Читать книгу Schoolgirl Jen at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 5

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“I remember Vinny Miles!” Joan exclaimed, when Jen had told her story at express speed. “She was a small child, who came with the older girls, and seemed to enjoy herself. I never heard her called Lavinia! It sounds like a gipsy.”

“A gipsy? I thought it sounded rather stately, like a duchess or a countess,” Jen said. “And she’s such a scrap of a kid. I nearly laughed in her face.”

“The Lady Lavinia—well, perhaps,” Joan agreed. “Either that or a gipsy girl. Nice of her to care so much about our tree!”

“It was because you sat under it and told them stories. Tell me about your class, Joan-Queen! I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It was while we lived in the Abbey, as caretakers, before Joy’s grandfather took any notice of us. I heard the village girls grousing because they didn’t have enough drill at school; their teacher was elderly, and she didn’t care about drill. There’s a new one now who is very keen, I believe. I invited the girls to come to the Abbey in the evening, and we had quite good times. I’d often thought I’d like to be a gym and games mistress, so it was good practice.”

“You’d do it jolly well. Did you drill them on the garth?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes we used the meadow and Joy played for us: we could hear her piano, if we were just outside the windows. The girls liked it best with music, of course. If I’d known about country dancing, they’d have liked that even better than drill. But that was before we met the Hamlet Club and learned to dance. Sometimes we played team games out on the meadow.”

“And the big tree was ‘home’. You sat under it, and you told them stories.”

“I believe I did,” Joan said, much amused. “Apparently Lavinia hasn’t forgotten.”

“She’s keen on you. Couldn’t we help her somehow? In a sort of way, she came to the Abbey to be comforted, and she needs help. The monks would have done something about it, wouldn’t they?”

“They’d have helped anybody who was in trouble. Vinny Miles seems to be left stranded by her family. What shall we do, Jenny-Wren?”

“I thought you could help her to write a letter to her father. Perhaps one of the brothers could come and fetch her.”

“Perhaps the stepmother doesn’t want her. But we could try.”

“She couldn’t possibly do it alone. Her grammar’s awful, and I expect her spelling’s worse.”

“I wonder if she knows the address? But Mrs. Jaikes will have it, and she’d probably be glad to be rid of Vinny. Poor kid! It’s dreadful for her. We’ll try to help, Jen.”

“Oh, good! I knew you would,” Jen said happily. “And, I say, Joan! There’s one thing we could do at once.”

“Oh? What’s that, Mrs. Wren?”

“Give her a bit of ribbon and make her tie back her hair. It’s fearfully untidy. Having her hair all over the place like that must make her feel an absolute mess!”

“Do you mean, in her mind, as well as in looks?” Joan asked seriously.

Jen gave her a quick glance. “You do understand! I did mean that. She must feel neglected and untidy, going about all hairy. It can’t be good for her.”

“I’m sure you’re right. We’ll find a ribbon and present it to Lavinia.”

“A bright red ribbon!” Jen pleaded. “She’ll love it. Her frock’s red.”

Joan looked at her and grinned suddenly. “Not one in our house, my dear! It’s the last place in the world to find a scarlet hair-ribbon. Did you suppose either Joy or I would have one?”

Jen’s eyes went to the thick plait of deep red, which lay on Joan’s shoulder. “No, I guess not. You’d look awful in scarlet; it would spoil you altogether.”

“Mother hasn’t any red ribbons, either. We’ll buy one for Lavinia. Do you know what I think? We’ll go to see Mrs. Jaikes to-morrow morning. That won’t feel like having a picnic.”

Jen looked at her quickly again. “While those men—yes, I see. You don’t think we ought to stay—with the tree, you know?”

“No, Jenny-Wren, I don’t. It was a kind thought, but we couldn’t help the tree by being here, and we should feel very bad if we watched. We’ll do something to help Vinny Miles, who loves the tree. That will be far better than staying here and feeling sad and sentimental.”

“I shall feel sad all right, but I’d hate to do the other thing,” Jen said vigorously.

“Then we won’t think too much about it. The tree has to go, and there’s nothing we can do by being here. To-morrow we’ll explore the hills and find our way to Miles’s farm and interview Mrs. Jaikes. We might hunt for Vinny’s red ribbon in the village. If we can’t find any there, we’ll walk over the hills to Wycombe and have lunch and buy our ribbon, and then come home by bus.”

“And to-night we’ll be on our own—just you and me together. It’s rather fun, you know, Joan-Queen.”

“You ought to stop calling me that, now that Muriel is Queen.”

“I’m not going to stop. You’re still my Queen. What shall we do to-night? Let’s be mad, for once, because we’re all alone!”

“I don’t think I know how to be mad,” Joan said, much amused. “Do you mean pillow-fights? Or hide and seek in the dark, and jumping out on one another with wild shrieks and yells? We’ll send for Jacky-boy. She’d help you to be mad better than I should.”

Jack, or Jacqueline, had been Jen’s chum for a year, since Jen’s first day at school. But her home was in Wycombe, and she had just gone off to the seaside with her mother.

“We can’t have Jack,” Jen said. “But I don’t want her. It’s being on our own, just us two, that is so thrilling. We could have supper in the Abbey, Joan. That would be a thing we couldn’t possibly do while your mother and Joy were here.”

“By all means!” Joan was quite willing. “We’ll pack a picnic supper and carry it to the Abbey. I’ll warn Ann Watson, so that she won’t think we are ghosts.”

“Perhaps the ghosts of Ambrose and Lady Jehane will come and peep at us.” Jen referred to the lay brother and his lady-love, who were part of the Abbey story at the time of its destruction by Henry the Eighth. “I wish they would! I’d love to see them, even their ghosts.”

“You’d better not hope for that.” Joan laughed, glad to see Jen’s thoughts had turned from the doomed tree. “But I can tell you who will expect to share our supper.”

“The cats! The Mother Superior and Gray Timmy and the Curate. We’ll take extra milk and some fish.”

“You can carry the fish. Come and have some tennis. We must practise, for Jandy will want to play. She’ll beat both of us together, I’m quite sure. We haven’t had much tennis lately, thanks to the measles, and then Joy’s and mother’s packing. We’d better do a little work before Jandy comes.”

“I’m not much good, but I’ll try to give you some sort of game. Cricket’s more in my line.”

“You must polish up your tennis, while you’re here,” Joan said, and led her round the house to the courts.