DAPHNE, a russet haired maiden of fifteen, looked curiously at Grainne. You never knew what new girls would be like, she mused to herself, but this one certainly looked quiet and ordinary enough. She won’t set the world on fire, she thought blithely. She had however noticed one breach of etiquette, and being an ‘old’ girl and thus an expert on the school’s customs, she set to tending her temporary _rotégée’s manners.

"You didn’t curtsy!" she remarked in accusing tones.

Grainne’s head lowered, and she blushed as she remembered Cecil’s curtsies earlier.

"I-I forgot," she stammered, all her nervousness and tensity flooding back.

"You always curtsy to the Head," Daphne proclaimed didactically. "Some people- like the Continentals, f’r’instance, curtsy to all the Staff. But you must curtsy to the Head. It’s polite," she ended gloomily.

"‘La pudeur et la politesse,’" Grainne muttered under her breath.

Daphne cocked a brow at her. "Politeness and piety?" she asked with a grin, and the new girl flushed again.

"I-it was the motto of my old school," Grainne explained.

Daphne laughed. "It’ud be a good one for here," she commented. "And listen, kid," she continued, regardless of the fact that the new girl was plainly less than a year younger than herself, "don’t look so scared all the time. We’re not that bad, honest! And here we are!" As she spoke, she rapped on the door, and a sweet clear voice called for them to enter.

All of the girls in the sunny room known to the school at large as ‘Upper Iva’ turned to look at the newcomers with interest. Their form mistress, a slender woman in her mid twenties, smiled.

"Ah! It’s our new girl, isn’t it?" Grainne nodded, and the mistress nodded at Daphne, who was also her cousin. "Thank you, Daphne. You may go. Tell Miss Ferrars I’m sorry for the delay," and Daphne vanished, leaving Grainne to face the mistress and the girls.

Mrs Entwistle crossed the room to stand beside Grainne. "Grainne- isn’t that how you pronounce your name?- we’ve made a space for you here, beside Rosita Maloney. You’re Irish, aren’t you?" and Grainne nodded.

"There you go. A compatriot for you!" and the mistress gave a low laugh. "Rosita and- let me see- Cecil, I think! You pair may help Grainne get everything she needs from Miss Dene or Miss Kennedy when they return. In the meantime, help her organise herself as far as possible. Now, everyone else!" and she carried on to name the new form officials for that term. Cecil flashed an encouraging smile at the new girl, while Rosita gave her a murmured welcome in Gaelic Irish, much to Grainne’s astonishment. She was not to know that Rosita was a gifted linguist who had implored her mother to send her for holidays in the ‘Gaeltacht’ so that she could learn the ancient language.

Meanwhile, as the mistress continued to talk, Grainne set herself to studying her new abode and companions. After a quick survey of the form room and her own desk, she decided she liked it. The room had been painted a pale apple green, which the new girl found very soothing, and she thought that the locker desks provided by the School were an inspiration in the way of schoolgirl storage. She also liked the amount of space each girl had to herself, not realising that this was partly due to the fact that Upper Iva was an unusually small form this year, containing only eighteen girls, including herself. Most forms at the Chalet School had at least twenty two girls, and some had the full complement of twenty five, which the authorities had decreed as being enough.

After examining the room and her companions as discreetly as she could, Grainne then turned her attention on her form mistress, and decided almost immediately that she liked what she saw.

Len Entwistle, nee Maynard, was, as she had always been, an attractive creature. Tall and slender, she carried herself well, and her chestnut hair was swung in a coil around her head in such a manner that it provided a frame for her face. Her features were delicate, and she had a pair of grey eyes that reminded her friends of English wood violets. Always a gifted teacher, a few years of experience had refined her residual talents in that direction, and more than one girl was grateful to her for her clarity of explanation and patience with even the dullest. A notable prefect and Head Girl during her own time at the School, Len was also possessed of a dignity and authority that belied her youth, but which contributed to her effectiveness in the classroom. Personally, she was happier now than she had ever been, and this was plain to all who looked at her. She had a job she loved, a small but beautifully appointed chalet close to St-Cecile near the school, and a husband who adored her and to whom she was devoted. The previous year, Len’s cup had filled to overflowing with the birth of her daughter, a child who had been named Regina Margaret Constance, after her father and her triplet aunts respectively.

To Grainne, it seemed as if the time between her entrance and the ringing of the bell for Break simply flew, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed as if the day had been never ending so far, and she was starting to feel exhausted from all her new experiences. Therefore, she was only too happy to accompany Cecil, as instructed, to the washroom, which she learnt was known as the ‘Splashery.’ There she was led to a peg and told it was hers, and then encouraged to buck up and freshen up, as Cecil wanted to get outside for her milk and biscuits. Mentally wondering if Cecil ever slowed down enough to relax, Grainne did as she was urged and followed the other girl out to the charming gardens, were she was rapidly supplied with refreshments.

