Читать книгу Selma at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 5

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AN APPEAL TO THE ABBEY

“But the girl is too young, Joan!” Mrs. Shirley protested, when Joan, in her bedroom, was explaining the position.

“I’m not so sure of that, Mother dear.” Joan sat on the bed and spoke earnestly. “Nowadays girls seem to start that sort of thing very early. I think it’s a pity, but they will do it; I remember how the seniors at school used to talk. It never appealed to Joy or me; we weren’t in a hurry to grow up, but a great many girls are. Angus says Selma isn’t thinking like that, but I don’t see how he can tell. Girls can think a lot without saying much.”

“She must know that his feeling for her is more than mere friendship. He is really in earnest, I suppose?”

“I’m sure he is. Make him talk about her to you, and you’ll think so too. He means it very deeply. How much Selma understands is another matter.”

“It depends on the sort of girl she is,” Mrs. Shirley said. “In any case she would be better away from Angus for a while. It would give him time to make sure of himself, and she may be able to adjust her mind and to find out what she really feels. We must help them, Joan. The child had better come here.”

“Yes,” Joan agreed. “We can’t turn down Angus’s appeal. He has come to us for help.”

“To the Abbey.” Mrs. Shirley smiled at her, with full understanding of Joan’s feeling in the matter. “Angus wants sanctuary for his distressed sweetheart and he has come to the Abbey for help.”

“Mother, how lovely of you! It makes it sound like an ancient romance. The Abbey must welcome the lady-love and protect her.”

“And educate her,” Mrs. Shirley added. “One can understand how the boy feels. He is ambitious, and we believe he will succeed. But his girl-friend must grow up along with him; he can’t leave her behind.”

“In a shop,” Joan added. “As he says, she must learn to meet people. She’s probably terribly shy.”

“But it depends on you,” Mrs. Shirley warned her. “We can’t count much on Joy. You were willing to cope with Rykie, but she was your cousin. Will you take on the job of this new girl?”

“With help from Jen, which is what I said about Rykie,” Joan said promptly. “Jen is almost Selma’s age; she will be a companion for her. That is Angus’s idea; he seems to think a lot of Jenny-Wren. I am sure Selma should go to school, for a while, at least.”

“Has she been to a good school, do you think?”

“Aren’t all schools good in Scotland?” Joan laughed. “I’m sure she has; Angus sounded proud when he said she had been to school in Glasgow, not merely in her village. But I don’t expect a little more French and maths will hurt her. You’d be willing to have Jen here again, if we can arrange it, Mother? Then they could be friends, and they’d go to school together every day.”

“You know I am always glad to have Jen here. She feels like one of us; not a visitor, in the least.”

“One of the family. Joy and I feel that too, and yet we’ve only known her for two years. It will make things much jollier for Selma, if Jen is here. Come and see Angus, Mother, and make him talk about his lassie!”

As Mrs. Shirley welcomed the guest and he looked into her gentle eyes, Angus knew again that this was what he wanted for Selma—to live with people like these and to learn their way of life. He tried to put the thought into words, as he sat by his hostess.

“If Selma could be with people like you, and Miss Joan and Miss Joy and little Miss Jen! There are lots o’ folks I’d no’ care for her to be with, but here you’ve got something—I don’t know what it is or how to say it, but it’s what I want for Selma.”

Embarrassed and shy, he sprang up and came to the table, where Joan was attending to cups. “She’s no’ got anything to eat. Will I take these cakes to her?”

He saw a gleam in Joy’s eyes and knew he had done the right thing. Joan looked pleased, too, he thought, as she suggested bread and butter and handed him the plate. Angus made a mental note, and thereafter he waited on Mrs. Shirley carefully.

“Social education!” Joy said to herself. “Good for Angus too. He isn’t used to afternoon tea. But he’s doing it quite neatly.”

Mrs. Shirley listened with attentive sympathy as Angus, in answer to her questions, talked about Selma, while Joan drew Joy into conversation.

“We would like to help your little friend,” Mrs. Shirley said, when tea was over. “But it needs some arrangement. We must see if Jen Robins can be spared to us again, and that does not depend only on us. We will think over the matter carefully and see what can be done.”

“Are you staying in London, or are you going back to Glasgow, Angus?” Joan asked.

“Back to Glasgow, Miss Joan. I found a chap to take my place with the dance orchestra, but only for two nights.”

“Then you’d better get along, if you’re catching the night train. We’ll write to you in a day or two. And you might leave your Selma’s address with us, in case we need to write to her for any reason.”

“Funny way to spell Andersson,” Joy commented, when Angus had obeyed. “Swedish, I suppose! Shall I run you in to Wycombe station? It will save you time and trouble,” and she went to get out the car.

“We might call at school and have a talk with the Head,” Joan said, as they set out.

“On the way home,” Joy agreed. “The Head is the important one. Jenny-Wren’s mother will always let her come to us. She thinks you’re such a good influence for a growing girl.”

“Ass!” said Joan indignantly.

Angus looked wistful. “Selma’s a growing girl, too, Miss Joan.”

Joan laughed. “And you want us to adopt her?”

“Aye, just that. She’d be a different girl.”

“Is she as bad as all that?” Joy asked. “It sounds terrible.”

“That’s no’ what I mean.” Angus struggled to explain himself. “There’s nothing—she’s a good lass, but——”

“Joy’s only teasing, Angus. Don’t listen to her.”

“Oh!” and Angus sat silent, pondering.

As they reached the town he began stumblingly to thank them, but Joan cut him short.

“Not yet, Angus. Even if Selma comes to us she may not want to stay. We can’t keep her against her will. She may not like us! The most we can do is to invite her to stay with us for a while and see how we get on together. If we can help her we will. That’s all we can say at present.”

Angus still struggled to express his thanks, but they checked him and left him to find his train, and Joy drove off to the big school on the outskirts of the town.

As they entered the building, confident that, as it was still early, Miss Macey would not have gone home, they heard music coming from the hall.

“Dancing?” Joy raised her brows. “Jenny-Wren will be there.”

“Singing,” Joan said. “But I think Jen will be—yes, listen, Joy!”

The sound of children’s voices came through a half-open door. The Abbey Girls looked at one another and laughed, and paused to peer through the glass panels of the door.

Small girls and boys were walking round in a big ring, singing lustily, “When I was a schoolgirl,” and acting the song, some bending over imaginary books, some apparently in tears over difficult lessons. The verse changed to, “When I was a teacher,” and with great gusto they scolded and shook their fingers at one another.

Two girls were watching them; one was a tall dark senior; the other, also tall, was fifteen, with blue eyes and hair worn in two thick yellow plaits.

“Jen’s practice night, with her babies,” Joy murmured. “I wondered if she’d go on with it, now the show is over. She is a brick!”

“She didn’t do it for the show,” Joan remarked. “The show was an afterthought. She loves it, and she wouldn’t want to give it up. But who is the other girl? She’s new since our time.”

“I know who she is and I’m jolly glad to have the chance to speak to her,” Joy said. “Don’t you recognise her? She’s Aileen Carter, who was such a perfect sport about giving up her part as Jaques, when our rotten little Rykie bagged it.” And she pushed open the door and strode into the room.