Excellent, Santa!
| The CBB http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/ | |
| Alice in Chaletland for Lottie, completed for Twelfth Night http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=6961 |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 9:07 am ] |
| Post subject: | Alice in Chaletland for Lottie, completed for Twelfth Night |
Chapter 1 – Down the Tunnel in the Hedge Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversation?’ So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid) whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking daisies, when suddenly a Girl in a brown and flame school uniform ran close by her. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Girl say to herself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered about this, but at the time itself it all seemed quite natural); but when the Girl actually took a watch out of her blazer pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a schoolgirl with either a blazer pocket or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after her, and fortunately was just in time to see her push through a small gap in the hedge. In another moment Alice went after her, never once considering how she was to get out again. She made a snail-like progress along a narrow green tunnel, whence she finally emerged into a kind of cave in the yew-trees, where there was just room for two or three people to kneel. The Schoolgirl grinned at her cast another glance at her watch. It was none too easy to see in the greenish light that came through the trees, but she was just able to make out where the hands pointed, so she said, ‘Ten past three. We’ve a quarter of an hour yet before we need to go in. Come on! Let’s explore.’ Accordingly, she set off again, taking the lead once more. ‘We can’t go an awful lot further,’ said Alice as she crawled in. ‘The hedge doesn’t go much further, does it?’ ‘The yew hedge doesn’t. But it joins on to the old hornbeam thicket at the far end. I don’t know if you can get through that. I’ve never tried.’ The Schoolgirl spoke under difficulties, for an intrusive twig had got tangled in her hair, and she was having her own troubles over releasing it. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘we’ll try now. Are you a new girl? I’m Gwensi. What’s your name?’ ‘Alice. But do you think we’d better talk? People might hear us.’ There was common sense in this remark, as Gwensi was quick to realise, so the remainder of the crawl through the yew hedge was conducted in more or less silence, an occasional ‘Ouch!’ being the most that either had to say. The end of the yew hedge opened, as Gwensi had suggested, into a large thicket of hornbeam which was of great age. Here they were stopped for the moment, for the tunnel, though still existent, was not wide enough to admit of their passing through, even Alice, the smaller of the two, shaking her head when she saw its narrowness. Not that they were to be deterred by a mere detail of that kind! Gwensi produced her Guide-knife, without which she never went far, and proceeded to hack away at the branches as well as she could, while Alice, by dint of stretching round and over her, broke off branches until at length they had cleared a way of sorts for themselves. ‘All the same, I’ll bet we’ll tear ourselves,’ said Alice. ‘Oh, well, we’ll have to do some extra mending; that’s all,’ said Gwensi comfortably. Alice said no more, but she thought it over. The youngest of a large family, where money was scarce, she knew that frocks were not too easily come by; and she was wearing her latest hand-me-down of blue gingham, with its wide collar and cuffs of white cambric. The frock was practically new, and if it were torn, there would be trouble for her. ‘I’m going to get out of mine,’ she said. ‘We’ll find it easier to get through there, anyhow, if we haven’t any skirts to bother about. Gwensi saw the force of this. With a good deal of wriggling they contrived to get out of their frocks, which they folded up, and pushed well to the side of the hedge to be out of the way. In their anxiety, they pushed them so far, that a small part of Alice’s skirt peeped through the thick stems, and later on caused much heart-searching to the people hunting for them with ever-increasing worry. However, that was some hours ahead. Now, the intrepid explorers having wriggled free of their hampering skirts, found it a comparatively easy matter to struggle through the narrow opening and worm their way into the heart of the thicket, where, most unexpectedly, they found themselves in a kind of round chamber, plainly cut by hand, for no trees would ever have grown in just that particular shape of themselves. It had a cone-shaped roof, and was high enough for even long-legged Gwensi to stand upright. ‘Well!’ exclaimed that damsel, as she looked round; ‘we have made a find! I wonder who keeps it like this, though? Can you get out anywhere, d’you think?’ They scouted round, and then Gwensi uttered a low cry of triumph as she pointed to a place where the ground shelved down, apparently to the roots. ‘There’s an underground passage! I’m sure of it!’ With one accord they flung themselves on their knees to peer down into the uninviting tunnel which ran downwards into the earth. It was little more than a huge burrow, but quite big enough for a small man or a schoolgirl to crawl down. Naturally they prepared to crawl down it without the faintest idea of any danger to themselves. All thoughts of preparation had long since faded from the Gwensi’s mind; and in the semi-twilight in which they had been the changing of the light was no reminder to them. Even their stomachs gave them no hint of the passing of time, for in their excitement they forgot to feel hungry. ‘I wish we’d had the sense to bring a torch or two,’ Gwensi said, as she once more prepared to head the expedition. ‘I suppose you haven’t any matches and a candle-end or so about you?’ ‘We’re in our Liberties and our knicks,’ Alice reminded her simply. ‘But even if we’d had our frocks, I don’t cart matches and candles about with me.’ Gwensi sighed. But she saw that if they meant to follow this adventure to its end, they must go on in the darkness and trust to luck to getting through all right. She wasn’t prepared to give up when they had got so far; so with a last warning, ‘Well, follow me, and don’t be in too much of a hurry or you may get kicked!’ she proceeded on hands and knees down the tunnel. For about ten minutes they went in a black darkness that might have frightened them wholesomely had they not been so intent on their quest. Then, to their amazement, they came out suddenly into a pit of some depth, the edges of which were protected by a mass of gorse. Here, they found unmistakable signs of human occupation. An old tin-can, still quite serviceable, stood at one side of the pit; and in a deep recess near at hand were the ashes of a wood-fire: a couple of tins of salmon and one of peaches reminded them that they were hungry, and, all at once, they began to think of the time. ‘Whatever time is it?’ demanded Alice. Gwensi looked down at her watch. ‘Ten past three—but it can’t be! It was that the last time I looked at it, and that’s ages ago!’ She raised her wrist to her ear and listened. ‘The wretched thing’s stopped! Goodness knows what time it is! Frightfully late, I should say!’ The sensible thing would have been to go back up the earth tunnel. But for no known reason, the sensible thing was the one thing they never thought of. Instead, Alice made a dive for an opening on the further side, and Gwensi was after her in a flash. They found themselves in another tunnel which curved round almost at once, and they turned and fled into the darkness, and the next ten minutes were very uncomfortable for them both. It ended in Alice’s floundering into a pool of stone-cold water up to the waist, and her anguished shriek and the sound of the splash she made brought Gwensi to a standstill. Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and Gwensi was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear her say, as she turned a corner, ‘Oh my only Aunt Sempronia, how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind her when she turned the corner, but Gwensi was no longer to be seen: she found herself, fully dressed once again, by another hedge, which was thick and thorny. |
|
| Author: | Nightwing [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 9:38 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Excellent, Santa!
|
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 3:00 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
That's exciting! I wonder what's going to happen next. Thank you, Santa!
|
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 3:05 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you Santa
|
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 5:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thankyou Santa! |
|
| Author: | Alison H [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 6:35 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Lovely, thank you Santa! |
|
| Author: | Abi [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 9:44 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Oh, lovely! Thanks, Santa! |
|
| Author: | MaryR [ Wed Dec 02, 2009 10:41 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Most mysterious. Thanks, Santa.
|
|
| Author: | aitchemelle [ Thu Dec 03, 2009 10:58 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you Santa, this is very clever! 
|
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Fri Dec 04, 2009 10:55 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Chapter 2 – The Pond of Smiles ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English). By dint of sundry crouchings and peerings, Alice at last found a chink through which she could see into it, and her quick eyes caught the gleam of sunlight on water. She pushed hard at two tough stems and got them apart, making a good peep-hole for herself. At the same time there came the sound of gay voices. She broke off two or three twigs and widened her outlook. Now she discovered that there was a good-sized pond near-by, with alders growing in clumps round it, and a big old poplar tree at the far side. Coming across the meadow to this pond was quite a party, headed by three little girls of about seven or eight, armed with shrimping-nets and glass jars. After them trotted a sturdy, fair-haired boy of four or so, driven in reins by a smaller one who was as dark as he was fair. Last of all was a plump young woman with masses of flaxen plaits twisted round and round her head, and a stocking in her hand at which she was knitting swiftly. The whole party came to the sunny side of the pond, which was just beyond the hedge where Alice was crouching, and the young woman, spreading a rug that she carried over her arm, sat down. The three little girls squatted beside her for a moment to whip off their sandals, and then stood up to tuck their frocks into their matching knickers. The boys discarded their sandals too, and then the whole troop made for the water with wild yells of delight. ‘Not too far, meine Jungling.’ Warned the young woman. ‘We’ll be careful.’ Called one of the little girls with a toss of thick chestnut hair from her little tanned face. ‘Come on, Con and Margot! Bet you I catch more than you do!’ ‘Bet you you don’t!’ Screamed another whose hair was, as Alice had noted, a warm golden. The third was black-haired, but they were very much alike for all that, and plainly of one family. ‘Not quarrel,’ said the nurse firmly. ‘Charles, mein Voglein, come to thy Anna and let her turn up the trousers from the water. Stephen – ah, das ist gut!’ For the elder boy was tucking up his short trousers as far as they would go. Little Charles came obediently and let Anna roll his up; then he too was off, and splashing joyously in the cool water. This was too much for Alice. She broke off more twigs till she had got a wider space cleared. Then she began to wriggle, and first her bright head, then her blue shoulders, and lastly her brown legs went through the hole in the hedge at the cost of a few scratches and a long rip in her frock. Still, she got through, and as the party, startled at the sound of her struggles, turned to look, she scrambled to her feet triumphantly. ‘It’s the new girl from Oxford House!’ Cried the golden-haired damsel. ‘Mamma said there was one – she saw her with the lady in Parry’s this morning when she went to order the sugar.’ Anna, who had dropped her knitting and for to her feet, spoke with a pleasant smile. ‘You are ze Mädchen from Oxford House?’ She asked with a strong foreign accent. Alice looked doubtful. What did ‘Mädchen’ mean? The dark girl spoke up. ‘Anna means, aren’t you from Oxford House?’ She said prettily. ‘Mamma said she saw you this morning, and she was sure you must be. We were awfully pleased, ‘cos there’s never been any children at Oxford House before.’ ‘Only old Mrs. Pitt, who was about a hundred’ put in her sister. ‘What’s your name? How old are you? Can you stay and play with us for a while?’ ‘I’m Alice Liddell, and I’m ten.’ Said Alice. ‘I can stay all right, thank you. My sister told me to come out and play for the afternoon as she’s busy and Mother’s tired so she’s gone to rest. What’s your names, and how old are you?’ Recognizing that the child was likely to be welcomed as a playfellow for her own charges, Anna sat down again and took up her knitting, and the children came out of the pond and began to make friends with each other. ‘Alice? What a jolly name!’ Said the chestnut-haired girl. ‘We’re the Maynards. These are my sisters, Con and Margot; and the boys are Stephen and Charles. I’m Len.’ ‘We three are triplets,’ added dark-haired Con. ‘What’s that?’ demanded Alice, to whom the word was new. ‘We all came together,’ explained Len. ‘It doesn’t often happen in a family, so Mamma and Papa are very proud to have us like that. We’re eight – nearly. Stephen is five, and Charles is just four. We’ve got a new little brother, but he’s at Plas Gwyn – that’s our house – having a nap, and Mamma stayed to look after him. His name is Michael. He only came five months ago, so he’s still rather new. Have you any little brothers or sisters?’ Alice shook her head. ‘No; I’m the youngest. There’s just my two big sisters who are nearly grown-up and then me.’ ‘When’s your birthday?’ asked Margot. ‘Ours is November.’ ‘The end of June – the thirtieth. What day’s your birthday?’ ‘The fifth – Bonfire Night. Mamma once said we were her big bang,’ said Len with a chuckle. ‘What did she mean?’ asked Alice curiously. ‘Why, just that three of us was a surprise. That was when we lived in Guernsey. But we don’t remember it,’ said Len. ‘We were just wee babies when we came to live here, and all the boys was borned here, too. Stephen’s birthday is Feb’ry, and Charles is June like you.’ ‘Only yours is at the very end, and his is the very beginning,’ added Margot. ‘I’ve heard Papa say he had a near shave of being a May kitten.’ She finished with an infectious chuckle. ‘I’m a June wose.’ Put in Charles himself. ‘Mamma said so.’ ‘Why do you call your mother “Mamma”?’ asked Alice curiously. ‘I thought no one did now. Mother called her mother that when she was a little girl, but Edith calls her “Mother.” And so do I.’ ‘Mamma liked it better than “Mummy.” explained Con. ‘And when you’re just little, Mother and Father are hard to say. So they’re Papa and Mamma. Very nice, I think. I don’t like being like everybody, though all our cousins say Mummy and Daddy.’ ‘I see,’ said Alice – not really seeing at all. ‘What do you catch in the pond? Shrimps – or jelly-fish?’ ‘Neither, of course; this isn’t the sea. It’s tiddlers,’ said Len. ‘We don’t get them very often, though. Let’s go and try now. Take off your sandals and give them to Anna to look after, and stick your frock into your knickers in case you get the edges wet. You can have first go with my net if you like. Here you are!’ And she put the net into Alice’s hand. Alice shook her head. ‘Oh no; it’s yours,’ she said quickly. But Len laughed. ‘You take it first. Con or Margot will let me have a go with one of theirs presently. We’ve got to share with Steve and Charles, anyhow, ’cos there are only three nets. Steve broke his when we were at the seaside, and Charles’s got left behind somewhere or other. Thus reassured, Alice kicked off her sandals, took the net, and in a moment would have been splashing riotously in the pond, but an outcry from Anna prevented her. ‘But the little dress, mein Voglein! Come here, and Anna will tuck it into the knickers. There!’ As Alice meekly went to be tucked up. ‘So – and so! Now all is safe. Run and enjoy thyself – but go not too far, for it grows deep.’ ‘How queerly Anna talks,’ said Alice to Len as they were splashing about, dredging with the nets, and bringing up mud, weed, and an occasional water-spider, but alas! – no tiddlers. ‘She’s Tirolean; that’s why,’ said Len. ‘Mamma and Papa used to live in Tirol when Mamma was young. Only when the Germans came, they all had to leave. Anna came too, and when Mamma married Papa, she went to be their servant. Now she’s our nurse, and we love her ever so, all of us.’ ‘She seems awfully bossy.’ ‘Not really. But she knows Mamma expects her to keep us from getting in too much of a mess, and as you’re playing with us, I expect she feels she ought to look after you too.’ Knowing that Mother would have plenty to say about the rent in her frock as it was, and would certainly have scolded her even more severely if she turned up wet and muddy, Alice said no more. But the tear had not escaped Anna’s vigilant eye, and when the young lady gave up the net to Len, she was called to the rug, bidden slip off the frock and sit down, and Anna produced a little pocket-hussif filled with needles all threaded with different colours in sewing-silk and cotton. She quickly matched up the blue frock, and had it finely repaired in a few minutes. Greatly impressed, Alice said “Thank you” as prettily as she knew how, and Anna, with an indulgent smile, bade her remember to be more careful another time, and then turned to tell Margot to give her net to Stephen, who had not had a turn yet, though Con had already handed hers to Charles. Margot was not at all willing to do so. She clung to the handle desperately, and was on the verge of going into a screaming rage, when she glanced up, caught her younger brother’s eye, and subsided, handing over the net quite meekly. That was the only contretemps in a delightful afternoon. Alice forgot to miss Clem and Tony as she waded about with the others at the edge of the pond, shrieking with them over their captures; or, later on, sitting curled up on the rug between Len and Con, listening to one of Anna’s delightful tales about fairies and Kobolds. Stephen, when it was ended, calmly remarked that it wasn’t true, anyhow. ‘It’s a story,’ remarked Len severely. ‘You can’t always have stories about things that really happen, Steve Maynard.’ ‘I like them best,’ said Steve bluntly, ‘Another day, mein Kind, remarked Anna, ‘it shall be a true story, and thy Anna will tell thee about her brother Hansi, and how she went with him to gather wild strawberries on the mountain-side, and came back with a baby kid instead,’ she added consolingly. ‘Oh, tell’s now,’ pleaded Margot. But the distant sound of a cowbell ringing brought an end to the afternoon. Len jumped up, exclaiming, ‘that’s for tea! Here’s your sandals, Charles. I’ll help you fasten them.’ ‘Oh, must you go now? asked Alice disconsolately. ‘Oh, yes. When Mamma rings we’ve got to go at once.’ Said Con, who was struggling with a sandal buckle. ‘Don’t you have to do as you’re told at once? We always do, else it’s disobeying, and Mamma says that’s one of the naughtiest things we can do.’ Alice, who was an adept at coaxing when she wanted her own way, stared at this. Mother had fits of being particular about obedience, but Edith could be “wangled” more often than not if Mother were nowhere about. However, she changed the subject and said, ‘Well, can you come again to-morrow?’ Len shook her head. ‘’Fraid not. To-morrow we’re going to the Round House to spend the day with Auntie Madge and our cousins, ’cos Uncle Jem has gone away to Edinburgh and she wants Mamma to keep her company.’ Alice had already heard of this beloved aunt and the four cousins, David, Sybil, Josette, and Ailie. She had also heard of the big school where all the girls went which belonged to the same aunt, though she did not teach in it. And she had heard of “Auntie Rob” and “Auntie Daisy” who weren’t real aunts at all, but lived at Plas Gwyn when they weren’t away. ‘Oh, I wish you could come,’ she said mournfully. ‘It’s so lonely by myself.’ ‘Best come to school with us, then,’ advised Con, standing up. ‘Heaps of girls there. You wouldn’t be lonely then.’ ‘I am going to school. That’s one reason why we came to live here. But I don’t know if it’s your school.’ ‘Sure to be,’ said Len ‘There isn’t any other near ’cept the village school; and you won’t go there.’ The bell rang again, more imperatively this time, and the party picked up its nets and jars, said good-bye, and then struck off across the field, Margot shouting a promise of being back on Thursday, and Con shrieking more advice about joining them at school when it began the following week. Alice turned back to the pond, but suddenly her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in water. Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she realised it was smaller than either of those, and she soon made out that it was only a girl that had slipped in like herself. So she called softly to her, ‘Girl dear! Do come back!’ When the girl heard this, she turned round and swam slowly back to her: her face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and she said in a low trembling voice, ‘Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my history, and you’ll understand.’ It was high time to go, for the water was getting quite crowded with the girls that had fallen into it: there were Joey and Robin, Margot and Prunella, and several others. Alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. |
|
| Author: | Liz K [ Fri Dec 04, 2009 11:11 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Curioser and curioser indeed!  
|
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Fri Dec 04, 2009 11:14 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
This is very cleverly done! Thank you, Santa! But I hope we don't have to wait too long for the next installment or I'm afraid all those poor girls swimming around will catch their deaths of cold, and Matey will have something to say! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Fri Dec 04, 2009 12:02 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Hmm, curious indeed! I wonder who she's met? Thankyou Lottie's Santa! |
|
| Author: | Abi [ Fri Dec 04, 2009 10:34 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
This is indeed very curious. Thank you Santa! |
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Sat Dec 05, 2009 1:09 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thanks Santa
|
|
| Author: | JB [ Sat Dec 05, 2009 1:26 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thanks Santa. |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Sun Dec 06, 2009 11:30 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Chapter 3 – A Caucus Race and a Winter Tale They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank — some in the brown and flame uniform she had seen before, some in a strange-looking blue smocked frock, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with Prunella, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, ‘I am older than you, and must know better’; and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old she was, and, as Prunella positively refused to tell her age, there was no more to be said. ‘What I was going to say,’ said Margot in an offended tone, ‘was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’ ‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but Margot had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything. ‘Why,’ said Margot, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how Margot managed it.) First she marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ she said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, Margot suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round her, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’ This question Margot could not answer without a great deal of thought, and she sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon her forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last Margot said, ‘Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.’ ‘But who is to give the prizes?’ quite a chorus of voices asked. ‘Why, she, of course,’ said Margot, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, ‘ Prizes! Prizes!’ Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the water had not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one a-piece all round. ‘But she must have a prize herself, you know,’ said the Robin. ‘Of course,’ Joey replied very gravely. ‘What else have you got in your pocket?’ she went on, turning to Alice. ‘Only a thimble,’ said Alice sadly. ‘Hand it over here,’ said Joey. Then they all crowded round her once more, while Joey solemnly presented the thimble, saying ‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble’; and, when she had finished this short speech, they all cheered. Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could. The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and confusion, as the large girls complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged Robin to tell them something more. ‘You promised to tell me a story, you know,’ said Alice. ‘Mine is a tale of long ago!’ said the Robin, turning to Alice, and smiling…
We had gone to Fulpmes for our half-term holiday. The others had gone up the mountain for the day, but Joey stayed back with me, and we went out to look round the village. Joey had asked Frau Blitzen, our landlady, ‘Is there anything special to see, meine Frau?’ ‘But yes; there are the iron and steel works,’ said Frau Blitzen. ‘My Fritz is Obermeister at the Florian works. Go there, and tell him that I have sent you, and then he will ask permission that you see everything. And there is the little shop kept by Hans Lange. He carves wonderful wooden toys that the baby would like to see.’ I was very pleased and beamed at the idea, and Joey thanked the good lady prettily before she led me off upstairs to put on our outdoor clothes. Presently we were both walking briskly over the frozen snow, rejoicing in the pale February sunlight that made the ice-crystals sparkle like a thousand diamonds. I skipped gaily along. To be with my adored Jo all day was my idea of paradise, and to-day I was to have it. Joey was just as happy, even though she couldn’t help casting a regretful thought towards the party who had set off on such a delightful expedition. Then she remembered that she would go on Monday and Tuesday, and that, after all, she and I were apart most of the term. We were more like sisters than anything else, and it was a source of grumbling from Joey, at any rate, that we so seldom saw much of each other. Despite her tomboyish ways and off-hand manner, Jo had a large share of the maternal spirit tucked away, and she lavished a good deal of it on me, a motherless child. I was trotting along at her side, chatting eagerly as we went. Even the arrival of her small nieces and nephews had not lessened her affection for me. ‘Where do we go first, dearest?’ I asked. ‘I vote we go and find that old man first,’ said Joey. ‘I thought he sounded jolly interesting. We might get something to take home for Madge and Jem and Uncle Ted. He might have something we could take David, too.’ ‘And there will be Onkel Dick and Tante Mollie, and the twins and Biddy,’ I supplemented, for I had gladly adopted Madge Russell’s twin brother and his wife and babies on their first coming to the Tyrol. ‘So there are!’ exclaimed Jo. ‘Well, we’ll have a stiff time making our money hang out! How much have you?’ I opened my purse and proudly counted out seven Schillings—not a very large sum when one realises that the value of the Austrian Schilling is not quite sevenpence of English money. Still, it was quite a lot for me to save. Jo had contrived to avoid all unnecessary spendings during the past month, and produced twenty-three Schillings. After some discussion we decided to put our money together and buy presents for the home people between us. Even thirty Schillings would not go very far unless Hans Lange’s prices were very low—which Jo doubted, since the Stubai valley is one of the headquarters for tourists during the summer season, and he would doubtless have learnt how to charge from them. Still, we hoped for the best, and the best was quite good. Whether he took a fancy to my so-called baby loveliness, or whether it was Jo’s pretty manners, the fact remains that we were able to get a gift of some kind for everyone; and when he wrapped up the parcel for us, Herr Lange tucked in a little carved bear and a beautiful little wooden chamois, ‘for luck and wellwishing,’ as he observed. We were both enchanted, and I, who had been kneeling on a stool at the side of his little counter, stretched up to fling my arms round his neck and kiss him enthusiastically. ‘You are so good!’ I cried rapturously. Hans Lange smiled, as he put an arm round me. ‘I am not good at all, mein Engel,’ he said. ‘But we think you are very good,’ said Jo, smiling at him. ‘We’ll keep the dear little animals all our lives, won’t we, Robin?—It is ever so kind of you to give them to us.’ After we had bidden him ‘Grüss Gott’ in the pretty Tyrolean style, we left him beaming still, and took the road for the great ironworks where Herr Blitzen worked. Here we spent a happy time, seeing all the processes, while Joey enlivened it for me by making up a story about it. We spent so long that we were late for Mittagessen, even though we ran most of the way back. However, Frau Blitzen only smiled at us when Joey apologised breathlessly, and told us that it didn’t matter in the least. We scampered off upstairs to remove our hats and coats, and then came down to hot, thick soup, into which had been ladled little sausages, very savoury and delicious. This was followed by a strange dish, made of vegetables, with preserved plums; and then came coffee and bread-twists. When the meal was over, Joey, mindful of ‘Bill’ and her last words, took me upstairs and tucked me into my cot for the afternoon nap that was rarely missed. My mother had died of tuberculosis brought on by the privations during the war in Poland, and as a child I was very frail. Dr. Jem had made a special study of me, and put me on a strict regime. I was improving tremendously under it, and the doctors hoped that, if it were maintained during the whole of my early years, I would escape the horrid thing. Plenty of sleep, plenty of fresh air, and any amount of milk formed the main parts of it; and this midday sleep was a most important item. So Joey saw me on the way to dreamland before she retired to her own bed with a book. I slept for an hour. Then I woke up, and Joey helped me to dress, and we went down for Kaffee, which was waiting for us. ‘We’re going up the valley now, Frau Blitzen,’ Joey said, as that worthy dame came in to see that we had everything we wanted. ‘May we have milk when we return? It will be about eighteen then. I’ll wait supper for the others, if they haven’t come back; but Robin must go to bed.’ Frau Blitzen promised that hot milk would be waiting for us when we returned, and we went off quite happily. It was dark when we got back, for Jo had gone farther than she intended, but, thanks to the afternoon nap, I was not very tired, and my tongue wagged gaily as we trotted back under the starry skies. Jo told me the story of the Milky Way as we went, and I was thrilled by the story of the two angels whose love had built a bridge across heaven when they had been banished to furthermost stars because of that same love. The story and our walk finished at almost the same time, and we entered the pension, where Joey drank a cupful of hot milk while I munched bread and butter. The others had not yet returned, so Jo put me to bed, sitting beside me for a while and telling me more stories, till I was falling asleep. Jo lit the night-light we had brought, saw that I was well tucked in, and then stole out of the room.
