Читать книгу Schoolgirl Jen at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 8

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“Jen has forgotten all about the tree,” Joan said to herself, as she prepared for bed. “From that point of view, I’m glad Boniface turned up to-night. The picnic alone might not have been enough to distract her thoughts. But I do wish she hadn’t put that idea into my head. If only she hadn’t sounded so bitterly disappointed! For it would be possible. And it would make the old man very happy. But I don’t want to do it.”

She sat on the window-seat and stared out at the moonlit lawn. “He has a pension. Ann could feed him and make a little extra for herself. I dare say she’d be pleased. If she liked him, he’d be company for her. But he’d be there always, in the Abbey, wandering in and out. I feel I should lose the Abbey itself, as well as my room—and the room has been really useful. I’ve gone there a lot, and I’ve often thought I could lend it to people for an extra bedroom some day. Jen enjoyed sleeping there; and I slept in it myself while the school was here. All that would be over; and the private feeling of the Abbey would be gone. We’d know we might meet old Boniface at any moment. How I wish Jen hadn’t had that idea!”

Very slowly she went to bed, but lay awake for a long time, turning over the problem in her mind.

There was only one way out. The Abbey welcome to old and tired folk must be upheld.

Joan dressed quietly early next morning and found, as she expected, that Jen was still sleeping when she glanced into her room. Closing the door gently, she crept downstairs and out into the garden.

Crossing the lawn to the Abbey gate, she went down the tresaunt passage, and paused in the old doorway to look anxiously round the garth. But there was no sign of Boniface, and his door was still closed.

Much relieved, Joan went to Ann Watson’s rooms.

“Ann, are you up? I want to talk to you.”

“Eh, Miss Joan?” Ann’s startled face appeared. “It’s early; I’m not very tidy yet. I was getting a bite of breakfast for the old gentleman, in case he comes along.”

“That’s good of you. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I want to speak to you about Mr. Browning.”

Ann hastily dusted a chair. “Yes, Miss Joan? I had a word with him last night, asking if he wanted anything. He seems a nice quiet gentleman, but his breathing’s bad, isn’t it? Asthma, he says it is.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it troubles him a good deal. I’m glad you’ve spoken to him. Do you like him, Ann?”

Ann looked puzzled. “Well enough, Miss Joan. I’m pleased to do for him this morning.”

“Could you do with him for a few days, if I invited him to stay in the Abbey? He could sleep in the small room, if you would give him meals.”

“To stay in the Abbey, Miss Joan?” Ann’s startled look came back.

“He loves the place so much, and he was so hurt when Sir Antony sent him away. I told you how he lived here and did your job. He seemed so happy to be back that I thought he might like to stay for a little while.”

“Well, now, we could manage,” Ann said thoughtfully. “He’d keep out o’ sight when people came, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes! He’d understand that. He has friends in the village. He knows the Spindles, at the forge. He’d go to them during the day. But he’d like to feel he was living in the Abbey. He can afford to pay you for his meals—you’d arrange that with him—he has a small pension. It’s the idea of living in the Abbey again that I want to give him.”

“Sort of to comfort him, like, the poor old chap.” Ann responded to the appeal with unexpected understanding. “I’ll do it, Miss Joan. I’ll make him comfortable.”

Joan thanked her quietly and went away, bidding her explain to Mr. Browning when he woke. “So that’s that!” she said to herself, as she crossed the garth. “It was better to say it was only for a few days. We’ll see how he likes the idea, and how they get on together. I didn’t think Ann would be so nice about it. But I believe she’s beginning to love the Abbey, so perhaps she feels sorry for him. I hope she will love the place. If she does, she may settle down and stay for years. I hope she will. I don’t want to have constant changes, and Ann does the job very well. Jenny-Wren?”

Jen’s head appeared at a window. “Joan! You’ve been to the Abbey without me! You rotter!”

“Not at all. You were sound asleep. Come down, and I’ll tell you why I went so early.”

Jen came flying out to join her. “Breakfast on the terrace, in the sun! Oh, please, Joan! I’ll help to carry! You put up the table; I’ll bring chairs.”

“Quickly, then.” And Joan set up the folding table and piled breakfast dishes on a tray.

“There!” Jen said, with much satisfaction. “I love outdoor breakfasts. Everything smells so fresh. Oh, Joan! Is Boniface all right? Did you go to see him?”

