Читать книгу An Exciting Term - Angela Brazil - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Molly's mother, whose maiden name was Mary Paton, had been born in England and spent her childhood there. She had been a great favourite with her aunt, Margaret Wingfield, but when the latter married Captain Norton and went to India, and afterwards the Patons emigrated to Canada and Mary married Mr. Campbell there, aunt and niece were separated by the distance of half the globe. They kept up a correspondence, though in later years it had dwindled to an annual letter at Christmas and an occasional present. Mrs. Norton was now a widow; she had retired to England and settled at Rillington, where, as she had no family, she lived with a companion. She had been informed of Mrs. Campbell's death, and had written to express sympathy and to say that she should take an interest in Mary's child, who was christened Margaret and therefore was her namesake. When the Campbells came to Switzerland Molly wrote at Christmas to Mrs. Norton, telling her their address at Montreux and signing the letter "your affectionate niece, Margaret M. Campbell". She had received a picture post card in reply, but had heard no more until her birthday, when the necklace arrived. If she gave the matter a thought she supposed Mrs. Norton had forgotten her, so it was a great surprise to have an invitation for herself and her cousin, and an utter amazement to find that her father had accepted it so hastily, and that she and Meg were to set off for England. Beyond a few things which her mother had told her, she knew nothing about Aunt Maggie, except that by now she must be an elderly lady, that she had no children, and that she was probably kind, or she would not have asked two girls to pay her a long visit.

Their future seemed all in the clouds, and she hoped it would prove satisfactory. Anyhow, it would be better to go to her own relation than to stay at Montreux after her father had started for America. To remain at "Mon Désir" without him would be miserable, especially in the present awkward circumstances.

Matters seemed more pleasant in the villa when Mr. Campbell was gone. Monsieur Henrich indeed was moody, but Madame was manifestly relieved and was tolerably kind to the girls. She packed all their possessions, and on Wednesday evening took them and their luggage to the station at Montreux.

Here they found a large party of tourists assembled for the return journey to England, and special carriages had been reserved for them on the train. Madame Henrich placed Meg and Molly in charge of the busy conductor who was to escort the party; he found them seats in a compartment, and introduced them to the two teachers who were going to Rillington, and who promised to look after them.

"I'll see you through the customs myself," he said, "and you join the party for breakfast in Paris and lunch on the Dover-London express. You have your passports? Your father paid in advance for your meals, together with your tickets. Now are you all right, young ladies?"

The guard was blowing his horn, Madame Henrich was waving from the platform, the train started, and their journey commenced.

As it was night time and quite dark, there was nothing to be seen through the window. The compartment was full, and they had not corner seats. The other passengers seemed to know one another and talked gaily about their experiences on their Swiss tour. One of the teachers lent the girls a picture paper, and the other offered them some chocolates. Meg was excited, and interested in her surroundings, but Molly felt suddenly forlorn. She was going away from all she knew, and the noisy party in the carriage bewildered her. For a very long time they laughed and chatted, went into the corridor to exchange jokes with friends in other compartments, and finally drew the shades over the lamps and settled themselves to try and snatch a few hours of rest.

Rattling along in a crowded train is not particularly soothing, but the girls slept till dawn. By this time they had left Switzerland and were speeding across France, and by seven o'clock had reached Paris. Breakfast was prepared for the whole company in the restaurant at the "Gare de Lyon", after which they went on to Calais and crossed by the steamer to Dover. It was rather a choppy passage. Meg stood it well enough, but poor Molly succumbed to mal de mer and had to lie down in the ladies' cabin. One of the teachers rescued her afterwards and escorted her on shore and into the train, where lunch was being served in the restaurant car. She was much too limp, however, to eat anything but biscuits.

"Cheer up!" said Miss Lawson. "You'll feel better soon, and I'll get you a cup of tea at Victoria Station. That'll put you all right again. Your sister hasn't lost her appetite!"

Back in their compartment Molly was given a corner seat, and, though still feeling shaky, amused herself by looking out of the window. She was intrigued with the English landscape—the green meadows surrounded by hedges, the stooks of corn which still stood in some of the fields, the country houses with beautiful gardens, the churches and pretty villages, all were so utterly different from the scenery of Canada or Switzerland. It seemed a new and homely country.

