Читать книгу Maid of the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 7

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Elizabeth, rushing frantically to the garage, ran into the party returning from the Abbey. Exhausted, she fell at their feet, gasping out her story.

“Twin’s a kitten in a tree—she can’t get down—a girl said men must come—or the fire-engine—oh, Aunty Maid! Get Twin out of that beashly tree!”

“Tree? Fire-engine? Kitten? Elizabeth, what’s the matter? Where’s Margaret?” Maidlin cried.

“I told you—in a tree. We can’t get her down.”

“Who is in trouble?” asked Dr. Robertson. “Can’t we help?”

“The other twin. Where is she, Elizabeth?”

“Near the lake. A girl came—and she said, bring a ladder,” Elizabeth wailed.

“Down that path,” Maidlin said breathlessly to her guests. “Oh, do you mind? You’ll see the gate, and the lake’s in the park across the lane. I’ll fetch Frost and a ladder,” and she ran to the garage.

Elizabeth stumbled to her feet and raced after the men, who had set off down the shrubbery path. The lady who had been with them followed, but more slowly.

As young Donald Robertson rushed to the group under the trees, Margaret picked herself up and began to dance and shout. “I’m down! I’m out of the beashly tree! Thought I’d never get down again! I was the kitten up the tree! We didn’t need the fire-engine! Oh, I say! Did I bash that nice girl when I tumbled on her?” She sobered suddenly.

A glance had shown Mary that the twin was unhurt and she was bending over Belinda anxiously. Lindy had not moved, and Mary looked up in distress at the two men.

“She fell from that branch. Could you help me to carry her to the house?”

Margaret, in an agony of remorse, flung herself on Lindy, sobbing brokenly. “I did it! I tumbled on her—I knocked her out of that beashly tree! Is she killed? Oh, make her get up and talk to us! I never meant to hit her—I never did!”

The elder man was examining the limp body with capable, sensitive hands. “She’s had a nasty fall. Could we take her to the hospital? Don, run to meet Miss Maidlin and tell her we don’t need the ladder but we do want some sort of stretcher. This child must be lifted carefully; there may be internal injury. Don! Tell Miss Maid gently! Don’t give her a shock—more than she’s had already.”

“Trust me. She was so happy this afternoon, poor kid!” he muttered as he ran. “That little brat! What was she doing up in the tree?”

He met Elizabeth, panting and exhausted, and stopped to say a word of warning. Small girls were unknown creatures to him, but he guessed that these two were to blame for the accident, and he did not love them for bringing a pleasant afternoon to a tragic end.

“Now, see here, you young monkey! Your sister’s all right, but the other girl is badly hurt. Don’t go howling round and making matters worse. You’ve done quite enough harm already.”

Elizabeth stared after him in blazing wrath, as he ran to meet Maidlin. “Don’t like that man! I never did no harm at all. I only tried to help Twin. And I’m not howling round. He’s a pig.” She raced on to the scene of the accident.

Donald Robertson, his sympathy in his eyes, looked down into Maidlin’s frightened face. “Miss Maidlin, your second twin is all right, but the other girl is hurt. My uncle wants a stretcher instead of the ladder.”

Maidlin, white and shaken, caught at his arm to steady herself. “Will you tell Frost? Tell him to bring a deck-chair—it makes quite a good stretcher—and some rugs. Give me one minute! Is it little Belinda?”

“I’ve no idea. A fair-haired girl, much older than your twins.”

“How shall I tell her sister?” Maidlin groaned. “They only arrived at tea-time! Oh, our twins! They ought to be locked up till they’re seventeen!”

“Now that’s a rattling good idea!” Donald said with enthusiasm. “What about boarding-school?”

But Maidlin was hurrying on to see for herself what had happened. “No, don’t come, please. I’m all right. If you would—it would help me so much—if you’d explain to your mother what has happened, and send Frost after me, that would be all the help in the world. I don’t know what Mrs. Robertson will think of us!”

“Blest if I know what’s happened!” Donald gazed after her slight figure as she ran. Then he turned to speak to Frost and to stop his mother from joining the crowd round Lindy.

“Uncle’s there and you know what a capable old boy he is. And there was a governess or somebody with the kids, so she’ll stand by Miss Maidlin.”

