A Pair of Schoolgirls: A Story of School Days Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  A Promise

  Dorothy had grown so accustomed to travelling to school with Alison thatshe felt extremely at a loss when one morning she looked out of thecarriage window at Latchworth and did not see the familiar rosy, smilingface on the platform.

  "I wonder if Alison's late, or if she's stopping at home?" she thought."She had rather a cold yesterday, and Mrs. Clarke seems so fearfullyfussy. I'm glad Aunt Barbara doesn't worry over me to such an extent; itmust be a perfect nuisance to have to wear galoshes just on the chanceof its raining, and to swathe a Shetland shawl over your mouth ifthere's the slightest atom of damp in the air. And Alison is soconscientious over it! I believe I should stuff the shawl inside mysatchel, and lose the galoshes on purpose!"

  The journey seemed dull without her friend and their usual chattogether. It was not interesting to stare out of the window when sheknew every yard of the line by heart, and for lack of other occupationshe was reduced to taking out her books and looking over her lessons.Both in the mid-morning interval and the half-hour before dinner shemissed Alison exceedingly. She tried to fill up the time with variousexpedients. She got a book from the library, and was so long and sofastidious in choosing that the prefect in charge grew tired ofrecommending, and waxed impatient.

  "Really, Dorothy Greenfield, you might be a literary critic! One is toochildish, and another's too stiff, and you don't care for historicaltales. I should like to know what you do want! Be quick and takesomething, or I shall just lock the case up again and leave you withoutanything. Oh, you'd like _The Old Curiosity Shop_! Then why couldn't yousay so at first?"

  Though Dorothy had settled on a Dickens for the sake of making somechoice, she had no intention of reading just at present, and shesauntered into the gymnasium to see what the others were doing. It wasnot the day for a dramatic rehearsal, and nothing particular was goingon. Some of the girls were playing rounders, but most were standingabout chatting, and waiting for the dinner bell. Hope Lawson and BlancheHall were talking together, and as Dorothy passed she caught a fragmentof their conversation.

  "We shall have to fly, the second dinner is over," said Hope; "but Ibelieve we shall just be able to do it."

  "If we only get a peep at the dresses as they go in, it will be worthit," replied Blanche. "I hear there are to be twelve bridesmaids and twopages. We'll do a bolt!"

  "What are Hope and Blanche talking about?" said Dorothy to Addie Parker,who was standing close by.

  "Why, there's a grand wedding at St. Peter's at two o'clock. MissRussell is to be married, and I suppose it will be ever such a swellaffair. They were laying down red carpets when I passed this morning. Ipeeped into the church, and some men were just bringing pots of theloveliest flowers."

  "Are Hope and Blanche going to see it, then?"

  "Yes, no doubt. Bertha Warren and I mean to go, and so do Annie Gray andJoyce Hickson. I wouldn't miss it for the world. You'd better come."

  "I'll think about it," returned Dorothy.

  The more she considered the idea the more she liked it, in spite of thefact that it was a rather doubtful adventure. There was no exact rulethat the girls should not leave the College during the dinner hour, butit was well understood, all the same, that they remained on thepremises.

  "Miss Tempest has never said so," thought Dorothy, "nor have any of themistresses. When a thing hasn't been forbidden, I suppose it's allowed.St. Peter's is just round the corner, so I declare I'll go. I've neverseen a smart wedding."

  As soon as dinner was over she fled to the dressing-room to put on heroutdoor clothes, then, as Blanche described it, she "did a bolt". Shemuch preferred going by herself to joining Addie Parker and BerthaWarren, so she scurried along, hoping they would not overtake her. Atthe lich-gate of the church she came upon Hope Lawson and Blanche Hall.

  "Hallo, Dorothy! So you've sneaked away too?" said Hope.

  "I don't call it sneaking," returned Dorothy. "Why shouldn't we come?"

  "Yes, why shouldn't we, indeed?" echoed Blanche.

  "No reason at all, my dear," observed Hope, "except that Miss Tempestmight happen to make a bother about it if she heard. One never knowsquite what she'll take it into her head to say or do."

  "Then she mustn't hear."

  "Right you are! We certainly won't tell of each other."

  "Rather not!"

  "Will you promise too, Dorothy, never to breathe one single word thatyou've seen Blanche and me here?"

  "Of course! Do you think I'm likely to go telling tales to MissTempest?"

  "Well, no; but you'll promise not to tell any body, not even the girls?"

  "All serene!"

  "On your honour?" said Hope, catching her by the arm.

  "On my anything you like," answered Dorothy, who, seeing Bertha Warrenand Addie Parker coming up, was in a hurry to get away.

