For the Sake of the School | Page 4

shade and leaping waters, and a
breathing-space for body and soul.

The house, named "The Woodlands" by Miss Bowes in place of its
older but rather unpronounceable name of Llwyngwrydd (the green
grove), took both its Welsh and English appellations from a beautiful
glade, planted with oaks, which formed the southern boundary of the
property. Through this park-like dell flowed a mountain stream,
tumbling in little white cascades between the big boulders that formed
its bed, and pouring in quite a waterfall over a ledge of rock into a wide
pool. Its steady rippling murmur never stopped, and could be heard day
and night through the ever-open windows, gentle and subdued in dry
weather, but rising to a roar when rain in the hills brought the flood
down in a turbulent torrent.
Through lessons, play, or dreams this sound of many waters was ever
present; it gave an atmosphere to the school which, if passed unnoticed
through extreme familiarity, would have been instantly missed if it
could have stopped. To the girls this stream was a kind of guardian
deity, with the glade for its sacred grove. They loved every rock and
stone and cataract, almost every patch of brown moss upon its boulders.
Each morning of the summer term they bathed before breakfast in the
pool where a big oak-tree shaded the cataract. It was so close to the
house that they could run out in mackintoshes, and so retired that it
resembled a private swimming-bath. Here they enjoyed themselves like
water-nymphs, splashing in the shallows, plunging in the pool,
swinging from the boughs of the oak-tree, and scrambling over the
lichened boulders. It was a source of deep regret to the hardier spirits
that they were not allowed to take their morning dip in the stream all
the year round; but on that score mistresses were adamant, and with the
close of September the naiads perforce withdrew from their favourite
element till it was warmed again by the May sunshine.
The house itself had originally been an ancient Welsh dwelling of the
days of the Tudors, but had been largely added to in later times. The
straight front, with its rows of windows, classic doorway, and
stone-balustraded terrace, was certainly Georgian in type, and the tower,
an architectural eyesore, was plainly Victorian. The taste of the early
nineteenth century had not been faultless, and all the best part of the
building, from an artistic point of view, lay at the back. This mainly

consisted of kitchens and servants' quarters, but there still remained a
large hall, which was the chief glory of the establishment. It was very
lofty, for in common with other specimens of the period it had no upper
story, the roof being timbered like that of a church. The walls were
panelled with oak to a height of about eight feet, and above that were
decorated with elaborate designs in plaster relief, representing lions,
wild boars, stags, unicorns, and other heraldic devices from the
coat-of-arms of the original owner of the estate. A narrow winding
staircase led to a minstrels' gallery, from which was suspended a
wooden shield emblazoned with the Welsh dragon and the national
motto, "Cymru am byth" ("Wales for ever").
If the hall was the main picturesque asset of the building, it must be
admitted that the unromantic front portion was highly convenient, and
had been most readily adaptable for a school. The large light rooms of
the ground floor made excellent classrooms, and the upper story was so
lavishly provided with windows that it had been possible, by means of
wooden partitions, to turn the great bedrooms into rows of small
dormitories, each capable of accommodating two girls.
The bright airy house, the terrace with its glorious view of the valley,
the large old-fashioned garden, and, above all, the stream and the glade
made a very pleasant setting for the school life of the forty-eight pupils
at The Woodlands. The two principals worked together in perfect
harmony. Each had her own department. Miss Bowes, who was short,
stout, grey-haired, and motherly, looked after the housekeeping, the
hygiene, and the business side. She wrote letters to parents, kept the
accounts, interviewed tradespeople, superintended the mending, and
was the final referee in all matters pertaining to health and general
conduct. "Dear Old Rainbow", as the girls nicknamed her, was frankly
popular, for she was sympathetic and usually disposed to listen, in
reason, to the various plaints which were brought to the sanctum of her
private sitting-room. Her authority alone could excuse preparation,
order breakfast in bed, remit practising, dispense jujubes, allow special
festivities, and grant half-holidays. It was rumoured that she thought of
retiring and leaving the school to her partner, and such a report always
drew from parents the opinion that she would be