Читать книгу Strangers at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 6

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“I had such a kind letter from your mother, Jen.” Joan drew her maid-of-honour into a corner of the dressing-room, where the Queens were preparing for the procession.

Nesta, looking shy and rather frightened, wore her silver train, with its purple border strewn with glittering white circles; she was bareheaded, for she must receive her crown of starry narcissus from Muriel, the outgoing Queen; in her white shower-bouquet were a few stems of honesty seeds which had survived the winter, and some sprays of purple flowers.

Joy, her bronze hair gleaming under a crown of young beech leaves which matched her bright green train, stood talking with the first two Queens, Miriam, who wore a white robe embroidered with forget-me-nots, and Cicely, whose golden train toned with the daffodils of her crown.

Joan’s robe was of violet velvet, with a border of white violets and a crown which was woven of violets in both colours. She carried a neat little posy to match, and Jen, as her maid, wore a violet girdle and collar on her white frock, which had white violets round the hem, invisible to any but those close at hand, but worked on the frock by Joan as a secret between Jen and herself.

Jen looked up eagerly as Joan told her news. “What did Mother say? I haven’t told anybody yet, just for fear something happened and the lovely plan fell to bits.”

“It mustn’t fall to bits; we can’t do without you. Your mother will let us have you, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your school work. It mustn’t do that, of course, or the Head will have something to say.”

“I won’t let it interfere. I’ll do my prep just as usual. Then is it really settled? May I tell everybody?”

“You may. We want you to come to-morrow. We may as well have you for the week-end.”

“Oh, cheers! Oh, marvellous!” Jen’s cry of joy was heard all over the room. “When does young Rykie turn up?” she added.

“What’s thrilled Jenny-Wren?” asked Cicely, the President, who had started the Hamlet Club.

“We’ll tell you later,” Joan promised. “Muriel wants to go, and I’m quite sure Nesta does.”

“Oh yes, please!” quavered the frightened Queen-elect. “We’d better get it over!”

“Buck up, Queen!” said Beetle vigorously.

“Oh, please!” began the reigning Queen, Muriel, whose duty it was to lead the procession up the big school hall to the platform. “Couldn’t Miriam go first? She was the first Queen. The girls would like it; they love to see her and the President. I—I don’t want to lead. It will be horrible to go out there first.”

She was a grave, quiet girl, who had not come out of her shell much even during the year of her reign. Her robe of speedwell blue gave the clue to her character; she was as shy and timid as her name-flower. The girls had liked her and she had been a good Queen, in a subdued, retiring way; but she had dreaded public functions, and now she looked as white as Nesta, shrinking from the ordeal before her.

“How odd!” the President commented. “Are you really frightened, Speedwell?”

“Desperately!” the Queen shivered.

“You’d better lead, Mirry. We don’t want a fainting Queen,” Joy remarked.

“Turn the procession upside down and let Muriel come last, after me,” Joan suggested. “Then she’ll feel thoroughly protected.”

“All the old Queens first. It’s rather a nice idea,” said Marguerite, the third Queen.

“Standing on its head; the procession, I mean,” Jen murmured.

“What a dreadful picture, Jenny-Wren!” the President had overheard. “All of us walking up the hall on our heads!”

“Oh, well, you know what I mean!”

“I do, and as Marguerite says, it is a nice idea. We’ll try it for this year. You lead, Mirry, and I’ll follow. Then Marguerite, Joy, Joan, and Muriel last.”

“The girls will be dumb with surprise,” Joan said. “We ought to go; they’ve had several dances. You’ll lead beautifully, Mirry.”

Miriam, fair and tall and stately, led the procession with great dignity in the slow march up the hall, followed by the golden President, strawberry-pink Marguerite, bright-green Joy and violet Joan.

“Mirry should do this every year,” Muriel whispered to Nesta and Beatrice, as she took her place behind Joan, whose maid she had been the year before. “She’s perfect, so gracious and regal. I know I should have scuttled along like a frightened rabbit. But Mirry goes so slowly and steadily that nobody can want to run to the platform.”

“Joan and Joy do it nicely too,” Nesta murmured. “They could lead, if they had to do it. And the President always looks like a Queen. I’ll try to be dignified when you come to fetch me.”

