A Patriotic Schoolgirl Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Secret Society of Patriots

  Marjorie's friendship for Chrissie Lang at present flamed at red heat.Marjorie was prone to violent attachments, her temperament wasexcitable, and she was easily swayed by her emotions. She would take upnew people with enthusiasm, though she was apt to drop them afterwards.Since her babyhood "Marjorie's latest idol" had been a byword in thefamily. She had worshipped by turns her kindergarten teacher, a littlecurly-headed boy whom she met at dancing-class, her gymnasium mistress,at least ten separate form-mates, the Girl Guides' captain, and a friendof Nora's. Her affection varied according to the responsiveness of theobject, though in some cases she had even been ready to love withoutreturn. Chrissie, however, seemed ready to meet her half-way. She wasenthusiastic and demonstrative and rather sentimental. To be sure, shegave Marjorie very little of her confidence; but the latter, who likedto talk herself and pour out her own ideas, did not trouble on thatscore, and was quite content to have found a sympathetic listener. Thetwo girls were inseparable. They walked round the quadrangle arm inarm; they sat side by side in any class where liberty to choose placeswas allowed. They exchanged picture post cards, foreign stamps, andcrests; they gave each other presents, and wrote sentimental littlenotes which they hid under one another's pillows.

  The general opinion of the form was that Marjorie had "got it badly".

  "Can't imagine what she sees in Chrissie Lang myself," sniffed AnnieTurner. "She's not particularly interesting. Her nose is too big, andshe can't say her r's properly."

  "She's mean, too," added Francie Sheppard. "I'm collecting for theSeamen's Mission, and she wouldn't even give me a penny."

  "She tried to truckle to Norty, too," put in Patricia Lennox. "Shebought violets in Whitecliffe, and laid them on the desk in Norty'sstudy, with a piece of cardboard tied to them with white ribbon, and'With love from your devoted pupil Chrissie' written on it. Norty gavethem back to her, though, and said she'd made it a rule to acceptnothing from any girl, not even flowers."

  "Good for Norty!"

  "Oh, trust the Acid Drop not to lapse into anything sentimental! She'sas hard as nails. The devoted-pupil dodge doesn't go down with her."

  Marjorie had to run a considerable gauntlet of chaff from herschoolmates, but that did not trouble her in the least. A littleopposition, indeed, added spice to the friendship. Her home letters werefull of praise of her new idol.

  "Chrissie is the most adorable girl you can imagine," she wrote to hermother. "We do everything together now. I can't tell you how glad I amshe has come to school. I tell her all about Bevis and Leonard andLarry, and she is so interested and wants to know just where they areand what they are doing. She says it is because they are my brothers.Dona does not care for her very much, but that is because she is suchgreat friends with Ailsa Donald. I took a snapshot of Chris yesterday,and she took one of me. I'll send them both to you as soon as we havedeveloped and printed them. We don't get much time to do photography,because we're keen on acting this term, and I'm in the Charade Society.Chrissie has made me a handkerchief in open-hem stitch, and embroideredmy name most beautifully on it. I wish I could sew as well as she does.I lost it in the hockey field, and did not find it for three days, and Idared not tell Chrissie all that time, for fear she might be offended.She's dreadfully sensitive. She says she has a highly nervous organism,and I think it's true."

  It was about this time that it was rumoured in St. Elgiva's that IreneAndrews had started a secret society. What its name or object might benobody knew, but its votaries posed considerably for the benefit of therest of the hostel. They preserved an air of aloofness and dignity, asif concerned with weighty matters. It was evident that they had apassword and a code of signals, and that they met in Irene's dormitory,with closed door and a scout to keep off intruders. When pressed togive at least a hint as to the nature of their proceedings, they repliedthat they would cheerfully face torture or the stake before consentingto reveal a single word. Now Dormitory No. 9 had never quite forgivenIrene for deserting in favour of No. 5 and Mavie Chapman. Its occupantsdiscussed the matter as they went to bed.

  "Renie's so fearfully important," complained Betty. "I asked hersomething this morning, and she said: 'Don't interrupt me, child,' as ifshe were the King busy on State affairs."

  "She'll hardly look at us nowadays," agreed Sylvia plaintively.

  "I'll tell you what," suggested Marjorie. "Let's get up a secret societyof our own. It would take the wind out of Renie's sails tremendously tofind that we had passwords and signals and all the rest of it. She'd bemost fearfully annoyed."

  "It's a good idea," assented Sylvia, "but what could we have a secretsociety about?"

  "Well, why not have it a sort of patriotic one, to do all we can to helpthe war, knit socks for the soldiers, and that kind of thing?"

  "We knit socks already," objected Betty.

