New Developments

There were several bunches of flowers for Miss Clare when the children came into school and these I took over to her as she lay breakfasting in bed. She seemed better, and awaited Dr Mar­tin's visit with composure.

The work of making straw bunches proceeded briskly. In the midst of the hubbub a visitor arrived. A tall thin woman, dressed in a fawn* overcoat and fawn hat, came round the door and stood gazing down upon the squatting children with an expression of strong distaste.

I hastened to welcome her, noticing that her complexion was as fawn as her attire and wondering, not for the first time, why sallow people are so magnetically drawn to this colour. Even her teeth were a subdued shade of yellow.*

'I am Miss Pitt, the new needlework inspector,' she said, revealing her teeth a little more. 'This doesn't appear to be a very convenient time to call.'

I explained that we were going to have Harvest Festival, but that it was no bother to show her our work.

Ankle deep in straw, I pushed across to the needlework cupboard and returned with girls' bags.

'The bigger ones are making aprons with cross­over straps.* That brings in buttonholes,' I said, pulling one or two specimens into view, 'and the small girls are making bibs or hankies.'

I left her to look at them while I broke up a fight which had started in a corner.

'Oh, dear!' said Miss Pitt, scrutinizing an apron, 'oh, dear! I'm afraid this is very out-of-date.'

'Out-of-date?' I repeated bewildered. 'But children cart always do with pinafores!'*

Miss Pitt passed a fawn hand across her brow, as one who has to put up with fools.*

'We just don't,' she began wearily, 'we just don't expect young children like this to do such fine work.* All this hemming and oversewing and buttonholing — it just isn't done these days. Plenty of thick bright wool, crewel needles,* not too small, and coarse crash and the very simplest stitches! As for these poor babies with their hankies —!' She gave a high, affected laugh, 'Canvas mats is the sort of thing that they should be attempting. Eyestrain, you know!'

'But not one of them wears glasses,' I protested, 'and they've always been perfectly happy making these things for themselves or their families. And surely they should learn the elementary stitches!'

'No; I'm not criticizing — ' said Miss Pitt. I felt I should like to know just what she was doing then, but restrained myself. 'It's a matter of approach!' she added. 'Ah well! I will call in again some time next term and see if I can give you some more help. We do so want to bring Colour and Life into these rather drab surroundings, don't we?'

I could have suggested that a more colourful wardrobe than hers might help toward, this end,* but common courtesy forbade it.*

'One meets such hardworking people in this job,' she continued smiling graciously at me, 'such really worthy fellow-creatures. It's a great privilege to be able to guide them, I find.'

She gave a last look round the room. 'Good-bye, Miss Annett,' she said, consulting a list. 'This is Beech Green School, isn't it?'

'This is Fairacre School,' I pointed out. 'Mr. Annett is headmaster at Beech Green School.'

'Then he's next on my list,' replied the imperturbable Miss Pitt. She stepped out into the sunshine.

'Turn right here,' I told her, 'and it's about two or three miles along the Caxley road.' I watched her turn her car and drive off. 'And what Mr. Annett will have to say to that fawn fiend* I should dearly love to know!' I thought.

*

Dr Martin had prescribed at least three weeks' rest for Miss Clare.

'But she's so anxious to clear up her affairs* properly at school that I see no reason why she shouldn't have the last two weeks of term here, if she makes the progress I think she will,' he added.

'It will be difficult for her after all these years — perhaps this break may help the parting a little.'

Her sister came to fetch her after tea. Miss Clare had agreed to stay with her for a week, although it was quite obvious that her independ­ent spirit rebelled against submitting to a younger sister's ministrations.

My problem now was to find a substitute for Miss Clare for the next few weeks, and I rang up the local education office at Caxley to see if there was a supply teacher available.

Supply teachers are a rarity in country districts, but I was in luck.

'Have you come across Mrs Finch-Edwards?' Mr Taylor said at the other end of the line.

'No, does she live near here?'

'They live in Springbourne.' This is a hamlet two miles away from Fairacre, further from Caxley. 'They've only been there two or three months. She's had experience with infants in London. I'll see if she can be with you on Monday.'

'That's wonderful!' I said thankfully, putting down the receiver.

*

Mrs. Finch-Edwards turned out to be a large, boisterous young woman, with a high colour, a high voice, and a high coiffure.* Her hearty efficiency and superb self-confidence made me feel quite timid by contrast. All through the few weeks of her stay at Fairacre School the partition rattled with the vibrations of her cheerful voice and the innumerable nursery rhymes and jingles* which the infants learned eagerly. They all adored her, for she had an energy that matched their own,* and her extensive wardrobe of many colours intrigued them.

The girls in my class were full of admiration for Mrs. Finch-Edwards.

'She's real pretty,' said Anne to Linda, 'even if she is a bit fat.'

'Didn't ought to wear mauve, though,' said Linda, smoothing her new grey skirt. 'It's too old for her. You have to be very fair or very dark for mauve, my mum says.'

We worked well together, although I missed Miss Clare's tranquil presence. Mrs. Finch-Edwards kept pointing out the deficiencies of Fairacre School as compared with the schools she had known. She was appalled by the jug-mug-and-drinking-pail apparatus* in the lobby of our school.

'How you struggle on here, year after year, dear, I don't know. It must be truly frustrating for you. It tells on your looks in the end,* too,' she added, taking a quick look at herself in the mirror. I bore her comments on the poverty of equipment* at Fairacre School and the poverty of looks* of its headmistress with all the humility I could find in myself.

'We usually give a concert at Christmas,' I told her, 'and I think we could manage one this year. Could you teach the infants two or three songs with actions* or perhaps a very short play? Miss Clare could cope with the carols when she comes back, and my class are going to do "Cinderella". What do you think about it?'

Mrs. Finch-Edwards was most enthusiastic and made suggestions for costumes which she offered to make, with some help. An idea struck me, as I saw Linda Moffat twirling round and round in the playground showing off her new skirt.

'I'll call on Linda's mother. I know she's clever with clothes, and has a machine. She may help too.' I was glad that I had thought of this opportunity of seeing Mrs. Moffat again, for I suspected that she was not very happy in the village yet, and, despite the beauties of her bungalow, a lonely woman.

'Come with me,' I urged Mrs. Finch-Edwards, 'we'll go one evening next week and see what happens.'

I little realized that that evening was going to begin a strong friendship between the two women that would flourish for the rest of their lives.

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