04 The Head Girl of the Chalet School by Elinor Brent-Dyer Page A

was on the third floor, and the stairs were steep and narrow. At length she was there, and springing into the arms of a slight, fair girl of fifteen.
    Frieda Mensch was much smaller than the rest of her family, typically German, with long flaxen plaits on her shoulders, blue eyes, and an apple-blossom skin. She was very pretty, though by no means as attractive looking, as her elder sister, who followed a minute or two later with Joey. Bernhilda, with her corn-coloured hair in a coronal of plaits round her head, was charming enough to have stood for one of the princesses in Grimm’s Tales . She was a good head taller than her sister, and carried herself with the same easy grace so noticeable in Joey and Grizel. A door opened at Frieda’s joyful exclamations, and Frau Mensch, very fat, very fair like her daughters, and with one of the kindest faces in the world, rolled out and caught the visitors in a close embrace. “But how we have missed you, my children! There seemed to be something lacking in our joy this Christmas. Die Grossmutter has wearied for your return; she is in the salon now. Come, my children, and greet her.”
    She led the way to the long narrow salon where a tiny old woman, Herr Mensch’s mother, was sitting by the big white porcelain stove. Old Frau Mensch was only two years short of her century, and she was very frail, but her eyes still snapped with aliveness, and she made herself felt in the little household. Joey went up to her, curtseying first in the pretty, old-fashioned way the old dame liked, and then offering her hand. The Robin followed her example, but she was kissed and crooned over. Nearly seventy years had passed since Frau Mensch had lost her one little daughter, and the Robin possessed the same rosy face and dark eyes and hair of baby Natalie, who had gladdened the world for seven short years before she had gone to the Paradise of little children.
    Then the others came in, and there was a general rejoicing for the next few moments. But once that was over Frau Mensch the younger – Tante Gretchen, as the girls had learned to call her – swept them all off for a meal, which she was sure they needed after their journey.
    Joey heaved a sigh of joy as she settled down to a bowl of soup and a big slice of rye bread, which she loved. “English food’s all very well,” she said, “but I love what we have here. I used to get so bored with the white bread. I love this!” She took a large bite out of her slice, and beamed on them all.
    “Joey, you needn’t act so like a little pig,” said her sister severely. “Even if you are glad to get back, I think you might have a little less to say about your food! I hope she didn’t behave like this in England, Grizel?”

    She purposely included the elder girl in the conversation. That there was something wrong with Grizel was patent to anyone. What it was, Mrs. Russell had made up her mind to find out before they were all very much older. Now, as the girl shook her head, she bit her lips. What could be the matter? However, it was no time to ask questions now, so she turned to Miss Maynard with some idle remark about the journey.
    “Quite simple,” was the answer. “Paris was delightful, and we had a good time seeing the shops at Basle.”
    “I thought you meant to stay longer,” said Mrs. Russell. “Why did you leave it so soon?”
    “It was pouring with snow,” said Joey hastily. “You never saw anything like it! If it’s going to be bad weather, it’s best to be at home, I think!”
    Madge frowned. Then she decided to say nothing, though Jo’s rudeness in bursting in like this on her conversation with Miss Maynard was both unusual in her and outrageous. As for Grizel, she had no more to say, but ate her soup and bread, and drank the coffee which Bernhilda set before her. The meal was a compromise between Mittagessen and Kaffee, since it came at three o’clock – fifteen, if you are going to count time as the Continentals do. When