A Patriotic Schoolgirl Part 20

"No, but of course she might have put the lamp inside the box and then come up at dusk to light it."

Chrissie shook her head and whistled again softly. She appeared to be thinking.

"Ought I to tell the Empress?" ventured Marjorie.

"Not unless you want to get yourself into the very biggest row you've ever had in your life!"

"Why?"

"Why? Don't you see, you silly child, that Norty would deny everything and throw all the blame upon you? Naturally the Empress would ask: 'What were you doing in the Observatory?' Even if she didn't suspect you of putting the light there yourself--which it is quite possible she might--she'd punish you for breaking bounds; and when you've only just been in trouble already----"

"It's not to be thought of," interrupted Marjorie quickly. "You're quite right, Chrissie. The Empress would be sure to side with Norty and blame me. I'd thought of going and telling her, and I even walked as far as the study door, but I was too frightened to knock. I'm glad I asked you about it first."

"Of course the whole business may be a rag. It's the kind of wild thing some of those silly Juniors would do."

"It may; but, on the other hand, the light may have been a signal. It seems very mysterious."

"Don't tell anybody else what you've told me."

"Rather not. It's a secret to be kept even from the S.S.O.P. I shan't breathe a word to a single soul."

CHAPTER XVII

The Dance of the Nations

Though Mrs. Morrison made the most rigid enquiries she could get no information as to who had placed the lamp in the window. She locked the door of the Observatory, and caused the old gardener to patrol the grounds at intervals after dark to watch for further signals, but nothing more occurred. After weeks of vigilance and suspicion she came to the conclusion that it must have been a practical joke on the part of one of the girls. Chrissie in her private talks with her chum upheld that view of the matter, but Marjorie had her own opinions. She often looked at Miss Norton and wondered what secrets were hidden under that calm exterior. To all outward appearance the house mistress was scholastic, cold, and entirely occupied with her duties. She was essentially a disciplinarian, and kept St. Elgiva's under a strict regime. Her girls often wished she were less conscientious in her superintendence of their doings.

The possession of a mutual secret shared by themselves alone seemed to draw Chrissie and Marjorie closer together than ever. Not that Chrissie gave her chum any more of her real confidence, for she was the kind of girl who never reveals her heart, but she seemed to become more and more interested in Marjorie's affairs. She enjoyed the latter's home news, and especially letters from the front.

"I envy you, with three brothers in the army!" she admitted one day with a wistful sigh.

"Yes, it's something to know our family is doing its bit," returned Marjorie proudly. "Haven't you any relations at the front?" she added.

Chrissie shook her head.

"My father is dead, and my only brother is delicate."

Marjorie forbore to press the question further. She could see it was a tender subject.

"Probably the brother is a s.h.i.+rker or a conscientious objector," she thought, "and to such a patriotic girl as Chrissie it must be a dreadful trial. If Bevis or Leonard or Larry seemed to hang back I'd die of shame."

Judging from the photo of Chrissie's brother which stood on her dressing-table, he did not look an engaging or interesting youth. The dormitory, keenly critical of each other's relatives, had privately decided in his disfavour. That Chrissie was fond of him Marjorie was sure, though she never talked about him and his doings, as other girls did of their brothers. The suspicion that her chum was hiding a secret humiliation on this score made warm-hearted Marjorie doubly kind, and Chrissie, though no more expansive than formerly, seemed to understand.

She was evidently intensely grateful for Marjorie's friends.h.i.+p, and as entirely devoted to her as her reserved disposition allowed. She would send to Whitecliffe for violets, and place the little bunch on her chum's dressing-table, flus.h.i.+ng hotly when she was thanked. She presented innumerable small gifts which she managed to make in her spare time. She was a quick and exquisite needlewoman, and dainty collars in broderie anglaise, embroidered pocket-handkerchiefs, pin-cus.h.i.+ons, dressing-table mats, and other pretty trifles seemed to grow like magic under her nimble fingers. Any return present from Marjorie she seemed to value exceedingly. She put the latter's photo inside a locket, and wore it constantly. She was clever at her lessons, and would help her chum with her work out of school hours. St. Elgiva's smiled tolerantly, and named the pair "the Turtle Doves". Though the atmosphere of the hostel was not sentimental, violent friends.h.i.+ps were not unknown there.

