Читать книгу An Exciting Term - Angela Brazil - Страница 6

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The household at the Villa Mon Désir always rose early. Schools in Switzerland began work at eight o'clock instead of at nine as in England, so the family breakfasted punctually at seven. On the following morning Greta indeed woke the girls at six by bursting into their room to offer her birthday present. Molly, still rather sleepy, sat up in bed to examine the needlebook and to express admiration and thanks and due astonishment.

"I made it myself. No one helped me. You did not know I was making for you a surprise?" said Greta, jumping on to the bed.

"No, indeed, I never guessed. It's very kind of you. But you needn't sit on my feet, please! You're heavy."

"You like it?" asked Greta, dancing round the room.

"Very much."

"You shall put it inside—but no, I must not yet tell you! Maman, she also has a present for you. She is already downstairs. I hear her. Do you not wish to get up?"

Fully awake by now, the girls dressed leisurely and were in the salon before the coffee was ready. On the table Molly found a lovely interesting bouquet of flowers and several parcels. There was a workbag from Madame Henrich, in blue silk, a paintbox from her father, a carved Swiss pencilbox from Meg, and a small package with an English stamp on it, that the postman had just delivered. This contained a green necklace and a letter from her Aunt Maggie in England.

"Are you not lucky?" said Greta, who watched the opening of the parcels with intense interest. "Now you can put my needlebook inside Maman's workbag. How happy it is to have a birthday!"

"I like the necklace," said Meg. "What a good thing you wrote to Aunt Maggie at Christmas and gave her our address in Switzerland. She forgot you last year. I wish she'd remembered my birthday."

"Well, you see, she's my aunt, not yours."

"Great-aunt!" corrected Meg.

"Great-aunt or little-aunt, what does it matter?"

"Well, she knows we live together, so I wish she would remember me too."

"She does. Here's her letter. She says:

"Heath House, Park Road,

Rillington.

My Dear Margaret,

I send you this necklace with my love and best wishes for your birthday. It is many years since I was in Switzerland, and I fear I shall not get so far again as Montreux, for travelling does not suit me nowadays. I hope, however, that you and your cousin will come sometime and pay me a visit in England. I should like to see you, as I was so fond of your mother. Tell your father he must try and arrange it.

Your affectionate aunt,

Margaret Norton."

"Oh!" exclaimed Meg. "That would be jolly! We've never been in England. Tell her we'd love to come."

"I shall. I'll write and thank her for her present, and say we're 'looking forward to accepting her kind invitation'. Is that the way to put it?"

"Yes, give her my love as well as yours. She sounds rather an old dear."

The early part of the morning passed happily. Mr. Campbell came down to breakfast, kissed Molly and heartily congratulated her upon having entered her teens. He did not refer to the trouble of the previous evening.

"Will you take us for an excursion, Daddy?" asked Molly hopefully. "Can we go for the whole day?"

"Impossible. I'm too busy," he replied, hastily finishing his coffee and going upstairs to his laboratory.

"Perhaps he will in the afternoon," whispered Meg, as Molly's face registered disappointment.

Greta was being packed off to school, with her books in her satchel, and shortly after she had left the house Monsieur Henrich arrived, having travelled by the night train from Paris. He drank a cup of coffee, then went to join Mr. Campbell in the laboratory. About ten minutes later, the girls were making their beds—a daily duty which Madame required them to perform—when they heard an unusual commotion upstairs. Loud and angry voices issued from the laboratory, as if a violent quarrel were in progress. Monsieur Henrich came out on to the landing, shouting at the pitch of his lungs, the door banged, he clattered downstairs, and called excitedly for Madame.

Meg and Molly looked at one another in consternation. Evidently something very unpleasant was happening. Mr. Campbell and Monsieur Henrich had always been on such friendly terms it seemed unthinkable to imagine any altercation between them. What could possibly be the matter?

"I vote we go for a walk!" suggested Meg.

"I agree with you!" said Molly, putting on her hat. The girls hurried away, glad to get out of the house. Squabbles between themselves were bad enough, but quarrels between grown-ups were serious. They went for a long ramble, in search of flowers, and did not return to the villa until lunch time. Monsieur Henrich was not present at table, and both Madame Henrich and Mr. Campbell were very quiet and scarcely spoke to one another. Greta chattered as usual, but Meg and Molly felt the atmosphere was uncomfortable.

