It was the day the summer term started at Yerba Meadow School.The afternoon sun shone on a wide gravel road in front of the building.The school gates are open to welcome parents and students.Inside the door stood Miss Vansittart, with her hair unruffled and her dress impeccably cut, with the air that befits a Georgian door. Some uninformed parents took her for the well-known Miss Bulstrode herself, who did not know that Miss Bulstrode retired as a rule in her holy study, and only a few were given special favors. will be invited in. Miss Chadwick stood next to Miss Vansittart, receiving someone of a slightly different rank.Miss Chadwick is approachable and knowledgeable, and Green Meadow School cannot do without her.It is unimaginable to not have this young lady in the school.She has always been with the school.Miss Bulstrode and Miss Chadwick jointly founded the Yerba Meadow School.Miss Chadwick, pince-nez, slightly bent, disheveled, slurred but friendly, was a gifted mathematician.

Miss Vansittart's polite words of welcome echoed through the building. "Hi, Mrs. Arnold! Ah, Lydia, did you have a good time sailing around Greece? What an opportunity: some good pictures?" "Yes, Mrs. Garnier, Miss Bulstrode has your letter about art lessons, and everything is in order." "How do you do, Mrs. Bird? I don't think Miss Bulstrode will have time to discuss that today. If you want to talk to Miss Rowan about it, she's somewhere around here." "Pamela, we have changed the dormitory you live in. You move to the wing near the apple tree..."

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Violet, the weather has been rough this spring. Is this your youngest? What's his name? Hector? Hector, what a fine plane you have Airplane!" "I have the honor of seeing you, ma'am. Ah, I'm sorry, it's impossible this afternoon. Miss Bulstrode is very busy." "Hello, Professor. Have you found something more interesting?" In a small room on the second floor, Miss Bulstrode's secretary, Ann.Shaplan was typing fast and productive.Ann was thirty-five, a handsome young woman with hair that looked like a black silk cap on her head.She could look attractive if she wanted to, but life had taught her that efficiency and competence often paid off better and avoided painful troubles.At present she was endeavoring to establish herself as competent secretary to the headmaster of a prestigious girls' school.

Whenever she finished typing and reinserted a sheet of paper into the typewriter, she would look out of the window from time to time, and was very interested in the people who came to the school. "My God!" said Ann to herself, and she was stunned. "I didn't know there were so many car drivers in England!" She couldn't help laughing later when a fine Rolls drove away and a small battered Austin arrived.A disturbed father steps out of the car with his daughter, who appears to be much more peaceful than the father. When he hesitated, Miss Vansittart came out of the building to attend to them.

"Major Hargreaves? Is this Alison? Go inside, please. I want you to see Alison's room for yourself. I..." Ann smiled and started typing again. "Vansittart is a good old fellow, the successor to the headmaster whom everyone adores," she said to herself. "She can do everything Bulstrode does. In fact, she Strode recited everything he said word for word!" A particularly large, stately Cadillac, painted in two shades of burgundy and sky blue, drove up the drive (not an easy one because of its length) and pulled up to the honorable Alistair.The back of Major Hargreaves' old Austin.

The driver jumped out of the car to open the door.A tall, bearded, dark man in an arabesque stepped out of the car door, followed by a woman in Parisian fashion, and then a slender dark girl. "I'm afraid this is the princess herself." An Xun thought, "I really can't imagine what she looks like in the school uniform, but I think this miracle will be revealed tomorrow..." This time it was Miss Vansittart and Miss Chadwick who came out at the same time. "They will be brought to the imperial court to see them all." Ann was sure. Then, she thought, it was queer enough that no one liked to make fun of Miss Bulstrode.Miss Bulstrode was a great person.

