Читать книгу Queen of the Dormitory and Other Stories - Angela Brazil - Страница 8

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“It’s a shame,” grumbled Rona Watkins, perched on the top of a desk in the big classroom, and kicking disconsolately at the new varnish on the seat below, “a mean, stingy, horrid, atrocious swindle! I haven’t felt so disgusted for ages. The match of the season! And just when we’d all worked ourselves up to the last pitch of excitement to be told that everything’s off! Oh, it’s sickening!”

“Well, surely even you wouldn’t want to play hockey in such a drizzle as this!” urged Edith Barlow, looking out of the window where rain was falling softly and dismally over the sodden fields. “No one with an ounce of sense would have turned up for a match to-day!”

“Can’t see why not,” objected Rona. “We’ve played through showers before and haven’t minded getting wet in the least. Those Linstead girls are slackers, in my opinion. To be afraid of a few drops—poor delicate darlings! We’d have taken no harm!”

“The ground would have been a nice miry swamp,” volunteered Ella Courtenay.

“Don’t be ‘soft,’ Ella! You, of all people, to want to cry off! No, you needn’t snigger! I’d set my heart on this match, and I feel a soured misanthrope.”

“It is aggravating,” sympathized Lottie Anson, “and particularly hard on us boarders, because we’ve nothing else to do instead. The day girls have heaps of things they can turn to at home to cheer them up, but we poor wretches can only stare out of the window and growl.”

Hardwick High School, like other establishments of its kind, existed for the benefit of day pupils, but twelve boarders were received by the head mistress, and lived at the house. As a matter of fact, Miss Robins’s excellent arrangements left them no cause for complaints, but it is schoolgirl nature to grumble, and on this particular Wednesday afternoon they considered that there was reasonable excuse for airing their woes. They had long wished to play the Linstead team, and though the day was drizzly, it was not so wet as to have made the match an utter impossibility. A telegram from the Linstead High School, however, cancelling the programme, settled the matter, and the boarders had perforce to resign themselves to their disappointment.

“If there were anything else we could do to make up,” continued Rona plaintively, “anything interesting, and exciting and out of the common! I’m sick of clumps, and Newmarket, and table tennis. Why don’t some of you make a suggestion? Hallo! Here’s Nan! She’s the one! Nan Stevenson, if you can’t think of something to rouse us up this atrocious wet afternoon you’re not worth your salt!”

“Hail, Caesar!” laughed Nan, uplifting her arm in a Roman salute. “Kindly tell me your imperial orders, and I’ll do my best to serve the state. You look as lively as a funeral, I must say!”

“Then find something to cheer us—something we’ve never done before.”

Nan knitted her dark brows for a moment. She was the recognized purveyor of entertainment among the boarders, and she was seldom at a loss for a suggestion, but to-day the demand taxed her powers to the uttermost.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed at last triumphantly. “We’ve had acts and gymkhanas, and fancy dress dances, and all the rest of it, till we’re fed up with them, but there’s one thing we’ve never tried yet (and jolly fun it would be, too!)—a midnight supper.”

“Where? In our dormitories?”

“No, they’re too near to Robin Redbreast. She’d be certain to hear us revelling, and then we’d be done for.”

“Where then?”

“Stop spluttering that pen about in the inkpot, and I’ll expound. This is my programme: At 8.30 we all toddle to bed as per usual, those who have a fancy to sleep are quite welcome to do so, as long as they’re ready to wake up again and join in the spree. At 11.45 everybody gets up and dresses as quietly as possible—and no talking or giggling allowed, mind!—then exactly as the hall clock strikes midnight we creep downstairs like a procession of the hours, and go to the dining-room. There we spread out our feast, and proceed to enjoy ourselves. Doesn’t it strike you as rather frolicsome?”

“Ripping!” was the universal verdict emphatically pronounced.

“But how are we going to get the prog?” inquired Lizzie Woodhouse.

“That shouldn’t be insuperable. We must make a general subscription—write a list of what we want, and then bribe Florence to go out and buy the things for us.”

“Scrumptious! I only bargain for sardines and seed cake, and if any of you want——” but here Lizzie broke off hurriedly and, blushing scarlet, bent down and pretended to be buttoning her shoe.

Her confusion was certainly not without cause. Quite suddenly the inner door of the classroom had opened, and Miss Robins herself had entered from the studio, walked across the room, and with a nod to the girls had passed through the outer door and down the staircase. Utter consternation fell upon the conspirators. They stared at one another with blank faces.

“Well, of all the unspeakable bits of bad luck!” groaned Dorrie Johnstone.

“What was Robin Redbreast doing hopping about in the studio? I hadn’t the shadow of an idea she was there!”

“Did she hear, do you suppose?” quavered Mary Buchanan.

