THE SCHOOL PREFECT.
—First Prize.— It was lunch hour at St. Margaret’s College and a crowd of chattering girls were gathered round the notice board. The names of this year’s prefects had just been posted up, and, as is usual at such a time, the comments were many and varied. "Well, if Beverly Kane thinks I’m going to take orders from her, she’s mistaken,” announced Grace Dawson in a tone that said “I’ll give her all the trouble I can though.” “Oh, Beverley’s all right,” said Grace’s chum, “It’s Althea I don’t like. She’ll give herself great airs, now she’s a prefect.” rt They all will,” chimed in another girl. “Prefects always do. Anyway she needn’t try to boss me.” "Don’t you think it would be better to give the unfortunate prefects a chance to prove what they’re like, before you pull them to pieces. They’re nice sometimes, you know,” said a girl whom nobody had noticed, and who now parsed on leaving the others staring at one another in dismay. Well might they stare, for the last speaker had been June Meredith, the head prefect. “Oh, girls, she must have heard all we’ve been saying,” began Lesley Williams; and someone else murmured, “How awful!” “Oh, June’s a good sport, she won’t mind,” put in Jean Overton. “She was a prefect last year, so she’s used to being told how stuck-up and horrible she is, and lots of other things besides.” Up in the prefects* room, June was telling the other girls, namely, Althea Vaughn, Beverly Kane, Shirley Leyland, Valerie Waterson, and Dawn Reynolds, what she had heard. “They’re pulling us to pieces already, girls,” she said, “and planning to annoy us and make us angry. Then they will kindly point out that prefects should set an example and not lose their temper. If they knew how we laugh at them afterwards and think how silly they are, they might act differently, but—and it’s a big but—they don’t.” I “Never mind.” remarked Dawn, “that’s what the poor old school perfect is for — the others to growl about. They must growl about something, you know.” “I don't know if the construction of your sentences would exactly suit Miss Jones, but it’s the truth,” said June. And then while the girls downstairs still continued to growl, the prefects—should I say unlucky prefects—began to discuss some of the subjects concerning their office. Later in the day as the prefects went about their various duties, it was amusing as June had said to notice the snubs they received. The junior girls took care to say in stage whispers every time they passed: “Oh prefects,” or “I do believe Valerie’s grown two inches taller,” and other foolish remarks. Shirley and Dawn were going along arm-in-arm when Gladys Jones and Joyce Ramsay passed them. Their glances held no encouragement, but Shirley smiled, only to hear Gladys say audibly “Shirley can’t speak to ordinary people, now she’s a prefect.” The girl was going to make some angry retort, but June, who happened to be passing, flashed her a warning look, and said quietly, “Don’t be childish, Gladys.” Gladys wisely said nothing but she gave Shirley a look which showed plainly what she thought. Rosalie Cameron and Unice Mayne were the only two girls who still showed they wished to remain friendly, with the result that Gladys and Co. squabbled with these two also. “Oh,” said Grace cuttingly after Rosalie had vainly tried to show the girls that the prefects were only carrying out their orders, “It pays to be friendly with the prefects, you know.” “Grace Dawson, if you’re not the limit,” exclaimed Rosalie angrily. “Unice and I believe in remaining true to our old friends. I suppose you’ve forgotten, how friendly you were with Shirley and the others last year before they were made prefects. We all used to have great fun, and now if any of them open their mouths you tell them they are bossy, and if they keep them shut you say they are stuck-up. Oh! you make me wild,” she finished, as she walked hurriedly away. “Nice little spitfire,” commented Grace’s companion; but Grace was silent. She was thinking that perhaps they had been a bit horrid to the prefects, “and anyway,” she thought, “they only do what the Principal tells them, so we shouldn’t have been so nasty.” The next day Rosalie had another thrust at Gladys and Grace and a few others. “I suppose you’ve forgotten the time when Dawn asked us out to her place that Saturday and what a lovely time she gave us, and also that evening at June’s?” she said, as she passed them. The others had the grace to blush, and from that time onward the prefects noticed a marked difference in the attitudes of their companions. “The school prefect can’t be such a formidable person as she used to be,” remarked Althea one evening. “The girls are beginning to treat us as human beings once again. It isn’t so bad gaining a prefect’s badge if you don’t lose your popularity at the same time.” And the others agreed. —5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Alice Hewitt (15), 3 Eye street, Invercargill.
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Southland Times, Issue 20172, 7 May 1927, Page 23 (Supplement)
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867THE SCHOOL PREFECT. Southland Times, Issue 20172, 7 May 1927, Page 23 (Supplement)
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