There was a silence as the Robin’s voice died away. Some of the girls hurried off at once: one of the old Mistresses began wrapping herself up very carefully, remarking, ‘I really must be getting home; the night-air doesn’t suit my throat!’ and a Prefect called out to one of the junior forms, ‘Come away, now! It’s high time you were all in bed!’ On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone. ‘I wish I had been able to go back with them.’ she said to herself. ‘Nobody seems to want me here, and I’m sure would be a good pupil, if I could only get into the School. I wonder if I shall ever see any more of it!’ And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard light footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that Joey or Robin was coming back to tell her another story. |
|
| Author: | JB [ Sun Dec 06, 2009 11:33 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
I love this drabble! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:21 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Lottie is a very lucky person to have such a wonderful Santa! Thankyou
|
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Sun Dec 06, 2009 5:12 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
this is lovely, thank you. |
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Sun Dec 06, 2009 5:43 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you, Santa!
I'm so glad nobody caught a cold. I love the way you're interweaving
all the CS legends into the Alice story. I wonder whose footsteps Alice
has heard. I shall just have to wait as patiently as possible for the
next installment. |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 9:00 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Glad you’re enjoying it Lottie – and everyone else, of course  Chapter 4 – The Abbess Sends in Bill It was a Prefect, walking slowly back, and looking anxiously about as she went, as if she had lost something; and she heard her muttering to herself ‘The Abbess! The Abbess! Oh my dear me! Oh my only Aunt Sempronia! She’ll look at me so sternly with those blue eyes of hers that have never needed glasses! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?’ Alice guessed in a moment that she was looking for her umbrella and gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen — everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely. Very soon the Prefect noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and called out to her in an angry tone, ‘Why, Mary Lou, what are you doing out here? Run up to the dormy this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a brolley! Quick, now!’ And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction she pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake she had made. ‘She took me for one of the girls,’ she said to herself as she ran. ‘How surprised she’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take her her brolley and gloves — that is, if I can find them.’ As she said this, she came upon a large chalet with a steep high roof with squat chimneys nestling down to it, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name ‘Chalet School’ engraved upon it. She went in without knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Lou, and be turned out of the school before she had found the brolley and gloves. ‘How queer it seems,’ Alice said to herself, ‘to be going messages for a prefect! By this time she had found her way into a tidy room with several little curtained cubicles, known as "Leafy" Each cubicle was walled in by curtains of fresh cretonne whose cream ground had a pattern of leafy sprays running all over it. The rug by the beds and the cushions in the wicker-chairss repeated the design and so did the couvre-pied on the bed and the counterpanes which had to be removed and folded at night according to Matron's instructions. There was also a table in each which had two little drawers and two long ones. One end of it was a locker affair. The top lifted back and showed a mirror with a place for toilet articles, all except one's sponge-bag. For that, there was a hook attached to one of the standards that supported the curtain-rods round the cubicle. A second standard had a hook for one’s dressing-gown and there was a big closet at one end of the room which had two pegs for frocks and two for coats. The school uniform was a glorious blue and we cream had been chosen for the blouses as it had been thought white would make too startling a contrast. Alice was enchanted by it, and decided that if her wish to be a schoolgirl might come true, she should disguise herself now as a real one. It is doubtful if any uniform was ever put on with more reverence. First the blouse with its smart little collar and tie. And, incidentally, that tie gave her any amount of trouble, but it was done at last. Then she drew the well-cut, flared tunic over her head and settled it with fingers which had inherited her mother's gift of putting on her clothes daintily. There was only the blazer left. She slipped her arms into it and then surveyed herself once more. She considered her head and shoulders which were all she could see in the locker mirror, and decided that all was well there. Then she stood on tiptoe to see as much as she could of the rest of her person and was on the verge of climbing on to her bedroom chair to see the rest when the curtains were flung open again and Matron stood before her. "Good morning, Alice," she said. "Good morning, Matron," Alice replied very properly. She stood in deep awe of the trim little lady who was no taller than herself and who looked so very smart and trig in her stiffly starched blue linen dress with its, big white apron and the "angels' wings" cap. Matron looked her up and down. "Yes; well, your hair won't do like that," she said briskly. "Have you brushed it at all this morning?" "Oh, yes, Matron," Alice assured her. "Not very well, I'm afraid. Here, slip on your dressing-¬gown, sit down at the mirror and give it a good hard brush¬ing. A curly crop like yours needs that twice a day if you're to escape tangles and pullings. I'll strip your bed for you and show you how you are to do it for the future." Alice did as she was told; but after watching her attempts for about half a minute, Matron took the brush from her. "My dear girl! Has no one ever shown you how to brush your hair properly. What were Lorina and Edith thinking about?" "Mummy always did it for me," her victim explained humbly. "I see. But here, you must do it for yourself, you know. Start at the crown of your head and draw the bristles down with a firm, steady stroke. Go all round your head and if you do it rightly, your scalp should be tingling by the time you've finished." She watched Alice essaying a stroke or two and nodded. "That's the way. Now never let me see you patting your head again. Turn round and watch me strip your bed. No; don't stop brushing. You can do two things like that at once." Alice turned round to face the bed and Matron pro¬ceeded to show her the one only way of stripping a bed that she approved. Matron then examined the fair curls which were begin¬ning to shine, said that would do for now and ordered her victim to look round and make sure everything was tidy before she left the cubicle. When it was all done, the little abode passed Matron's keen scrutiny and she nodded. "Yes; that will do very nicely. Now remember; this has to be done every morning. And every other day, you must turn the mattress so that it wears evenly. Do you under¬stand?" "Yes, Matron; I think so." But Alice was thinking rather dismally that she would have little time for dressing if this had to be seen to before she went downstairs in the morning. She was yet to find that practice helps you to be quick; and also that there was generally someone in the dormitory who would give you a hand – strictly against rules, of course! – if you really couldn't manage. At present, Matron merely said, "Excellent! Well, now come with me." Wondering what was to happen now, Alice meekly followed the school tyrant, who was also one of the most beloved persons there, to the bathroom. That lady flung the door open wide and revealed it exactly as it had been left. Alice eyed the mess and shook in her shoes. She could guess what was coming. "This sort of thing won't do!" Matron told her firmly. "After you've had a bath, you must leave the bathroom as tidy as you leave your cubicle. And how on earth did you manage to make such a swim on the floor? You mustn't do that." She went to a cupboard and produced a mop, a bucket and two cloths. "Mop up that flood and squeeze the mop into the bucket. Then take this cloth and rub the floor over. Wipe out the bath with this other one and never leave a bath unwiped after you've used it." Alice went at the unaccustomed task feeling that she had certainly blotted her copybook forever, so far as Matron was concerned. She was slow and awkward, for, apart from the fact that she had never done such a thing before, she was hampered by the need for keeping her new tunic unsplashed. Matron took pity on her and squeezed the mop and cloths herself, before returning everything to its proper place. Then she nodded and said, "Yes; that's more like it! Now remember what I say, for I haven't time to keep running after you all to see that you leave places tidy. And talking of running, you'd better run now. Down those stairs, turn to the right and go along the passage and you'll come out at the back of the entrance hall. Go right across to the front-door and the study is the door nearest to that. Oh, and while I think of it, this is the staircase you girls will use – never the front stairs. Now off you go!" She gave Alice a friendly clap on the back as she spoke and then hurried off to some other duty, leaving that young woman to find her own way to the study. In the closet, as she had hoped, was an umbrella, and on the table in one of the cubicles was a pair of gloves. She took up the brolley and the pair of gloves, but when she came out of the dormitory, she could not remember which way to turn, and then went through a door which she thought was right and found herself in a room no bigger than a cupboard, and the door clicked shut behind her. She rattled the handle, saying to herself ‘That’s really very awkward — I hope I shan’t be here very long — as it is, I can’t get out at the door — I do wish I hadn’t been in quite so much of a rush!’ Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on rattling, and even tried calling out, in another minute she realised that there was nobody about, and said to herself ‘Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?’ Unluckily for Alice, it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy. ‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by matrons and prefects. I almost wish I hadn’t gone into that hedge — and yet — and yet — it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When I used to read school stories, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up and leave home, I’ll write one — but I’ve left home now,’ she added in a sorrowful tone; ‘at least there’s no possibility of getting home from here.’ ‘But then,’ thought Alice, ‘shall I never get any older than I am now? That’ll be a comfort, one way — never to be an old woman – but then — always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like that!’ ‘Oh, you foolish Alice!’ she answered herself. ‘How can you learn lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no room at all for any lesson-books! ‘ And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen. ‘Mary Lou! Mary Lou!’ said the voice. ‘Fetch me my gloves this moment!’ Then came the sound of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the prefect coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the door, quite forgetting that she was now dressed in uniform, and apart from being locked in, had no reason to be afraid of her. Presently the prefect came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and Alice was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard her say to herself ‘Then I’ll go round and get in at the window.’ ‘That you won’t’ thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she heard the prefect just under the window, she suddenly opened it. She did not knock into anyone, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible someone had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. Next came an angry voice — the prefect’s — ‘Clare! Clare! Where are you?’ And then a voice she had never heard before, ‘Sure then I’m here, Ruth!’ ‘Here then, said the Prefect angrily. Come and help me out of this!’ (Sounds of more broken glass.) ‘Now tell me, Clare, who’s that in the window?’ ‘Sure, I don’t know, Ruth!’ ‘Well you should, you goose! It must be Mary Lou; I sent her for my gloves and brolley and she hasn’t come back yet!’ ‘Sure, it does look a bit like her: but it’s not, for all that.’ ‘Well, she’s got no business there, at any rate: go and tell her to come away!’ There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers now and then; such as, ‘Sure, I don’t like it, Ruth, at all, at all!’ ‘Do as I tell you, you coward!’ and at last she pushed the window out again. This time there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. ‘What a number of cucumber-frames there must be!’ thought Alice. ‘I wonder what they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they could! I’m sure I don’t want to stay in here any longer !’ She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voice all talking together: she made out the words: ‘Where’s the Abbess? — Why, only one head’s coming; Bill’s nearly here — Bill! Is she up from Welsen! — Oh Miss Wilson, there’s a Middle stuck in the stationery cupboard — No, don’t try the window, girls — it opens outwards — Oh! You’ve tried that twice already? — Miss Wilson! What shall we do? — Who has a key? — Mind Ruth and Clare, you must go to Matron with those scratches and she will put some iodine on them — Oh, Miss Annersley’s just coming as well! Both Heads! — Oh Miss Wilson, Miss Annersley says if you still have that spare key, would you go back up to the corridor?’ ‘Oh! So Bill’s got to come back to the corridor, has she?’ said Alice to herself. ‘Why, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in Bill’s place for a good deal: well, I think I can kick a little! I wonder if I can manage to get out before she gets up here.’ She drew her foot as far back as she could, and kept kicking till she heard the noice of smart footsteps coming along the corridor close by her: then, saying to herself ‘This is Bill,’ she gave one last sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen next. The first thing she heard was a stern voice asking if she were hurt at all. She answered that she was not, but she was just stuck behind the door. In a few moments Miss Wilson — Bill — had freed her and sent her to join the rest of the Middles on the lawn outside. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared; but she took fright, and ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a quiet part of the garden. ‘The first thing I’ve got to do,’ said Alice to herself, as she wandered between the flowerbeds, ‘is to find my way back into the school, and then get into a proper class. I’d better try and get to the dining room. I think that will be the best plan.’ It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it. ‘Oh dear!,’ she thought, ‘I’d nearly forgotten where all the rooms are! And whatever time is it now? I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, what?’ The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked round part of the ground floor into several different rooms, but she did not see anything that looked like a dining room. There was a door that was slightly ajar, and Alice peeped round the edge of it, and her eyes immediately met those of the school secretary, who was sitting behind a large desk typing busily, and taking not the slightest notice of her or of anything else. |
|
| Author: | JB [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 10:02 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thanks Santa. What a lovely long update. |
|
| Author: | ammonite [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 11:36 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
I love the way the stories are blended together and Alice's sense of confusion. |
|
| Author: | Liz K [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 11:54 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Alice is confused?? I've totally lost the plot with this drabble.