"You'd better be careful, my lady," she said to herself, "and type these letters without making a single mistake." This is not to say that Ann has a habit of typos.There used to be many secretarial positions she could choose from.She had been personal assistant to the general manager of an oil company, and private secretary to Sir Mervyn Toddhunt, a lord known for his erudition, irascibility, and illegible handwriting.Among her employers were two cabinet ministers and an important civilian official.But on the whole, her job had been to deal with men.As she said herself, she wondered if she would like to be completely mixed with women.Come on - it's all experience!And Dennis!The faithful Dennis, whether he came back from Malaya, Burma, or other parts of the world, he always remained the same, devoted in love, and asked her to marry him again.

Dear Dennis It would be boring to marry Dennis. In the immediate future, she has no chance to have contact with men.They were all schoolgirls—not a single man here, except a gardener of about eighty years old. But something unexpected happened here.Looking out the window, she saw a man trimming the hedge outside the driveway—a gardener, obviously, but nowhere near eighty.Young, dark and handsome.An felt strange about this man—I heard that a new job was being added—but this man didn't look like a country bumpkin.Oh yes, people are willing to do any job these days.There are young men who want to pick up some money for a project of one kind or another, or simply to make ends meet.But he was good at trimming low hedges.Maybe he was a real gardener:

"Looks like," Ann said to herself, "it looks like this guy might be interesting..." There was but one letter left to type, which pleased her, and when it was done she might go for a walk in the garden. Upstairs, Miss Johnson, the housemaster, was busy assigning rooms, welcoming new students and saying hello to old students. It made her happy that school was back.Once she was on vacation, she didn't know what to do.She had two married sisters, with whom she could live by turns, though it was only natural that her sisters were more interested in their own affairs and their own family than in Green Meadow School.Although Miss Johnson had no lack of brotherly affection for her sisters, it was Green Meadow School that really interested her.

Yes, school has started, how great it is. "Miss Johnson?" "I'm coming, Pamela." "I said Miss Johnson, there must be something broken in my case. It's dripping all over the place. Hair oil, I guess." "Tsk, tsk!" Miss Johnson smacked her lips and hurried over to help. Mademoiselle Blanche, the new French teacher, was walking on the lawn outside the gravel drive.She looked admiringly at the sturdy young man trimming the hedge. "Not bad," thought Mademoiselle Blanche. Mademoiselle Blanche was small, timid, and unremarkable, but she herself paid attention to everything.

