Читать книгу The Abbey Girls Play Up - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 6

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Sarah’s front room looked small at all times, and particularly when Cecily was doing her homework, with books spread all over the table. But it looked still smaller when it held two big Guiders in uniform. Maribel, who was fair, was tall; Rosalind, dark-eyed, was smaller, and slight and neat; but they both looked big and imposing and businesslike in navy blue, and they seemed to fill the little room completely.

Sarah, overawed by the uniforms and by Rosalind’s brisk questions, told her story, giving a highly-coloured account of the “scene” at the country-dance class.

The Guiders looked at one another. “Doesn’t sound so very bad,” said Rosalind.

“It’s just as we expected. Cecily was all worked up and excited, and she forgot where she was and what she was doing. The question is, is the dancing good for her, if she’s carried away like this?” Maribel asked anxiously. “She’s an excitable kid, Rose.”

“I can’t do nothing with her after that dancing, Miss Maribel. And she don’t sleep well those nights.”

“It can’t be good for her. What an awful pity, when she loves it so much!”

“We’ll think it over,” Rosalind remarked. “I don’t feel so sure about it, Bel. Perhaps it’s too good for her. I mean, perhaps it somehow fills a want in her. I’ve heard of tonics that excited people because they were too strong for them; but that was because the patient needed them so badly. Perhaps Cecily needs something like this, and when she finds it, it goes to her head.”

“There’s something in that.” Maribel looked more hopeful. “I’d hate to have to stop her dancing. What about Mrs. Raymond, Rose?”

“I like what we’ve heard of her. She seems a jolly good sort. But I want to see her about Cecily,” Rosalind said, with energy. “I’ve an idea Mrs. Raymond could tell us whether the dancing is good or bad for the kid. She’ll have seen how it acts on Cecily. Let’s go and see her, Bel! You said we had time.”

“I said it depended where she lived. It’s still early. Where can we find Mrs. Raymond, Sarah?”

“Rayley Park, Miss Maribel. The lady what plays for the class; she come in an hour back to tell Cess the address. Cecily she said she was a-going to write.”

“Um! What was she going to do that for?” Rosalind pondered.

“Rayley Park!” Maribel exclaimed. “We could do it in half-an-hour. But I’ll be shy; it’s a big place. May I hide behind you, Rose? You’ve cheek enough for anything.”

“Half-an-hour! Let’s do it, then! Shy! What does that matter? We must see Cecily through.”

“I know. I’ll take you there and I’ll back you up. But you can take the lead.”

“We ought to see Cecil first, though,” said Rosalind. “She may have something to say. Where is she?”

“I told her as you’d be sure to want her, miss,” Sarah said nervously.

“She’ll be somewhere about,” and Maribel went through the kitchen into the little garden. “Cecily!”

Cecily’s smooth red head appeared among the gooseberry bushes. She wriggled her way out, then stood erect and saluted the uniform.

Maribel returned the salute. “Come and talk to us, Cecil. Rosalind is here too.”

“Oh!” Cecily cried. “Didn’t you think one of you was enough? Is it so awful as all that?”

“Is what so awful? What do you mean?”

“The row. Did you send for Rose because you thought you couldn’t be nasty enough?”

Maribel laughed. “Rose has come for a Guide show in the Pier Pavilion to-night. But when she heard you were in trouble with Sarah, she came to hear about it. We want you to tell us just what happened.”

Cecily’s face was radiant as she followed her guardian. Her trust was justified. There would be no “rowing” until she had explained. Perhaps not then.

She saluted Rosalind also, and stood before the two, fearless and straight, but not defiant.

“I’m sorry if I was rude to Mrs. Raymond. I never meant it. I love her; I couldn’t be rude to her. I’m going to write and tell her so, as soon as I find out her address. But I think perhaps I was rude, without meaning it. I forgot I was speaking to her. I forgot everything. They were spoiling the pattern of the dance, and she’d told and told them, and they wouldn’t listen. They laugh and giggle and don’t pay attention. I’d stood it as long as I could. I knew what was wrong, and I just had to fly at them. I never meant that she couldn’t manage the class. But I didn’t know what I was saying. I was angry and—and——”

“All worked up,” Maribel said, with understanding.

“Clean off her head,” said Sarah.

“With the joy of the dancing and with annoyance at seeing the pattern spoiled,” Rosalind was looking keenly at Cecily. “Cecil, Maribel and I are going to run over in the car to see Mrs. Raymond. Would you like to come too, and apologise to her yourself?”

Cecily looked from one to the other with blazing dark eyes. “Would you? Not really?”

“Fetch your coat, then. Yes, you’ll need it in the car. You’ll have to ride in the dickey, you know.”

Cecily turned at the door. “Must I wear a hat? Oh, please, Rosalind! I love the wind. I went a long way on the bus the other night without a hat.”

“Bring your hat and put it on at the gate,” Maribel suggested.

“Good idea! I won’t be decent by the time we arrive!” and Cecily ran up the narrow stair.

The Guiders went out to start the car. Under cover of the noise of the engine, Rosalind exclaimed, “Bel, this is a revelation! This is a new Cecily. The child’s stirred to her depths by all this. It’s what I guessed. She must have been needing something; some kind of outlet. School hasn’t been enough; she hasn’t had Guides, remember. Country-dancing has somehow filled the want. It’s meant a tremendous lot to her; a really big thing. I’m going to talk to Mrs. Raymond about her. She must have seen the state of thrills Cecily has been in. She’ll tell us whether to encourage her or to make her drop it.”

“I hope she won’t advise that. It would break the kid’s heart. I’ve never seen her so keen on anything before.”

“We’ve failed her; in understanding, you know. We’ve never brought up a girl before! She isn’t quite a kiddy now, and we haven’t realised it. She’s wanted something besides school.”

