A Patriotic Schoolgirl Part 34

"Chrissie, don't be an idiot!"

There was no answer.

"What are you making such a hullabaloo about? You're the limit this evening. Do, for goodness' sake, brace up!"

"Let me alone!" snapped Chrissie. "You called yourself my friend, and you wouldn't do what I asked you. I've done with you now. Don't speak to me again."

"Bow-wow! Pitch it a little stronger. I'll go away till you've got over your tantrums. It's what used to be called katawampus when I was small, and they generally spanked me for it."

"Can't you go?" thundered Chrissie.

Thoroughly angry with her chum, Marjorie went. She wondered how they were going to act a love scene together that evening. The soft nothings they had rehea.r.s.ed would seem very hollow after the mutual reproaches they had just exchanged.

Chrissie was not in her usual place at supper-time.

"Sulking!" thought Marjorie. "I suppose she doesn't want to sit next to me. Well, she's punis.h.i.+ng herself far more than me, silly girl! She must be dreadfully hungry, unless she's shamming a headache, and getting Nurse to give her bread and milk in the ambulance room. Perhaps she's busy with her costume. She never liked the idea of using my mackintosh for a uniform. I expect she's thought of something else."

Marjorie's anger, always hot while it lasted, but short-lived, was beginning to cool down. When supper was over she ran to look for her chum, but could not find her anywhere. There was no time for a long search, as the charades were to begin almost at once, and the St.

Elgiva's girls were already preparing the stage for the first scene.

Marjorie was seized upon by Patricia and borne off to arrange screens and furniture.

Punctual to a moment, the guests from the other hostels arrived and took their seats as audience. The performers, in the little room behind the platform, were breathlessly scuttling into their costumes, and all talking at once.

"Where's my hat?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE STARED AT IT IN CONSTERNATION]

"Do b.u.t.ton this at the back for me, please!"

"I can't find my boots!"

"Oh, bother, this skirt has no hooks!"

"Who's got the safety pins?"

"Be careful, you'll tear that lace!"

"I can't get into these shoes, they're too small!"

"I've grown out of this skirt since last theatricals."

"It's miles too short!"

"Has anybody seen my belt?"

Each one was so occupied in finis.h.i.+ng her own hasty toilet that she could not give much thought to the others, and it was only when all were ready that Patricia asked:

"Where's Chrissie?"

The girls looked round in consternation. She was certainly not in the dressing-room. Betty ran on to the platform, drew aside the curtain a little, and, beckoning Annie Turner from among the audience, sent her and six other Intermediates in search of the missing performer. They returned in a few minutes to say that they could not find her. Marjorie, meantime, had explained the cause of the quarrel.

"It's sickening!" raged Betty. "For her to go and spoil the whole thing, just out of temper! I'd like to shake her!"

"Everybody's waiting for us to begin!" fluttered Rose.

"We won't wait!" declared Patricia. "Let us take the second charade first, Chrissie doesn't come on in that; and, Betty, you go and ask Annie to take Chrissie's place. She doesn't act badly, and there'd be time to tell her what to do. She must fetch a mackintosh. Here's my broad belt and a soft felt hat. She can belong to an Australian regiment."

Annie, summoned hastily behind the scenes, rose magnificently to the occasion. Coached by Betty and Marjorie, she grasped the outline of the part she must play with immediate comprehension. She donned the mackintosh, buckled the belt over her shoulder, c.o.c.ked the soft hat over one eye, practised a military stride and an affectionate embrace, and declared herself ready for action. She was only just in time. The audience was already applauding the end of the first charade. The performers came trooping back, flushed and excited, and much relieved to find Annie so well prepared.

"You mascot! You've saved our reputation!" exulted Patricia.

"I'm never going to speak to Chrissie Lang again!" declared Betty.

"It's abominable of her to let us down like this!" agreed Rose indignantly.