Her gaze turned to the stream of cars driving past the building.She estimated how much the cars were worth.The Meadow School was awe-inspiring indeed: she summed up in her head the amount of money Miss Bulstrode was supposed to earn. Yes, indeed!Awesome! Miss Rich, who taught English and Geography, walked briskly toward the building, stumbling now and then because, as usual, she forgot to pay attention to the road.Her hair, too, was loose from the bun, as usual.She had an eager, ugly face. She said to herself: "Back again: back here...it seems like a long time..." A rake tripped her up.The young gardener stretched out his arms and said: "Steady, miss." Eileen Rich said "Thank you" without even looking at him. Miss Ron and Miss Blake, the two junior teachers, were walking, heading in the direction of the gymnasium.Miss Roth was dark, thin and enthusiastic, Miss Blake was fair and fat.They were talking animatedly about their recent visit to Florence: the pictures, sculptures, fruit trees, and the (hopefully malicious) courtesies of two young Italian gentlemen. "Of course, what the Italians will do," said Miss Blake, "everybody knows." "They're free," said Miss Rowan. "People feel they are perfectly healthy and not depressed." She has studied psychology in addition to economics. "But when Giuseppe learned that I was teaching at Green Meadows, he was in awe at once," said Miss Blake, "and he became more behaved. He had a cousin who wanted to go to school here, but Miss Bulstrode wasn't sure yet. Available." "The Meadows is a real prestigious school," said Miss Rowan cheerfully. "The gymnasium looks magnificent, to be honest. I never thought it would be finished in time." "Miss Bulstrode said that the new gymnasium must be finished in time," said Miss Blake, in a tone that allowed no one to dispute it. "Oh." Then she said a little surprised. The doors of the gymnasium flung open, and a young woman with large bones and ginger hair stepped out.The woman gave them an unfriendly look and walked away quickly. "This must be the new gym teacher," said Miss Roth. "How rude!" "It's not very pleasant to have her on the staff," said Miss Roth. "Miss Lorimer was always so friendly and amiable before." "She literally stared at us," said Miss Black angrily. They were both annoyed. Miss Bulstrode's drawing-room had windows at both ends, looking out on the drive and the lawn beyond it, and on the rhododendron bush at the back of the house.It was a grand room, and Miss Bulstrode was an even grander woman.She was tall and dignified, with grizzled hair carefully combed, gray eyes full of humor, and the contours of her mouth giving a sense of fortitude.The success of her school (The Meadowsfield is one of the most accomplished girls' schools in the UK) owes nothing to the character of the headmaster.It's an expensive school, but that's not really a problem. It's better to say that although you pay high tuition fees, you can get what you want. Your daughter has been brought up in the way you wish, and in Miss Bulstrode's wishes, and the two together seem quite satisfactory.Because of the high fees, Miss Bulstrode was able to hire enough teaching staff.It's not a school that produces a lot of talent, but it's a school that emphasizes individuality, but it also pays attention to discipline.Discipline without uniformity was Miss Bulstrode's motto.She believes that discipline can provide security to young people and give them a sense of security; while uniformity will cause resentment.Her pupils were varied, and among them were foreign pupils of distinguished families, who were often members of foreign royal families.There are also girls from famous English palaces, who require cultural and artistic training, life knowledge and social skills, they will become elegant, well-groomed, and able to conduct insightful discussions on any topic.Some girls are willing to study hard and want to be admitted to university and finally get a degree. To do this, they only need teachers to guide them well and give them special care.There are also girls who cannot adapt to traditional school life.Miss Bulstrode had her own charter.She does not accept imbecile and juvenile delinquents, she is willing to accept girls from parents she likes and girls who she sees as promising.Her students vary widely in age: some girls would have been called "over school age" in the old days, and others not much older than toddlers.Miss Bulstrode planned interesting holidays for girls whose parents were abroad. In short, all matters in the school were finally decided by Miss Bulstrode herself. Now she was standing by the fire listening to the mournful voice of Mrs. Gerald Hope.She was prescient and did not invite Mrs. Hope to sit down. "You know, Henrietta is very excitable. Yes, very excitable. Our doctor said--" Miss Bulstrode nodded, politely reassured Hope, and tried hard to restrain the sharp words she almost blurted out: "You fool, don't you know that's how every silly woman talks about her children?" She said sympathetically: "Don't