When the meal was over Molly made another appeal to her father.

"Daddy! It's my birthday! Can you take us somewhere this afternoon? You promised!"

At first he shook his head, then, seeing her eyes swimming with tears, he relented.

"Be ready by half-past three, and I'll take you to have tea at the Casino," he said.

This, though not the kind of excursion for which she had hoped, was much better than nothing. She ran to tell the good news to Meg.

"The music's jolly and there are always delicious little cakes," commented Meg. "I wish we could have gone on the steamer."

"Well, if we can't we can't!"

"Perhaps we may do the lake trip another day."

"Yes, if there's time before the hols end."

"We've nearly a week left. School doesn't begin till the 9th."

The girls were ready and waiting by half-past three, and soon afterwards Mr. Campbell joined them in the hall. They caught a motor-bus at the end of the road, which took them to Montreux and put them down close to the Casino. The concert had already begun when they arrived. The orchestra was playing a "Danse Espagnole" by Sarasate. The large hall was fairly well filled with visitors, both below and in the surrounding gallery. A table close to the foot of the great staircase was vacant, so they seated themselves there, and Mr. Campbell beckoned to a waitress and ordered tea. It was really very festive. They were in a little alcove, banked on one side by pots of tall flowers, and commanding a good view of the orchestra and also of the hall. Tourists of all nations were sitting listening to the music and having refreshments.

"Don't you feel as if you were in the wide world?" said Meg, with a sigh of satisfaction.

She settled herself comfortably in her seat, looking round at the other visitors. Meg was fond of society and enjoyed the atmosphere of a crowd.

"Rather different from school, I must say," replied Molly, who was equally delighted.

"Yes, we don't get much fun at school."

"That's Marie Chenier over there!"

"So it is!"

"And her mother with her."

"Do they see us?"

"Yes, she's smiling."

"I'm glad for Marie to see us here!"

"She often goes to the Casino."

"The Cheniers are rather fashionable."

"I like Madame's hat."

"So do I."

It was undoubtedly an opportunity for seeing French fashions. Certain of the ladies were gowned in the latest creations from Paris. Some had pretty children with them. There was a general appearance of gaiety. In the intervals between the pieces on the programme everybody seemed to chatter.

Molly began to feel that at last she was having something in the way of a birthday fête. The cakes were particularly nice, and they were allowed to have ices afterwards. The first part of the concert was over, and there was a long interval before the second part of the programme would begin. The musicians had left the platform, and were possibly fortifying themselves with coffee behind the scenes.

"Isn't it all jolly?" murmured Meg, leaning back luxuriously in her cushioned corner.

"Simply marvellous," said Molly, finishing the last spoonful of her vanilla ice.

"Enjoying yourselves?" asked Mr. Campbell.

"Rather, Dad!"

"Would you like any more cakes?"

"No, thanks!"

"Another ice?"

"Really not, thanks!"

"Slimming?"

"No, Dad! I'm not fat enough to go in for that."

"I thought perhaps you wanted to cultivate a willowy figure like the lady over there."

"She's very elegant, but she's eaten nothing. I watched her."

"Those German children at the next table have had three platefuls of cakes," remarked Meg.

"Well, I hope they'll be none the worse for it. Germans generally have excellent digestions."

They were sitting in their alcove, chatting thus, and quite jolly and amused, when a sudden interruption occurred. Monsieur Henrich and two other gentlemen walked into the hall, looked round the tables, located the Campbells, and came and sat down with them, ordering black coffee. Their appearance was not at all welcome to the birthday party. Molly wondered why they had intruded. She glanced at her father, but his face was non-committal.

The men began to speak in low tones in French, but Mr. Campbell, with a meaning glance at the girls, changed the conversation into German, a language which most Swiss people speak fluently but which Meg and Molly did not understand. What they were saying seemed to be of an unpleasant character. Mr. Campbell first flushed, and then went very white. He appeared to be making a most indignant denial. Monsieur Henrich turned to the two strangers, who nodded emphatically, and murmured something. Mr. Campbell rose, and spoke hurriedly to the girls.

"You two had better go home! Take the bus. Here's a franc for your fares. Run along now!"

Thus unexpectedly and peremptorily dismissed, Molly and Meg got up and walked to the door. They turned there to see Mr. Campbell still standing, evidently watching their exit. He sat down again as they passed through the barrier.