“A pity she couldn’t take better care of the children,” Mrs. Robertson said severely.

“Oh, I don’t know! Two like that must be rather a handful. I wouldn’t like her job; I should send ’em to school.”

“No, you wouldn’t; not if their mother was in New York,” Mrs. Robertson said tartly.

“She should take them with her. Why should Miss Maidlin be worried like this?”

His mother glanced at him sharply. “You seem very much concerned about Miss Maidlin!”

“Well, who wouldn’t be? She had a fearful shock, and she feels things a lot or she couldn’t sing as she does.”

“Oh, of course! She’s an artist and very sensitive. But——” Mrs. Robertson did not speak her thought aloud, but glanced doubtfully at her tall son. “I shall go back to the car,” she said. “It will only worry them to have us about, and we must get away soon. We have that engagement, you know.”

“I’ll see if I can do anything,” and Donald turned back towards the lake again. “I’ll remind Uncle he must get back to town, but if I could be any use here I’ll stay.”

Mrs. Robertson returned to the car, looking thoughtful. As she reached it Anne came from the house to meet her.

“Oh, please excuse me! But do you know what has happened? I heard screams and then everybody disappeared. Has there been an accident?”

“I believe so, but not to one of the Quellyn twins; I understand it is an older girl who has been hurt.”

Then Mrs. Robertson was left, staring blankly, as Anne rushed off in the direction taken by all the rest, with a cry that sounded like “Lindy!”

Half asleep by the window in the sunshine, she had watched Maidlin and the visitors come from the Abbey path, had seen Elizabeth’s stormy entrance and the exit of Maidlin and the men, and had hurried down to find out what had happened. An accident to one of the children seemed the probable explanation; she had never dreamt of harm coming to Belinda.

She caught Frost, laden with a deck-chair, and recognised him as the man who had met them at the station. “Oh, do you know what has happened?” she begged.

“Miss Maidlin wanted a ladder, to fetch one of the children out of a tree.” Frost was hurrying down the path. “Then she sent word it was to be a stretcher, and a chair would do. I hope Miss Margaret hasn’t fallen and hurt herself; it would be Miss Margaret. Miss Elizabeth takes more care.”

“No, it isn’t one of them. I’m afraid it’s my little sister.” Anne caught her breath. “I expect she tried to help. It’s hard lines if she’s been hurt,” she said unsteadily.

“We’ll see in two ticks.” Frost’s voice was gruff with sympathy. “Those children are always in a pickle.”

Maidlin saw them coming. Kneeling by Lindy, she had kept one eye on the path. Springing up, she said breathlessly to Dr. Robertson: “I know you’ll lift her carefully. Frost will help you; he’s very gentle. I can’t do any more here; cover her up well, you know. I must speak to her sister.”

She ran across the grass. “Oh, Miss Bellanne—Anne! Oh, I am so sorry, my dear. I don’t know yet how it happened.”

“Is she badly hurt?” Anne asked shakily.

“I don’t know. We’ll have the doctor at once. Come back with me and we’ll phone for him. You can’t do anything for Lindy,” Maidlin pleaded, “and it will only make you feel worse to go and look at her. Dr. Robertson knows what to do; I could see that by the way he examined her; and he’s very careful. He and Frost will bring her to the house. We’ll help most by sending for the doctor.”

“Do you know what happened?” Anne’s voice shook.

“Mary Devine tried to tell me. She feels it was her fault, but that’s nonsense. Margaret ran away from her and climbed the tree.” Maidlin described the accident so far as she understood it. “It was terribly plucky of your Lindy. She must have known she might be hurt; Mary heard her say to herself that she hoped Margaret wouldn’t break her neck when she fell on her. Lindy saw what might happen, but she tried to catch Margaret, or at least to break her fall. It was very brave. You must be proud of her.”

“If only she isn’t——!” Anne began.

“Oh, I’m sure she isn’t! Dr. Robertson didn’t look like that,” Maidlin cried. “But we may have to take care of her for a while; I expect there’s slight concussion. I hope it’s no worse than that.”

“I must go to her,” Anne said brokenly.

“I can’t help you, then,” Maidlin retorted, badly overwrought. “I’m going to ring up the doctor. That really will help Lindy. Staring at her is no use!” And she ran on, leaving Anne hesitating.