Meg was chatting eagerly with Miss Lawson and Miss Hales, asking many questions about Rillington. She always made friends quickly with strangers. They were telling her also about their holiday in the neighbourhood of Montreux, and comparing notes on the places they had visited. When the party reached London the two teachers hailed a porter, retrieved all the luggage, secured a taxi, and escorted the girls to Paddington station. Here they had just time to get cups of tea from a restaurant truck on the platform before their train started for Rillington.

"Feeling better now, aren't you?" asked Miss Lawson. "You don't look so pale."

Molly nodded gratefully.

"These Channel crossings are very trying, especially if you're not a good sailor," said Miss Hales.

They arrived at Rillington at last. The teachers put the girls in a taxi, gave the address to the driver, and said good-bye, anxious to go to their own homes. Meg and Molly had started on the final stage of their long journey. They motored through a town and along a road shaded with trees, and finally drew up at a red-brick house with two large bow windows and a small, gay garden in front. The driver walked up the path and rang the bell. The door was opened almost immediately by a maid.

Meg had got out of the taxi first, and Molly, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness, followed her into the house. An elderly lady hurried into the hall and greeted the two girls.

"Well! So you're here, my dears! I'm glad to see you. Which is which?"

"I'm Meg!"

"Short for Margaret, I suppose?"

"Yes. This is Molly."

Mrs. Norton kissed them both, and turned to settle with the taxi driver.

"Miss Marsh will take you upstairs," she said. "I'm sure you must be tired. Supper will be ready very soon."

A gentle-looking lady, presumably the companion, showed them into a bedroom, where the housemaid was putting down some of their luggage and unstrapping suitcases.

"Hot water, Nellie, please!" said Miss Marsh. "Now, can I help you to unpack? I expect you'd like to change your dresses after the journey."

Feeling very travel-stained the girls agreed. Fortunately their Sunday frocks were easily found, and when they had washed and combed their hair they looked more presentable, and able to make a good impression on Aunt Maggie. Meg had put on the green necklace, and handed the blue Venetian chain to Molly.

"Be quick! Shall I fasten it for you? There's the gong!"

Miss Marsh came upstairs and took the girls to the dining-room. It was a handsome room, and there was a very nice supper. Meg looked round with much approbation. She was delighted with her new surroundings. She answered readily to questions about their journey, and was soon giving Aunt Maggie an animated account of Montreux and of their school there. Molly, still feeling very limp, terribly shy, and afflicted with a violent headache, remained silent and let Meg do the conversation.

"I see you're wearing my beads!" remarked Mrs. Norton, glancing at Meg's necklace. "I'm glad you like them."

Molly looked up quickly, but Meg replied:

"They just match my green dress, don't they?"

After supper they were taken into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Norton brought out an album of photos of India to show them, then suggesting that the girls must be tired she sent them to bed. They were not long in undressing and were glad to cuddle down on nice soft pillows.

Yet they were too excited to sleep. They still felt as if they were on the vibrating train. The clock on the stairs had struck ten some time ago when the door of their room was softly opened, and by the light that streamed through from the landing they saw Aunt Maggie come in on tiptoe. They shut their eyes tightly and pretended to be wrapt in slumber. She stood beside their beds for a moment or two, then went quietly away. They could hear her whispering to Miss Marsh outside the open door.

"Sound asleep, both of them! I'm so glad Meg is my niece. Isn't she a lovely girl? The other looks a plain, uninteresting little thing!"

"She has beautiful grey eyes," answered Miss Marsh. "She seemed very tired and shy."

"She's not nearly so attractive as Meg! I can't tell you how glad I am that——"

But here the door was gently closed, and the rest of the conversation was lost.

"Meg!" whispered Molly. "There's some mistake!"

"Sh'sh! We're supposed to be asleep," breathed Meg; "don't talk now."

Molly lay awake for an hour, thinking. She had a very sensitive nature, and she was bitterly hurt at what she had overheard. The error had easily arisen. Mrs. Norton knew little about the girls! if she had ever seen photos of them, they were probably bad snapshots. Meg had led the way into the house, her name was short for Margaret, she had worn the birthday necklace, and she had spoken of Mr. Campbell as "Dad". It had been natural to assume that she was the niece.