Sometimes they were of enduring quality, and sometimes they ended in a quarrel. Miss Norton did not encourage demonstrative affection among her flock, but it was known that Mrs. Morrison considered schoolgirl friends.h.i.+ps highly important and likely to last for life. She beamed rather than frowned on those who walked arm in arm.

Marjorie's second term at Brackenfield was fast wearing itself away. In spite of many disagreeable happenings she felt that she had taken her place in the life of the school, and that she was a definite figure at St. Elgiva's. There was a little rivalry between the hostels, and each would try to outdo the other in such matters as collecting for charities, knitting for the soldiers, or providing items for concerts.

At the end of term each hostel put up in the hall a list of its various achievements, and great was the triumph of that house which could record the largest number of socks or s.h.i.+llings. There was an old and well-established custom that on the last three evenings of term the three hostels in turn might take possession of the a.s.sembly hall, and give some form of entertainment to which they could invite the rest of the school. St. Elgiva's held a committee meeting to discuss possible projects.

"There doesn't seem anything new," mourned Mollie. "Of course concerts and plays and charades are very well in their way, but they're done every time."

"We all like them," admitted Phyllis.

"Oh yes, we like them; but it would be so nice to have a change."

"Can't anybody make a suggestion?" urged Francie.

"The things we really want to do are just the things we can't," sighed Betty. "If I could choose, I'd vote for a bonfire and fireworks."

"Or a torchlight picnic," prompted Sylvia. "It would make a nice excitement for the special constables to come and arrest us, as they most certainly would. What a heading it would make for the newspaper--'A Ladies' School in Prison. No Bail Allowed'! Would they set us to pick oak.u.m?"

"But seriously, do think of something practical. Have your brains all gone rusty?"

"There are progressive games," ventured Patricia.

"St. Githa's are giving them. I know it for a fact. They sent to Whitecliffe for marbles and boxes of pins and shoe-b.u.t.tons to make 'fish-ponds'. They get first innings, so it would be too stale if our evening were to be just a repet.i.tion of theirs."

It was Chrissie who at last made the original suggestion.

"Couldn't we have a dance? I don't mean an ordinary dance, but something special. Suppose we were all to dress up to represent different nations.

We could have all the Allies."

"Ripping! But how could we manage enough costumes?"

"We'd make them up with coloured paper and ribbons. It shouldn't be very difficult."

"It's a jolly good idea," said Mollie reflectively.

The more the committee considered the matter the more they felt disposed to decide in favour of the dance. They consulted Miss Norton on the subject, and she proved unusually genial and encouraging, and offered to take two delegates with her to Whitecliffe to buy requisites. The girls drew lots for the honour, and the luck fell to Mollie and Phyllis. They had an exciting afternoon at the Stores, and came back laden with brown-paper parcels.

"Miss Norton says the fairest plan will be to have the things on sale,"

they announced. "We're going to turn the sitting-room into a shop, and you may each come in one by one and spend a s.h.i.+lling, but no more."

"All serene! When will you be at the receipt of custom?"

"This evening after supper."

That day there had been in the library a tremendous run upon any books which gave ill.u.s.trations of European costumes. The girls considered that either allegorical or native peasant dresses would be suitable. They took drawings and wrote down details.

"What I'd like would be to write to London to a firm of theatrical providers, and tell them to send us down a consignment of costumes,"

announced Patricia.

"Oh, I dare say! A nice little bill we should have! I've hired costumes before, and they charge a terrific amount for them," commented Francie.

"It's rather fun to make our own, especially when we're all limited the same as to material," maintained Nora.