  She was anxious to try to obtain a place in the church, so that shemight see something of the ceremony. All the seats seemed taken as sheentered, but she marched confidently up the aisle, hoping to find roomfarther on. She was stopped directly, however, by the verger.

  "What name, please? Are you one of the Miss Guntons?" he enquired.

  "No," stammered Dorothy, "I--only----"

  "Then you must go out," he interrupted tartly. "These pews is for theinvited guests--general public's only allowed in the free seats, andthey're full up long ago."

  Much abashed, Dorothy beat a hasty retreat, after having caught a briefvision of elegantly-dressed guests and beautiful rows of palms andchrysanthemums in pots. Evidently there was no room for schoolgirls. Shewas annoyed with herself for having ventured there. Her pride hatedrebuffs, and the old verger's manner made her feel hot anduncomfortable. Several people in the pews had turned to look at her. Nodoubt they considered her an impertinent intruder. Her cheeks flamed atthe idea. The churchyard seemed almost as full as the church, though thecrowd there was of a totally different description. The possibility ofwitnessing the wedding had attracted a motley assemblage--nurses withbabies and small children, errand boys, hatless women from back streets,dressmakers' assistants who had come to see the fashions, and a numberof those idlers who are always to be found ready to run and look atanything in the way of a show, be it a marriage, a funeral, or anaccident.

  By a little judicious elbowing, Dorothy managed to secure a place whereshe had a tolerable view of the path and the lich-gate. She was wedgedrather tightly between two nursemaids, and the basket of a grocer's boybehind was pressing into her back; but these were minor discomforts,which must be endured.

  "Here they come!" said somebody.

  There was a rustling and swaying movement among the crowd, a sound ofcarriage wheels, a general craning forward of heads; the nurse next toDorothy held up her little charge in her arms. It was difficult to see,for the awning rather hid the view from those in the churchyard abovethe path. All that Dorothy caught was a glimpse of a figure in whitesatin and lace, and just a peep of some bridesmaids in palest blue; thena tall woman moved in front of her, and effectually shut out theprospect.

  "What a swindle!" she thought. "I've hardly seen anything at all. Itwasn't worth the trouble of coming. I wonder if the other girls have hadbetter luck?"

  She noticed two school hats in the distance, though she could notrecognize the faces under them. She was half inclined to strugglethrough the groups of people towards them, when she remembered to lookat the church clock.

  "Nearly twenty-five past!" she ejaculated. "I must fly!"

  It was not an easy matter to extricate herself from the crowd. Dorothyknew it was useless to attempt to go out by the main entrance, so shemade a push for the side gate; then taking a short cut by a smallstreet, she scurried back to school. She was just changing her boots inthe dressing-room when Addie Parker, Bertha Warren, and three othergirls came hurrying in.

  "Oh, Dorothy! Did you get off?" cried Addie. "You are lucky! We were allcaught!"

  "Yes, caught dead--every one of us!" echoed Bertha.

&n
bsp; "Oh, it was horrible!" exclaimed Joyce Hickson. "I never expected she'dbe there."

  "And we ran almost plump against her!"

  "Just our luck!"

  "What do you mean? Who caught you?" asked Dorothy.

  "Miss Tempest. Didn't you see her?"

  "No, not I."

  "Then thank your good star!"

  "Where was she?"

  "Close to the lich-gate. She came up quite suddenly, just when the bridehad gone in. Phyllis saw her first, and passed on a 'Cave', but it wasimpossible to get away, there were so many people round."

  "She must have noticed our school hats in the distance," added AnnieGray.

  "What did she do?" asked Dorothy.

  "Pulled out her notebook and took all our names. Oh, I'm just shaking inmy shoes! I didn't know whether I dared come back to school, or whetherI hadn't better trek straight off home."

  "You'd have got into a worse pickle still if you'd done that."

  "Perhaps I should. Anyhow, I'm quaking."

  "Yes, it's 'Look out for squalls'!"

  "Squalls? A tempest, you mean!"

  "It will be a raging Tempest, certainly."

  "Oh, goody! There's the bell, and I haven't changed my boots!"

  "Did you see anything, though?" asked Dorothy, as they hurriedupstairs.

  "Yes, I had a lovely view. The bridesmaids were sweet; their bouquetswere all of lilies of the valley: and as for Miss Russell--it makes mewant to be married myself! It was almost worth while being caught to seeit--but oh, dear! what will happen to us, I wonder? I'd give everythingI possess to have this afternoon over."

  Full of uneasy forebodings, the delinquents took their places at theirdesks. Dorothy looked round for Hope and Blanche. They slipped in at thelast moment, rather red and out of breath, and seemingly anxious toavoid the enquiring eyes of the others.