“I was afraid of giving her too much,” Maribel said, looking troubled. “She had so much background to make up. I wanted her to have time for the hills, and for reading stories. She knew so little of English life.”

“I thought so too; but we’ve been wrong. She’s quicker than we thought. She’s lapped it all up and had time for more. I believe she’d have been better to be a Guide; she was keen enough on it. This dancing has come along and has filled every corner of her. I want advice from Mrs. Raymond, who must have seen her in that excited eager state, week after week.”

“Right you are! I’m sure it’s a wise move,” Maribel agreed.

Cecily came tumbling down the stairs, her school hat in her hand, a big blue coat over her green cotton frock. Sarah had rigidly forbidden her to wear her tunic on Saturdays, holding that it must be “kept decent” for school. So she had made short blue and green cotton frocks, from material chosen by Maribel.

“It’s a good thing I’ve had Bel to choose my clothes!” Cecily had sometimes thought. “Sarah would have chosen pink!”

She wore the frocks with black or brown strap belts, and long black or brown stockings. Her insistence that stockings and belt and tie and shoes should match had aroused Sarah’s scornful amusement and had been condemned as “Frenchy” and “finicky.” Cecily had refused to “dress odd,” as she put it, however, and to-day she looked very neat in brown tie and belt, and long brown legs below the pale green skirt.

“Ready? Hop up, and I’ll tuck you in,” Rosalind had the dickey seat open.

Cecily, her face alight with joy and excitement, sprang up. Something fell from the pocket of her coat and rattled on the curb.

Rosalind picked up a tin whistle. “Is this yours?—I say!”

Cecily went scarlet. She took the whistle and looked from one to the other in embarrassment.

“Cecily Brown, was it you who piped ‘Rufty’ and ‘Old Mole’ at us from behind a thorn bush on the hill?” cried Maribel.

Under her amazed eyes and Rosalind’s steady inquiring gaze, Cecily reddened still more deeply. “I didn’t think you’d hear. It was mad; I was sorry afterwards. I forgot the wind was blowing that way.”

“Play to us again!” Rosalind demanded.

“Not here, Rose!” Maribel remonstrated. “We’d have a crowd in two seconds.”

“We’d pass round the hat,” Rosalind chuckled. “Cecily, explain yourself! This is a great surprise! Who taught you to play the penny whistle?”

“It cost a shilling. It’s a good one, and beautifully in tune,” Cecily cried. “I bought it in town two days ago. Some of them weren’t in tune; I tried ever so many. The shop man was awfully jolly; he wanted me to have a nice one; he helped me. Elsie—she lives next door—she has a celluloid one, but it isn’t in tune. It sounds soft and smooth and sweet, but some of the notes are wrong. She doesn’t mind, but I couldn’t bear it. So I tried them all till I found a good one. Listen!” and she ran up the scale on the pipe.

“It’s all right,” Maribel agreed. “But how did you know? You’ve never had music-lessons, Cecil?”

“I’ve heard Sandy tune her fiddle. I know when it’s wrong.”

“Sandy? Fiddle?” Maribel asked helplessly. “Who is Sandy, Cecil?”

“Have you been leading a double life, Cecily Brown?” Rosalind demanded, in mock indignation. “Who is the gentleman?”

“It’s not! It’s Mrs. Alexander; she teaches music, and one night she fiddled for Mrs. Raymond, and it was gorgeous. She lives on the Common, beyond the hills. I go to see her on the bus sometimes.”

“Without a hat!” Maribel murmured, stunned.

Cecily glanced at her. “That’s where I went. Do you mind? She plays to me. It helps me to calm down. I was in a beast of a rage when Sarah wouldn’t let me go to dancing this week. I had to do something.”

“Or burst,” Rosalind agreed. “So you went to see Mrs. Alexander, who is called Sandy, and she played to you and it soothed you?”

“Yes, but first we talked. By the Silent Pool, you know.”

“It sounds most suitable. We don’t know, but we intend to. Bel, what about it?”

“I’ll take you to see the Silent Pool to-morrow,” Maribel assented. “I don’t know this Silent Pool.”

“It’s private,” Cecily explained. “But Sandy will let you through the gate.”

“Does it belong to Sandy?”

“No, it belongs to the man she bought her bungalow from. He lets her go to the pool.”

“I see. But about the whistle, Cecil? What put it into your head?”

“Mrs. Raymond had a friend with her on Wednesday, who piped for some of the dances. I felt awful that I’d missed it! Elsie said she was going to buy a whistle; Lady Marchwood said they should all try, because it was quite easy. So I did. And it is.”

“It is? Oh, quite easy! Yes, I see. And Lady Marchwood—who is she?”

“Mrs. Raymond’s friend. She danced, too, and Elsie said it was lovely.”

“I’m downright sorry you missed such a treat,” Maribel remarked.

Cecily coloured. “It was my own fault. I did forget everything and flare up. That sort of thing isn’t done.”

“I’m not sorry!” Rosalind exclaimed. “If she hadn’t lost her temper—which was very wrong, no doubt, but very natural!—we’d never have heard about the whistle, or Sandy, or the Silent Pool, or all the rest of Cecily’s double life. As her guardians, it’s high time we were introduced to this new side of her. I’m going to hear that whistle again!”

“What I think,” Maribel put in, “is that we shall not see Mrs. Raymond to-day.”

“Oh, Maribel! Can’t we start?” Cecily wailed.

“Or if we do, the Pier Pavilion won’t see us. Rose, we must hurry. We must be there at night.”

“Righto! I’m going to have both Mrs. Raymond and the Pier Pavilion!” Rosalind jumped into the front seat, and slammed the door.

Maribel started her engine again, and they sped away.