|
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 12:06 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thanks Santa
|
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 6:23 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Another completely lost person! Though I can't wait to see what happens next. |
|
| Author: | Abi [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 7:35 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
This is brilliant! I love the way they're so perfectly intertwined. Must read Alice again. |
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Wed Dec 09, 2009 11:44 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you, Santa. This all blends in so perfectly in a surreal sort of way. I never have a clue where we're going next. But I'm sure it will be brilliant. |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 5:07 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Just a short chapter today ... Chapter 5 – Advice from a Secretary The Secretary and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Secretary took the paper out of the typewriter, and addressed her in a brisk friendly voice. ‘Who are you?’ said the Secretary. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, ‘I — I hardly know, just at present — at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’ ‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Secretary sternly. ‘Explain yourself!’ ‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid,’ said Alice, ‘because I’m not myself, you see.’ ‘I don’t see,’ said the Secretary. ‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, ‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and speaking in so many different languages every day is very confusing.’ ‘It isn’t,’ said the Secretary. ‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so,’ said Alice; ‘but when you have to go from English on one day to French in another, and German on the third, I should think you’d feel it a little queer, wouldn’t you?’ ‘Not a bit,’ said the Secretary. ‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.’ ‘You!’ said the Secretary curiously. ‘Who are you?’ Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little irritated at the Secretary’s making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, ‘I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.’ ‘Why?’ said the Secretary. Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any good reason, and as the Secretary seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. ‘Come back!’ the Secretary called after her. ‘I’ve something important to say!’ This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. ‘Keep your temper,’ said the Secretary. ‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. ‘No,’ said the Secretary. Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all she might tell her something worth hearing. For some minutes she typed away again without speaking, but at last she stretched her arms, took the paper out of the typewriter again, and said, ‘So you think you’re changed, do you?’ ‘I’m afraid I am,’ said Alice; ‘I can’t remember things as I used — and I don’t keep the same time for ten minutes together!’ ‘Can’t remember what things?’ said the Secretary. ‘Well I can never remember what the French and German words for simple things are,” said poor Alice. ‘But you know,’ said the Secretary, ‘that one reason why your parents have sent you here is so that you may learn to speak both French and German accurately and fluently. To help you over your first troubles, Mlle has decided to give you no dictée preparation this term; and half your repetition will be excused. Miss Denny will give you German lists as well and I think that by the end of the term you will find that you are beginning to talk much more easily. And, you know, when you hear nothing but French round you for two days every week and nothing but German on two others, you’ll soon pick up words and phrases and begin to use them naturally.’ Alice thanked her and wondered what she should do next. ‘Well, be off, then!’ said the Secretary in a more kindly tone, as she settled down again to her typing. Alice went out and shut the door quietly behind her. There did not seem to be any other girls about, and she did not recognise the corridor she was in at all. After a while she remembered that the stairs had been near the side door, and she explored further, until she had succeeded in bringing herself back to the door of the Spiesesaal, whence came the clatter of dishes and the gentle hum of the conversation among several hundred girls eating their lunch. It was so long since she had been anywhere near any other girls, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. ‘Come, there’s half my plan done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going to be, from one minute to another! However, I’ve got back into the school: the next thing is, to get into the right form — how is that to be done, I wonder?’ As she said this, she suddenly saw an empty place, on a table with several others of about her own age. ‘Whichever form that is,’ thought Alice, ‘it’ll never do to come upon them suddenly: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!’ So she began walking quietly towards the table, and did not venture to sit down till she was sure they had all seen her. |
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 5:19 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
I loved the conversation about how confusing it is to have to keep talking in different languages. It's all very cleverly interwoven, as ever. Thank you, Santa!
|
|
| Author: | Abi [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 9:19 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
This is gorgeous, thank you Santa! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 11:03 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
I do love this! Thankyou Santa. |
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Sat Dec 12, 2009 8:50 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you Santa this is fun 
|
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Sun Dec 13, 2009 10:07 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Sorry for the delay in posting this - the internet elves were on strike last week and the plot bunnies seem to have come out in sympathy. Normal service should be resumed soon ... Chapter 6 – Pig and Mistress For a minute she sat looking at the others and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a bell rang at the staff table and immediately a silence fell. A tall stately brown-haired lady with blue eyes that had never yet needed glasses was standing by the table with a headmistress-y look on her face. In her beautiful voice, she explained the arrangements for the half-term expeditions. Vb, which apparently was Alice’s form, was to go to Zermatt, and the trip was to take place that very afternoon. After Mittagessen they all streamed off in various directions, some by means of the big motor-coaches the school mostly used for getting about the country. Vb, however, had to go down by train to Interlaken where they caught the coach to Thun and boarded the train which would take them by way of Kandersteg, Brig and Visp to Zermatt. As Rosamund Lilley had exclaimed when she first studied the route, it was a fearfully cross-country journey, but it is impossible to go by road all the way to Zermatt, so the Powers-that-Be had ordained that Vb should do the whole trip by rail The journey was uneventful, and the following day they all went up to the Gornergrat by the funicular. On the Saturday they had left the pension for a stroll in the meadows. Miss Wilmot was sauntering along with the triplets and their special friends surrounding her. They had left the village by way of the bridge over the Visp and were walking across a meadow where the ground sloped upwards. Beyond it, was a farm, and, though this they were not to know till later, a Scots family were staying there en pension. The family consisted of father, mother, young uncle and a small boy of five who had an unbridled passion for babies of all kinds but human. He had already gone crazy over the goat kids which skipped about beside their mothers and had been well butted by one outraged mamma when he tried to hug her baby. The cat was always being robbed of one or more of her kittens and as for the calves, he could never have enough of them. His unlucky family scolded, coaxed and finally punished. Nothing would make small Ian leave the animal babies alone. Seven days before this, the family sow had produced a family of eleven piglings. Warned by what had happened, everyone concerned had kept Ian away from her and he knew nothing of the young family until that evening when he met one of the young sons of their hosts, bearing a bucket of buttermilk to the proud mamma. Ian had quickly picked up enough of the local dialect to understand and make himself understood and he soon got it out of Hansi where he was going. Nothing would serve him but that he must come, too. When they reached the pigpen, he was enthralled by the pink babies who snuffled and snorted with shrill little squeals as they nuzzled each other and their mother. Hansi opened the door of the pigpen to pour the buttermilk into the lady’s swill tub. Ian slipped in after him, grabbed the nearest baby and clutched it lovingly to him, talking to it affectionately. Unfortunately, the pigling was terrified and he squealed his terrors abroad. Mamma heaved herself to her feet, while Hansi with a yell, tried to push Ian out, snatch the pigling from him and shut the door of the pen all at one and the same time. Between this and the infuriated sow, he lost his footing and fell full length while Ian, taking alarm from the furious grunting of the pig and Hansi’s wild yells, fled from the pigpen, still clutching his prey and made off, followed by the pig who was now raging. He made for the open gate from the farmyard, his short legs going at full speed. Down the meadow up which Nancy Wilmot and her flock were strolling, he went. Behind him came the pig and she was followed by Hansi, who had found his feet again; Mr McCleod, Ian’s father, who had come round the corner in time to see what was happening; and Herr Schultz, righteously angry at the thought of what all this might mean to a sow with babies to feed. It took neither the mistress nor the girls two minutes to grasp what was happening. With a shout of, “Steady, the Buffs!” Nancy straddled the pathway to try to check young Ian’s headlong flight while the girls scattered to try and turn the sow. How it actually happened, no one could ever quite determine. Somehow, the terrified Ian and his squealing burden were diverted and the triplets caught and held him while Alice snatched the baby from him, crying, “We’ll give it back to her!” The sow was so blind with rage that she simply hurtled ahead. Her head and forequarters passed under Miss Wilmot’s legs, then as she pushed, she brought that lady down on her back and went rushing on. Instinctively, Miss Wilmot had clamped the fat flanks with her knees, so she, too, went on, perforce, riding the pig hindside foremost! The unexpected weight—Miss Wilmot stood five foot ten and was plump to put it mildly, brought up the enraged animal before she reached the torrent where she might have come to a sudden and tragic end. She rolled over, tossing the mistress to the ground, and discovered that she had no more breath to run. Indeed, the farmer, rushing up first of the crew after Ian, was alarmed about her. Pigs are not built for racing. By this time, Mr McCleod had reached the party, snatched his son from the arms of Margot and Len, and taking him under his left arm, was proceeding to teach him a lesson. A more awful noise was never heard. The pig was grunting and gasping; Herr Schultz, shaken out of his usual monumental calm was letting off a series of exclamations in dialect; Ian was screaming for a good reason—his father had decided to give him a lesson he would never forget—and what with the piglet squealing, the girls shrieking with laughter and the added cries of Hansi who had managed to reach the spot but was last, the din must have been unique for Zermatt. Mary-Lou heard it as she reached the bridge and her long legs made short work of the distance as she came up breathlessly to help Miss Wilmot rise and ask anxiously if she were hurt. By this time, Herr Schultz had decided that his sow was not so much the worst though it was as well that her babies were beginning to demand to share Mother’s tub. He put a brawny foot under her at a nicely-judged place, calling on Hansi to come and help, and together they got the lady to her trotters. Alice at once ran up and handed over her noisy burden to its owner. His son was busy fastening a cord to one of her legs, but he finished, handed the other end to his father and took the terrified baby with the remark that he would carry it back to its brothers and sisters. Mr McCleod had set his sobbing son down by this time, but still held on to him. “And what did ye think ye were doing, ye wee gomeril?” he demanded. “I wanted to love it,” the “wee gomeril” sobbed. “It was so wee and pink and long-nebbit! I thought maybe I might take it to bed with me!” That really did it! Even his father had to forget his annoyance and for the next minute or two, they all rocked with laughter. The rest coming up, could get no sense out of any of them, but caught the infection and just what the worthy burghers of Zermatt may have thought who saw the scene, will never be known. Eventually, they managed to pull themselves together. Madam Pig was persuaded to walk up to her pen where her family were waiting for her. Ian was marched off, still weeping, to be put to bed on dry bread and milk. The mistresses gathered their flock together and bore them off to their pension. But that night, Margot woke up to hear a queer sound from Alice’s bed and when she went to demand what Alice thought she was doing, found that young woman under the sheets, giggling madly. She had dreamed the whole thing over again and wakened herself by laughing and was unable to stop. Margot dealt with it promptly. She fetched a glass of water from a shelf where carafe and glass stood, and lowered it over Alice threateningly. “One more sound out of you and I’ll chuck the lot over your head!” she proclaimed—as far as one can proclaim in a whisper. Alice made a herculean effort and at last stopped, but her eyes were swimming in tears and she was fighting for breath. “S-sorry!” she gasped. “B-but it w-was so f-funny!” “Yes, and if you bring Mlle or Willy or anyone else here, it’ll be funnier still!” Margot warned her. “Here! Drink this and don’t be such an ass!” Alice sat up and sipped and felt better. Margot took the glass when she had finished and put it back. But before she returned to her own bed, she bent over Alice to mutter, “Now you just shut up and go to sleep. We don’t want a row for talking after Lights Out!” |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Sun Dec 13, 2009 10:15 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Pleased to hear that Alice is having fun! Thankyou Santa
|
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Mon Dec 14, 2009 12:18 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Maybe EBD had been reading Lewis Carroll when she wrote Theodora! That scene is certainly very Wonderland-ish. I wonder where Alice will turn up next. Thank you, Santa!