Charade No. 2 went off with flying colours. Annie really played up magnificently. None of the girls had known before that she could act so well. She threw such fervour into her love-making that Mrs. Morrison, who was among the spectators, gave a warning cough, whereupon the gallant officer released his lady from his dramatic embrace, and, falling gracefully on one knee, bestowed a theatrical kiss upon her hand. The clapping from the girl portion of the audience was immense.

"But where is Chrissie Lang?" asked everybody when the performance was over.

n.o.body knew. Since Marjorie had parted from her in the dormitory she had not been seen. Neither teachers, girls, nurses, nor servants could give any report of her. She simply seemed to have disappeared. Mrs. Morrison questioned everyone likely to know of her movements, but obtained no satisfaction. Her cubicle in No. 9 Dormitory was unoccupied that night.

At breakfast next morning the sole topic of conversation was: "What has become of Chrissie Lang?"

"Mrs. Morrison thinks she must have run away, and she's telephoning to the police," Winifrede told Marjorie in confidence, when the latter, anxious to unburden herself, sought the head girl's study. "I can't see that it's your fault in any way. Chrissie was absurd to show such temper, and it certainly was no reason for going off. I'm afraid there must be something else at the bottom of it all."

"But what?"

"Ah, that's just the question!"

Marjorie was very much upset and disturbed. She could scarcely keep her attention on her cla.s.ses that morning. "Where has Chrissie gone, and why?" she kept asking herself. At dinner-time there was still no news of the truant. It was rumoured that Mrs. Morrison had telegraphed to Mrs.

Lang, and had received no reply. The Princ.i.p.al looked anxious and worried. She felt responsible for the safety of her missing pupil.

Early in the afternoon, Marjorie, wis.h.i.+ng to be alone, took a stroll down the dingle. It was a favourite haunt of Chrissie's, who had often sat reading beside the little brook. Marjorie walked to the very stone that had been her usual seat. The sharpenings of a lead pencil were still there, and lying at the edge of the water was a crumpled-up piece of paper. Marjorie picked it up and smoothed it out. It was in Chrissie's writing, and contained a list of details in connection with tanks and guns, also particulars of the Redferne munition works and the Belgian colony there, and several other pieces of information in connection with the war. She stared at it in consternation. A sudden light began to break in upon her mind.

"Good heavens! Was it Chrissie after all who was the spy?" she choked.

The idea seemed too horrible. It was she herself who had so readily answered all her chum's questions in regard to these things. In doing so, had she not been betraying her own country? Once the clue was given, all sorts of suspicious circ.u.mstances came rus.h.i.+ng into her mind. She wondered it had never struck her before to doubt her friend's patriotism. Nearly distracted with the dreadful discovery, she hurried away to find Winifrede, and, showing her the paper, poured out her story. Winifrede listened aghast.

"I'm afraid it's only too true, Marjorie," she said. "I've been talking to Mrs. Morrison, and all sorts of queer things have come out about Chrissie. It seems that a prisoner has escaped last night from the German camp, and they think it must have been her brother, and that she helped him. Mrs. Morrison has had a long talk with a detective, and he said they telegraphed to Millgrove, where Chrissie's mother lives, and the police there found the house shut up, and discovered that she is a German, and that her true name is Lange, not Lang. The detective said they have had Brackenfield under observation lately, for they suspected that somebody was heliographing messages with a mirror to the German camp. And who put that bicycle lamp in the Observatory window last spring? We have certainly had a spy in our midst. We ought to take this paper at once to Mrs. Morrison, and you must tell her all you know."

Marjorie not only had a long talk with the Princ.i.p.al, but was also forced to undergo an examination by the detective, who asked her a string of questions, until he had extorted every possible detail that she could remember.

"There's not a shadow of a doubt," was his verdict. "There are plenty of these spies about the country. It's our business to look after them.

Pity she got away so neatly. I'm afraid she and her precious brother must have had a boat in waiting for them. It's abominable the amount of collusion there is with the enemy. They'd accomplices in Whitecliffe, no doubt, if we could only get on the track of them."

"I wish you had mentioned all this to me sooner, Marjorie," said Mrs.

Morrison.

"I never suspected anything," returned Marjorie, bursting into tears.