Читать книгу Schoolgirl Jen at the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 9

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Jen kept her face resolutely turned from the ruins as they crossed the site of the great church, and Joan rejoiced to see it. But at the wicket-gate by which they went out into the fields she looked back and, with a catch in her breath, waved her hand to the giant elm which hung over the gate-house. Then she ran down the path, and Joan ran after her. “We’ll see if the village can find us a red ribbon for Lavinia, Jen.”

“Yes—oh, yes! It will save a lot of time if we don’t have to go all the way to Wycombe.” Jen sounded a trifle breathless and incoherent, but her voice grew steadier as she spoke. “I wonder if we’ll see Vinny at the farm? I expect Mrs. Jaikes makes her work in the house during the holidays.”

“We mustn’t be too late, for Jandy comes to-day,” Joan reminded her.

“Yes. It will be fun to have Jandy Mac all to ourselves. We must tell her about these new people—Lavinia and dear old Boniface.”

The village was able to supply red ribbon, to Jen’s delight. Urged on by Joan, she chose a length of crimson. “That’s the right colour, not bright scarlet,” she said, “though I don’t suppose Lavinia would care if we made her wear scarlet with a crimson dress! She’ll love it. We’ll take enough for two big bows, and make her wear her hair in two bunches; she’s got rather a lot.”

It was not a long walk to King’s Bottom Farm, which stood at the entrance to one of the combes running up into the hills. Joan made the walk longer, however, by proposing to go up over the green shoulder of hill and drop down to the farm from above. She had her own reasons for insisting on the extra tramp; Jen must not return to the Abbey too soon.

They stood in the wind on the crest of the hill and looked northwards to the Whiteleaf Cross and west to Thame and the distant blue country. The Abbey and the Hall, the Manor and the village, lay almost at their feet, and closer still, right below, was King’s Bottom Farm.

“Come on!” Joan said. “Now for Lavinia and Mrs. Jaikes!”

“Vinny?” The tall thin woman at the farmhouse door sounded indignant. “Drat the child! I dunno where she is. Run off and left me all on my own, she has, and knowin’ well enough I’ve more to do than I can get through. At least she could mind the kids! I can’t do nothing with Vinny, some days.”

“I’m sorry she isn’t here. She ought to help,” Joan agreed. “Perhaps we’ll meet her on our way home. Mrs. Jaikes, Jen Robins—this is Jen—was talking to Lavinia yesterday, and Vinny told her about her relations in America. We know you’ve been very kind, keeping her since her aunt died, but don’t you think she really ought to be with her own people? Her father is still alive, isn’t he?”

“Aye, but there’s a stepmother. Sometimes they don’t want a man’s first family. Sure, I think she did ought to go to them, and I’d be glad to see the back of her. But how could she go, a bit of a thing like her?”

“Perhaps they could come to fetch her,” Jen put in, eager to help.

“Costs too much,” Mrs. Jaikes said briefly. “And we can’t send her. Jaikes and me has as much as we can do with our own. ’Sides, ’tisn’t only the money. Who’d take care of the kid on the journey?”

“It is difficult,” Joan agreed. “But you do think she ought to go, Mrs. Jaikes?”

“I do. Her own folks had oughter have the care of her. She’s got folks. They’d oughter keep her. We didn’t oughter have to do it.”

“No, it’s hard on you. I’m sure you’ve been very good. Have you her father’s address?”

“I got it somewheres. I been a-thinking I’d oughter write to him, but—well, I’m no great hand with a pen, and Jaikes, he’s worse.”

“If you could find the address, we would write the letter for you,” Joan suggested. “We’d remind Vinny’s father that she’s quite a big girl now, and ask if he couldn’t think of some way to get her back to her family.”

Mrs. Jaikes looked at her doubtfully. “You’ll say as how I done my best for Vinny, and no pay for doing it? If he’s doing well out there, he’d oughter make it up to me. I’d thought that was what I’d say, if I wrote.”

“Yes, we’d say that,” Joan promised. “But I expect Vinny has been a great help to you with your babies, although she has run away to-day.”

“She ain’t done very much—not near as much as I’d have liked,” Mrs. Jaikes said. “I’ll have a look for the address. I got it somewheres. If I find it I’ll make Vinny bring it along to you.”

“Yes, please do. We’ll look out for her on our way home.” And Joan turned to go, followed by a silent Jen.

“You didn’t leave the ribbon for Lavinia, Joan?”

“Don’t you want to give it to her yourself? I thought it was better not to give it to Mrs. Jaikes.”

“She might have bagged it for her own infants,” Jen admitted. “I don’t like the creature, do you?”

“Not very much. But one can sympathise with her. She’s had Lavinia left on her hands, and she’s done her best for her, and then Vinny runs away and leaves her with the children and the housework to do all alone. It isn’t fair.”

“No, Vinny isn’t being sporting,” Jen owned. “But I expect she’s completely fed up. She sounded like it.”

“It would be easier to help her, if she played the game. She gives Mrs. Jaikes a real grievance. I shall scold Lavinia,” Joan said decidedly.

“Don’t make her more fed up than she is already!” Jen pleaded hurriedly. “She thinks such a lot of you!”

“I’ll be careful,” Joan promised, much amused. “Now, Jen, we can’t go home yet; it’s too soon. What shall we do with ourselves?”

Their eyes met in complete understanding. “Whatever you like, Joan-Queen,” Jen said gloomily.

“Then come with me!” And Joan set her face to the hills again. “We’ll go to Wycombe, after all, and have a spot of lunch, and then we’ll come home by bus to the village.”

“We shan’t meet Lavinia, if we go that way.”

“We might. She may be up on the hills. Keep a look-out for her.”

“I expect she’s gone to the Abbey, to say good-bye to our poor tree again.”

“That won’t make her feel any better. It’s a pity she didn’t stay at home and keep herself busy by helping Mrs. Jaikes.”

“Perhaps she’ll meet old Boniface,” Jen remarked.

“She may know him. It’s only three years since he left the Abbey,” Joan reminded her. “But she may never have gone there in his day. I don’t suppose he encouraged the village kiddies to hang about.”

“I think Lavinia only went there to see you, when you had your drill class.”

“That’s quite possible,” Joan assented.

“What did you do with them? I’d like to see you being a teacher!”

“Oh, marching and wand drill, and free-arm exercises. There were some green stakes the gardener used, and we helped ourselves to those. I was very fierce and made them keep strict time to my counting, if Joy was out and we couldn’t have music.”

“We’ll write to Joy. There’s a lot to tell her—Lavinia and Boniface, you know.”

“I shall write to Mother to-morrow; they’ll be wanting letters. You can write to Joy.”

“And Jandy Mac can write to her Alec. So we’ll all be busy. We’ll buy a present for Boniface in Wycombe.” Jen cheered up at the thought. “If we take red ribbon for Lavinia, we must take something for him too. What would he like, do you think?”

“Tobacco, I expect,” Joan said, with a laugh. “But we wouldn’t know what sort to buy.”

“The man in the shop would tell us. Or what about sweets? Don’t old people like sweets?”

“I’m sure they do. Sweets would be best. We’ll find something for Boniface,” Joan promised.

“Something better than he could get in the village! There’s much more choice in Wycombe.” And Jen looked happier as they climbed the hill.