  Miss Carter, the science mistress, entered, and the hygiene lessonbegan. Eight guilty souls in the class found it difficult to fix theirattention upon ventilation or food values. Dorothy's mind was in aferment. What was about to happen? She had not thought it any greatcrime to go to see the wedding, but apparently such an action was viewedfar more seriously at head-quarters. In her speculation on the issue ofevents, she gave such random answers that Miss Carter stared at her insurprise.

  "Did you misunderstand the question, or are you not attending, DorothyGreenfield?" she asked.

  Dorothy made an effort to pull herself together and recall the forgottenfacts, but they were elusive, and she could only stare stupidly at theteacher. Just at that moment the door opened, and Miss Tempest entered.There was a perceptible shudder amongst those girls whose consciencestold them they were to blame. Addie Parker and Bertha Warren exchangedglances, Joyce Hickson pretended to be absorbed in her notebook, whileHope Lawson sat with her nose in the air, as if unconscious of any needto disturb herself.

  "Excuse me for interrupting the lesson, Miss Carter," began MissTempest, "but there is a very important matter upon which I must speakat once. Adeline Parker, Bertha Warren, Joyce Hickson, Annie Gray, andPhyllis Fowler--stand up!"

  With downcast eyes the five girls responded to the command.

  "I wish to know what you were doing at St. Peter's Church thisafternoon?"

  No one had the courage to venture a reply.

  "Who gave you permission to leave the school?"

  Still there was dead silence among the culprits.

  "You know perfectly well the day boarders are not allowed to go outduring the dinner hour."

  Miss Tempest's voice, which had begun icily, was waxing more stern andwrathful. Addie Parker began to sob.

  "How is it that among all the girls at the College you five had thepresumption to attempt such a flagrant breach of the rules? I say youfive, for I saw you and took your names; but I certainly noticed anotherAvondale hat among the crowd, and I intend to find out to whom itbelonged. Was any other girl in this class present at St. Peter's thisafternoon?"

  Dorothy's conscience gave a great, uncomfortable prick. She had manyfaults, but concealment was not one of them, so she stood up.

  "I was there, Miss Tempest," she said, rather defiantly.

  At the head mistress's gaze Dorothy dropped her eyes. Miss Tempest wasnot to be trifled with.

  "Indeed! By whose permission?"

  "I didn't ask anybody. I didn't know the dinner girls weren't allowed togo out. We none of us knew. We thought we had a perfect right to go."

  "That cannot be true. You have been four years at the College, and noone is better acquainted with the rules than yourself. It is anunheard-of thing for day boarders to leave until four o'clock, and couldnot be allowed for an instant. I am astonished that you should commitsuch a breach of discipline and then attempt to justify yourself--yes,astonished and disappointed in the extreme."

  "But I really didn't----" began Dorothy.

  "That will do," interrupted Miss Tempest sharply. "I don't wish to hearany further excuses. You have shown me that you are not to be trusted."

  "But I do speak the truth!" burst out Dorothy.

  "Dorothy Greenfield, if you answer me back again, I shall have torequest you to leave the College altogether. I do not allow any girl toset her opinion against mine."

  When Miss Tempest was angry, her mouth looked grim and her eyes blazed.Quite cowed, Dorothy did not venture to seek further to exculpateherself. She stood twisting her hands nervously, and (I regret to say)with a very stubborn expression on her face. Inwardly she was raging.The head mistress glared at her for a moment, then turned to the classagain.

  "Was any other girl in this room at St. Peter's this afternoon?" sheasked. "I appeal to your honour."

  Nobody answered. Hope and Blanche sat still, with eyes that dared notraise themselves to meet those of the mistress.

  "Very well; I am glad to find no others have broken the rule. For therest of the term the six girls who so forgot themselves will not beallowed in the gymnasium between one and half-past two. If it is too wetto go into the playground, they must stay in the classrooms. Any of thesix who enters the gymnasium during the prohibited time must reportherself to me at once in the library. Thank you, Miss Carter. I am sorryto have been obliged to disturb your lesson, though more sorry still forthe cause of the interruption."

  Dorothy took in very little of the remainder of the hygiene lesson. Shewas in a ferment of indignation. Miss Tempest had doubted her wordbefore all the Form, and that rankled more than the scolding. Hercontempt for Hope and Blanche was supreme, but she was angry, all thesame, at their meanness. She was far too proud to cry like Addie Parker,whose eyes were already red and swollen, and whose cheeks were blotchedwith tears. She sat, a sullen, defiant little figure, nursing her wrathand full of a burning sense of injustice.

  Fortunately, the rest of the afternoon was devoted to drawing, and shewas able to give a mechanical attention to her copy, which made her workjust pass muster.

  "Not so good as usual to-day, Dorothy," said the art mistress at theclose of the class. "I can only give you 'Fair'. I don't think you havetried your best."