"We always eat out here in summer," Cecil explained as she disposed of her biscuits. "But we do need to clear up ourselves! Some people growl about it, but I don’t mind myself. ‘Specially at Kaffee und Kuchen. Not so many people to be curious at the amount you eat!" Cecil drained her glass, and then heaved a sigh of satisfaction as she lay flat on the grass for a moment.

"I hope you’re speaking for yourself, you greedyguts!" a laughing voice was heard to proclaim in response to Cecil’s statement, and Cecil opened one eye to inspect. Marjorie Graves, a fellow Upper Iva member, stood grinning at her, her blue eyes dancing with mischief, and Cecil grunted.

Marjorie sat herself down and smiled in a friendly fashion at Grainne.

"Grainne, isn’t it? Rummy name! Welcome to us! Do you like us? We’re really awfully nice when you get to know us!"

"Little Modesty," Cecil murmured under her breath, determined to get revenge for Marjorie’s comment of a minute before. "Marge, tell me something, will you?" This was said with such polite interest that Marjorie forgot Grainne and looked at her friend. "What?" she asked curiously.

"How d’you expect the poor thing to answer when you keep gabbing on?"

Marjorie gave vent to a smothered howl, and, with due care for prefects, pounced on her friend, while Grainne watched in some surprise. Before Marjorie’s reprisals could be too severe, however, the warning bell for the end of Break rang, and both girls immediately sobered.

Grainne then found herself so busy for the rest of the day that she had barely time to think. After Mittagessen, as she had learnt lunch was called, the Head announced that as it was such a glorious day, they would have rambles from fourteen hours and did not need to return until seventeen to prepare for Abendessen. The School as a whole went into raptures at this announcement, and Grainne was even more astonished than she had been. This had been unheard of at her previous school, and later on she found time to tackle Rosita on the matter.

Rosita, who had been at the School from Kinder days, did her best to make her shy countrywoman feel at home. Like Cecil, she had divined that Grainne was acutely nervous, but, putting it down to new girl nerves, she had chattered on with persistence, trying to get some sort of extended response from Grainne, who had retreated back into her shell once separated from Cecil, for whom she was developing a genuine liking. Eventually, Grainne managed to ask a spontaneous question about the ramble, and Rosita congratulated herself on her strategy.

"We have rambles all the time," she explained. "You see, they really do care for our health here, and they like us to be outside as much as poss. Look!" and she held the other girl and indicated the view across the valley that had just revealed itself. Grainne drew a long breath.

"It’s absolutely gorgeous," she whispered. "Everything here is, so far." She gazed out at the view again, not noticing the quick look that Rosita had directed at her. "Did you get to read the prospectus?" Rosita asked, knowing that the School’s philosophy on health and education were enshrined therein.

Grainne came back to earth with a bump, and shook her head. "My mother wouldn’t let me," she returned quietly, and Rosita’s green eyes widened. She had heard of girls refusing to look at the prospectus, and girls who had never had it to start with. Never had she heard of a girl whose mother had refused to let her read it! "Why on earth?" she gasped.

Grainne looked troubled. "I don’t know." She shrugged. "My mother said I was to come here, and that was that, and she didn’t want to hear another sound out of me. She said I’d been enough trouble as it was!" Grainne broke off sharply; she had not meant to say so much. Rosita, after another careful look at her, decided that this was beyond her and to return to the original topic.

"Anyway, the Head and Matey- our Head Matron, you know- like to let us have as much time outdoors as possible when the weather’s like this. In the Christmas term it’ull be different!"

"How so?" asked Grainne.

"We either get snowed in or rained in. Then we can’t go out at all! So we make up the time at lessons then that we miss now," Rosita continued, rather incoherently. "Anyhow, we wouldn’t be doing many lessons today as it is. They won’t start properly ‘til Monday."

"I’m not complaining!" Cecil interjected from behind. This was the first time she had been trusted to ‘sheepdog’ and as a result she was developing a protective feeling towards her lamb.

Rosita grinned. "Ah, sure, we’re all knowing what you think of work, Cecil Maynard! But I’m thinking that Grainne here likes her books."

Grainne was starting to thaw a little under this friendliness. "I do," she admitted. "But how did you know?"

"She’s psychic," Cecil’s partner Celine told her with a grin. Cecil told both of her friends precisely what she thought of them and their insults, before dragging all three of them away in a hurry to reach the Auberge, which was one of their favourite walks.

Their form mistress watched them with a grin. She then turned to the other mistress, a fellow Old Girl who now taught PT, and had done so for some years. "Trust Cecil!"

Peggy Burnett’s eyes followed her colleague’s, and she also smiled. "That sister of yours is an imp," she replied amiably, "but I think Rosalie made the right decision in allowing her to sheepdog. She’s never done it before, you know."

Len’s eyebrows went up. "She hasn’t? How come? She’s well over fourteen! I was sheepdogging from the time I was eleven!"

