A Patriotic Schoolgirl Read online

  CHAPTER VII

  Dormitory No. 9

  After the sad fiasco recorded in the last chapter, Marjorie's interestin autographs languished. She took up photography instead, and bartereda quite nice little collection of foreign stamps with one of the Seniorsin exchange for a second-hand Kodak. Of course, it was much too late inthe year for snapshots, but she managed to get a few time exposures onbright days, and enjoyed herself afterwards in the developing-room. Shewanted to make a series of views of the school and send them to herfather and to her brothers, for she knew how much they appreciated suchthings at the front. In his last letter to her, Daddy had said: "I amglad you and Dona are happy at Brackenfield, and wish I could pictureyou there. I expect it is something like a boys' school. Tell me aboutyour doings. I love to have your letters, even though I may not havetime to answer them."

  Daddy's letters were generally of the round-robin description, and werehanded on from one member to another of the family, but this had beenspecially written to Marjorie and addressed to Brackenfield, so it was agreat treasure. She determined to do her best to satisfy the demands forphotos.

  "You darling!" she said, kissing his portrait. "I think you're athousand times nicer-looking than any of the other girls' fathers! I dowonder when you'll get leave and come home. If it's not in the holidaysI declare I'll run away and see you!"

  In her form Marjorie was making fair progress. She liked Miss Duckworth,her teacher, and on the whole did not find the work too hard; her brainswere bright when she chose to use them, and at present the thought ofthe Christmas report, which would be sent out for Daddy to look at,spurred on her efforts. So far Marjorie had not made any very greatchums at school. She inclined to Mollie Simpson, but Mollie, likeherself, was of a rather masterful disposition, and squabbles almostinvariably ensued before the two had been long together. With the threegirls who shared her dormitory she was on quite friendly, though notwarm, terms. They had at first considered Marjorie inclined to "boss",and had made her thoroughly understand that, as a new girl, such anattitude could not be tolerated in her. So long as she was content tomanage her own cubicle and not theirs they were pleasant enough, butthey united in a firm triumvirate of resistance whenever symptoms ofswelled head began to arise in their room-mate.

  One evening about the end of November the four girls were dressing forsupper in their dormitory.

  "It's a grizzly nuisance having to change one's frock!" groused BettyMoore. "It seems so silly to array oneself in white just to eat supperand do a little sewing afterwards. I hate the bother."

  "Do you?" exclaimed Irene Andrews. "Now I like it. I think it would beperfectly piggy to wear the same serge dress from breakfast to bedtime.Brackenfield scores over some schools in that. They certainly makethings nice for us in the evenings."

  "Um--yes, tolerably," put in Sylvia Page. "We don't get enough music, inmy opinion."

  "We have a concert every Saturday night, and charades on Wednesdays forthose who care to act."

  "I'd like gym practice every evening," said Betty. "Then I needn'tchange my frock. When I leave school I mean to go on a farm, and wearcorduroy knickers and leggings and thick boots all the time. It'll begorgeous. I love anything to do with horses, so perhaps they'll let meplough. What shall you do, Marjorie?"

  "Something to help the war, if it isn't over. I'll nurse, or drive awagon, or ride a motor-bike with dispatches."

  "I'd rather ride a horse than a bike any day," said Betty. "I used tohunt before the war. You needn't smile. I was twelve when the war began,and I'd been hunting since I was seven, and got my first pony. It was adarling little brown Shetland named Sheila. I cried oceans when it died.My next was a grey one named Charlie, and Tom, our coachman, taught meto take fences. He put up some little hurdles in a field, and keptmaking them higher and higher till I could get Charlie over quite well.Oh, it was sport! I wish I'd a pony here."

  "There used to be riding lessons before the war," sighed Irene. "Motherhad promised me I should learn. But now, of course, there are no horsesto be had, and the riding-master, Mr. Hall, has gone to the front. Iwonder if things will ever be the same again? If I don't learn to rideproperly while I'm young I'll never have a decent seat afterwards, Isuppose."

  "You certainly won't," Betty assured her. "You ought to have begun whenyou were seven."

  "Oh dear! And I shall be sixteen on Wednesday!"

  "Is it your birthday next Wednesday?"

  "Yes, but it won't be much fun. We're not allowed to do anythingparticular, worse luck."

  It was one of the Brackenfield rules that no notice must be taken ofbirthdays. Girls might receive presents from home, but they were not toclaim any special privileges or exemptions, to ask for exeats, or tobring cakes into the dining-hall. In a school of more than two hundredpupils it would have been difficult continually to make allowances firstto one girl and then to another, and though in a sense all recognizedthe necessity of the rule, those whose birthdays fell during term-timebemoaned their hard fate.

  It struck Marjorie as a very cheerless proceeding. She found anopportunity, when Irene was out of the way, to talk to her room-mates onthe subject.

  "Look here," she began. "It's Renie's birthday on Wednesday. I do thinkit's the limit that we're not supposed to take any notice of it. I votewe get up a little blow-out on our own for her. Let's have a beano afterwe're in bed."

