on the opposite side of the Equator. He must long ago have arrived at the Cape, and it was high time that she received news from him, telling her of his whereabouts. Every morning she looked out anxiously for the post, but day after day brought the same disappointment. She was the only boarder who had no letters, and she often felt her isolated position keenly when she saw her schoolmates tearing open their welcome budgets. It would be nice, she thought, to have a mother and brothers and sisters to write to her, and a home to go to in the holidays. In her roving life she could not remember a real home; a log hut for a few weeks in a mining camp had been the nearest approach to it.
"But I've Dad, and he's better than a whole family; and it's fun to go about the world with him, though I do live mostly at hotels when I'm not at school," ​she said to herself. "I'm not going to worry my head. Dad will send me a letter as soon as he possibly can, I know. He's not in the least likely to forget me."
So she tried to comfort herself, but every day she looked out wistfully for the postman—how wistfully nobody but Miss Edith ever noticed. It was growing towards the end of November, and already the boarders were beginning to talk of the holidays. The evening recreation time was devoted to the making of Christmas presents; even the little girls were busy embroidering traycloths and constructing pincushions. Gipsy began to work a pair of slippers for her father, a rather lengthy proceeding, for she was not clever at needlecraft, and was apt to pull her wool too tightly, having to unpick her stitches in consequence. There was no particular hurry in her case, though, for it was impossible for her to dispatch the parcel in time for Christmas when she did not know where to address it. If there was a forlorn look in the brown eyes sometimes when others talked about home, they twinkled again so readily that her schoolmates never realized she could feel lonely, and a stranger in a strange land. To them she appeared the very epitome of fun and happy-go-lucky carelessness, and they would have been surprised indeed if they had known what a very sore heart she carried occasionally under her outward assumption of jollity.
Daisy Scatcherd's birthday fell on the last day of November. Daisy, though she merited her nickname of "Scatterbrains", was rather a favourite among the ​boarders, so she came off very well indeed in the matter of presents. Her home people had also remembered her, and many interesting parcels arrived for her during the course of the morning. Between four and half-past, in the afternoon, she was taking a run round the garden in company with a few friends, when she spied the postman walking briskly up the drive.
"I expect he's got something more for me," she exclaimed, and dived under the laurels to take a short cut to the drive and intercept him.
"Give me the letters, please! It's my birthday!" she said breathlessly.
"Only three this afternoon, missy! Don't know whether any of 'em's for you or not," said the man, laughing.
"Let me see! Yes! yes! I'll take them, please. It's all right."
Not sorry to save the extra walk to the house, the postman departed. He was late, and had a long round before he could return home. Daisy was looking eagerly at the letters. One, a thin foreign envelope, was addressed to Miss Gipsy Latimer, and that she thrust hastily into her coat pocket; the other two were for herself. They both contained postal orders, which elevated her to such heights of satisfaction that she never gave a thought to the letter she had stuffed in her pocket: indeed, in her excitement she had put it away so automatically that the incident faded from her memory almost as soon as it happened. She rushed into the house in a state of ​great exultation, to ask Miss Edith to take charge of her orders, and put them away safely.
"A whole pound! Isn't it lovely? I shall buy a new camera, or perhaps a bookcase like Hetty Hancock's; or I want a bracelet watch most fearfully badly, and I expect I'll get some more money at Christmas that I could put to it. What would you advise, Miss Edith?" she chattered.
"Wait till you go home and consult your mother," said Miss Edith. "What a cold you've got, child! You oughtn't to have been running about the garden. And this coat is much too thin. You must wear your thick one now. Put this away in your wardrobe, to take home at Christmas."
"Mother said I needn't take my autumn clothes back with me," objected Daisy. "It only crams up my boxes. She said they might as well be left here."
"Very well. I'll put it away in my big cupboard until the spring. Here are some cough lozenges, and I shall rub your chest to-night with camphorated oil. Go and sit by the fire, and mind you don't get into draughts."
"I've got all my birthday letters to answer," replied Daisy, as she tripped gaily away. "I don't particularly want to go out again."
Miss Edith folded the coat neatly, placed a packet of camphor balls with it to keep away moths, and laid it with a pile of similar garments inside a large cupboard in the linen room. It never struck her to look in the pockets, so the letter so longed for and ​expected lay upstairs in the dark, and Gipsy waited and hoped, and hoped and waited, all in vain.
To forget her troubles she threw herself with enthusiasm into the working of the Dramatic Section of the Lower School Guild. The Juniors intended to act The Sleeping Beauty, and she had been chosen as the wicked fairy, a part which she rehearsed with much spirit. She was unwearied in her efforts at arranging costumes, constructing scenery, and coaching her fellow performers in their speeches. She soon had the whole play by heart, and could act prompter without the help of the book—a decided convenience to those whose memories were liable to fail them at critical moments.
