Chapter 8 Chapter Seven Wind Direction

"Not a bad job, boy," said old Briggs reluctantly. "Not a bad job." He was praising the new helper for his ability to dig a field.Don't let this lad get ahead of him, Briggs thought. "Be careful," he went on, "you don't hurry. Don't hurry, that's what I say. You can do well when you don't hurry." The young man knew he could work much faster than Briggs. "Come on, along here," Briggs went on. "We grow asters. She doesn't like asters—I don't give a damn about her. Women always have weird ideas, but nine times out of ten they won't notice if you don't. But I'll say, on the whole Come on, she's one of those mindful women. You'll imagine she's got plenty of trouble for a school like this."

Adam understood that the "she" who dominated Briggs' conversation was Miss Bulstrode. "I saw you talking to a man just now. Who was that man?" Briggs continued suspiciously, "while you went to get the bamboo poles in the flower shed?" "Oh, that's a young lady," said Adam. "Oh, she's one of those two little beauties, isn't she? You must be very careful, boy. Don't get involved with little beauties. I don't say that casually. Once upon a time, in the I also made friends with Little Beauty in World War I. If I knew as much then as I do now, I wouldn't be so careless. Understand?"

"It doesn't matter." Adam went on with a displeased look on his face. "She just came to me in broad daylight to pass the time and ask me the name of a flower or two." "Ah," said Briggs, "but you've got to watch out. You can't talk to young ladies. She doesn't like it." "I didn't do anything bad, and I didn't say anything I shouldn't say." "Son, I didn't say you did bad things or said things you shouldn't say. But I said that many young women are locked here together, and there is not even a male drawing teacher to distract them-oh, you Better watch out. That's all I'm saying. Ah, here's the old woman. I'm sure she's coming for trouble."

Miss Bulstrode approached quickly. "Good morning, Briggs!" she said, "good morning—er—" "My name is Adam, miss." "Ah, yes, Adam. Well, it looks like you've done a pretty good job of digging the field. The barbed wire fence off the tennis court at the other end, Briggs, you'd better take care of it." "Yes, ma'am, yes. It must be done." "What are you growing here?" "Ah, miss, I think—" "Don't plant asters," said Miss Bulstrode, not letting him finish. "Plant some dahlias." She walked away quickly.

"Come here—order this and that," said Briggs. "She's shrewd. She'll see right away if you're doing something wrong. Remember what I told you, and leave me Be careful, child. Whether you are treating the little beauty or other people, you must be careful." "If it bothers me, I know what to do," Adam said sullenly. "There are plenty of jobs." "Ah, you are like young people nowadays. He doesn't listen to anyone who tells him. I want to advise you: Be careful not to fall." Adam's face was still unhappy, but he put his head down and went to work again.

Miss Bulstrode walked back down the path to the teaching building.She frowned slightly. Miss Vansittart came to meet her. "It's hot this afternoon," said Miss Vansittart. "Yes, stuffy." Miss Bulstrode frowned again. "Did you notice that young man—the young gardener?" "No—I didn't pay any particular attention." "I think this man is—well—odd," said Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully. "He doesn't look like a gardener for the place." "Maybe he's a student at Oxford and wants to make some money." "He's pretty. Girls pay attention to him."

"It's an old question." Miss Bulstrode smiled: "Guaranteeing students' freedom and strengthening strict management-do you mean this, Eleanor?" "Yes" "We managed to do that," said Miss Bulstrode. "Yes, that's true. There's never been a disgraceful thing in Greenfields, has it?" "We almost had an accident once or twice," said Miss Bulstrode, laughing. "There is never a monotonous moment at school," she went on. "Does life seem monotonous to you, Eleanor?" "No, it's not monotonous at all," said Miss Vansittart. "I find the work here exhilarating and satisfying. You must be very proud of what you've achieved, and very happy, Honoria. "

"I think the school is very successful," said Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully. "Of course, things often don't turn out as they're supposed to. . . . " "Tell me, Eleanor," she said suddenly, "if you had run this school instead of me, what would you have done differently? Tell me, I want to hear." "I don't think I'm going to change anything," Eleanor Vansittart said. "I think the spirit of the school and the whole organization is pretty much flawless." "You mean to say that you're going to follow the old path?"

"Yes, it is. I don't think it can be improved." Miss Bulstrode was silent for a moment.She was thinking to herself, and tact is important.Whether dealing with parents, students, or teaching staff, a tactful attitude is very important.Eleanor was indeed tactful in dealing with people. " Though Miss Bulstrode thought so in her heart, her words were: "Even so, there's always something to adjust, right? I mean the mindset and the living conditions in society are changing." "Oh, of course," said Miss Vansittart, "you gotta keep up with the times, as they say. But this is your school, Honoria, and you made it what it is today, yours Tradition is the essence of the school. I think tradition is very important, don't you?"