Drawn to Belinda by every bit of her nature, she turned to hurry towards the lake. But it had all been too much, and she could do no more. Suddenly everything went dark; she leaned against the gate and then slid to the ground, and lay in the path the stretcher-bearers must take.

“Gosh!” The twins, running ahead, stood staring down at her. “Here’s somebody else! She’s dead.”

“Let’s call somebody to do something,” Margaret suggested vaguely.

Elizabeth rushed back along the track and caught Mary’s hand. “There’s a lady, and she’s dead, near the gate! Come and look at her!”

“What’s that?” Dr. Robertson had been walking by the stretcher, which was borne by Frost and Donald.

“Come and look!” Elizabeth caught his hand and Mary’s and dragged them on ahead.

“Fainted. She’ll be all right in a moment. We’ll leave her to you.” He looked at Mary. “We must get the child to the house. There’s something wrong with her shoulder; perhaps the collar-bone has gone. The doctor will have to set it. Will you take charge here? Is this a sister of our patient?”

“I think so. But I haven’t seen her before. I’ll stay here till she comes round.”

Dr. Robertson nodded and followed the stretcher-bearers towards the house.

Anne came back to life to find three anxious faces bending over her, two of them framed in dark-red curls and with frightened brown eyes.

“Thought you were dead!” broke from one twin.

“You did give us a beashly fright,” the other said reproachfully.

“Let me help you to the house. We don’t think your sister is badly hurt, but it must have been a horrible shock for you,” Mary Devine said.

Anne sat up and rested her head on her hands. “Did I go off? Oh, I am sorry! I’ve given you more trouble. Miss Maidlin told me to go with her, but I wanted so much to see Lindy. Can you tell me how she is?”

“Dr. Robertson is sure she’ll be all right. Don’t be frightened about her, please! He was very reassuring and emphatic. But she has hurt one shoulder; the doctor will put that right.”

“I tumbled on her. It was me that did it,” the younger twin said remorsefully.

“Margaret fell, and your sister tried to catch her. Her right shoulder must have had a fearful wrench with the sudden strain. But she saved Margaret from a terrible fall.”

“Twin might have been in pieces,” Elizabeth said. “What’s the nice girl’s name?”

“Lindy. And I’m Nan. I’m so sorry to have been a nuisance.” Anne looked up at Mary. “But it was so sudden, and after the journey—I was very tired.”

“And you still aren’t fit after your illness. The shock was too much for you. It’s we who are sorry,” Mary said earnestly. “We’ve given you and your sister a horrid welcome to the Abbey.”

“We had a beautiful welcome from Miss Maidlin. I’m glad Lindy was able to help.”

“She helped an awful lot.” Elizabeth seized Anne’s hand, gazing into her face. “She helped Twin, who was in a gashly mess up in that tree.”

“Said I was a kitten in the beashly tree,” Margaret added. “What does Lindy mean? It’s a funny name.”

“Let us help you to the house, Miss Bellanne,” Mary suggested.

“It means Belinda. She’s Belinda Bellanne.” Anne rose stiffly and clung to Mary for a moment. “Thanks! I’ll be all right now. It was silly of me.”

“Belinda Bellanne!” Elizabeth gave a chuckle of delight. “I shan’t call her all that! I shall say just Belinn Bellanne! That’s a lovely name!”

“It’s something nobody else has ever called her, anyway,” Anne said.

“I think Billy should be her name; Billy Bellanne,” Margaret suggested.

“Original minds! Very good ideas too,” Anne agreed. “You must tell Lindy yourselves when she’s better.” Her lips pinched for a moment. “Shall we go to the house? I’m all right now.”

“Are you bothered about Belinn Bellanne?” Elizabeth took her hand and walked sedately by her side.

“About Billy Bellanne!” Margaret shouted.

“A little bothered. Suppose we try to be very quiet in case she’s asleep.”

“We’ll creep into the house like mice,” said Mary.

“Or kittens,” Elizabeth added. “We’ll all be kittens, just come down out of trees. Then we shan’t wake Belinn-Billy.”

“Oh, make it Billy-Belinn!” Anne begged, half laughing.