Though the Guild comprised a number of separate societies, it lacked one feature which Gipsy considered it certainly ought to possess. Briarcroft had no school magazine, and not even among the Seniors had one ever been suggested.
"Yet it's really a most necessary thing," urged Gipsy. "How else can one give notice of coming events, and reports of what has taken place? It's such fun, too! Why shouldn't we steal a march on the Upper School and start one of our own?"
"There's the expense, my child, for one thing," replied Mary Parsons, who was treasurer of the United Guild. "The subscriptions don't go very far when we want to buy so many things with them. I'm sure they wouldn't run to printing."
"I never intended having it printed. I know that would be beyond us."
​"Perhaps we could have it typed," suggested Fiona Campbell, whose father was a journalist. "Dad always sends his articles to a typing office, and it looks just as good as printing when it's done."
"I don't think the Guild could afford even that," said Mary. "The costumes for the play will about clear out the funds for this term, and next term, you know, we voted to buy a developing machine."
"It was mean of the Seniors to stick to all the properties of the other Guilds! They might have given us something," put in Norah Bell.
"Trust them! They wouldn't part with so much as a twopenny music sheet!" said Gipsy. "But about the Magazine; it needn't cost us anything. My idea was to ask Miss White to lend us the duplicator, and we'd make a copy for each Form. They could be lent round and round. If we liked we might put in a few illustrations. You're good at drawing, Fiona."
"That certainly sounds more simple," said Dilys. "And the Mag. would be ripping fun. We'd have articles and poetry and stories and reviews and all sorts of things."
"Would it be a monthly?" enquired Hetty.
"I should say about twice a term would be enough," said Gipsy. "It would be difficult to get contributions if you had it too often."
"We couldn't duplicate the illustrations," objected Fiona, whose mind was already turned to things artistic.
"No; each Form would have to provide its own pictures for its own copy. That would make it all ​the more interesting. There'd be no two quite alike."
"And we could even have advertisements, and a kind of Exchange and Mart!" exclaimed Dilys, who was immensely taken with the idea. "It would just suit the First and Second; they're always trading white mice or silkworms with one another."
"We'll add a Beauty Bureau, with hints about the complexion, if you like," suggested Gipsy demurely.
The others laughed, for Dilys was rather vain of her appearance, and kept many bottles of toilet requisites upon her portion of the dressing-table.
"Best call a general meeting of the Guild; then we can propose the thing, and have it carried through in proper order," said Hetty. "I believe it will catch on. Gipsy, you write out some notices and pin them up in the classrooms."
A GENERAL MEETING
OF THE
UNITED GUILD
Will be held on Thursday at 4 p.m. in the Dressing-Room.
Business:—To discuss the proposal of starting a Lower School Magazine.
All members are particularly requested to attend."
So ran the Secretary's notice, and the girls who read it were only too eager to respond to the invitation. They felt that Gipsy stirred things up at Briarcroft, and were ready to listen to anything fresh she might ​have to suggest. As Hetty had expected, the idea was received with enthusiasm, and when Gipsy propounded her scheme in detail, everybody cordially agreed, and the motion was carried unanimously.
"There's one principal matter to be settled," said Dilys, who, as President, occupied the post of chairman. "We've got to choose an editor."
"Then I beg to propose Gipsy Latimer," said Meg Gordon, rising hastily.
"And I beg to second the proposal," said Hetty Hancock.
"Gipsy! Yes, Gipsy!" exclaimed the girls, and a forest of hands went up.
"You'll have to take it, Gipsy," urged Hetty. "You're the most suitable of anybody. It's a new thing in the school, so it's best managed by a new girl. We should none of us understand how to do it. Besides, you suggested it. The whole plan of it is yours."
"Right-o, if you think I'm 'the man for the job'," agreed Gipsy.
Though she had not canvassed for the post, Gipsy was delighted to get the editorship. Running a magazine was work that exactly suited her. She was sure she could make it a success, and she looked forward with immense satisfaction to issuing her first number. A name had yet to be chosen, and after much debate it was decided to call the new venture the Briarcroft Juniors' Journal.
"That'll quite cut the Seniors out of it," said Meg Gordon. "We don't want them to get any of the credit."
​"And 'Juniors' Journal' has a nice juicy kind of sound," said Daisy Scatcherd.
"A juicy journal would be a new departure—it suggests oily words and honeyed speeches!" laughed Hetty.