“I hardly think so,” said Nan hastily. “Oh, she couldn’t, surely! We were over here by the window, you know, and we weren’t talking loud.”

“And probably she’d only just that second come into the studio from the corridor,” added Ethelberta Hall. “She didn’t look as if she’d heard, either. She gave such a friendly nod, and walked so quickly past.”

“If she’d heard, she’d surely have jumped on us!”

“Rather! And squashed us to smithereens!”

“Then you think it’s safe, Nan?”

“Perfectly. I don’t believe she’s the slightest inkling. We’ll have our fun to-night while Robinette slumbers in her nest, and I’ll undertake she won’t even open one little twinklesome eye!”

The main question of the revel naturally resolved itself into whether or not provisions were obtainable. The girls held a council of war, and amongst them collected a total of four shillings and twopence.

“It’ll go quite a long way, if we map it out carefully,” decided Nan. “I’ll get hold of Florence now, and see if I can’t coax her to buy what we want.”

Florence, being the youngest of the servants, was apparently the most open to bribery and corruption, but though she giggled at Nan’s suggestion, she at first professed righteous indignation and declined all complicity.

“Don’t you go asking me to do such a thing, Miss!” she declared. “Why, it might be as much as my place is worth, suppose Miss Robins got to hear about it. A pretty silly figure I’d cut if she found me out!”

“But you wouldn’t be found out, Florence! We’d all take the most solemn pledge not to betray you. On our honour we would! Tortures shouldn’t drag the secret from us. Oh, do, do! Be a nice, good, dear, kind-hearted girl and run to the shops. It wouldn’t take you five minutes. We’ll give you an orange, and a cheese-cake, and a slice of currant bread, and some sweets for yourself, if you only will!”

“I don’t feel somehow as I ought,” murmured Florence more yieldingly.

“Yes, yes! It’s not doing a mite of harm. It’s only a little fun we’re having. We must have our jokes sometimes. There! I knew you’d say yes! Here’s the paper with what we want—you can get everything at the bottom of the street. And here’s the money.”

Florence unfolded the list, and scanned it with an expostulatory shake of the head.

1	box of sardines.
1	currant loaf.
13	oranges.
13	cheese-cakes.
½	lb. of Pat-a-cake biscuits.
Sweets with any money that is left.

“How’m I going to get these to your bedrooms?” she inquired.

“We don’t want them in the dormitories. Stick the parcels in the boot cupboard in the hall, under a mackintosh, and we’ll fish them out for ourselves.”

“Well, I’ll do what I can for you, but if you’re caught, don’t throw the blame on me, that’s all!” said Florence, as she put the money in her pocket, and went back to the kitchen regions.

The thought of the fun they were going to have at midnight quite cheered the girls up, and compensated for the disappointment of the afternoon. Ethelberta stopped yawning and found a book, Adah and Lizzie began a game of Halma, and the others pulled out various neglected pieces of fancy work. If anyone’s spirits flagged, the rest had only to whisper “oranges” or “cheese-cakes” to restore a smile. At tea, as they ate bread and butter and blackberry jam, their thoughts strayed to the currant loaf and sardines which by this time Florence had probably secreted in the boot cupboard, and Rona could not help spelling “feast” on her fingers, for the benefit of Lottie and Mary, who sat opposite.

Miss Robins, at the head of the table, took no notice of their secret signals, though her keen glance was everywhere. She was a most alert, cheerful little lady, with such very rosy cheeks and such bright brown eyes and hair as well to merit the sobriquet of “Robin Redbreast” that her pupils bestowed on her in private. She was highly popular among them, and they only harboured the idea of a surreptitious feast on the ground that “stolen fruit is sweet,” and it was fun to do something for once quite beyond the ordinary, and just a little outrageous and risky and venturesome.

At bedtime everybody decided to keep broad awake till midnight, but just in case of any hitch, Mary Buchanan, who was a light sleeper, set her alarum with one turn, so that it should give the very least tiny warning, sufficient to rouse her if asleep, but not enough for the tirr-tirr-tirr to penetrate to Miss Robins’s bedroom. As it happened, this proved a wise precaution, for at 11.45 she was slumbering peacefully. She sprang up, however, at the alarm, and seizing the clock, buried it in the blankets in case it might exceed its duty, and go on too long.

To judge from the sounds of gentle, regular breathing, nobody had managed to keep awake, and Mary, slipping on her dressing-gown, made a tour among the other beds, shaking the occupants into consciousness, then passed on to the next dormitories.

In various degrees of drowsiness the girls sat up and recovered their scattered wits. One or two would have been glad to drop off to sleep again, but that Mary had foreseen, and armed with a wet sponge was prepared for the emergency.