  Dorothy shut her pencil box with a slam. She was in a thoroughly badtemper, and felt that she did not much care what happened. Miss Gilesgave her a warning look, as if she were disposed to tell her to lose anorder mark; but seeing perhaps that the girl was overwrought and unlikeherself, she took no further notice, and passed on to the next drawingboard.

  As Dorothy left the studio, Hope Lawson managed to edge close up to her,and whispered in her ear: "Remember your promise! You said you wouldn'ttell a soul--not even one of the girls."

  "You don't deserve it," mumbled Dorothy.

  "But you promised on your honour--if you have any honour. Perhaps youhaven't."

  "I've more than you," retorted Dorothy. "You and Blanche are a couple ofsneaks. There! you needn't look so aghast. I'm not going to blab. I'veenough self-respect to keep a promise when I've once made it, though, asI said before, you don't deserve it. You the Warden, too! A nice
exampleyou are to the Lower School, if they only knew it!"

  "They mustn't know it. Promise me again, Dorothy; promise me faithfullyyou won't tell. I'll bring you a huge box of chocolates if you'll keepthis a secret."

  "I don't want your chocolates!" said Dorothy scornfully. "I've told youalready that I don't break my promises. You're safe enough as regardsme."

  "Silence!" called the mistress; and the two girls fell into line againas they marched with their drawing boards down the corridor.

  In the dressing-room the rest of the Form had plenty to say about theoccurrence.

  "You've done for yourself, Dorothy," declared Ruth Harmon. "You'll be inMiss Tempest's bad books for evermore."

  "I can't see that I was any worse than the others," snapped Dorothy;"not so bad, indeed, because I wasn't caught, and yet I owned up. MissTempest might have taken that into account."

  "She would have, I dare say, if you hadn't answered her back," saidNoelle Kennedy.

  "I only told her I didn't know we mightn't go."

  "But you said it so cheekily, and Miss Tempest hates cheek aboveeverything. I shouldn't care to be in your shoes now. What a good thingyou weren't chosen Warden!"

  Dorothy tugged at her boot lace till it snapped, then had to tie the twoends together in a knot. How hard it was to keep her unwelcome secret!She felt as if in common justice the girls ought to be made aware of themoral cowardice of their leader.

  "I'd have made a better one than some--yourself not excepted," shegrowled.

  "My lady's in her tantrums to-day," chirped Ruth.

  "I'm not! What a hateful set you all are! I wish to goodness you'd leaveme alone!"

  Dorothy seized her books and stalked away without a good-bye to anybody.How thankful she was that Avondale was a day school, and that she couldshake the dust of it from her feet until nine o'clock to-morrow morning!

  "If I weren't going home to Aunt Barbara now, I should run away," shethought. "It would be dreadful to have to endure this all the evening.Oh dear, I hate the place, and I hate Miss Tempest, and I hate thegirls, and everything, and everybody!"

  Poor Dorothy carried a very sore heart back to Holly Cottage thatevening, but she cheered up when she entered the pretty littlesitting-room, with its bright fire and a cosy tea laid ready on the oaktable. After the storms and whirlwinds of school, home seemed such ahaven of refuge, and Aunt Barbara--who always understood--so utterlydifferent a personality from Miss Tempest.

  "I'm cross and horrid and disagreeable and altogether fractious,Auntie!" she said, squatting on the hearthrug after tea, with one of thedear hands squeezed in hers, while she poured out her accumulation oftroubles. "I've got to keep that promise, but I can't do it with anygood grace, and I still feel that Miss Tempest was unjust, becausenobody had ever said we mightn't leave the Coll. in dinner-time. And I'mbarred the gym. It's too disgusting, because it puts me out of allrehearsals, and I shall have to give up my part in the act."

  "Poor old sweetheart, you've certainly been in the wars to-day! Buthonestly, don't you think it is just the least little scrap your ownfault? I fancy at the bottom you knew that dinner girls aren't expectedto run out into the town whenever they like, even to look atweddings--and it wasn't justifiable to speak rudely to Miss Tempest, wasit?"

  Dorothy stared hard at the fire.

  "No; I suppose I was cheeky. Auntie, when I'm at school and things arehorrid, I just flare up and explode--I can't help it. I'm quitedifferent at home. I wish I had lessons with you again, like I did whenI was a little girl. I'd be far nicer."

  "A soldier isn't good for very much until he's tried, is he? School isyour battlefield at present, and the temper is the enemy. Won't you be aRed Cross Knight, and ride out to do full and fair fight with it? It'sas ugly a dragon as ever attacked St. George."

  "And a great deal harder to conquer, because every time I kill it, itcomes to life again, ready for another go at me. There, Auntie! yes,I'll make a try; but I know I shall do lots more hateful things--Ialways do!"