  "What a blossomy idea! Good for you, Marjorie! I'm your man if there'sany fun on foot," agreed Betty enthusiastically.

  "It'll be lovely; but how are we going to manage the cateringdepartment?" enquired Sylvia.

  "Some of the Juniors will be going on parade to Whitecliffe onWednesday. I'll ask Dona to ask them to get a few things for us. We musthave a cake, and some candles, and some cocoa, and some condensed milk,and anything else they can smuggle. Are you game?"

  "Rather! If you'll undertake to be general of the commissariatdepartment."

  "All serene! Don't say a word about it to anyone else at St. Elgiva's.I'll swear Dona to secrecy, and the St. Ethelberta kids aren't likely totell. They do the same themselves sometimes. And don't on any accountlet Renie have wind of it. It's to be a surprise."

  On Wednesday evening, before supper, Marjorie met Dona by specialappointment in the gymnasium, and the latter hastily thrust a parcelinto her arms.

  "You wouldn't believe what difficulty I had to get it," she whispered."Mona and Peachy weren't at all willing. They said they didn't see whythey should take risks for St. Elgiva's, and you might run your ownbeano. I had to bribe them with ever so many of my best crests before Icould make them promise. They say Miss Jones has got suspicious nowabout bulgy coats, and actually feels them. They have to sling bagsunder their skirts and it's so uncomfy walking home. However, they didtheir best for you. There's a cake, and three boxes of Christmas-treecandles, and a tin of condensed milk. They couldn't get the cocoa,because just as they were going to buy it Miss Jones came up.Everything's dearer, and you didn't give them enough. Mona paid, and youowe her fivepence halfpenny extra."

  "I'll give it you to-morrow at lunch-time. Thank them both most awfully.I think they're regular trumps. I'll give them some of my crests if theylike--I'm not really collecting and don't want them. Think of us aboutmidnight if you happen to wake. I wish you could join us."

  "So do I. But that's quite out of the question. Never mind; we have bitsof fun ourselves sometimes."

  Marjorie managed to convey her parcel unnoticed to No. 9 Dormitory.According to arrangement, Betty and Sylvia were waiting there for her.Irene, still oblivious of the treat in store for her, had not yet comeupstairs. The three confederates undid their package, and gloated overits contents. The cake was quite a respectable one for war-time, tojudge from appearances it had cherries in it, and there was a piece ofcandied peel on the top. The little boxes of Christmas-tree candles heldhalf a dozen apiece, assorted colours. They took sixteen of them,sharpened the ends, and stuck them down into the cake.

  "When it's lighted it will look A
1," purred Betty.

  "How are we going to open the tin of condensed milk?" asked Sylvia.

  "It's one of those tins you prise up," said Marjorie jauntily. "Give itto me. A penny's the best weapon. Here you are! Quite easy."

  "Yes, but there's another lid underneath. You're not at the milk yet."

  Marjorie's feathers began to fall. She was not quite as clever as shehad thought.

  "Here, I'll do it," said Betty, snatching the tin. "Take down a pictureand pull the nail out of the wall, and give me a boot to hammer with.You've to go through this arrow point and then the thing prises up.Steady! Here we are!"

  "Cave! Renie's coming. Stick the things away!"

  Marjorie hastily seized the feast, and bestowed it inside her wardrobe.Thanks to the drawn curtains of her cubicle Irene had not obtained evena glimpse.

  "What are you three doing inside there?" she asked curiously, but no onewould tell. The secret was not to be given away too soon.

  The conspirators had decided that it would be wiser not to ask any othergirls to join the party, but to keep the affair entirely to their owndormitory.

  "They'll make such a noise if we have them in, and it will wake the AcidDrop and bring her down upon us," said Sylvia.

  "Besides which, it's only a small cake and wouldn't go round," statedBetty practically.

  Irene went to bed in a fit of the blues. Only half her presents hadturned up, and two of her aunts had not written to her.

  "It's been a rotten birthday," she groaned. "I knew it would be hatefulhaving it at school. Why wasn't I born in the holidays? There ought tobe a law regulating births to certain times of the year. If I were headof a school I'd let every girl go home for her birthday. Don't speak tome! I feel scratchy!"

  Her room-mates chuckled, and for the present left her alone. Sylviabegan to sing a song about tears turning to smiles and sorrow to joy,until Irene begged her to stop.

  "It's the limit to-night! When I'm blue the one thing I can't stand isanybody trying to cheer me up. It gets on my nerves!"

  "Sleep it off, old sport!" laughed Marjorie. "I don't mind betting thatwhen you wake up you'll feel in a very different frame of mind."

  At which remark the others spluttered.

  "You'll find illumination, in fact," hinnied Betty.

  "I think you're all most unkind!" quavered Irene.