  "That doesn't matter, we must knit more, that's all. There must be heapsof things we can do for the war. Besides, it's the spirit of the thingthat counts. We pledge ourselves to give our last drop of blood for ourcountry. We've all of us got fathers and brothers who are fighting."

  "Chrissie hasn't anybody at the front," demurred Betty, ratherspitefully.

  "That's not Chrissie's fault. We're not all born with brothers. Becauseyou're lucky enough to have an uncle who's an admiral, you needn't quitesquash other people!"

  "How you fly out! I was only mentioning a fact."

  "Anybody with tact wouldn't have mentioned it."

  "What shall we call the society?" asked Sylvia, bringing the disputantsback to the original subject of the discussion.

  "How would 'The Secret Society of Patriots' do?" suggested Chrissie.

  "The very thing!" assented Marjorie warmly. "Trust Chrissie to hit onthe right name. We'll let just a few into it--Patricia, perhaps, andEnid and Mollie, but nobody else. We must take an oath, and regard it asabsolutely binding."

  "Like the Freemasons," agreed Sylvia. "I believe they kill anybody whobetrays them."

  "We'll have an initiation ceremony," purred Marjorie, highly delightedwith the new venture. "And of course we'll arrange a password andsignals, and I don't see why we shouldn't have a cryptogram, and writeeach other notes. It would be ever so baffling for the rest to findletters lying about that they couldn't read. They'd be most indignant."

  "Right you are! It'll be priceless! We'll do Irene this time!"

  The new society at once established itself upon lines of utmost secrecy.Its initiates found large satisfaction in playing it off against theirrivals. Though they preserved its objects in a halo of mystery, theyallowed just the initials of its name to leak out, so as to convince thehostel of its reality. Unfortunately they had not noticed that S.S.O.P.spells "sop", but the outside public eagerly seized at such anopportunity, and nicknamed them "the Milksops" on the spot. As they hadexpected, Irene and her satellites were highly affronted at anopposition society being started, and flung scorn at its members.

  "We mustn't mind them," urged Marjorie patiently. "It's really acompliment to us that they're so annoyed. We'll just go on our own wayand take no notice. I've invented a beautiful cryptogram. They'll neverguess it without the key, if they try for a year."

  The code of signals was easily mastered by the society, but they jibbedat the cryptogram.

  "It's too difficult, and I really haven't the brains to learn it," saidBetty decidedly.

  "It's as bad as lessons," wailed Sylvia.

  Even Chrissie objected to being obliged to translate notes written incipher.

  "It takes such a long time," she demurred.

  "I thought _you'd_ have done it," said Marjorie reproachfully. "I'mafraid you don't care for me as much as you did."

  The main difficulty of the society was to find sufficient outlets forits activities. At present, knitting socks seemed the only form of aidwhich it was possible to render the soldiers. The members decided thatthey must work harder at this occupation and produce more pair
s. Some ofthem smuggled their knitting into Preparation, with the result thattheir form work suffered. They bore loss of marks and Miss Duckworth'sreproaches with the heroism of martyrs to a cause.

  "We couldn't tell her we were fulfilling vows," sighed Marjorie, "thoughI was rather tempted to ask her which was more important--my Euclid orthe feet of some soldier at the front?"

  "She wouldn't have understood."

  "Well, no, I suppose not, unless we'd explained."

  "Could we ask Norty to let us save our jam and send it to the soldiers?"

  Marjorie shook her head.

  "We couldn't get it out to the front, and they've heaps of it at the RedCross Hospital--at least, Elaine says so, and she helps in the pantry atpresent."

  "We might sell our hair for the benefit of the Belgians," remarkedBetty, gazing thoughtfully at Marjorie's long plait and Sylvia's silkencurls.

  "Oh, I dare say, when your own's short!" responded Sylvia indignantly."I might as well suggest selling our ponies, because you've got one andI haven't."

  "If I wrote a patriotic poem, I wonder how much it would cost to get itprinted?" asked Enid. "I'd make all the girls in our form buy copies."

  "We might get up a concert."

  "But wouldn't that give away our secret?"

  With the enthusiasm of the newly-formed society still hot upon her,Marjorie started for her fortnightly exeat at her aunt's. She felt thatthe atmosphere of The Tamarisks would be stimulating. Everybodyconnected with that establishment was doing something for the war. UncleAndrew was on a military tribunal, Aunt Ellinor presided over numerouscommittees to send parcels to prisoners, or to aid soldiers' orphans.Elaine's life centred round the Red Cross Hospital, and Norman andWilfred were at the front. She found her aunt, with the table spreadover with papers, busily scribbling letters.