Peggy laughed at her ex pupil. "Yes, but you, my dear Len, were born responsible as your mother used to say. Cecil wasn’t!"

Len laughed a little shamefacedly. "Sometimes too responsible," she murmured. "You should have heard Mary-Lou on the subject!"

Peggy grinned briefly. "I can imagine! But this is all past history. Cecil, as I said, has remained a heedless schoolgirl for far too long. Unlike the rest of you Maynards, she’s had serious trouble in separating home and school- for example, I’ve heard her refer to you as ‘Len’ to the others, and she’s even addressed the Head in public as ‘Auntie Hilda’! If being landed with this Irish girl teaches her to stop and think a little, it’ll have done wonders. She’s a great girl, and at bottom she’s very kind. Personally, I’ve no doubts that she’ll pull it off. And I must say," she added, with a thoughtful glance at the new girl, "I think this Gron what’s her name needs a little of Cecil’s particular brand of friendliness. She strikes me as being far too solemn and nervy for her own good!"

"The name’s ‘Gron-ya.’ But you’re right. I’ve not got much information on her background, myself. Rosalie simply told me that her parents are wealthy and that the kid has been in an Irish convent boarding school since the age of five, if you please! You should have heard what Mamma had to say when I passed that piece of information on!"

Peggy laughed. "I’m sure she was scathing! Did Rosalie not give you a copy of the application letter?"

Len nodded. "Actually, she did. It was from her mum- the girl’s I mean! Don’t be daft! It wasn’t particularly enlightening, I have to say. Basically that they were distantly related- very distantly related!- to Clare Kennedy, and that they’d heard of the school via the family grapevine. The lady then went on to explain their financial circumstances and provide the relevant references, but that really was all. Both Rosalie and I had the distinct feeling that something was being held back, but we couldn’t for the life of us think what."

Miss Burnett looked at Grainne again, more carefully this time. "Oh, I shouldn’t worry," she said dismissively. "I think she’s just the usual new girl, and only more anxious than most. It does take some that way, you know. Have you forgotten Odette Mercier?"

Mrs Entwistle gave a sudden peal of laughter. "No I have not! Poor Odette! What a water spout she was! She did calm down eventually, you know." Len’s face grew serious again. "I had a letter from her last year- or rather, it was originally addressed to Con, but she said it was for both of us. Odette’s mother finally died last year and she was all alone in the world. We passed the letter onto Mamma, who contacted Tante Simone. I must remember to chase that up, actually. Well, I hope you’re right about Grainne, Peggy, but I think- "

Her thoughts were destined to remain unspoken, however, for Miss Burnett had taken it upon herself to ‘scan’ the area for her pupils, and had realised that quite half of them had gone ahead and out of sight. With a sudden squawk that interrupted Len mid sentence, the PT mistress grabbed her friend’s arm and rushed her after them. Once they had rejoined their errant charges, and delivered a mild ticking off, both mistresses agreed easily to Celine’s request that they ‘surprise’ Grainne by ‘revealing’ the Auberge’s ‘secret.’

Inwardly chuckling at the look of mystification on Grainne’s face, Mrs Entwistle gave her colleague a quick wink before relieving that lady of her games whistle. Miss Burnett looked at first startled, but handed it over meekly enough, suppressing her own laughter. Len then beckoned her new pupil to come to her.

"Do you know what an initiation ceremony is?" she asked solemnly, but with dancing eyes. Grainne nodded, fascinated. "Well, this is ours. Cecil, would you like to continue?"

Cecil joined her sister. "Ever since we first came up here, new girls are always astonished by this. It’s your turn now, Grainne! You can reveal the Secret of the Auberge!" This last was spoken with such portentous gravity that Celine and Rosita gasped at their friend, while the mistresses struggled to retain their composure. Len, taking her cue from Cecil, promptly handed the whistle over to Grainne.

Grainne stared at it, nonplussed. "W-what do I do with it?" she asked, rather nervously. Her heart was starting to descend to her boots, for to her this ranked of the kind of mean prank to which she had so often fallen victim in the past. Even the suppressed excitement of Cecil and Co. did not reassure her.

"Blow it," Mrs Entwistle told her gently.

Grainne gave her an agonised glance, but obediently did so. She was instantly rewarded by an echo that transferred the shrill blast of the whistle into delicate fairy notes, and her face lit up as relief and pleasure went through her. "I-its beautiful!" she managed to get out at last, her face showing her emotion for all the world to see. Celine, watching closely, gave Cecil a surreptitious jab, and that young lady lifted her voice to sing a few lines from ‘The Holy City.’ All of the Maynards could sing, and she was no exception. Grainne’s face positively glowed, as she listened, and Cecil looked at her thoughtfully. "Can you try yourself?" she suggested, but Grainne flushed red and refused, and Cecil let it go. Inwardly, she resolved that before long she would get this petrified new girl to contribute something to the Echo before long, or her name was not Cecilia Marya Maynard!