I hope the elves and the bunnies stop striking and resuming normal
working as soon as possible - I'm sure you need all the help you can
get at this time of year. |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Tue Dec 15, 2009 9:46 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Chapter 7 - A Mad Tea-Party Alice turned over for the last time and fell asleep to dream that she had to take three baths a day and curtsy every time she spoke to a mistress until she fell over and woke up to find that she had fallen out of bed and Margot was standing beside her again asking if she had had a nightmare in very low tones before helping her to get up and remake her bed. After which she lay down again, and when she dropped off she slept peacefully until the rising-bell woke her to another sunny morning. The school returned to its normal practices after half-term, and Alice found that after Mittagessen, as the midday meal was called, the order of the day was a half-hour’s rest in a deck-chair. As Con explained, they were expected to read if they did anything. Her next ordeal was to go to tea with the triplets’ mother, who apparently lived next door. She was told it was a tradition of Mrs Maynard to have all new girls to tea, so there was no escape. So the following afternoon Alice, wishing heartily that she had never said she would go, set off for Freudesheim, the Maynard’s house. It was a chilly day, for the clouds had come down during the night and though the mist on the Görnetz Platz was thin enough not to be dangerous, it was damp and chilling. Alice wrapped herself up in her big winter coat and an enormous scarf and set off down the drive, her heart in her boats. Len, Con and Margot had told her to cut through the two gardens which were linked by a gate in the dividing hedge of arbor vitae, but she refused to do that. So she left the big gates, walked briskly along the curving road and turned down to the white gate leading into the Maynard’s house. Nearly rigid with shyness, she crawled up the drive and arrived at the foot of the steps leading up to the house. The front door flew open and a tall dark woman, with a delicate, mobile face under a deep straight fringe of black hair stood at the top of the steps, holding out welcoming hands. “Come up come up!” cried a golden voice. “Hurry up and come in out of the cold and damp! Don’t, for goodness sake, stand there being polite in this weather! What a change from yesterday!” She pulled her guest into the hall and slammed the door behind them. “Come and hang your things up. Why didn’t you cut across the gardens? My eyes nearly fell out when I saw you at the gate! No one at the school ever treats me with such prim manners. Besides, it’s yards nearer.” “I—I didn’t like to,” Alice stammered as she got rid of her wraps. ‘Well, don’t ever do it again! Ready? Then come along to the salon. We’ve had an open grate put in this last summer and we’ve got a gorgeous fire waiting to welcome you. I hope you like babies, by the way? And dogs, too? Because I always have my babies to myself till bedtime on Sundays and my St. Bernard, Bruno, goes pretty well everywhere with me. Come and meet the lot!” Joey chattered as she ushered the visitor into a great room that ran from back to front of the house with a fireplace opposite the side window where a glorious wood fire was blazing away behind the high guard and two tiny, very fair people were building houses in a corner while in a basket framed playpen, a six months old baby lay gurgling and kicking. “You know my triplets. They’re in your form, I hear. And here are my twins,” Joey said as the primrose fair pair jumped up and scampered across the floor to her. “This is Felicity and the boy is Felix. Say ‘How do you do’, darlings.” Felicity greeted the stranger very prettily, but Felix, at four, was growing manly and he shied away from Alice’s offered kiss. “I don’t kiss girls,” he said. “Then shake hands,” his mother said. “No one wants to kiss you if you don’t want it, Felix, but you must mind your manners, my lad.” Felix shook hands and then rushed back to his building. His twin followed him and Joey, with a grin, informed her visitor, “That’s just how his cousin David Russell treated me years ago when I was still at school and he was Felix’s age.” She stooped over the playpen and scooped up the baby. “Never mind him! Admire our latest instead. There! What do you think of that for an effort! “ She exhibited the baby proudly and Alice admired the silky dark curls, the dark eyes with their absurdly long lashes and the pink cheeks each with a dimple in it. “Rather nice, isn’t she? Would you like to take her?” She sat Alice down in a low chair by the fire and put the baby in her arms. “There! What do you think of her?” “Oh, she’s lovely! “ Alice cried, all her shyness gone in face of this friendly warmth. “She’s so soft and cuddly! But isn’t she unlike the twins!” she added with a glance to the comer where the two flaxen heads were bobbing about. “Oh, quite. You see, I’m very dark and I had the luck to marry a fair man so we have no monotony in our family. Con and this small thing and Charles, our second boy, are all dark. Steve, Mike and those two are fair, though the twins are the fairest of the lot. And Margot and Len are red, though even then it isn’t the same. Len’s chestnut and Margot’s golden red. And they’re just as unlike in character as I expect you know where the three girls are concerned. Did you ever know triplets more unlike each other?” “I’ve never known triplets before,” Alice said demurely. Joey laughed. “I don’t suppose you have. I’II show you the boys’ latest photo. You’ll probably meet Mike. He comes up for week ends at present, though when the real winter weather begins, that’ll have to stop. Here you are. The big one is Steve, that’s Charles; this curly top is Mike. Not much alike each other, are they?” “No,” Alice agreed as she studied the photograph. “Mike’s like Margot, though.” “How right you are! And it’s more than looks!” quoth their mother darkly. “Mike has as big a share of mischief as Margot. And Felix is turning like him Twins! I hear Bruno whining at the front door. Run and let him in, will you?” The twins dropped their bricks and scampered off and she turned to Alice and said with a chuckle, “Yesterday, Felix had been very naughty and disobedient I was talking very seriously to him when it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t paying much attention. I said, ‘Felix!’ No reply. ‘Felix!’ Still no reply. ‘Felix! I’m speaking to you!’ And he replied, very distantly, ‘I fink we won’t discuss vis any longer’.” Alice burst into a peal of laughter while Joey took the baby from her and grinned at her. “Neat, wasn’t it. Of course he didn’t get away with it. I kept a straight face and rebuked him pretty sharply. But I can tell you it was an effort.” “It must have been,” Alice said, still chuckling. Then the door burst open and a handsome gentleman in a very damp coat of gold and white tore into the room and tried to fling himself on his mistress who retreated promptly behind a chair. Foiled, he turned his attention to Alice and had washed her face very thoroughly before Joey had managed to call him off. “Bruno Bruno! Sit down! Lie down! “ She crossed to put the baby back in the playpen and turned to Alice. “I’m most awfully sorry. He’s young and silly and abnormally affectionate.” She paused to rub behind the beautifully set ears as Bruno thrust his head against her and beat the guest over the knees with his flail like tall. Joey laughed. “All the same, I’ll bet you aren’t feeling shy with me now. It’s impossible for anyone to do so in this house. What with dogs who go mad and small folk who come out with the most unexpected remarks, my only wonder is that anyone cares to come and visit us. Let’s go and see about tea, twins. Alice can you keep an eye on Cecil for me? And you might pull up that little table for the twins and those two small chairs if you will.” She departed, escorted by the twins and Bruno, and Alice did as she was asked and then knelt down by the playpen to hold a conversation with Cecil who gurgled and cooed cheerfully at her, looking the picture of a contented baby. Felicity, stumping back with a dish of cakes, came to join her. “Isn’t she pwetty Auntie Awiss?” “She’s lovely,” Alice said. The trolley was wheeled into the room by a proud Felix. Joey followed, laying a hand to guide it round traps of rugs with which the floor was scattered. Then they sat down to tea, Joey remarking, “I’m a spoiled woman when all my boys are at home. My husband has always insisted that as soon as they’re old enough they learn to wait on me. I’m sorry you won’t meet him today, but he was called out to a village up in the mountains and told me to expect him when I saw him. So it may be midnight before he returns.” It was a delicious tea with cakes from one of the pâtesseries in Montreux, wafer bread and butter and tea that was rich with cream. When it was over the Coadjutor, a young Swiss girl who helped Anna, the Maynards’ factotum, arrived to bear off the twins to the playroom for the short time left before their early bedtime. When they had gone, they pulled up their chairs to the fire and Mrs Maynard asked how she was getting on at school. “Oh, it was awful at first!” Alice said fervently. She couldn’t go on being shy with this very friendly person. “I couldn’t understand a thing that was said to me and I couldn’t reply when I did understand. It’s a wee bit easier now because I do know things like ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and I don’t understand’ and things like that. And Mdlle’s been awfully decent. She gives me ten new words to learn every day and hears me any time she meets me and helps me to say them right. And Len and Con help, too. I really do know a lot more than I did when I came.” Then Joey told of her own schooldays and kept Alice in fits of laughter over the adventures she related. Finally, she whisked her off to help with bedtime and by the time the twins were safely in bed and Joey herself had carried Cecil to her own room to attend to her needs, the girl felt a stranger no longer. “I’ve had a gorgeous time,” she said when the grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven and she had to go. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Maynard.” “Not at all,” that lady said promptly. “Are you sure you can find your way back?” “Oh, yes. The mist’s thinning out and there’s a young moon, too.” “O.K. Go through the gardens.” “Very well. Thank you so much for my lovely visit.” ‘Go across the lawn and through the gate in the hedge. That brings you out on a path. Goodbye, Alice. Come again soon.” |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Tue Dec 15, 2009 9:52 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Nice to see traditions being followed! Thankyou, Santa. |
|
| Author: | shazwales [ Tue Dec 15, 2009 9:56 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you Santa ,confused but still loving this,
|
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 12:19 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Another clever mixture. Thank you, Santa!
