Читать книгу Selma at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 9

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AN EXPLORER AT HEART

“See you to-night at Club!” Mollie Macpherson waved good-bye to her friend and went off to her home.

“What’s happened?” she demanded, an hour later, as Selma Andersson appeared for the meeting of the Youth Club, to which they belonged. “You look gey queer!”

“I feel queer! I’ve had the funniest letter. It was waiting when I went in. So odd, Mollie!”

“From the boy-friend?”

“I wish you would no’ call him that! He really isn’t, you know; not as you mean it. No, from somebody I’ve never heard of before.”

“Weird! But you’ll have to keep it till later. They’re making up sets; you’re late. Are you going to do ‘Petronella’ with me?”

“I am so!” and Selma ran to the dressing-room to leave her coat and change her shoes. She liked the country-dance class best of all the activities of the Club, and even with thrilling news to tell she did not want to miss any of it.

But when “Petronella” had been followed by “Strip the Willow” and “Haymakers,” and then by a boisterous Eightsome Reel, even Selma and Mollie were ready to rest. The others in the class felt the same, and a babel of talk filled the hall, while the leader went to stand by the pianist and chat.

“All exhausted and breathless! But they can still make a good deal of noise,” she laughed.

“Now tell me!” Mollie demanded, waving off several boys who would have joined them. “Go away! Awa’ wi’ ye! We’re busy!”

“I wish Angus could play for the reels,” Selma remarked. “A piano’s feeble; it just can’t play reels. I know Miss Davidson’s good, but the piano isn’t—no’ for reels. Angus does it marvellously. All right, Mollie! It was a letter from somebody in the South, in England, asking me to go and stay with her. Now what do you think o’ that?”

“Either she’s mad, or you are, or I am,” Mollie said simply. “Why should you go and stay with her? Who is she? And how has she heard about you?”

“She knows Angus. His sister stayed with her in the summer.”

“The boy-friend again! He’s definitely useful, is he no’? Oh well, if he kens these people, they must be a’ right.”

“I’m sure they’re all right. It’s a jolly kind letter. But I don’t see why they should want me.”

“Is his sister still there?”

“No, she’s gone to Hollywood, to be a film star; he told me. I know her; her name’s Rykie, short for Frederica. I don’t like her awfully much. She’s crazy about films and acting, and I’m not.”

“Do they want to make you into a film star too?”

“They’d better no’ try! Rykie was keen before she went there. No, they just say they’re friends of Angus Reekie’s and he spoke to them about me, and they’d like to get to know me.”

“Very queer!” Mollie acknowledged. “I wonder what he said about you? It must have been something nice, since it made them want to see you! What will you do?”

“Ask Angus about them, the first chance I get. I wondered if you’d cut canteen and First Aid and come with me, and we’d go round and ask him what he thinks about it. He’s playing at the dance hall, and I’m no’ keen on going there alone.”

“He’ll no’ have time to talk, if he’s playing, and he’ll no’ love you for bothering him.”

“He doesn’t like me to go there,” Selma admitted. “But I must ask him about this, Mollie!”

“Leave a note at his digs, asking him to see you at lunch-time to-morrow. You must eat, and so must he. Why not eat together?”

“I could do that. I’d love to go to England!” Selma said yearningly. “It would be a real adventure!”

“You and your adventures! You’d go to the North Pole, if anybody asked you!”

“Oh, aye! I would that! Angus says it’s because of my father; I’ve inherited it from him. He was a sailor, you know. I’d like to go to sea, and I’d like to sail to odd countries. I wonder if England’s very different from Scotland?”

But Mollie knew nothing about England. “I don’t see how it can be. It’s no’ so far away. But they speak differently; you’ve heard English people talking.”

“I’d soon get used to that. Do you think I could possibly go, Mollie? Think what a lot I’d see!”

“They’ve asked you,” Mollie argued. “I don’t see why you can’t go. The boy-friend must want you to go, if he told these folks about you.”

Selma gloated over the possible prospect. “England—and the South of England! She says they live in the country, near Oxford. Oxford’s in the South; I do know that much!”

“What’s her name?”

“Joan Shirley. It’s a queer name, but jolly.”

“She’ll think yours is a queer name, I bet. Was it a nice letter?”

“Jolly nice; friendly and welcoming. She seems to think I might stay with them for some time; Rykie was there all summer, and this person says they miss her and perhaps I’ll come and take her place. That doesn’t sound like going for a week, does it?”

“They mean you to stay for a good while. You’ll have to give up your job; the boss wouldn’t give you as long as that for a holiday.”

“I’d get something else. I’m no’ a scrap keen on the old shop. And I’ve had my holiday. I could no’ ask for another.”

“Do these people want you to go at once?”

“As soon as I can arrange it, the letter says.”

“You’d better give a week’s notice. But talk to the boy-friend first. There may be snags you’ve no’ thought of. I will miss you, if you go! Oh, don’t go, Selma! It would be horrible without you!”

“You’ll have to chum up with Jean or Margaret or Bella. I’m not a heartless brute, Mollie, but I do want to go, if Angus thinks it’s all right. It’s such a marvellous chance!”