Molly shrank from the ordeal of telling Aunt Maggie that she, the "plain, uninteresting little thing", was the true relation. Aunt Maggie might try to hide her disappointment, but she would undoubtedly feel it. It was a difficult situation.

Next morning both girls woke fairly early, and Molly at once began to discuss the matter.

"Aunt Maggie's made a mistake between us. Isn't it tiresome? We shall have to tell her which is which."

"Why need we tell her?" asked Meg.

"Why? Well, because we can't let her go on thinking you're her niece when you aren't."

"It's her own mistake. If she likes to think so we'd better leave things as they are. What does it matter?"

"She might find out."

"If we say nothing she won't. Look here, Molly, keep this a secret. If you tell Aunt Maggie she's made a mistake, I declare I'll tell her about the lab and the quarrel with Monsieur Henrich."

"You can't, you daren't—you promised Dad!"

"I don't care—I shall, unless you keep this dark. It's a bargain."

Meg had been quick to realize the advantage to herself of Mrs. Norton's mistake. She liked to occupy the first place. Though Mr. and Mrs. Campbell had been extremely good to her, she felt instinctively that they must love their own daughter best. Here was a chance to turn things the other way. From the conversation on the landing she gathered that she would be the favourite. Fortune had been kind to her.

"Well! Do you agree?" she asked.

The words "plain, uninteresting little thing" were ringing in Molly's ears. No, she could not face Aunt Maggie and correct her. If she wanted to consider Meg her niece let her do so. People always made such a fuss of Meg, especially at first. Also, by bitter experience, Molly knew her cousin was quite capable of giving away Mr. Campbell's secret about his laboratory. If she were annoyed it would be her means of retaliation.

"I must keep Dad's secret at all costs," thought Molly. "He trusted me. He doesn't think me 'plain and uninteresting'. I'm his own girl and he loves me. Aunt Maggie doesn't matter."

Then aloud she said:

"All right, Meg. We'll just say nothing at all about it."

Molly went down to breakfast quieter than ever, but Aunt Maggie, noticing her shyness, spoke kindly and tried to put her at her ease and draw her into conversation. Miss Marsh was particularly nice to her. Perhaps she thought Meg was monopolizing too much of the attention. She helped the girls to arrange their drawers, and later on suggested she should take them for a walk.

"The College doesn't open till next week," she explained. "So you'll have time to settle down here before you begin school. I believe you have to attend for an entrance examination. I think Mrs. Norton said that would be on Monday."

"I rather like exams!" declared Meg.

"Do you, Molly?" asked Miss Marsh.

"It depends. When we first went to Montreux and knew hardly any French it was fearfully difficult. We just had to muddle along as best we could, and guess when we couldn't understand. Of course, when we were at Montreal exams were all right."

"Were you in the same form?"

"Yes, we always have been together."

Miss Marsh forbore to ask which had taken the higher place. It did not seem a fair question. She meant to form her estimate of the girls on her own observation.

They set out for their walk, going down a road planted with trees till they reached a pleasure park. Here the beds were gay with September flowers, there was a lake with water lilies and ducks, and also a river where people were rowing or punting. It was the girls' first experience of an English town, and it impressed them favourably. The park led out on to a handsome parade, with hanging baskets of geraniums fixed to the electric light standards, and a bandstand where an orchestra was playing. Miss Marsh engaged three chairs, and they sat for a time to listen to the music. Then they walked past shops full of interesting things, and finally up a side street and along a road to where a large red-brick building stood in a garden.

"That's the College," said Miss Marsh.

As it was going to be the centre of their activities for the next three months, Meg and Molly stared at it much thrilled.

"It'll gobble us up till Christmas!" whispered Meg.

"Hope it'll digest us, then!" returned Molly.

"What's that?" said Miss Marsh, who had sharp ears. "Oh, I'm sure you'll like it when you get settled there. I know several girls at the College and they all seem happy. There's always plenty going on, games and concerts and things, and sometimes they act plays. I went to a performance they gave of A Midsummer-Night's Dream, and it was really very good. The fairies were charming, they danced so prettily, and Puck was capital. They acted it in the garden, against a background of bushes. Our Vicar's daughter from next door goes to the College. They're still away at the seaside, I believe. I haven't seen them in their garden."