Miss Bulstrode made no answer.She was at a point when words were irrevocable.Inviting her to co-manage the school is on the lips.Though Miss Vansittart, being so well bred, did not seem to notice, she certainly knew that the words were on Miss Bulstrode's lips.Miss Bulstrode wondered what was holding her back.Why is she so reluctant to commit?Perhaps, she concedes ruefully, it's because she hates the idea of ​​handing over stewardship.Of course, deep down in her heart she wanted to stay, and she wanted to continue running her school.But there is no better successor than Eleanor, is there?How trustworthy and dependable she is.So, of course, was dear Chady in that regard--Chardie had been so dependable when the two of them first started the school.But it's hard to imagine that Chardy could be the principal of a famous school.

"What on earth do I want to do?" asked Miss Bulstrode to herself. "What a nuisance I've become! In truth, I haven't had a problem with indecision until now." The class bell rang from afar. "I have a German class," said Miss Vansittart, "it's time for me to go to class." She walked toward the teaching building with rapid, yet solemn steps.Miss Bulstrode followed her more slowly.Eileen Rich came hurrying down a side road and almost ran into Miss Bulstrode. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Bulstrode. I didn't see you." Her hair, as usual, hung down from a scruffy scrunchie.Miss Bulstrode noticed again her ugly, funny thin face, a strange, eager, irresistible young woman. "Do you have classes?" she asked. "Yes, English class." ''You like teaching, don't you? said Miss Bulstrode. "I love it so much. Teaching is the most fascinating job in the world." "why?" Erin Rich stopped suddenly.She stretched out her hand and scratched her head, frowning hard to think. "Is it because it makes you feel great and important? No, no...it's not such a bad idea in your head. I think teaching is like fishing, you don't know what you're going to catch, you don't know what you're going to get from the sea. What is interesting is the student's brilliant response. It is exciting when it comes. Of course, brilliant responses are not easy to come by." Miss Bulstrode nodded her assent.She was right.This young woman has talent! "I think you'll run a school someday," she said. "Oh, I wish I could," Eileen Rich said. "I wish I could. Running schools is my favorite thing to do." "How to run the school, you already have some ideas, don't you?" "I think everyone has their own ideas," Erin Rich said. "I'm afraid there are quite a few outlandish ideas that can completely screw things up. Of course, there are risks. But you have to get your Try out your ideas. I have to learn from experience. The trouble is, you can't rely on someone else's experience, can you?" "Indeed," said Miss Bulstrode, "you have to make mistakes and gain experience in life." "It's okay in life," Eileen Rich said. "In life you can get up and start over." Her hands were at her sides, clenched into fists.Her expression was very strong.But then her expression suddenly relaxed and became funny. "But if school messes up, you can't clean up and start over, can you?" "If you were to run a school like Yerba Meadows," said Miss Bulstrode, "would you make some changes—do some experiments?" Eileen Rich said, as if embarrassed, "It's—that's hard to answer." "You mean you'll make some changes," said Miss Bulstrode. "Don't worry, say what you think, child." "I think people always want to do what they want," Erin Rich said. "I'm not saying those ideas will work. They may not work." "But is it worth the risk?" "It's always worth taking a risk, right?" said Eileen Rich. "I mean if it's something you really want to do." "You're not afraid to lead a life of danger. I can see..." said Miss Bulstrode. "I think I've been living a dangerous life." A shadow passed over the young woman's face. "I should go. The students are waiting for my class." She hurried away. Miss Bulstrode stood watching her departing back.She stood dreaming, when Miss Chadwick came hastily to her. "Ah! You're here. We've been looking for you everywhere. Professor Anderson called just now. He wanted to know if he could pick up Melo back this weekend. He knew it wasn't in line with school rules to pick up kids so soon after school started, but he suddenly I learned that I'm going abroad—to that place that seems to be called Agenbessing." "Azerbaijan." Miss Bulstrode said unconsciously, still pondering her thoughts. "She's inexperienced," she whispered to herself. "That's the risk. What did you say, Chady?" Miss Chadwick repeated what she had just said. ' "I told Miss Shaplan to tell him we'd call him, and then told her to get you." "Just say it's okay for him to take the baby back," said Miss Bulstrode. "I think it's a special case." Miss Chadwick looked at her attentively. "You're worrying, Honoria." "Yes, I'm worrying. I can't make up my mind, and that's one of the rare things that happen to me—it upsets me. I know what I want to do—but I feel that handing over to experience Anyone who is deficient is irresponsible to the school." 