|
|
| Author: | Abi [ Thu Dec 17, 2009 11:25 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Somehow the Alice settings make the CS events seem very weird and fantastical. Starting to wonder whether EBD was actually Lewis Carroll...
|
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:59 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Hope you get back safely, Lottie. Here as promised is the next instalment to await your homecoming  Chapter 8 – The Treacle's Mine Once again Alice found herself in the long hall, and tiptoed down the corridors, finding some relief for her restlessness in moving about. Presently she came to the baize-covered door leading to the kitchen regions and went down the narrow passage. Two gleaming doors bore witness to work that Gaudenz had done earlier that day, but there were five girls around them, busily applying what looked like varnish to the next set of double doors, while five others waited their turn. They had painted it on as far up as they could reach. So absorbed were they, that they never bothered about the time until the sound of the school bell ringing for the end of prep reached them faintly through the door. Then they woke up with a vengeance. ‘Quick! We must get the cans and brushes back at once!’’ Jack was exclaiming when her eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them, and she checked herself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them looked down. ‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are varnishing those doors?’ Wanda and Kitty said nothing, but looked at Jack. Jack began in a low voice, ‘Why the fact is, you see, we thought it would be fun to help Gaudenz and do some varnishing instead of sitting in the common-room; but if the Abbess was to find us out, we should all have our heads bitten off, you know. So you see, we’re doing our best, before she comes, to — ‘ At this moment Kitty, who had been anxiously looking along the corridor, hissed ‘The Abbess! The Abbess!’ and the ten middles instantly flung themselves through the doorway. There was a sound of brisk footsteps, and Alice followed the rest, not at all eager to see the Abbess. ‘But we cannot go that way.’ Wanda pointed to the line of light that had appeared under the kitchen door. ‘Karen is in the kitchen.’ ‘Lawks!’ Alice gasped. ‘What do we do now?’ They were in a nice quandary. They dared not face Karen or the Abbess. What was more, they were all realising that ‘sticky’ was no word for them. ‘We’ll have to leave them out here in a corner,’ Anne said. ‘Perhaps Gaudenz will think he forgot them himself.’ ‘Talk sense! He isn’t daft!’ Jack told her gloomily. ‘Well, what are we going to do then?’ Mary asked. ‘Leave the things here and own up if there’s a row,’ Barbara said. ‘It’s all we can do. Push them into that corner so’s no one will fall over them and then come on. We’ve got to wash.’ ‘And we must hope that no one will see us leaving here,’ Alice supplemented. This, they contrived to do, but they had a rush to wash their hands and faces and sponge sundry drips off their frocks and yet be in time to take their places in the long procession marching into the Speisesaal. They just managed it, and more than one of them was unaccountably flushed when they took their seats after Grace. It was not until the next morning that retribution fell. Frühstück came to an end. Miss Annersley struck her bell twice as a signal that she had some announcement to make, and Alice, her suspicions well aroused, noted that every last one of the ten first went scarlet and then paled. She sat back and waited. The Head stood up. ‘One moment, girls,’ she said, her beautiful voice unusually grave. ‘I wish to know which girls painted golden syrup over the doors in the passage leading to the kitchens last night.’ The blow had indeed fallen! But - golden syrup! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 5:27 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
| Thankyou! It's wonderful to see all of Alice's adventures in Chaletland.
|
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 10:42 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
And the next bit ... Chapter 9 – The Famous Author’s Story ‘Let’s go on with the game,’ the Games Prefect said to Alice; and Alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the tennis-court. The other girls had taken advantage of the Games Prefect’s absence, and were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game, the Games Prefect merely remarking that a moment’s delay would cost them their Prefect’s Evening. All the time they were playing the Games Prefect never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting ‘Out!’ or ‘Foot Fault!’ Those whom she castigated were taken aside for extra coaching by the second games prefect, who of course had to leave off being umpires to do this, so that by the end of half an hour or so there were no umpires left, and all the players, except the Head Girl, the Games Prefect, and Alice, were in extra coaching and under sentence of missing the Prefects Evening. Then the Head Girl left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, ‘Have you seen the Famous Author yet?’ ‘No,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t even know who the Famous Author is.’ ‘It’s our Mamma,’ said the Head Girl and the Games Prefect. ‘I never saw her, or heard of her,’ said Alice. ‘Come on, then,’ said the Head Girl and the Games Prefect, ‘and she shall tell you her history,’ They very soon came upon a girl, lying fast asleep in the sun. ‘Up, lazy thing!’ said the Games Prefect, ‘and be Sheepdog to take this new girl to see the Famous Author, and to hear her history. I must go back and see after some punishments I have ordered’; and they walked off, leaving Alice alone with the Sheepdog. Alice did not quite like the look of her, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with her as to go after that savage Games Prefect: so she waited. The Sheepdog sat up and rubbed her eyes: then she watched the Games prefect and the Head Girl till they were out of sight: then she chuckled. ‘What fun!’ said the Sheepdog, half to herself, half to Alice. ‘What is the fun?’ said Alice. ‘Why, them,’ said the Sheepdog. ‘It’s all their fancy, that: they never punishes nobody, you know. Come on!’ ‘Everybody says "come on!" here,’ thought Alice, as she went slowly after her: ‘I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!’ They had not gone far before they saw the Famous Author in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could recognise her as Mrs Maynard from next door. ‘What is her sorrow?’ she asked the Sheepdog, and the Sheepdog answered, very nearly in the same words as before, ‘It’s all her fancy, that: she hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’ So they went up to the Famous Author, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing. ‘This here young lady,’ said the Sheepdog, ‘she wants for to know your history, she do.’ ‘I’ll tell it her,’ said Mrs Maynard in a deep, hollow tone: ‘sit down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’ So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to herself, ‘I don’t see how she can finish, if she doesn’t even begin.’ But she waited patiently. ‘Once,’ said the Famous Author with a nostalgic sigh, ‘on a summer day we were taken to see the Passion Play…’ …Oberammergau is so well known that it needs little description. The village lies, embosomed by mountains which in the spring and summer are green with forests that clothe the slopes. To the end of the village lies the theatre, open to the sky, with its huge auditorium forming a horseshoe all round the stage. The village itself is typical of all villages of the kind, with balconied houses, whose sloping roofs are laded with heavy rocks and ropes against the storms that rage in the winter. A strangely peaceful-faced people, those of Oberammergau, as if the play around which their whole life centres had touched their souls with the peace of the Christus. During the years between, the men occupy themselves with wood and ivory carving, with tending the great cattle, and with wood-cutting. The women work in their houses, and see to the bringing up of the children, who grow to maturity with the one ideal before them – that of being permitted to appear in the Passion Play which has been played for close on three hundred years. We had been told how it had all begun. How, when a terrible plague had been raging in the district, the people prayed to God that He would deliver them from the pestilence, and when He showed them His infinite mercy, they vowed to commemorate it by acting every ten years the story of that last week in the earthly life of Christ. Thus it has become a tradition, soaked into the flesh and bones of the inhabitants of Oberammergau; embedded in their souls. The most awful thing that can happen to any one of them is to be denied the privilege of appearing in the play. The parts are cast by the priest, and they are prepared by him for their labour of love. The school-children vie with one another in their endeavours to be all they ought to be, lest they are left out of the cast. It can well be imagined, then, how such a life, with such ideals, has affected those who have lived under them always… ‘We had a wonderful day looking round the village, and a few of the Middles got into terrible trouble,’ Joey stopped and grinned mischievously, ‘but nothing could have spoilt experience of the Play itself…’ …The Chorus entered to take up their position, and the Choragus, or Leader of the Chorus, began the intoning with which the Play opens. This was followed by a tableau showing the Expulsion from Eden, while the Chorus sang an anthem. Then there was a little silence, and the Prologue, spoken by Anton Lang, the famous Christus, rang out under the blue summer sky. The old man’s voice made the guttural German sound musical as he rolled out his words, and the girls were spellbound. A second tableau, the Adoration of the Cross, followed, and then there was a rustle as people settled themselves finally. The Play proper now began. It opens with the entry into Jerusalem, and is heralded by a great chorus of many singers. Children ran to strew their palms before the Christ, and the girls were agreeably thrilled to recognise many of them. The second scene shows the Cleansing of the Temple, and as the homely German sentences floated across the great auditorium to them the incidents of the Last Week became more vivid and real to the girls than ever before. The fury of the Jewish traders, as their tables were overthrown; the flight of the white doves, as the Christ released them and they fluttered up to the sky; the beautiful face of the man chosen to play the greatest Part in the world; all brought home the poignancy of the story to them better than any other thing. Jo sat in a spell-bound silence as the story unfolded itself to the end of the first act. Then she sat back in her seat, heaving a sigh of pleasure. The chorus came on and sang again, which was followed by a tableau, and then came the council of the priests and the scribes, with Caiaphas directing events to the Crucifixion. The actor was marvellous in his diction and the fervour he put into the part. Throughout this act he dominates the stage, and his strong, stern face above the priestly vestments showed well. Through the many scenes – the feast in the house of Simon the leper, where Judas protests at the waste of the precious spikenard; the Weeping over Jerusalem; the conventions among the angry priests; the final consent to the great betrayal. The third act shows the parting at Bethany from Simon the Leper, and the farewell of Christ to His Mother. The Virgin was played with an exquisite simplicity and pathos which moved the girls almost to tears. The Magdalena was bolder in treatment, but still with that strange touch of innocence that is rarely seen in any of the professional theatres. Act Four, after the opening chorus, begins with the tableau showing the rejection of Vashti, and the acceptance of Esther as Queen. While it was in progress the choir sang the magnificent ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, awake!’ with its thrilling harmonies. And so the Play passed on to the seducing of Iscariot to the betrayal of his Master. The Last Supper, with all its poignant wording and the great teaching, kept the girls very quiet. By this time the sun was high in the sky, and the Play was delayed for the two hours of rest and refreshment that are as necessary to the audience as to the players. The strain of the Play is enormous, whether one is a mere spectator or an actor. There was a silence through the village, save for the occasional voices of tourists who had to do much in little time. Finally they arose again, feeling all the better for the short rest, and made their way through the heat back to their seats. The buying of Judas, which filled the next act, passed quickly; then came the great scene in the Garden, with the sleeping disciples, so anxious to do what they might for their Master; so pitiably weak in the hour of trial. Finally, the arrival of the armed bands and the priests, led by Iscariot to the Christ, brought the scene to a close, with the jeering of the traders, scribes, and priests’ servants. The trial before the High Priest and the Sanhedrim came next, and it was followed by the denial of St Peter. So they came to the trial before Pilate, with his pathetic wavering to and fro – his longing to release One whom he knew to be innocent, while, for fear of the Jewish priests, he dared not. The mocking by King Herod; the refusal of Pilate to pass sentence of death on the Man in whom he found no wrong; the accusation of the priests that the Roman governor was no true servant to Caesar; the mockery of the Roman soldiers – all were repeated with all the sincerity of which the people of Oberammergau were capable. By this time many people in the audience were in tears, and there was a deathly hush under the calm summer sky. There came the final scenes – the choice of Barabbas, rather than the Christ; the walk to Calvary; the raising of the Cross; the final words, and the death. Then came the visit of the women to the garden; the discovery of the stone rolled away; the final tableaux; the last chorus with its triumphal ‘Hallelujah!’ The stage cleared; the Play was ended… … ‘How lovely to hear that again!’ cried the Sheepdog, and Mrs Maynard had just begun to repeat more of the events that had occurred during her visit, when a cry of ‘The trial’s beginning!’ was heard in the distance. ‘Come on!’ cried the Sheepdog, and, taking Alice by the hand, she hurried her off, without waiting for the rest of the story. ‘What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran; but the Sheepdog only answered ‘Come on!’ and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words: — ‘Once, long ago, we went to Oberammergau …’ |
|
| Author: | Abi [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 11:42 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Oh, how lovely! Loved Joey, the Famous Author! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 11:46 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
How lovely to read that again - I didn't remember it at all. Thankyou, Santa! |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 6:15 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
And the next ... Chapter 10 – The Gymkhana Trials Alice was greeted with whole-hearted warmth by the rest, that she felt both startled and embarrassed. However, she contrived to accept it without too much fuss and, in any case, once Fruhstuck was over, they were all so busy that no one had much time to talk of anything but the flower show. ‘Come on out to the marquees and see the exhibits,’ Josette cried. ‘Have they all come?’ Alice asked eagerly, following her out to the front lawns which were more or less hidden by the big marquees. ‘I say! What about our beds?’ ‘They’re fenced off. Gaudenz did it yesterday,’ Mary-Lou, who was with them, explained. ‘This is the one for flowers and vegetables. Flowers at that side, veges this. Fruit is in the other and so are the bouquets. The decorations are in the Speisesaal. Everyone going in is hard at it there. We’re to have our Mittagessen in the gym as Hall is being used for the visitors. Rather a nifty display, isn’t it?’ Alice stood still looking at the long trestle tables with their vases and bowls of flowers. Light shelving had been raised behind them, for the folk of the district had taken to the idea with enthusiasm and nearly everyone with a garden or even a few pots of flowers had sent in an exhibit. The vegetables were even more numerous and Jo found that cabbages and leeks and onions and turnips have a beauty of their own when they are properly cleaned and carefully arranged. Verity-Anne came plunging into the marquee to find them. ‘Come on!’ she panted. ‘The judges are here and the Head’s bringing them along almost at once. You’ve got to clear out, pronto!’