"What's the matter?" asked Meg, when they found themselves in the road.

"I can't imagine. Only that Dad and Monsieur Henrich have quarrelled. It's simply horrible."

"It's spoilt your birthday."

"It has."

"What have they quarrelled about?"

"I'm sure I can't tell."

"Those other men looked very angry too."

"Yes. Oh, there's the bus! If we run we shall just catch it."

When the girls arrived at the villa they found Madame Henrich and Greta had gone out. They were rather glad, as there was now no need to explain why they had returned so soon. Feeling very depressed, they wandered about the house for a while, not quite knowing what to do with themselves.

"I think I shall write a letter to Aunt Maggie to thank her for my necklace," said Molly, opening the bureau in the salon, and finding a sheet of notepaper.

"Very well. I'll go and read in the garden," replied Meg.

Molly was not a remarkably good correspondent. It needed much thinking to compose a suitable reply of thanks to a great-aunt whom she had never yet seen. And when she was half-way through she made such a frightful blot that she felt obliged to write it all over again. She had just finished and was directing the envelope when Mr. Campbell entered the room. He flung himself wearily into an armchair. He looked pale and upset. Molly glanced at him uneasily. She did not dare to refer to the occurrence at the Casino, or question him.

"Dad, can you give me a stamp?" she asked. "I've been writing to Aunt Maggie to thank her for her present. She sent such a nice letter with the necklace. She says she hopes Meg and I will go and stay with her sometime."

"Go and stay with her in England?" queried her father.

"Yes. Here's her letter if you care to look at it. I'd love to go some holidays. Meg and I have never been in England."

Mr. Campbell seized the sheet of notepaper and read it attentively.

"That's an idea certainly. It might solve an immediate problem," he said.

"What would, Dad?"

"Never mind. I'll write to Aunt Maggie too, and enclose it with yours."

He took Molly's place at the bureau, pulled his fountain pen from his pocket, and began. It seemed to cause him considerable thought, for he paused occasionally and frowned. He had finished at last, and hearing Madame Henrich and Greta returning, he hastily put his letter inside the envelope with Molly's and stamped it.

"Run with this to the pillar-box at the corner," he said. "It will just catch the night mail. It ought to reach Rillington by Monday."

"Right-o, Daddy! I won't miss the post," said Molly hurrying away.

The next two days that followed were some of the most unpleasant that Meg and Molly ever remembered. Mr. Campbell and Monsieur Henrich did not appear to be on speaking terms. Madame Henrich was also very gloomy and silent, and short in her manner towards the girls. The whole atmosphere of the villa seemed charged with electricity, as if a mental thunderstorm were in progress. Meg and Molly kept out of the house as much as possible. They went for walks, or played in the wood-shed with Greta, who was the only member of the family who remained normal. She was too young to notice much, though she remarked once or twice that everybody was cross.

"I shall be very glad when school begins again," declared Molly.

"So shall I," agreed Meg. "And we were going to enjoy this last week of the hols!"

"Not much fun at present, is there?"

"Rather not!"

"Hope things will calm down soon."

"I hope to goodness they will."

On Sunday morning the girls as usual put on their best dresses. Their clothes were chosen by Madame Henrich, who had good taste, and these Sunday frocks were pretty. Meg's was a milky green that went well with her auburn hair, and Molly's was in a shade of saxe blue.

She took out her new necklace to try the effect.

"You can't wear that green chain with your blue dress!" declared Meg. "It looks awful. It goes far better with mine."

"Pity Aunt Maggie didn't send me a blue one!"

"Yes, these blue Venetian beads that I had last Christmas suit your frock better. They're just the right colour."

"So they are."

"Look here! Shall we swop chains?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Why not? Mine's a very good one, quite as good as yours. You keep the Venetian and I'll keep the green. Is it a bargain?"

"Well, if you like. They certainly suit our dresses better. Do you think Aunt Maggie would mind?"

"Why should she? Besides, she won't know anything about it. Now I think this is a very good arrangement. We're both satisfied."

Molly was doubtful if she were entirely satisfied, but as usual she was swayed by Meg, and agreed. Greta, who was beginning to be interested in dress, noticed the exchange and approved.