By general vote, the first number was to be issued a week before the end of the term, so Gipsy had to set to work in earnest in her capacity of editress, inviting contributions from likely members, and settling the various departments of her magazine. She intended to conduct it on the lines of a real publication, and to keep separate pages for Sports and Pastimes, Reviews of Books, Nature Notes, How to Make Things, Handy Recipes, Puzzles, Competitions, and Letters from Correspondents, as well as matter of a more original literary character. It was rather a big order, but Gipsy's ambitions soared high; she felt it was a chance for the Lower School to shine, and she spared no trouble to make her scheme a success.
There was very little time for all this, but she worked systematically, apportioning the departments among different girls, and making them promise to write certain things. Joyce Adamson, who was "great" on hockey, was told off for "Sports and Pastimes"; Ethel Newton, a day girl, who lived a few miles away quite in the heart of the country, undertook the "Nature Notes"; Meg Gordon's fertile brain could be trusted to invent puzzles and competitions; neat-fingered Norah Bell contributed an article on "How to make Paper Boxes"; and Gipsy herself undertook the "Library Shelf" and "Answers to Correspondents". ​Fiona Campbell provided some dainty illustrations, and her example was emulated by members of other Forms, who were also invited to submit articles, stories, nature notes, and puzzles. Gipsy, with the oligarchy of the Seniors fresh in her memory as a warning, did not wish the Upper Fourth to monopolize the Magazine by any means, and the younger girls were strongly urged to try their 'prentice hands at the art of composition. She herself was busy with the opening chapter of a serial, in which she intended to set forth all her adventures in the Colonies, embroidered by the aid of her imagination. Fortunately Miss White was kind, and, sympathizing with the idea of a magazine, allowed the duplicator to be used in its production, so that Gipsy was able to strike off six copies, for the First, Second, Lower Third, Upper Third, Lower Fourth, and Upper Fourth respectively. Each Form undertook to produce its own cover, the younger children being helped by the drawing mistress, who was much interested, and allowed a special afternoon to be devoted to the purpose. The designs were painted on brown paper, and varied from sprays of flowers to conventional patterns, according to the taste of the Form, though each bore in large letters the same inscription: Briarcroft Juniors' Journal.
It was a proud day for Gipsy when she completed her arrangements, and all the six copies were ready in their artistic covers. The contributors had really done their best in the brief time at their disposal. There were two or three short stories, an article on pet dogs, some recipes for sweets and toffee, including Gipsy's favourite ​American Fudge, and quite a long page of nature notes, the latter being contributed mostly by the day girls. Gipsy had not had time to write any book reviews, but she had enjoyed herself over the answers to correspondents. She had posted up a notice inviting letters when first the scheme for the Magazine was accepted, and quite a budget had been delivered at the "editorial office"—otherwise her school desk. Some were couched in rather a facetious vein, but she answered them as if they were intended to be serious, sometimes with a comic result. A correspondent who signed herself "Honeysuckle" had enquired: "Can you tell me how to stop my feet from growing any bigger? I take fives in shoes and I am only eleven." To which Gipsy replied: "You are evidently eating too much, Honeysuckle! Limit your diet to water and crusts, and abstain from sweets, cakes, and toffee in any form. You will then probably stop growing at all in any direction, either up or down."
Gertie Butler, of the Lower Third, had blossomed into poetry, and had composed an "Ode to the Magazine", the opening lines of which ran:
"Hail, literary gem of Briarcroft Hall! Thou com'st to be a blessing to us all".
The exchange column was voted "ripping", and resulted in the transfer of several families of white mice, some foreign stamps, a variety of picture post-cards, and other treasures. The first instalment of Gipsy's serial, "The Girl Pioneer of Wild Cat Creek", was so thrillingly exciting that its readers could hardly ​wait for the second chapter, and pressed the authoress for details of "what was coming next"; but as Gipsy had not made up any more, they were obliged to curb their impatience. Altogether the Magazine was a brilliant success; and if it lacked anything in composition and grammar, it made that up in other ways. Miss Poppleton, who examined a copy, expressed her entire approval, and the teachers greatly encouraged the girls to persevere and continue this new branch of the Guild. The Seniors affected to ignore the whole affair.
"But that's just put on," said Hetty Hancock. "They know all about it. I saw Helen Roper and Doreen Tristram sneak into our classroom yesterday when no one was there, at dinner-time. The Mag. was lying on Miss White's desk, and they took it up and began to read it. They simply shrieked with laughing."
"What cheek! Let them write one of their own then!" exclaimed the indignant editress. "I'll undertake to say it wouldn't be half as interesting as ours!"
"Not one ten-millionth part as nice. Ours is just too scrumptiously ripping!" agreed Hetty.