By the time the evening was ready, the visitors had found their way to the hard court on which the events were to take place and every seat was occupied. The girls who had lost in the heats formed a solid phalanx at one end and had gathered in all the visiting children who had also been knocked out, much to the relief of their friends and guardians. Then Miss Burnett came forward and announced the final of the senior flowerpot race and five big girls came forward, each armed with two flowerpots and toed a line. Dr Graves, who was starter, counted. ‘One – two – three!’ The pistol banged and they were off. Each set a flowerpot before her and stepped on it. Balancing as well as she could, she stooped and placed the other pot a little in advance and stepped off on to that before turning enough to stoop and pick up the first. If you overbalanced, you were automatically disqualified. It was very difficult indeed and Bride Bettany, from Welsen, had not taken five steps before she lost her balance, squirmed wildly and weirdly and fell full length with a pot in her hand. Ruth Wilson was the next. She miscalculated her distances when she was placing her pot. She tried to set it at a bigger distance than usual, found that she was slipping and landed flat on her tummy with a ‘Whump’ which knocked the breath out of her for a moment. Mary Wormald, also from Welsen, heard her, looked round while balancing on her toes on both pots, staggered wildly and landed on the ground. The race was now between Bride’s elder sister Peggy and Dickie Christy and was finally won by Peggy whose slightness seemed to be an asset. Dickie was leading but, in her excitement, she stamped on her pot and crushed it to pieces, amid howls of laughter from the entire School. Peggy reached the rope without a fault and retired to the ranks of the school, smiling demurely. The other races in this event went in much the same way, though Ailie Russell won amidst wild cheers, for she actually made the distance in record time, leaving all her competitors behind her. The frog race for the Senior Middles was won by Mary-Lou, who hopped over the distance as if that were her normal form of progression. Julie won the Seniors’ handsomely from Peggy Bettany and her own cousin, Nancy Chester. But Welsen walked away with the Senior wheelbarrow race and the driving pair. This was something that Miss Burnett had evolved out of her own consciousness. Two girls were ‘pair’ and a third was the driver. They were linked by cords and then had to drive a course that wound in and out between skittles which Jack Maynard had produced. The skittles were set in pairs along the course and there was barely room between them for the ‘pair’ to pass. Any who knocked over a skittle were disqualified and as they were all racing at top speed, it was a wonder that Nell Randolph, driving Peggy Bettany and Gabrielle Fournet managed to stay the course. Their trio was the only one who did so. But the star turn of the show, according to the girls at any rate was the blindfold race which Julie had proposed at the last minute. Five competed in each group. They were blindfolded by Matron who was an adept at this, led to their places at the start and when the pistol went, set off to walk the course as steadily as they could. The audience were weeping with laughter and holding each other up before even the first race ended. The competitors stalked out with grim determination in the lower part of their faces – all anyone could see! – and most of them had not taken three steps before they were diverging in all directions. Peggy Bettany made straight across the court to fall over Miss Annersley’s knee. Madge Herbert and Veronica Worsley fell into each other’s arms and embraced affectionately. Polly Winterton found herself grabbing the hat of a complete stranger and Alice, the only one to keep reasonably straight for most of the way, suddenly swung around to the right and marched over to the far corner where she clutched the pole holding the netting. No one else was any more successful and Margot Maynard created a sensation by losing herself completely and wandering right round the court before she suddenly paused, stretched out her hand unexpectedly and gripped the nose of her own father. His howl rose up at the same moment as his daughter’s. Margot had gripped hard and the shock caused her to yell at the top of her voice before she let go. He was still caressing his maltreated feature when he went to help his sister-in-law with the prizes and it was still red. |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 7:54 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
| Still makes me laugh! Thankyou, Santa.
|
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 9:30 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Here's the penultimate post - hope you've got home safely for Christmas, by now Lottie, and have had a lovely time - though I can quite see you might not have had time to come on here yet. Chapter 11 – The Sale Alice once more found herself in the big Hall, where the final touches were being put to the stalls and as she looked around she saw all sorts and ages of girls. It was a most delightful scene. In the centre of the room stood the White Rabbit’s House, which held the work of the Upper and Lower Sixth-hand-crafts of various kinds, from leatherwork and painted-wood articles to hand-thrown pottery, pillow-lace, and knitted jumpers and cardigans. Upper Fifth had concentrated on needlework, both plain and fancy, and their part of Hall was arranged as the seashore, where Alice and the Gryphon meet the Mock Turtle. The ‘rocks’ were made of packing-cases, chairs turned upside down, and heaps of cushions, all covered with brown canvas which had been painted in different shades to imitate rocks of all kinds-incidentally the geography mistress vowed she had never heard of a place which incorporated so many different eras of rock!-and over these, or drawing-pinned to them, were bags, cushion-covers tea-cosies, as well as piles of plain work in the shape of overalls, aprons, handkerchiefs, pillow-cases, and quite a number of good ideas such as pie-lifters, which were merely two kettle-holders fastened to tapes, stitched to a waistband. Lower Fifth had concentrated on produce and the last scene from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ had given them the chance to use all their members. The various tables were heaped with pots of jelly, jam, pickles; the prisoner’s dock had been filled with cakes; there were raised pies, buns, loaves of home-made bread. The judge’s seat was full of vegetables. It really was, as Tom remarked, a magnificent show. The Fourth Forms with a White Elephant stall, had chosen to represent the Queen of Heart’s Garden Party. Piles of books were built up to look like croquet hoops. The posts were represented by an enormous and hideous ware vase at one end and a bunch of old tennis racquets at the other. The sticks were aged umbrellas, elderly golf-clubs, and such articles; the balls were paper ones, each holding something unknown to the purchaser until it was unwrapped. The Thirds had been awarded the Mad hatter’s Tea-Party, to their great glee, and between the cups and plates, and in the middle of the longest trestle table the school could provide stood their games and toys, Elfie’s foreign stamps, Barbara’s dolls’ hats, Primrose’s scrapbooks, and everything else they had contrived to make, including Tom’s box, which looked most professional. At the far end was a smaller table on which stood the house in all its glory, fully furnished, thanks to everyone in the form, with another table in front of it on which were the two ‘gardens’. Seconds and Firsts had worked together, and the Queen of Heart’s Rose Garden, made of boughs torn off the trees during the gales, turned into rose-trees by means of paper roses and leaves, looked very well with all the raffia and canework they had produced. The Kindergarten had the ‘Lucky Dip’ as usual, and they had the Old Sheep’s Shop. You bought a numbered ticket from one of the two excited people at the door, and passed to the ‘counter’, manufactured out of a kitchen table and sheets of brown paper and handed your ticket to one of the attendants there, who searched through the shelves for the parcel with the corresponding number. Tea was to be served in the dining-room by Special Sixth, who were very grown-up young ladies working for Inter Arts or Science, or else specialising in music or art. They agreed to represent the ‘Alice’ period, and all the crinoline dresses the school owned had been raked out for them. Besides all this, there were various entertainments to be given in the Gymnasium, including a couple of one-act plays, a display of folk dancing, and a short concert arranged by Miss Cochrane, head of the Music Staff. There were competitions and raffles as well, and the school hoped that, by the end of the day, they would have a goodly sum to send for the beds they supported in the children’s wards at the Sanatorium. ‘Well, what shall I do?’ she said to the little group beside her, ‘Daisy sent me to do a spot of work.’ ‘I don’t think there’s much left,’ said Anne thoughtfully. ‘Let’s go round the place and look at things, shall we? Coming, you two?’ to Bride and Elfie. ‘May as well. We’ve finished our job,’ said Bride; and the four promenaded round the room, admiring and criticising with a point of freedom that might have given their elders furiously to think, if they had had any time to attend to their chatter. ‘Well, I like ours best,’ decided Elfie when they had finished their round. ‘The Sixth have some splendid things-isn’t that cloth of Gwensi Howell’s gaudy?-and the other stalls aren’t too bad either. But there isn’t one of them has anything like the doll’s house. Have you chosen the name yet, Tom?’ ‘Only just,’ Tom grinned. Then the Ozanne twins came flying up to them, babbling about a knitting-bag they meant to buy for their mother’s birthday. By two o’clock everyone who was taking a special part was dressed, and the others were scrambling into their own velveteens, for the bell summoning them downstairs would ring at any minute. The Sale was to be opened at three pm sharp, but the first-comers would certainly arrive some time before then. Tom, standing at the dormitory window, suddenly reported, ‘I say! There’s a herd of cars coming up the avenue! And droves of folk too. Hadn’t we better scoot? Aren’t you people ready yet?’ ‘Can’t go till the — There’s the bell!’ Bride made for the door in a violent hurry, to be hauled up by a passing prefect with a severe remark, ‘Bride Bettany! Form into line and don’t rush! Surely you don’t need to be told a thing like that yet?’ Bride went red and obeyed orders at once. Gwensi Howell was a strict disciplinarian. She waited till her Juniors were in line, and then sent them to the head of the back stairs, where they tailed on after two other dormitories and were followed by four more. The prefects standing about gave the order, and they marched down into Hall, gaining their places just before the big doors opened at the head of the room opened and some of the staff ushered in their first visitors. All the well-loved characters from the two books were presented. Miss Phipps, head of the Kindergarten, had nobly sacrificed herself and was got up as the Old Sheep, complete with sock. She spent the entire afternoon in the ‘Shop’ knitting industriously and keeping a firm eye on the small assistants, who were nearly off their heads with excitement and importance. Tom and Bride had been put in charge of Tom’s house, and they did a roaring trade, everyone being anxious to have at least one chance of it. ‘We’ll have pounds and pounds to hand over!’ Bride whispered gleefully to her partner during a momentary lull. ‘Have you any idea what it is so far, Tom?’ Tom, who had carefully piled up the money as it came in little heaps of one pound each, counted her piles. ‘Three pounds odd so far. It’s rather a good idea to let people take tickets and guesses before we were selling isn’t it? Hi! They’re coming on to the platform, so I guess that means we have the opening now.’ The opening was performed by a charming elderly countess, who, out of mercy for the junior saleswomen, spoke very shortly and to the point, and then declared the Sale open, and set the example to everyone by going to the nearest stall to make some purchases. Alice wandered around, feeling quite at home, and was thrilled to learn at the end of the day that a large donation had been given to the children's ward at the Sanatorium. A special prize was being announced, and Alice watched the Lady Opener as she opened the envelope, feeling very curious to see what the winner would be like, ‘ — for they haven’t given much in the way of hints yet,’ she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, when the Lady Opener read out, in her charming voice, the name ‘Alice!’ |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 10:18 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