“You needn’t take such brutal measures!” spluttered the victims.

“There’s no time to waste,” said Mary grimly, “you’ll thank me when you’re downstairs in the dining-room. Get dressed as fast as you can. Never mind prinking.”

The chiming clock in the hall sounded the four quarters, then tolled out twelve strokes, and as the last died quiveringly away the girls began silently and cautiously to creep down the stairs, which certainly creaked in a manner they never did in the daytime. A little oil lamp on the landing was always left burning at night, and by its glimmer they were just able to see their way round the turn of the staircase and across the hall. Rona gently opened the door of the boot cupboard and groped for their provisions. Florence had been faithful to her word, and to judge from the feel of the various parcels had executed all the commissions. Rona silently handed the oranges to Nan, and the sardines to Lottie, then distributing the other bags between Ella, Edith, Adah, and Ethelberta, brought up the rear herself with the currant loaf.

Down the long, dark passage they tiptoed, out of sight now of the landing lamp, till they reached the door of the dining-hall, where Nan, feeling about with her thumb, switched on the electric light, and stalked into the room. She was so closely followed by the others that they did not hear her gasp of astonishment until they were all inside the door. The spectacle that greeted them was certainly calculated to excite exclamations of surprise. The centre table was spread with a clean cloth, and prettily decorated with ferns and flowers, while on it was a most tempting array of glass dishes containing jelly, trifle, custard, apple snow, together with jugs of lemonade, and other delicacies generally reserved for festive occasions. But that was not the whole. At the head of the table, in a most becoming evening dress, stood Miss Robins, surveying her twelve boarders with—yes! actually a bland smile of welcome.

“Come in, girls!” she said pleasantly. “I’m glad you’re so punctual. This is only a cold supper, because I don’t approve of keeping the servants up late, but no doubt we shall manage to enjoy ourselves. Sit down, all of you!”

If an earthquake could have caused the floor to open and swallow them up, I think the guilty twelve would have been much relieved. They took their seats in a horrible awed silence, trying to conceal the tell-tale parcels of provisions which they had brought with them. Nan, in her confusion, burst the bag of oranges as she popped it under her chair, and one rolled across the floor to the very feet of the head mistress. Miss Robins ignored the incident, however, and chatting easily, began to serve the large dish of trifle. The contrast between her charming evening gown, with its dainty trimmings, and their own careless toilets filled the girls with deep humiliation. Nan’s hair was in curl papers, while their blouses were for the most part unbuttoned. Not one boasted a belt or a tie.

As if she were quite oblivious that anything was deficient in the costumes of her guests, Miss Robins talked on brightly, just as she always did at the ordinary school parties. Hot, red, and most uncomfortable, the twelve conspirators ate the trifle, apple snow, jelly and fruit which were pressed upon them, each devoutly wishing herself back in her own bed. Lottie was sitting uneasily upon the tin of sardines, and Ethelberta strove to hold a bag of cheese-cakes intact upon her lap. Miss Robins was the only merry one of the company, but she talked for the dozen, and did not appear to be damped by the monosyllabic nature of the replies accorded to her sprightly sallies. Everybody was most deeply and intensely relieved when at length she rose and gave the welcome signal of dismissal.

“We’ve had quite a jolly little supper together,” was her cheery comment. “It reminds me of a Hans Andersen fairy tale for us to be enjoying ourselves in the middle of the night, while everyone else is sleeping. One almost expects the china ornaments to come down and begin to dance. Pleasant dreams to you all! And when you next contemplate a nocturnal festivity, please give me a little longer notice beforehand. Turn up the light in the hall, Ella, as you go.”

The girls scuttled upstairs like conscience-stricken rabbits, but once in the sanctuary of their dormitories they exploded into an expressive series of “Well!” and “Oh!”

“So she heard after all!” exclaimed Rona. “She must have been in the studio longer than we thought!”

“I think she’s an absolute archangel!” declared Nan. “I never felt so ashamed in my life. Look at my absurd knobs of curl papers! Here, what am I to do with the rest of this wretched bag of oranges?”

“I’ve been hugging the cheese-cakes all the time!” giggled Ethelberta.

“Give the whole lot to Florence in the morning, and tell her to eat them, or to bestow them on a tramp,” said Mary. “I couldn’t touch a morsel of them myself, not even a pat-a-cake biscuit.”

“So much as an acid drop would choke me!” agreed Lottie.

“Didn’t that blue voile dress suit Robinette to a T?” said Adah. “She looked sweet.”

“Well, I don’t know how you feel about it, but I think Robin Redbreast turned up trumps. She needn’t be afraid of our wanting another midnight carousal—one’s enough and plenty for me!” declared Rona.

“Hear, hear!” cried the others, as they hopped hastily into bed.