"How old is she?"

"About eleven."

"Just a kid, then," murmured Meg.

"We had to be at school at eight o'clock at Montreux and we had simply tons of homework," volunteered Molly.

"School doesn't begin till nine at the College, but I believe there's plenty of homework."

"That's good news and bad," said Molly.

She was beginning to lose her shyness and to feel quite friendly towards Miss Marsh, who replied:

"Oh, you'll soon get used to things, no doubt."

In the afternoon Aunt Maggie took a rest, Miss Marsh disappeared on some errand, and the girls sat in the garden at the back of the house with books and magazines. They soon grew tired of reading, however, and began to explore. It was a fairly large garden, with shrubs and flowerbeds and a high brick wall, over the side of which hung a pear tree from an adjoining garden.

There were several pears on this branch, which looked ripe and almost ready to drop, but they were high above their heads and out of reach.

"If we could only climb up and give the bough a shake, I'm sure they'd fall!" said Meg. "Then we could have a pear."

"Would Aunt Maggie mind?"

"Windfalls belong to anybody. If these tumble from a tree in the next garden into ours, I should say Providence had sent them into our laps!"

"Well, I don't see how you're going to shake the tree."

"The wall's climbable if you'll give me a boost up. Nobody can see us from the house."

It was an old wall, with crevices in the mortar. Meg placed her fingers in these, and by the aid of a heave from Molly, scrambled without much difficulty to the top. Here she reached the branch and gave it a shake, with the result that several pears fell down at Molly's feet. She was picking them up, and Meg was giving a further energetic shake to the bough, when a voice from the other garden called:

"Hello! Hello! Hello! Who's sneaking our pears?"

Meg slid back down the wall far faster than she had gone up, grazing her knee as she did so. There was a scuffling and a scrambling on the farther side, and a boy of perhaps fourteen swung himself on to the top and sat astride on the coping.

"Hello! Who the Dickens are you?" he asked. "I thought it couldn't be Mrs. Norton climbing the wall! Rather too athletic a performance for her!"

The girls could not help laughing at the idea of Aunt Maggie engaged in such an exercise.

"She's our aunt," said Meg.

"Oh! So you're staying here, are you?"

"We are."

"Hello! Hello! Hello!" he continued, shouting into his own garden. "Come along up here and be introduced. Visitors next door, if you please."

There was more scrambling, and presently another boy and two girls were also seated on the coping, looking down with some curiosity at Meg and Molly.

The first comer, who seemed the eldest, waved a hand towards them.

"Nieces of Mrs. Norton!" he explained. "Your names, fair ladies?"

"Meg Campbell,"—"Molly Campbell," giggled the pair together.

"Charmed to meet you, I'm sure. Sisters?"

"Cousins."

"Well, I'll return the compliment. My name is Edward Wright, this is my brother Hugh, this my sister Bertha, and this my cousin Aileen. They can't get up and bow or they might fall, but they're smiling nicely, aren't they?"

They were in fact grinning with amusement.

"What about the pears?" asked Bertha.

"We haven't eaten any," replied Molly. "I'll hand them up to you if you like."

"Shall we be magnanimous and allow them to keep them?" asked Edward. "I knew you'd agree," as the others nodded assent. "Now, Molly and Meg, if I've got your names correctly, how long are you going to stay with your aunt? Till Christmas? That's a thundering big visit, isn't it?"

"We're going to school."

"Where?"

"At the College."

"I go to the College!" volunteered Bertha. "And Aileen's going too. She's come to live with us."

"Another happy family, you see!" remarked Edward facetiously. "We've just returned from the seaside. Where do you come from, by the by? Montreux? Isn't that in Switzerland? Hello! Hello! Hello! That's our tea bell. Come on, kids! I'm ravenous. See you again, Moll and Meggie—sorry—I mean Meg and Molly. Ta ta for the present."

The four dropped quickly to the other side of the wall and, to judge from the sound of footsteps, hurried away to the house and the tea table.