02 Jo of the Chalet School by Elinor Brent-Dyer Page B

it to them himself in a sweet baritone, and with the utmost simplicity, as the music demanded.
    When it was over, the master looked across at Gisela. ‘What do you think of the song?’ he demanded embarrassingly.
    ‘It is a beautiful son,’ said the head girl thoughtfully.
    ‘Why is it beautiful?’ he turned to Joey, who could think of nothing to say, and just gaped at him.
    Margia answered for her. ‘It is beautiful because the words are simple, and so it the music.’
    ‘Right!’ he said promptly. ‘We will now sing it again, and then we will turn our attention to another kind of song. Attend, little maidens!’
    They sang it straight through once more, and he nodded his satisfaction.
    ‘That went well. Now if the tiny maiden’ – he indicated the Robin again – ‘will bring the first song, we will ask this next little elf to distribute these!’
    He waved a second bunch of papers at Amy Stevens, and presently the girls found themselves looking at another song they did not know at all – one entitled ‘Brittany.’

    Once again they were given the keynote, and then had to read the melody. This was more difficult than the last, though, again, it was perfectly simple. The girls liked it. These two songs, both by the same composer
    – an Englishman who, they learned later, had fallen in the war – were totally unlike anything they had ever done. They wound up with another song of very much the same type, ‘A Page’s Road Song,’ and then the first lesson was over.
    ‘We will have three divisions next lesson,’ explained Mr Denny, tossing back his long hair out of his eyes.
    ‘The elder maidens will sing first; then, we will have the little lasses; and, finally, our small elves. I wish you adieu until then.’
    He bowed deeply to Mademoiselle, smiled at the girls, and strode out, leaving a gasping class behind him.
    Miss Maynard appeared almost at once.
    ‘Be quick and tidy up the room, girls,’ she said. ‘Then go and get ready for a walk. No talking until you are outside!’
    That last command was a rather necessary one. The girls were bursting to discuss their new master, and, as he was only in the study across the passage, he would probably have heard every word that they said. So they cleared the room, and scrambled into their coats and hats without a word; but, once they were safely round the lake, the comments came thick and furious.
    ‘What a weird soul!’ exclaimed Grizel.
    ‘He is – unusual,’ said Gisela hesitatingly. ‘I liked the songs.’
    ‘Yes, so did I. Thank goodness he kept off folk-songs!’
    Joey as too far behind to hear this comment, which was, perhaps, just as well. She and Simone were chattering in French about Mr Denny. Simone considered that he looked ‘romantic.’
    ‘He looked at ass!’ returned Joey briskly. ‘I loathe men who have their hair bobbed! And why couldn’t’
    he war a decent collar and tie like other folks?’ which put a complete stopper on the one thing Madge had feared when she had finally agreed to letting him have the singing.
    It was Margia who sealed it. ‘Who was that Greek man he talked about who said music was education?’
    she inquired when they had broken ranks.
    ‘Plato,’ replied the omniscient Jo. ‘Why?’
    ‘It would be a jolly good name for him ! Don’t you think so?’
    ‘Fine! We’ll call him that!’
    And ‘Plato’ he remained from then onwards.
    As the Head said when she came to hear of it, ‘It would be rather difficult to be sentimental over Plato !’

Chapter 9
shakespeariana

    ‘I’m fed up!’ observed Evadne one day, shortly after Mr Denny had made his debut at the Chalet School.
    ‘I think Gisela is right-down mean!’
    ‘Why?’ demanded Margia, who was sitting on the top of her desk, swinging her legs. ‘What’s she done to you?’
    ‘Fined me!’
    ‘Oh! Why? Was it slang?’
    ‘You know real well it was! I think she’s a – a rubber-necked four-flusher!’
    ‘Those prefects are getting very