worry, Mrs. Hope. Our teacher, Miss Ron, is a formally trained psychologist. After a term or two here, I believe Henrietta (she is a bright, good boy) , you are not worthy to be her mother) will surprise you." "Ah, I know that. What you have done with the Lambeths is a marvel--a miracle: so I am glad. I--oh, yes, I forgot. Six weeks to go, We're going to the South of France. I want to take Henrietta. It'll give her a little rest." "I'm afraid it's quite impossible," said Miss Bulstrode--with a brisk tone and a charming smile, as if she were granting rather than refusing. "Oh: but—" Mrs. Hope's cowardly and irritable face showed a wavering expression, and she was a little angry, "seriously, I must insist. She is my child after all." "Not at all. But this is my school," said Miss Bulstrode. "Of course I can pick up my kids from school whenever I want, right?" "Oh, yes," said Miss Bulstrode, "you can take her. Of course you can. But I won't have her back." Mrs. Hope is really angry now. "Considering the exorbitant tuition I paid..." "Exactly," said Miss Bulstrode. "You want your daughter to go to my school, don't you? That's the way it is: do it or don't." Like 'Balenciaga' designer fashion, it's up to you whether you buy it or not. It's a 'Balenciaga' product, right? It's nice to meet a woman who really knows how to choose clothes." She seized Mrs. Hope's hand, shook it, and led her insensibly to the door. "You can rest assured. Ah, Henrietta is here waiting for you." She looked at Henrietta approvingly. This is a rare stable and intelligent child who should have a child. Better-some moms. "Margaret, take Henrietta Hope to Miss Johnson." Miss Bulstrode returned to her drawing-room, and in a few minutes she spoke French. "Of course, sir, your niece can learn modern ballroom dancing. It is very important socially. There are also various languages, which are also very necessary." Before the next person arrived, a strong smell of expensive perfume hit, and Miss Bulstrode could hardly stand still. "She must have a whole bottle of this perfume on her every day," thought Miss Bulstrode, as she went to meet the well-dressed dark woman and the man and woman beside her. "Nice to meet you, ma'am." The lady giggled and was absolutely adorable. A tall, bearded man in oriental attire took Miss Bulstrode's hand, leaned over to kiss it, and said in excellent English: "It is my honor to bring Princess Shesta to You come here." Bulstrode knew all about her new pupil, who had just arrived from a school in Sweden, but who accompanied her was less clear.She concluded that he was not himself, maybe a minister, or a charge d'affaires.As usual in times of uncertainty, she adopted the useful title of "Excellence," and reassured him that Shesta would receive the best care. Shesta smiled politely.She was also well dressed and perfumed.Miss Bulstrode knew her age to be fifteen, but like many girls in Eastern and Mediterranean countries, she looked much older than her age--quite mature.Miss Bulstrode talked to her about her plans, and was relieved to find that she could answer quickly, in excellent English, without smirking.In fact, her demeanor was far more refined than that of many fifteen-year-old English schoolgirls.Miss Bulstrode had often thought that it would be a very good idea to send English girls to the countries of the Near East to learn manners.A few more courtesies were exchanged, and then the room was empty again, but still full of strong fragrance, and Miss Bulstrode opened all the windows at either end to let the fragrance out. The next to visit is Mrs Upjohn and her daughter Julie Kee. Mrs. Upjohn was an easy-going young woman of seventeen or eighteen, with reddish-sallow hair, a freckled face, and an ill-fitting hat, evidently the sort of woman who is accustomed to go without a hat. , made a concession and wore a hat only for the solemn occasion. Julia was a plain, freckled child with a brow of wisdom and an air of easy-going temper. The opening conversation was quickly over.Julie Kie was taken by Margaret to Miss Johnson, and when she left she said cheerfully, "Good-bye, mother. Be careful when you light the gas stove. I can't do it for you now." Miss Bulstrode turned to Mrs Upjohn, smiling, but did not invite her to sit down.Although Julie Kie seemed cheerful and sensible, her mother might have to explain that her daughter was very excitable. "Is there anything special you want to tell me about Julia?" she asked. Mrs Upjohn replied cheerfully: "Oh, there's nothing to say. Julie Kee's a pretty normal kid. She's healthy and all right. I think she's pretty smart, too, but I guess that's what mothers say about their kids, isn't it?" "Not all mothers are the same!" said Miss Bulstrode coldly. "It's very nice of her to be here," said Mrs. Upjohn. "My aunt paid for it, or sponsored it, really. I couldn't afford it myself. But it makes me happy. Julie Kie I'm glad too." She went to the window and said enviously, "Your garden is so lovely, and so tidy. You must have used a lot of knowledgeable gardeners." "We