I must say that I do like this frequent updating - though now I'm mightily confused trying to work out how many fictional universes we're dealing with! |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 10:51 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Good to know you're safely home Lottie, and enjoyed Austria, despite the problems on your journeys. Here is the final part of this nonsense - Ho Ho Ho Chapter 12 – The Christmas Play ‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how time was moving backwards and forwards around her, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tripped over and fell at the feet of the Abbess herself. ‘Ssshhh!’ admonished that lady. ‘Sit here quietly with me; the play is about to begin.’ Père Franz from the big Benedictine monastery round the shoulder of the mountain appeared and slipped between the curtains. The limes, worked by one of the young doctors from the Sanatorium, played on him as he raised his hand for silence. He had very little to say. A brief reference to the Sanatorium and the great work it was doing: thanks to all present that afternoon, for helping with the free wards. Then came a reminder that this was a religious play so there could be no applause. Finally, he asked that all would join in singing the Adeste Fideles with which the play would end, reminding them that the words were printed on the back of the programmes. That was all. He slipped back and one minute later, the orchestra broke into an arrangement of Bach’s ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’. The last beautiful note died away into silence. Then came the chords of a gay carol and the curtains swung back on the first episode. This was entitled ‘The Garden of Paradise’. Crowds of tiny angels danced in rings, singing the old Dutch carol, ‘Christ Jesus Hath a Garden’ to a setting composed by Mr Denny - a merry dancing tune. Larger angels came pouring in as the carol ended. They were dressed in robes of green and scarlet and blue, making a lovely contrast with the white and pink and pale blue of the tinies. All the wings were silver or gold and the gaiety and beauty of the scene held the audience spellbound until the last of the carol, perfectly sung by the performers, with the school choir in support behind the scenes, died away. The rings broke and swung back so that the stage was crowded with angels and archangels, standing with arms and heads uplifted. Then a tall archangel, with red-gold curls framing her face beneath the golden halo on her head, came forward and all turned to hear the news sung. Margot Maynard possessed a lovely soprano and the carol, written for her by her sister Con and set by Mr Denny, brought tidings that God in His pity for man had sent His Son to earth as Man that He might save His Creatures from his sin and its consequence. Christ was born that night, a Baby, the Child of a pure Maiden, and there was joy sung to earth and joy in Heaven. At once the baby angels clapped their hands, laughing merrily - Margot had turned her back to the audience and no one saw the awful face she pulled to make that laugh natural - as they once more formed into their dancing rings and whirled round, singing ‘Gloria in excelsis Deo’. All the girls knew that the joyous air to which they sang it was the work of one of the Old Girls, Nina Rutherford, who was already making a name for herself as a concert pianist and who was to make herself an even greater one by her compositions as the years went on. The curtains fell and a long sigh of delight came from the audience. On stage, the baby angels were hurrying off into one of the dressing-rooms to wait till they were needed again while the scene-shifters rushed to their work. A backcloth showing a midnight sky with the dark outlines of hills against it was dropped, and against this were posed shepherds, some standing, leaning on their crooks, others lying on the ground, still others half-raised and all looking eagerly towards one corner where the archangels, mounted on staging in tiers of brilliant colours, were singing the old English carol ‘In The Fields with their Flocks Abiding.’ The curtains were drawn back and the audience gazed thrilled on the beautiful tableau. Then it vanished as the carol came to the last verse and the backcloth was drawn up. Everything had had to be carefully timed, for quite a number of the audience were not supposed to be out at night and the play was a long one. The old ‘Wassail Song’, followed, and as it ended the curtains went up again, this time to show a banqueting hall in the Middle Ages, with a crowd of merry boys bringing in the yule log, proudly ridden by small Felix Maynard. The Lord and Lady of the Manor were there with their family and servants about them. A table was spread with dishes and all took their seats in answer to a call from the Lord, who bade them all welcome on this joyous night. His Lady also spoke her welcome. There were seats to spare, but when one of the children pointed this out, the Lord replied that those were for the Christ guests. Any who chose to ask for shelter and food that night was welcome in the name of Christ who was born in a stable because there was no room in the inn. The first to come was a beggar in rags. A group of gleemen and tumblers followed - how Gillie enjoyed turning somersaults and walking on her hands! - and finally a man, a woman and their children who had been benighted on the road. They were all made welcome and as they sat down, the choir sang ‘Dunkelt im Nacht’, an old German carol. The butler came, bringing the wassail bowl and the curtains shut out a delightful scene. The next tableau showed the Three Kings pressing on after the Star. One bore a glittering crown; one a box which glistened with glass jewels; the third swung a censor from which the blue smoke curled sweetly and slowly. The Austrian carol, ‘Drei Königen’, was sung during this, and almost as soon as the curtains had fallen, they were swept back again to show a merry Christmas in the days of Charles I, with holly and ivy decking the scene. The talk was of the service in church. A stately sarabande and a jolly coranto were danced and the scene ended with everyone singing a Latin carol, ‘Laus Deo’. The next tableau was symbolical. Against the midnight sky was shown a procession headed by a king, crowned and sceptred, followed by a beggar in rags. A monk and a nun came next and after them a jester and a man with a zither. Children in the dress of many centuries came in a group; an old shepherd in smock-frock and carrying his crook; a jolly sailor, an airman and a soldier formed a trio, after which came a housewife, complete with brush and dustpan and a sportsman in flannels and carrying a cricket-bat. Once more, Margot Maynard sang the accompanying carol:
‘Tis winter’s chill. The ice doth sear Earth, water, air. Yet all men come To worship in the stable-room. ‘What wondrous monarch do they seek? No mighty king A baby weak, Laid in a hay-filled cattle stall, Watched by a Maid more fair than all. ‘While angels and archangels sing The praises of this Baby King Man cannot fail to join their cry And worship God come from on high.’ Once more the curtain fell and when it rose again, oh, what a change! It rose on an obvious Puritan home. Gone were the Christmas trappings of holly and ivy. Gone the fine tablecloth and the great dishes. The family here were supping from wooden bowls. They sat on stools and the table was uncovered. Conspicuous on the wall hung a birch-rod. Everyone was in the plainest of clothes of the Puritan kind and the father of the family was so lost to good manners that he wore his hat in the house! One of the children complained of the dull food and was instantly bidden to leave the table and go without any more. Another said discontentedly that he had heard that formerly at Christmas time people had eaten pies stuffed with sugar and fruit and spices and why could they not have the same now? He was also sent from the table. A girl then said that the Bible said Christmas was the time of gladness, but there was no gladness to be had nowadays. The father rose up in wrath, his wife bleating agreement with all his remarks. He said that Christmas was an idolatrous custom and should not be celebrated in his house and family. But since his malcontents of children complained that the day was dull, he would liven it up for them. He reached for the birch-rod and they all fled from the room in terror, he after them. From behind the scenes came telltale sounds, blows and shrieks. Then the stern parent brought the three in, bade them kneel and ask their mother’s pardon for speaking as they had of the good food she had provided and ended up by making each of the weeping three - they were all bawling at nicely judged intervals - kiss the rod, after which he banished them to their bed chambers, the girl with a task of spinning to perform and the boys with several chapters of a book called ‘The Youthful Sinner: or The Fair Way to bring up a Child’ to learn by heart. The audience roared over this scene, but were speedily hushed as the choir broke into the old Latin carol ‘Jubilate Fratres’, which swelled out triumphantly. The tableau which followed this was of Hans Andersen’s beautiful story ‘The Little Matchgirl’. Kitty Anderson was the little girl, crouched up against the backcloth which showed a picture of a family round the Christmas tree. Standing behind her was a great archangel with out-stretched hands, ready to carry her soul to Heaven. From behind the scenes, the choir sang, ‘Rataplan’, the quaint old Provençal carol. The last episode was of modern times, with children having so much they were not sure what present to look at first. Talk of Christmas pudding and turkey; pantomimes and parties went round. Suddenly, the choir broke into the beloved old German carol ‘Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht’. The eager, chattering ceased. Someone spoke of those who kept no Christmas for they were too poor. There was talk of refugees, the people who had lost their nationalities, and the camps where they had to live, many of them without hope. Someone suggested that gifts might be sent to these folk. Another said, looking round not only the stage audience, but the audience in the auditorium, ‘Let us remember them with gifts from our plenty.’ Everyone began to give - a grown-up girl brought woollies; a young man produced a big coat. The children offered toys and someone brought a bowl and handed it round for contributions for food for the starving and destitute. Maeve Bettany, in her part as mother of the household, came to the front and spoke directly to the audience. ‘You have bought tickets for our play and we are grateful for your generosity to our Sanatorium and the sick. Will you extend this generosity, you who expect a joyous Christmastide. When our play ends and as you go out, will you put one coin, however small, in the bowls set at the doors, so that we may send from all here money to provide food for Christmas Day for some, at least, of the starving to whom Christ came as He came to us? Will you?’ The curtain fell on her last word and when it rose, it was to show black curtains against which was set a Christmas Crib with people kneeling at it and candles burning before it. At the same time, from behind the scenes rose the strains of Gounoud’s Christmas song, ‘Nazareth’. Once more the curtains closed and when they opened for the last time, it was on the scene of the First Christmas. It was all there-the stable with racks of hay for the beasts, the manger filled with straw in which lay the Bambino the school had for these plays, Rosamund as the Madonna, bending over it, Monica Garstin, the St Joseph, standing behind her with lantern and staff. All round knelt the people from the different episodes. Behind them ranged the angels and archangels. The triumphant strains of the ‘Adeste’ filled the hall, and everyone sang it with full throats and full hearts. And as the final ‘adoremus’ died away, Alice found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. ‘Wake up, dear!’ said her sister; ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!’ ‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, ‘It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’ So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been. She had seen the Chalet School at so many different times in its life, and found herself in its different sites in Austria, England and Switzerland, and she thought to herself that, however old she grew, she would always be a Chalet School Girl at heart. |
|
| Author: | Alison H [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 10:53 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you, Santa! |
|
| Author: | shesings [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 11:53 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you to all the Secret Santas who have made my Advent so funny and heartwarming!!
|
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Fri Dec 25, 2009 12:42 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
Thank you so much, Santa! As you've obviously seen, I was a day late in getting home, so I've just read through all the lovely updates very quickly. It's all so cleverly interwoven, and I shall have to come back after Christmas and re-read it much more slowly to appreciate it all properly. However, I've a nasty feeling that if I don't get myself tucked up into bed soon, I might find you've not brought any presents for my stocking. I hope you have a safe journey tonight, and that the reindeer behave themselves, and that you can all have a good rest to recover, tomorrow. |
|
| Author: | Abi [ Sat Dec 26, 2009 12:40 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
That was lovely - I have so enjoyed this story! Thank you, Lottie's Santa! |
|
| Author: | ChubbyMonkey [ Sat Dec 26, 2009 1:15 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
That was a beautiful story - thankyou, Santa! |
|
| Author: | Secret Santa [ Tue Jan 05, 2010 9:51 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland – for Lottie from Secret Santa |
A Twelfth Night addendum How Doth the Little Chalet Girl How doth the Chalet Girl talk French And German through the week? She learns the lessons taught by ‘Bill’ Or hears the Abbess speak. How cheerfully she seems to grin, How neatly keep her drawers, In case of Matey prowling in With grimly smiling jaws! Hope you had a good Christmas Lottie, this is your Santa signinig out ... |
|
| Author: | Lottie [ Tue Jan 05, 2010 10:03 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Alice in Chaletland for Lottie, completed for Twelfth Night |
Thank you, Santa! How lovely to heave another little bit, just as I thought Christmas was nearly over. |
|
| All times are UTC + 1 hour | |
| Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group http://www.phpbb.com/ | |