Читать книгу Robins in the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 10

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“I’m an awful idiot.” Robin looked up in apology. “I’m so sorry to disturb you. Nobody can do anything, I know, but I couldn’t bear it all alone, and Littlejan said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Littlejan knows.” Mary smiled down at her as she crouched by the fire, and then fetched a pan and milk and biscuits. “I wasn’t asleep. I was sure you’d want someone, and I hoped you’d come to me. I can’t do much, but it helps just to speak to somebody, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, it does! Thank you for not minding!” Robin said fervently. “I couldn’t sleep, and I kept seeing things——”

“Things that aren’t at all likely to happen?”

“That’s true. But I couldn’t stop them, Miss Devine.”

Mary paused, pan in hand. “There’s no coffee for a girl who calls me ‘Miss’ at midnight.”

“Is it really midnight? Oh, I do apologise!” Robin cried.

“Call me Mary-Dorothy and I’ll forgive you.”

“May I? I didn’t quite like to. But I’ve known you for so long, after all.”

“Oh?” Mary smiled up at her this time, as she knelt on the hearth. “And how did that happen?”

“Benney Bennett lent me your books at school. I’d had some of them before I met her, too.”

“Oh, Benedicta! She spent some months with us, after her accident in the Abbey, when she saved the twins; they might have been killed, if they had fallen from the dormitory in the dark. Benney fell instead and was badly hurt. We’re all very fond of Benedicta. Will you tell me about the nightmares that were torturing you, or would you rather forget them?”

“It was the aeroplane,” Robin almost whispered. “If Mother had gone the usual way I shouldn’t worry quite so much.”

“But think what a long journey for her! All those hours in the train and all sorts of changes; or a voyage through the Bay of Biscay! And your mother tormented by anxiety all the time! You couldn’t wish that for her!”

“No,” Robin admitted. “But—oh, thank you! You are kind!” She took the cup of coffee and a biscuit from Mary.

“Try to forget that aeroplane,” Mary advised. “They’ll be very careful, so soon after the other accident. At any moment you may have a message from your mother; keep that in your mind—it’s a happier thought. And—Robin! If you lose your father, remember that at least for him all will be well.”

“I do believe that,” Robin said unsteadily. “But—if only it hadn’t happened! He was quite well. It’s not like after a long illness, when you can say, ‘It’s a happy release.’ Father was all right and jolly, and he’s not much over fifty. Why should his life end like this?”

“It hasn’t ended yet; he may recover. But—Robin!” Mary, still kneeling on the hearthrug, laid her arm across her guest’s knee. “May I say something, without seeming to preach, which I’ve no right to do?”

“Oh, please do! Talk sense to me! I know it will help.”

“I’m afraid it won’t, much. But as long as we—that is, people in general—take risks, for the sake of speed and pleasure and business, accidents will happen. I don’t mean your father especially; but all this flying—it’s wonderful, and it’s valuable, but we have to pay the price. It’s a new thing, still in its infancy, and sometimes matters will go wrong. When it happens to touch us personally we feel it’s cruel and unnecessary. But it’s no use blaming any one; and certainly we mustn’t blame God. It’s part of the price we have to pay for a new and useful way of travel. Think of your brave mother reaching your father in a few hours and being saved all that weary journey! You have to be brave, too, and accept what has happened, without feeling somebody, somewhere, has been cruel.”

Robin sat gazing at the fire, forgetting her coffee. “Thank you!” she said at last. “I’m sure you’re right. I will try.”

“Drink up your coffee,” Mary said practically. “Do you like my room? You must see my green study, where I work. Joy and Jen made this home for me when I came to live here, eleven years ago.”

Robin followed her round the brown and gold bedroom and the green study next door, exclaiming softly over the shining pottery on the shelves, and Mary saw with relief that her eyes were less frightened and that she was not so tense. There was hope that she would sleep, after all.

The telephone bell shrilled through the silent house. Mary caught Robin’s hand, and they ran down together. “For you—from Quellyn.” Mary handed the receiver to Robin.

Robin was trembling, but she steadied suddenly and listened to the message. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Good night!” And she laid down the receiver with a tired sigh.

“Mother’s safe. She’ll send an address in a day or two. The cable says Father is badly hurt, but they hope he’ll recover.”

“My dear, that’s splendid! Really good news. You couldn’t hope for more as soon as this. Come up to my room again for a few moments, and then you’ll go to bed and sleep.”

“Won’t the bell have wakened everybody?” Robin looked disturbed. “I’m terribly sorry!”

“We talked it over and decided I should be the one to answer any call that came. The ’phone is just below my room, and I always hear it,” Mary explained. “The grown-ups all promised faithfully not to get up unless I came to them, and I said I wouldn’t go if it were good news. They won’t let the bell disturb them, but I’m not so sure about the half-and-halfs.” And she smiled at Robin. “I mean Lindy and Littlejan. Yes, I thought so!”

They had reached the gallery, and two adjoining doors were opening softly. “What news?” whispered Littlejan. “Is it all right?”

“Tell us, Robin!” Lindy begged.

“Mother’s landed safely. Father’s very bad, but she hopes he’ll recover,” Robin said bravely. “Now do go back to bed! It’s lovely of you to care, but you ought to be asleep.”

“I was waiting for the bell. I was sure you’d hear to-night,” Lindy explained.

“I say, Robin, what a whacking fat plait you’ve got!” Littlejan commented.

Mary drew Robin to her door again. “Go to bed, Marigold!” she said sternly, and they heard the Queen chuckle as she withdrew into her room.

“Warm yourself by the fire, and I’ll give you fresh coffee,” Mary said. “You’ve had a heavy strain on you and you’ll feel it presently. Don’t try to wake in the morning, Robin. Sleep as long as you can. It will do you good. There’s somebody else wanting to hear the news, in spite of that promise! I’ll see who it is.”

She came back presently, and found Robin gazing wearily into the fire. “It was Joy, and Maidie’s nurse. Maid had heard the bell and she wanted to know the latest news, and Joy says she was restless, like Lindy, waiting for the ’phone to ring. They’ve gone back to bed and everybody’s going to sleep, including you, I hope.”

Robin’s eyes had filled with gratitude. “How lovely of them to care!” she cried, deeply touched. “They’ve only known me for a few days—Mrs. Robertson only for a few hours!—and yet they really want to know about Mother!”

“They wouldn’t have come out of bed to ask unless they really wanted to know,” Mary agreed, and went with her to her room, to see her safely into bed.