  The confederates had decided to wait until the magic hour of midnightbefore they began their beano. They felt it was wiser to give MissNorton plenty of time to go to bed and fall asleep. She often sat uplate in the study reading, and they did not care to risk a visit fromher. A bracket clock on the stairs sounded the quarters, and Marjorie,as the lightest sleeper, undertook to keep awake and listen to itschimes. It was rather difficult not to doze when the room was dark andher companions were breathing quietly and regularly in the other beds.The time between the quarters seemed interminable. At eleven o'clock sheheard Miss Norton walk along the corridor and go into her bedroom. Afterthat no other sound disturbed the establishment, and Marjorie repeatedpoetry and even dates and French verbs to keep herself awake.

  At last the clock chimed its full range and struck twelve times. She satup and felt for the matches.

  Betty and Sylvia, who had gone to sleep prepared, woke with the light,but it was a more difficult matter to rouse Irene. She turned over inbed and grunted, and they were obliged to haul her into a sittingposition before she would open her eyes.

  "What's the matter? Zepps?" she asked drowsily.

  "No, no; it's your birthday party. Look!" beamed the others.

  On a chair by her bedside stood the cake, resplendent with its sixteenlittle lighted candles, and also the tin of condensed milk. Ireneblinked at them in amazement.

  "Jubilate! What a frolicsome joke!" she exclaimed. "I say, this isawfully decent of you!"

  "We told you you'd wake up in better spirits, old sport!" purredMarjorie. "I flatter myself those candles look rather pretty. You cantell your fortune by blowing them out."

  "It's a shame to touch them," objected Irene.

  "But we want some cake," announced Betty and Sylvia.

  "Go on, give a good puff!" prompted Marjorie. "Then we can count howmany you've blown out. Five! This year, next year, some time, never!This year! Goody! You'll have to be quick about it. It's almost time tobe putting up the banns. Now again. Tinker, tailor, soldier! Lucky you!My plum stones generally give me beggar-man or thief. Silk, satin,muslin, rags; silk, satin! You've got all the luck to-night. Coach,carriage! You're not blowing fair, Renie! You did that on purpose sothat it shouldn't come wheelbarrow! Only one candle left--let's leave itlighted while we cut the rest."

  Everybody agreed that the cake was delicious. They felt they had nevertasted a better in their lives, although it was a specimen of war-timecookery.

  "I wish we could have got some cocoa," sighed Betty. "I tried to borrowa little and a spirit lamp from Meg Hutchinson, but she says they can'tget any methylated spirit now."

  "Condensed milk is delicious by itself," suggested Sylvia.

  "Sorry we haven't a spoon," apologized Marjorie.

  For lack of other means of getting at their sweet delicacy the girlsdipped lead-pencils into the condensed milk and took what they could.

  "It's rather like white honey," decided Betty after a critical taste."Yes--I certainly think it's quite topping. It makes me think of Russiantoffee."

  "Don't speak of toffee. We haven't made any since sugar went short.Jemima! I shall eat heaps when the war's over!"

  "You greedy pig! You ought to leave it for the soldiers."

  "But there won't be any soldiers then."

  "Yes, there'll be some for years and years afterwards. They'll take sometime, you know, to get well in the hospitals."

  "Then there's a chance for me to nurse," exclaimed Marjorie. "I'm alwaysso afraid the war will all be over before I've left school, and----"

  "I say, what's that noise?" interrupted Irene anxiously. "If the AcidDrop drops on us she'll be very acid indeed."

  For reply, Marjorie popped the condensed milk tin into her wardrobe,blew out the candle, and hopped into bed post-haste, an example whichwas followed by the others with equal dispatch. They were only just intime, for a moment later the door opened, and Miss Norton, clad in ablue dressing-gown, flashed her torchlight into the room. Seeing thegirls all in bed, and apparently fast asleep, she did not enter, butclosed the door softly, and they heard her footsteps walking away downthe corridor.

  "A near shave!" murmured Marjorie.

  "Sh! sh! Don't let's talk. She may come back and listen outside,"whispered Sylvia, with a keen distrust for Miss Norton's notions ofvigilance.

  Next morning the girls in No. 8 Dormitory mentioned that they had hearda noise during the night.

  "Somebody walked down the passage," proclaimed Lennie Jackson. "Enidthought it was a ghost."

  "I thought it was somebody walking in her sleep," maintained Daisy Shaw.

  "Oh, how horrid!" shivered Barbara Wright. "I'd be scared to death ofanyone sleep-walking. I'd rather meet a ghost any day."

  "Did you see somebody?" enquired Betty casually.

  "No, it was only what we heard--stealthy footsteps, you know, that movedsoftly along, just as they're described in a horrible book I read in theholidays--_The Somnambulist_ it was called--about a man who was alwaysgoing about in the night with fixed, stony eyes, and appearing on thetops of roofs and all sorts of spooky places. It gives me the creeps tothink of it. Ugh!"

  "When people walk in their sleep it's fearfully dangerous to awakenthem," commented Daisy.

  "Is it? Why?"

  "Oh, it gives them such a terrible shock, they often don't get over itfor ages! You ought to take them gently by the hand and lead them backto bed."

  "And suppose they won't go?"

  "Ask me a harder! I say, there's the second bell. Scootons nous vite! Doyou want to get an order mark?"