REVIEW: Tenth at Trinder's
Mar. 11th, 2026 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feather_ghyllTenth at Trinder’s: Dorothea Moore (Cassell, 1927)
Although its heroine, an extraordinary new girl, does ever more impressive stunts, even allowing for her being a good gymnast, this book is funny enough to get away with it. Lawrence Cartaret, who goes by Larry, is an eleven year old girl, named after her mother. Yes, really. One of her girl cousins is also called Mervyn. Nobody remarks on this, while all the other girls in the book have normal girl names. (I’ve only posted about one Moore book here, and I don’t mention this issue with the names but that was a historical book, neither do I remember any of the other books by her that I own, so I don’t know if it is something the authoress does a lot.)
The intriguing title is soon explained. Trinder’s is the nickname given to Croftborough House, a girls’ boarding school, as its headmistress is Miss Trinderton, who has been in charge for long enough to have educated Larry’s mother, aunts and older cousins. It has now become time for Larry to become the tenth member of her family to go to Trinder’s. This doesn’t suit Larry at all, she vehemently resents it. Her father, doing something abroad for the British Empire, doesn’t listen to her pleas to send her to another school instead.
Larry is armed with plenty of confidence, and knows all about the school’s traditions, even if she writhes at being expected to follow in her clever elders’ footsteps. Indeed, she’s perhaps even more determined not to be squashed by her seniors than her cousin in the sixth form is determined to squash her. Larry is asked to look out for a neighbour’s daughter, Angela Rutherford. Angela will also be starting at Trinder’s, but without the advantage of knowing about it, and, it must be said, of Larry’s forceful character. Angela is prone to tears and sentiment, and soon looks up to Larry.
Miss Trinderton is on the ball, and although she has those dreaded expectations of the latest Cartaret to attend her school, she is capable of seeing Larry for who she is. In fact, she is forced to, because Larry has a habit of ending up in the limelight. Larry’s first efforts are to pretend to be stupider than she is in the entrance exam, but she’s put in IIIA, while Angela is in IIIB. The headmistress (and matron) are soon brought to their dorm, where Larry seems to have been a heroine, but knows that she triggered an older girl’s sleepwalking because of a prank.
But Larry is a heroine, gifted with the ability to think and act quickly and effectively in an emergency, even if Miss Trinderton and other adults try to impress upon her that her best course of action is to ask for help from adults in said emergencies. All the while, Angela follows Larry around faithfully. Thinking her a drip, at first, Larry tries to find Angela another friend, but this leads to scrapes and comes to naught. The scrapes, instead, increase Larry’s notoriety at school, which she stoically accepts. Angela’s loyalty and efforts to follow Larry start to get Larry – who is not stupid, even if her logic is sometimes faulty – to think about what she owes Angela. She even starts to realise that she’s fond of her, given that Angela is always there, rooting for her, thinking she’s great. But when Angela shows her own brand of foolish and real heroism, Larry decides Angela is not a little ass all of the time.
Indeed, by the end of her first term, Larry has grown so much that she’s almost magnanimously accepting of references to her living up to the family’s reputation. (Although surely none of them made quite such a splash in their first term!)
One of the episodes involves a visiting girls author, who gives a speech to the school about writing books, and then gets caught up in authority’s discovery of a fishy midnight feast got up in her dorm by Larry. It’s clear that she finds it more amusing than the headmistress, given the improvised cooking utensils and Larry’s candidly shared view of things. We’re left to wonder if she’s an authorial stand-in, and there are several references to the schoolgirls’ love for books like this one, which adds a self-referential element. Slang is generally frowned upon for being American (!?) It was striking to me that it was published nearly a century ago. Entertaining, anyway.
Although its heroine, an extraordinary new girl, does ever more impressive stunts, even allowing for her being a good gymnast, this book is funny enough to get away with it. Lawrence Cartaret, who goes by Larry, is an eleven year old girl, named after her mother. Yes, really. One of her girl cousins is also called Mervyn. Nobody remarks on this, while all the other girls in the book have normal girl names. (I’ve only posted about one Moore book here, and I don’t mention this issue with the names but that was a historical book, neither do I remember any of the other books by her that I own, so I don’t know if it is something the authoress does a lot.)
The intriguing title is soon explained. Trinder’s is the nickname given to Croftborough House, a girls’ boarding school, as its headmistress is Miss Trinderton, who has been in charge for long enough to have educated Larry’s mother, aunts and older cousins. It has now become time for Larry to become the tenth member of her family to go to Trinder’s. This doesn’t suit Larry at all, she vehemently resents it. Her father, doing something abroad for the British Empire, doesn’t listen to her pleas to send her to another school instead.
Larry is armed with plenty of confidence, and knows all about the school’s traditions, even if she writhes at being expected to follow in her clever elders’ footsteps. Indeed, she’s perhaps even more determined not to be squashed by her seniors than her cousin in the sixth form is determined to squash her. Larry is asked to look out for a neighbour’s daughter, Angela Rutherford. Angela will also be starting at Trinder’s, but without the advantage of knowing about it, and, it must be said, of Larry’s forceful character. Angela is prone to tears and sentiment, and soon looks up to Larry.
Miss Trinderton is on the ball, and although she has those dreaded expectations of the latest Cartaret to attend her school, she is capable of seeing Larry for who she is. In fact, she is forced to, because Larry has a habit of ending up in the limelight. Larry’s first efforts are to pretend to be stupider than she is in the entrance exam, but she’s put in IIIA, while Angela is in IIIB. The headmistress (and matron) are soon brought to their dorm, where Larry seems to have been a heroine, but knows that she triggered an older girl’s sleepwalking because of a prank.
But Larry is a heroine, gifted with the ability to think and act quickly and effectively in an emergency, even if Miss Trinderton and other adults try to impress upon her that her best course of action is to ask for help from adults in said emergencies. All the while, Angela follows Larry around faithfully. Thinking her a drip, at first, Larry tries to find Angela another friend, but this leads to scrapes and comes to naught. The scrapes, instead, increase Larry’s notoriety at school, which she stoically accepts. Angela’s loyalty and efforts to follow Larry start to get Larry – who is not stupid, even if her logic is sometimes faulty – to think about what she owes Angela. She even starts to realise that she’s fond of her, given that Angela is always there, rooting for her, thinking she’s great. But when Angela shows her own brand of foolish and real heroism, Larry decides Angela is not a little ass all of the time.
Indeed, by the end of her first term, Larry has grown so much that she’s almost magnanimously accepting of references to her living up to the family’s reputation. (Although surely none of them made quite such a splash in their first term!)
One of the episodes involves a visiting girls author, who gives a speech to the school about writing books, and then gets caught up in authority’s discovery of a fishy midnight feast got up in her dorm by Larry. It’s clear that she finds it more amusing than the headmistress, given the improvised cooking utensils and Larry’s candidly shared view of things. We’re left to wonder if she’s an authorial stand-in, and there are several references to the schoolgirls’ love for books like this one, which adds a self-referential element. Slang is generally frowned upon for being American (!?) It was striking to me that it was published nearly a century ago. Entertaining, anyway.