have three gardeners," said Miss Bulstrode, "but at the moment we are short-handed, and employ local men to do the work." "The trouble these days, of course," said Mrs. Upjohn, "is that a man called a gardener is usually not a gardener, but a milkman, trying to find something to do in his spare time, or else an eighty-year-old old man. I sometimes think... how..." Mrs Upjohn screamed, still staring out of the window, "this is so strange!" Miss Bulstrode should have paid attention to the sudden scream, but she did not.For at the moment she herself was seeing from the window on the other end, facing the mountain rhododendron bushes, a very unpleasant sight, which was the Veronica Carlton-Sandweiss personality staggering down the path. , with her big black velvet hat tilted on one side, was talking to herself as she walked, obviously quite drunk. Lady Veronica is an old problem.She was a charming woman who loved her twin daughters dearly.When she was lucid, as they were said, she was delightful--but, unfortunately, she was not sober at many unpredictable times.Her husband, Major Carlton-Sandweiss, handled the situation quite well.They had a cousin who lived with them, and this cousin kept an eye on Mrs. Veronica and stopped her if necessary.On sports day Mrs. Veronica came to the school in the close care of Major Carlton-Sandways and her cousin, wide awake, well dressed, and behaving like a model mother.There were times, however, when Lady Veronica slipped away from her kind nurse, drank a few large glasses of wine, and went straight to her two daughters to express her love for them. The twin sisters had arrived by train this morning, and no one expected Lady Veronica to arrive. Mrs Upjohn was still talking, but Miss Bulstrode was not listening.She was trying to figure out what course of action to take because she saw that Lady Veronica was about to reach the point of drunken madness.But, by God's help, Miss Chadwick came briskly, a little out of breath.Miss Bulstrode thought, whether it was a broken blood vessel or a drunken parent, faithful Chardy was always so reliable. "It's a shame," cried Lady Veronica to Miss Chadwick, "to keep me from knowing--don't come here--that I've tricked Edith. I'm going to rest-- - get the car out - slip away from old fool Edith... real old maid... no one wants to give her a second look... I had a fight with the police on the way... said I was unsuitable Driving... blah blah blah... I'm going to tell Miss Bulstrode that I'm taking the kids home - I want them to stay home, that's motherly love. Motherly, a great feeling..." "Very well, Mrs. Veronica," said Miss Chadwick, "we're so glad you've come. I especially want you to see the new gymnasium. You'll like it." She deftly steered Mrs. Veronica's staggering steps in the opposite direction and led her out of the building. "I reckon you'll find your kids in the gym," she said with a beaming smile. "What a gym, new lockers for clothes, and a room to dry bathing suits..." Their The sound got farther and farther away. Miss Bulstrode watched.At one point Mrs. Veronica tried to break free and walk back toward the building, but Chadwick was a formidable opponent.They turned around the mountain rhododendron bushes and walked in the direction of the new gymnasium, which was lonely and deserted. Miss Bulstrode breathed a sigh of relief and eased her mind.Chardy is amazing.That's trustworthy, old-school.Not smart except for math.But when there is trouble, she always comes to the rescue in time. She sighed, and turned guiltily to Mrs Upjohn, who had been talking cheerfully for some time. "...Of course," she said, "it's not real espionage work. It's not parachuting, or sabotaging, or delivering intelligence. I don't have the guts. Most of the work is boring. , it's office work. And plotting. I mean plotting on maps, plotting—not plotting like in the story. Of course it's exciting sometimes, and it's usually pretty fun, like I As I just said - in Geneva, all the secret agents are you follow me, I follow you, everyone goes around, everyone knows each other when they meet, and they often meet in the same court in the end. Of course, at that time I'm not married yet. It's very interesting." She stopped short suddenly, and smiled amiably, apologetically. "I'm sorry I've talked too much. Take up your time. You have so many people to attend to." She held out her hand, said "goodbye" and left. Miss Bulstrode stood for a moment, frowning.Not knowing exactly why, she felt uneasy.Some instinct warned her that she was missing something, something that might be important. She pushed the feeling aside.It was the first day of summer school and she had many parents to attend to.Never before had her school been more famous, so sure of achievement.Fangcao is in its heyday. Little did she know that within a few weeks Green Meadows would be in a heap of trouble, chaos, unrest, and murder would pervade the school, and little did she know that something was beginning to happen.

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