'Cannon, may you stop thinking about retiring.You belong to the school.The Meadows needs you. " "Chardie, the Greenfields are very important to you, aren't they?" "There is no other school like Yerba Meadows in the whole of England." "We can be proud that you and I started this school," Miss Chadwick said. Miss Bulstrode threw an arm affectionately around the other's shoulders. "We can be proud indeed, Chady. As for you, you are my comfort in life. You know all about Greenfield Meadows. You care about this school as much as I do. That's a big deal, honey." Miss Chadwick was flushed and happy.Miss Honoria Bulstrode should show emotion, a rare thing to see! "I just can't play with this damn thing. It doesn't work at all." Jennifer threw her tennis racket on the floor in disappointment. ' "Oh! Jennifer, look what you're making a fuss about." "The problem is the balance." Jennifer raised the racket again and tried to swing it back and forth. "It's not balanced at all." "It's much better than mine." Julien picked up her racket for comparison. "My racket is as soft as a sponge. Listen to it." She plucked the string on the racket. "We were going to send it in for rethreading, but Mom forgot." "Even so, I'd rather have your racket." Jennifer picked up Julia's racket and gave it a try or two. "Well, I'd rather have your racket. I can at least hit a few real shots with your racket. I'll trade it with you if you want." "Okay then, change." The two girls peeled off the sticking plaster with their names written on it and reattached it to the rackets they had exchanged. "I'm not going to change it back," Giulina warned. "It's no use saying you don't like my old sponge." Adam whistled happily as he needled the barbed wire around the tennis court.The door of the gymnasium opened, and the mouse-like French governess, Mademoiselle Blanche, looked out.Seeing Adam, she seemed startled.She hesitated for a while and went back into the gym. "I don't know what she's up to." Adam said to himself.If he hadn't seen Miss Blanche's expression, he would never have thought of what she would do.Her guilty look immediately aroused his suspicion.Now she came out again, closing the door behind her.As she walked past him, she stopped to speak to him. "Oh, I see, you're fixing barbed wire?" "Yes, miss." "Some of the pitches here are very good. The swimming pool and gymnasium are also very good, ah, sports (the original text of this sentence is in French)! You English people like sports, don't you?" "Oh, I think so, miss." "Do you play tennis?" Her eyes looked at him very charmingly, slightly provocatively.Again Adam found her a strange person.He felt that Mademoiselle Blanche was not well suited to be a teacher of French at Green Meadow. "No," he lied, "I don't know how to play tennis, and I don't have the time." "You play cricket, then?" "Oh, I played cricket when I was a kid. Most people play cricket." "I haven't had time to look around," said Mademoiselle Angelle-Blanche. "I've only been free until today, and the weather is so fine. I think I'll come and have a good look at the gymnasium. I'd like to write back and write to me at Some friends who run schools in France." Adam felt a little strange again.This seems like a whole host of unnecessary explanations.Mademoiselle Blanche almost seemed to be justifying her presence in the gymnasium.But why is she arguing?She has every right to be anywhere on campus that she wants.There is absolutely no need to apologize to the gardener's assistant for this. This made him doubt again in his mind.What the hell was this young woman doing in the gym? He looked thoughtfully at Mademoiselle Blanche.It might do some good to know a little more about her.So he deliberately changed his attitude a little bit.Still well-behaved, but not very well-behaved.He let his eyes tell her that she was a beautiful young woman. "Miss, you must feel a little monotonous working in a girls' school at times?" he said. "Working here isn't very interesting to me." "But," said Adam, "I guess you have days off, don't you?" She paused for a moment, seeming to be thinking in her mind.Then, she could feel that, with a little annoyed heart, she purposely increased the distance between them. "Yes," she said, "I have plenty of time to rest. The working conditions here are great." She nodded at him. "Goodbye." She walked toward the building. "What have you been up to in the gym?" Adam said to himself. He waited until she was out of sight, and then he put down his work, went into the gymnasium, and looked inside.But he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Anyway," he said to himself, "she's up to something." When he came out of the gym, he didn't expect to meet Ann Shaplan. "Do you know where Miss Bulstrode is?" she asked. "I think she's gone back to the building, miss. She was talking to Briggs just now." Ann frowned. "What are you doing in the gym?" Adam was slightly taken aback. "She's really suspicious," he thought.He said in a slightly arrogant voice: "I want to see the gym. Wouldn't it matter?" "Shouldn't you be doing your own work?" "The barbed wire around the tennis court is about to be stitched." He turned around and looked behind at the gymnasium. "The best things are here for young ladies, aren't they?" "They paid for it." An said coldly. "I've heard people say they paid a lot of money." Adam agreed with her. He wanted so badly to upset the woman, or to make her angry, that he did not know why.She was always so emotionless, so self-righteous.It would please him very much to see her lose her temper. But Ann did not satisfy him.She just said: "You'd better go nail up the wire." Then she went back to the teaching building.Halfway, she slowed down and looked back.Adam was busy nailing the barbed wire.She looked from him to the gymnasium, puzzled.