  "I'm on a new committee," she explained, after greeting her niece. "Ihave to find people who'll undertake to write to lonely soldiers. Someof our poor fellows never have a letter, and the chaplains say it's mostpathetic to see how wistful they look when the mails come in and there'snothing for them. I think it's just too touching for words. SupposeNorman and Wilfred were never remembered. Did you say, Elaine, that Mrs.Wilkins has promised to take Private Dudley? That's right! And Mrs.Hopwood will take Private Roberts? It's very kind of her, when she's sobusy already. We haven't anybody yet for Private Hargreaves. I must findhim a correspondent somehow. What is it, Dona dear? You want me to lookat your photos? Most certainly!"

  Aunt Ellinor--kind, busy, and impulsive, and always anxious toentertain the girls when they came for their fortnightly visit--pushedaside her papers and immediately gave her whole attention to thesnapshots which Dona showed her.

  "I took them with the camera you gave me at Christmas," explained herniece. "Miss Jones says it must be a very good lens, because they'vecome out so well. Isn't this one of Marjorie topping?"

  "It's nice, only it makes her look too old," commented Elaine. "Youcan't see her plait, and she might be quite grown-up. Have you a book topaste your photos in?"

  "Not yet. I must put that down in my birthday list."

  "I believe I have one upstairs that I can give you. It's somewhere in mycupboard. I'll go and look for it."

  "Oh, let me come with you!" chirruped Dona, running after her cousin.

  Marjorie stayed in the dining-room, because Aunt Ellinor had just handedher Norman's last letter, and she wanted to read it. She was onlyhalf-way through the first page when a maid announced a visitor, and heraunt rose and went to the drawing-room. Norman's news from the front wasvery interesting. She devoured it eagerly. As a P.S. he added: "Write asoften as you can. You don't know what letters mean to us out here."

  Marjorie folded the thin foreign sheets and put them back in theirenvelope. If Norman, who was kept well supplied with home news, longedfor letters, what must be the case of those lonely soldiers who had nota friend to use pen and paper on their behalf? Surely it would be a kindand patriotic act to write to one of them? Marjorie's impulsivetemperament snatched eagerly at the idea.

  "The very sort of thing I've been yearning to do," she decided. "Why,that's what our S.S.O.P. membership is for. Auntie said she hadn't founda correspondent for Private Hargreaves. I'll send him a letter myself.It's dreadful to think of him out in the trenches without a soul to takean interest in him, poor fellow!"

  Without waiting to consult anybody, Marjorie borrowed her aunt's pen,took a sheet of foreign paper from the rack that stood on the table, andquite on the spur of the moment scribbled off the following epistle:--

  "BRACKENFIELD COLLEGE, "WHITECLIFFE.

  "DEAR PRIVATE HARGREAVES,

  "I am so sorry to think of you being lonely in the trenches and having no letters, and I want to write and say we English girls think of all the brave men who are fighting to defend our country, and we thank them from the bottom of our hearts. I know how terrible it is for you, because I have a brother in France, and one on a battleship, and one in training-camp, and five cousins at the front, and my father at Havre, so I hear all about the hard life you have to lead. I have been to the Red Cross Hospital and seen the wounded soldiers. I knit socks to send to the troops, and we want to get up a concert to raise some money for the Y.M.C.A. huts.

  "I hope you will not feel so lonely now you know that somebody is thinking about you.

  "Believe me, "Your sincere friend, "MARJORIE ANDERSON."

  It exactly filled up a sheet, and Marjorie folded it, put it in anenvelope, and copied the address from the list which her aunt had leftlying on the table. Seeing Dona's photos also spread out, she took thelittle snapshot of herself and enclosed it in the letter. She had astamp of her own in her purse, which she affixed, then slipped theenvelope in her pocket. She did not mention the matter to Aunt Ellinoror Elaine, because to do so would almost seem like betraying theS.S.O.P., whose patriotic principles were vowed to strictest secrecy.She considered it was a case of "doing good by stealth", and plumedherself on how she would score over the other girls when she reportedsuch a very practical application of the aims of the society.

  Her cousin returned with Dona in the course of a few minutes, andsuggested taking the girls into Whitecliffe, where she wished to do someshopping. They all three started off at once. As they passed thepillar-box in the High Street, Marjorie managed to drop in her letterunobserved. It was an exhilarating feeling to know that it was reallygone. They went to a cafe for tea, and as they sat looking at theAllies' flags, which draped the walls, and listening to the militarymarches played by a ladies' orchestra in khaki uniforms, patriotismseemed uppermost.

  "It's grand to do anything for one's country!" sighed Marjorie.

  "So it is," answered Elaine, pulling her knitting from her pocket andrapidly going on with a sock. "Those poor fellows in the trenchesdeserve everything we can send out to them--socks, toffee, cakes,cigarettes, scented soap, and other comforts."

  "And letters," added Marjorie under her breath, to herself.