“I’ll try to walk slowly,” Muriel said. “I shan’t feel so bad once we’ve started.” And she went out, following Joan.

“They’ve changed everything. Miriam’s the leader; how odd!” The word ran round, as the dancing girls sprang into lines to cheer the Queens.

“I think it’s a good plan,” said somebody. “I expect Queen Speedwell was shy.”

“Mirry always makes me think of a bride, in her white flowers and robe,” said another. “She’s a good leader.”

“She will be a bride soon. Hadn’t you heard? She’s being married this summer; to a cousin, I think.”

“I didn’t know. What a thrill! Fancy the Hamlet Club having a Queen old enough to be married!”

“Mirry must be twenty-two. It’s five years since she was crowned.”

“Five? But there have been six Queens?”

“You’re fairly new,” her friend commented. “You don’t know the early history of the Club. There were two Queens in the second year; the President had just been crowned when she had to go away to Ceylon, so they chose Marguerite in her place. The President never really reigned at all.”

“Oh, well! She’s always bossed the Club. But Miriam is our first Queen to be married.”

“I expect they all will, in time. They’re a very good-looking lot.”

“I can’t imagine the President married, or Joy Shirley. They don’t seem the right sort.”

“Oh, I don’t know! But if anyone wants to marry Joy, he’ll need to be careful he doesn’t get Joan by mistake.”

“He’d be lucky. Joan’s much nicer than Joy. Oh, look, Joan’s crowning Muriel now!”

Joan was laying the forget-me-not wreath on Muriel’s dark hair. “There, Queen Speedwell! It looks lovely. Now go and fetch Nesta; don’t be frightened!”

By this time Muriel had lost her fear, and she came down the hall with real dignity to fetch her successor.

“She’s all right now,” Joan said, watching with sympathy. “I’m glad she’s been Queen, and she has done the job well.”

“You’ve taken care of her,” the President remarked. “You’ve mothered her very kindly.”

“Well, she was my maid. I’ve always liked her. Isn’t she pretty in the speedwell blue? Here comes Nesta. How nice her silver train looks!”

“Frightened but brave. I felt just the same,” Joy commented.

Jen had arranged Joan’s train so that it showed to the best advantage, and was now sitting at her Queen’s feet. “Honesty will be a good Queen,” she said.

“We’ll wish Honesty every happiness,” Joan agreed.

When Nesta, crowned, had taken her place on the central throne, the dancing began again.

The Queens watched the plaiting of the maypole and the morris dances that followed, then talked together under cover of the music.

“About Rykie, Jen,” and Joan bent to speak to her maid.

“Oh, yes! What a pity she couldn’t have been here for this evening! When will she come?”

“We expect her early next week. If she doesn’t turn up at once we’ll bring you to school in the car, for the first day or two. We can’t have you cycling alone.”

Jen laughed at her. “I’ll love to come by car! But I’d be all right; I’d be careful. I wouldn’t do anything mad.”

“I hope you wouldn’t. But Mother would worry, if you were riding alone. We can’t have that.”

“How I wonder what Rykie will be like!”

“So do we,” Joan assured her. “It’s going to matter a lot to all of us this summer.”

“I expect she’ll be nice. Most people are, when you get used to them.”

“Very true and quite generous, Jenny-Wren!”

“Joan, we ought to give Miriam a wedding present from the Club.”

“The President has thought of that,” Joan assured her. “She’s going to speak to you all about it soon.”

“Oh, good! I wonder if Mirry’s little girls will come to school and be Queens?”

“Who says Mirry will have little girls? She may have only boys—if she has any children!”

“Oh, she’s sure to have a family! She looks like a person who would have girls.”

“Let her get safely married first! You’re looking rather far ahead,” Joan suggested.

“Is she going to live near enough for her girls to come here?”

“I must tell Mirry what you expect of her! I believe she’ll live somewhere just outside the town.”

“That’s all right! Her girls are sure to be as nice as she is, so they’re certain to be Queens.”

Joan laughed. “Those girls are as far off as your ten boys.”

“Ten children! Only about seven are to be boys.”

“I really must tell Mirry your plans for her and for yourself!” Joan said.