“Oh, aye, it’s that, and you’re in luck.” Mollie sighed. “Are you sure you’ll no’ need anybody to take care of you? You’re only a kid!”

Selma’s laugh rang out. “I can take care of myself! I’ll write and tell you all about England! Come on! Time to do some work. Don’t tell anybody, Mollie! It may come to nothing, you know.”

“I’ll no’ tell a soul,” Mollie promised, and they joined the First Aid class and bandaged one another with great gusto but not much skill.

As a rule they lunched together, since their hours coincided, but next day Mollie, with a rueful grin, turned the other way.

“My love to the boy-friend! Tell him I’m no’ wantin’ to lose you.”

“But I want to go. I’m wanting it more all the time. I’ve been thinking about England all night,” Selma confessed, as she hurried away.

Angus was waiting outside the tea-shop she had suggested in her note. He watched her as she came demurely up the street; she was remembering that she was a business woman and that it would not do to rush on him like a whirlwind, demanding to be told everything.

In vain he tried to see her with Joan Shirley’s eyes. How would she appear to Mrs. Shirley? Would she fit in with the family at the Hall? But he could only see her as he had done ever since he had first met her; dark brown hair hanging loosely just to her shoulders in natural waves, deep brown eyes; neat working suit of dark blue. Her eyes at the moment were full of excitement, and he thought all would be well.

“Angus! Tell me! You know about the letter, don’t you?”

He took her elbow and steered her into the crowded shop to a small table in a corner. “I can no’ stay long. McAlistair wants me at two sharp. But you can’t stay, either. I’ll order; what will you have? Their sausage-and-mash is quite decent.”

“That will do fine. I don’t care what I have; I’ll no’ notice what I’m eating. A bun and milk would do.”

“It would not,” and Angus gave his order. “Now, out with it! Have you had Miss Joan’s letter?”

“A lovely letter! Oh, Angus, I want to go! I’d give anything to see England! Would I have to go through London? It’s a super thrill! But ought I to go? Why have they asked me? Do they really want me? Tell me about them, and what it all means!”

“There’s Miss Joan and Miss Joy—she’s keen on music and she writes tunes. And there’s Miss Joan’s mother, Mrs. Shirley. She’s——” Angus stumbled. “I don’t know how to say it. She’s beautiful; a wee old lady, and so douce and gentle and kind. And there’s Miss Jen, who goes to school but comes to stay with them a lot; she’s about as old as you. She was jolly decent to Rykie; they all were. I—I saw them when Rykie was there.”

“What’s the matter?” Selma eyed him keenly. “Why have you gone so red? What’s odd about your going to see Rykie and meeting the folks she was staying with?”

“I told them about you,” Angus hurried on. “They said they’d like to see you and perhaps you’d come and stay for a bit, as Rykie had gone away. I knew how keen you were to see new places, and you’ve never been to England. It’s the bonniest place, all country and trees and gardens and flowers; and they’re the kindest people. You’ll love them, and—and everything. I hope you’ll go, Selma.”

“You really mean it? You think I ought to go?” Selma’s eyes gleamed.

“Miss Joan will be disappointed, if you don’t.”

“How old is she? An old body?”

Angus laughed. “She left school a year ago. She and Miss Joy—they’re exactly alike, though they aren’t twins, but only cousins—have the loveliest red hair; dark red, not ginger. They’re both very bonny and only just grown-up. Miss Joy works at music; she plays the piano beautifully. Miss Joan takes care of the house and her mother, and the Abbey belongs to her. It’s ruins, in their garden.” His colour rose again, but once more he hurried on. “The house is called the Hall, and it belongs to Miss Joy.”

“A big place?” Selma looked startled. “A big country house? Oh, Angus, I’d be scared! I’d no’ ken how to behave!”

“You couldn’t be scared of those folks. There’ll no’ be anybody else. Why do you no’ give notice at Macdonald’s? You’ll easy get taken on somewhere else when you come back, and it’s no’ been good enough for you. You’ve always felt it was only for a start.”

“To get experience. Oh, I’m no’ going to stay at Mac’s all my life! But I had to begin somewhere.”

“Write to Miss Shirley and say you’d like to come.”

“And thank her,” Selma added. “When could I go? You’ll tell me how to get there, won’t you?”

Angus grinned. “I know you’re an explorer at heart, Selma Andersson, but you’re no’ going all that way alone. I’ll take you and hand you over to them.”

“Oh! That would be fun! But is it no’ going to cost an awful lot?” Selma asked doubtfully. “And will I no’ need heaps of new clothes, to stay at a place like that?”

Angus took up the bill. “I’ll have to rush. Yes, I’m paying to-day.”

“No, please! Go shares as usual, Angus!”

“No’ to-day. Will you come out with me on Sunday afternoon? We’ll take the bus to Ashton and sit on the rocks.”

“And talk. I’ve heaps more questions! Yes, I’ll do that; I’d like it. I’ll no’ write to Miss Shirley till you’ve told me more about it. But if you think I can go, I’ll go on dreaming about England.”

“Don’t dream while you’re on the job! You’ll give the wrong change.”

“I could give the right change in my sleep,” Selma retorted.