Free 03.5 Visitors for the Chalet School by Elinor Brent-Dyer Page A

don’t you think, Doreen?”
    The mist had indeed lifted considerably since breakfast time; even the far side of the lake was gradually becoming visible.
    “Mam’selle advises us to stay in the house today … must think up some ploy for the girls … prepare something for the party tomorrow … that should keep them occupied.”
    Saturday night’s party, to which the Chaletians had invited Grange House, was eagerly awaited by most of the girls. Perhaps some would-be “sophisticates” were a little inclined to be superior about attending a
    “children’s party”, as they termed it; but these were a small minority and even they were, secretly, more interested than they allowed themselves to appear.
    Originally, it had been intended that all the entertainment at the party would be provided by the Chalet girls, the afternoon being taken up with the netball match. However, since the match must obviously be postponed, Mademoiselle and Miss Bruce had agreed to alter the plans and the Grange House girls were now invited to contribute something themselves to the evening’s entertainment.
    “Better get the girls together, Doreen … discuss the possibilities … more your line than mine, I think. Any ideas what they might do?”
    “Not really, Miss Bruce; but I think it’s a top-hole scheme. I’m sure they’ll think up something.” Miss Mortlock had been longing herself for something definite to do. She went off happily to gather the girls in the hotel sitting-room.
    Doreen Mortlock was a pleasant, sensible but rather limited young woman, who held Miss Bruce in considerable awe. She felt herself much nearer to the girls, as indeed she was, being only twenty-two years old. She had qualified the year before at a famous physical training college and the post at Grange House, where the headmistress was never afraid to give young talent a chance, was her first.
    She found the girls delighted to have a new interest to take their minds off the dismal weather. And it was surprising how quickly the rest of the morning passed as they hammered away at their plans.
    At first there was no lack of ideas, although there seemed to be a snag to all of them.
    “What about charades?”
    “For goodness sake! Do let’s try and be a little original.”
    “A scene from Shakespeare?”
    “Wouldn’t that just be a crashing bore?”
    “Well, perhaps there’s a short play we could do. There must be something in the Chalet School library.”
    “Don’t be dotty! Even if there is, we’ve simply no time to learn it.”
    “It’s for tomorrow evening, you ninny, not the middle of next week.”
    “Could we have a fair and a gipsy to tell fortunes? That went down well last spring, when the Upper Fifth did it.”
    “But that was quite different; we don’t know this lot; fortune-telling’s no fun unless you know people jolly well.”
    The suggestions came more slowly. The pauses between them grew longer.
    Evelyn Barclay, generally considered Grange House’s best musician, was unwise enough to propose they should sing a group of madrigals. This roused a storm of opposition.
    “What an unspeakably ghastly thought!” Patricia said emphatically. “In any case, the Chalet people are pretty expert in that line themselves. Juliet Carrick told me that their singing master, Mr. Denny, is a real genius at getting results, even if he is a bit peculiar himself.”
    “They do a lot of folk-dancing too,” said Pamela Trent. “I don’t think it would be wise to try and compete in that line either.”

    “Wait a minute, though!” Joan Hatherley broke in excitedly. “An idea’s just beginning to stir in the murky depths of my mind. It mayn’t be any good but just let me think a moment.” Joan gazed round with a calculating air. She turned to two Scottish girls, who were among Grange House’s small contingent of boarders: “You two must know lots of Scottish dances, don’t you? Can you dance the foursome reel?” They nodded; and everyone