"Now you are both à la mode," she exclaimed. "When I next have a birthday I shall beg for a chain of pink beads to suit my pink frock."

"You'll have grown out of the frock before your next birthday!" laughed Meg.

"Then I shall ask Papa to buy me the chain soon. I saw some beautiful ones in a shop in Montreux."

"Perhaps he'll say no."

"Ah, but I can always coax Papa, or I can ask Grand-père; he also is very kind, and often gives me what I wish."

Early on Monday afternoon a telegram arrived at the villa for Mr. Campbell. After reading it he left the house, telling Molly he was going to Montreux. He was away for several hours. When he returned he called to both the girls, took them upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door.

"Sit down!" he said. "I have some very important news for you, and I don't care for anyone to overhear. How would you like to pay a visit to Aunt Maggie?"

"We'd love it!" said Molly.

"When? At Christmas?" asked Meg.

"No. Straight away."

"But there isn't time before school begins!"

"The term starts on Thursday."

"You're not going back to school here," replied Mr. Campbell. "I'm sending you to England, to Aunt Maggie. She promises to keep you till Christmas and to arrange for you to go to Rillington College for this term."

This was indeed stupendous news. The girls could hardly believe it.

"When do we start?" gasped Molly.

"On Wednesday, I wrote to your aunt to ask if she would take you both in and let you attend a good school, and she sent me a telegram to say she could receive you any time. I went at once to Cook's office in Montreux. The cashier there told me that a conducted party of English tourists would be returning home from Montreux on Wednesday evening. Their conductor would take charge of you on the journey. Two of the party—lady teachers—happen to be going back to Rillington, and he would ask them to put you in a taxi when you arrive at the station there, and tell the man to drive you to your aunt's house. I've taken your tickets and made all arrangements."

"Couldn't you come with us, Daddy?"

"No, I'm going away at once, to New York. I shall leave to-night by the eleven train for Paris, and catch the mail steamer at Havre. Madame Henrich will see you off at the station on Wednesday evening."

"Oh, Daddy!"

"Now there's something I want to impress upon you both," continued Mr. Campbell. "You must neither of you say anything to Aunt Maggie or to anybody else about my work in the laboratory; it mustn't be mentioned."

"We never have done!"

"That's right. Well, don't in future. And don't tell her that I've had any—er—differences with Monsieur Henrich. You can just say I was obliged to go to America on some very important business, and wished you to go to school in England, as I thought you had learnt enough French in Montreux. Now, can you remember that?"

"Yes," agreed both the girls.

"Will you write to me, Dad?" added Molly.

"Yes, when I arrive in New York. Run away now, because I must talk to Madame Henrich, and then I must pack. It's a fearful rush to get off to-night."

Monsieur Henrich was not present at supper that evening, and Madame scarcely spoke. Mr. Campbell seemed preoccupied and hurried, and the girls were embarrassed.

About nine o'clock a taxi came to the door, and Marie helped to carry down luggage. Mr. Campbell shook hands with Madame, and kissed Molly and Meg, giving them each an English pound note for pocket-money.

"That must last you till Christmas," he said, "so don't be extravagant. Well, good-bye, my dears! I hope you'll be happy at Rillington."

In another minute he had gone, and they watched the taxi driving along the dark road towards the lights of Montreux.

Molly was wiping away some tears. Madame Henrich put her arm round her quite kindly and kissed her on the forehead.

"You had better go to bed now, chérie," she remarked.

Upstairs in their room the two girls discussed the situation.

"I can't understand it in the least," said Molly.

"No more can I. Why had Dad gone away so suddenly?" replied Meg. (She had always called her uncle "Dad" since she was three years old. She could scarcely remember her own father.)

"He said it was business."

"Yes—but—Molly, do you think he has done something dreadful?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why is Monsieur Henrich so fearfully angry with him? And those other men at the Casino were angry too! And why must we never mention about the lab? I must say it looks queer."

"I'm sure Dad hasn't done anything. How can you suggest it?" burst out Molly indignantly.

"I don't know. There must be some reason for all this quarrelling."

"Then it's not Dad's fault, I'll undertake that!" flared Molly.

Meg kept silent.

"I'm glad we're leaving Montreux," said Molly presently.

"Yes, I shouldn't care to be staying on at the villa."

"And probably Madame doesn't want us."

"If you ask me, I think she'll be jolly glad to get rid of us!"