“I didn’t see him. He was still asleep. I went to speak to Ann. She talked to him last night, and she likes him; she says he seems a nice, quiet old gentleman, but she’s bothered about his asthma.”

“That sounds as if she’d like to take care of him. Oh, if only——!”

“If only what, Jen?”

“If only she had another room! If we could make a room for him somewhere! Ann could be the head of the infirmary for the aged poor, as well as the caretaker for the Abbey. He can’t have your room, of course, but if there was somewhere else——!”

“I’ve told Ann she may invite him to stay for a few days,” Joan said. “It seemed better——what’s the matter, you silly kid?”

Jen, with a shriek of joy, had started up and rushed round the table to hug her ecstatically. “Oh, Joan! How marvellous! You’re an absolute angel! Don’t you mind?”

“You very nearly upset the table; it’s not too steady. Stop strangling me, or I won’t tell you any more!”

Jen released her hurriedly. “Tell me! Will Ann look after him? Perhaps she’ll like him so much that she won’t want him to go away!”

“It seemed better to say ‘a few days’ at first,” Joan went on, straightening the cloth and the dishes. “We’ll see how Boniface likes the idea and how Ann and he get on together. I didn’t want to frighten her by suggesting he should live there altogether.”

“But if they’re both pleased, would you let him stay?” Jen asked breathlessly, eyeing her in rapture. “Oh, Joan, would you? But it’s your room! You couldn’t give it up, even for Boniface Browning! Joan, what do you mean?”

“I feel that the Abbey customs must be upheld, when a chance comes,” Joan explained soberly.

“Here is an old man, who loves the Abbey and quite obviously wants to stay. The monks wouldn’t have turned him away. I can make him welcome by giving up my room. He’ll do no harm and be no trouble to anyone. I haven’t any choice. It’s an Abbey duty, and the Abbey is mine. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course I do! But it’s awfully, frightfully decent of you to see it that way.” Jen, gazing wide-eyed, surprised Joan by taking the idea very quietly, instead of with one of her well-known shrieks of joy. The same thing had happened when she had invited Jen to be her maid-of-honour in the May Day procession. The occasion, it seemed, was too great for a joyful shout, and Jen’s next words, spoken quietly, confirmed this.

“It makes the Abbey seem so real,” she said.

“How do you mean, Jen? The Abbey is real enough.”

“The buildings are real, but the ideas behind them—the monks and their good deeds, and all that—seem sometimes a bit dream-like. It was so very long ago! But when you do something like this—giving up your own precious room, so that the Abbey can welcome an aged and infirm person who loves it—then the monks and the Abbot, and Ambrose and Jehane, all seem quite real. You’re bringing back the ancient custom, because the Abbey is yours. It’s simply marvellous!”

Joan coloured at the deep feeling in her tone.

“I don’t see what else I could do. I want old Boniface to be happy.”

“But you want to keep your room, don’t you?”

“I want both. If Boniface wants to stay—we don’t know yet that he does—I may as well choose the way that will please both of us.”

“And me! It makes me terribly happy, to think he’ll have the chance to end his days in the Abbey.”

“I haven’t suggested that yet. I’ve only invited him to stay for a few days.”

Jen nodded. “But you won’t send him away, if he likes being here. You’re a real descendant of the monks.”

“I’ve never claimed to be that! I’m not nearly as generous as you think. If Boniface feels he must go back to his son in Birmingham, I shall be overjoyed. But I do feel he has to be given the chance to stay.”

“Because the monks would have kept him,” Jen agreed. “Will you mind very much if he decides to stay?”

“I shall miss my little room,” Joan said honestly. “But he’ll need to have it, for there’s nowhere else. I shall leave him to think it over. Ann will tell him what I said. You and I have something to do to-day.”

Jen looked up quickly. “I’d forgotten about Vinny Miles. And—oh, Joan, the tree! I’d forgotten it too. They’re going to murder it to-day. Oh, Joan!”

“It’s better to think about giving a happy old age to Boniface than about a tree which has begun to die,” Joan said practically. “We’ll go at once, and we won’t go through the Abbey. I want the old chap to think over the idea before I speak to him. Fetch your jersey, Jen. We’ll take the shortcut to the village, across the fields.”

“Across the great church,” Jen agreed. “We know now what it used to look like.”

“Yes, thanks to you and Jacky-boy and Sir Keith Marchwood. Come along!”