Etheldreda the Ready Part 11

"Quite ready?"

"Yes, Miss Drake."

The Duck smiled her prettiest, most approving smile.

"Good girl! I like punctuality. Bring it up to me now, please, in my sitting-room."

"Yes, Miss Drake."

Up the stairs ran Dreda, light of foot, bright of eye, heart beating high with happiness, into the bare empty schoolroom, where the windows stood open and the fire smouldered on the grate. She switched on the electric light, crossed the floor to her own desk, and threw open the lid. Stupid! She had imagined that she had left the ma.n.u.script book on top ... How came she to be mistaken in so strong an impression?

... She lifted a pile of exercise sheets, pushed the books aside, and scattered miscellaneous possessions to right and to left. Her eyes distended as if about to fall from her head. She sank back on a chair and gazed stupidly before her. The synopsis had disappeared!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The synopsis had disappeared! Incredible though it seemed, it was but too true. For the first few minutes Dreda was too much stunned to move from her seat, but presently with a painful effort after self- possession, she arose, and began hastily lifting the contents of the desk, and dropping them one by one on the floor. In this way it seemed impossible to overlook anything, but still no sign of the s.h.i.+ning black cover met her sight. She scooped everything together with impatient fingers, pushed them back into the desk, and ran breathlessly into the study.

The girls were amusing themselves in various fas.h.i.+ons after the fatigues of "prep.," but one and all looked round with expressions of astonishment at the violent opening of the door which heralded the unexpected appearance of the sub-editor, white-cheeked, and tragic of demeanour.

"What in the world's the matter?"

"The list! The synopsis! It's gone! It was in my desk. Miss Drake sent me for it. She is waiting for me now, and it's _gone_: I can't find it. Has anyone moved it? Does anyone know where it's gone?"

The girls' faces lengthened; there was a moment's tense silence, then everyone spoke at once.

"_Dreda_! How dreadful! Are you _sure_? In your desk? No one would take it out of your desk!"

"Dreda! You are _always_ mislaying your things. You have put it somewhere else. _Think_! Remember your keys! You vowed you had put them in your glove drawer, and they were found in the box with your best hat."

"Have you been upstairs to look in your cubicle?"

Dreda stamped with impatience.

"Of course I haven't. My cubicle, indeed! As if I would keep a book there! It was in my desk, I tell you. I left it there last night. I saw it with my own eyes this morning. Oh! don't ask silly questions-- don't waste time. She is waiting for me. What am I to do?"

"Come!" cried Susan quickly, and sped upstairs towards the cla.s.sroom, while Dreda followed hard in her wake, leaving the other girls to discuss the situation round the fire. The universal impression was that Dreda had stowed away the book in some hiding-place, and had promptly forgotten all about it. She was always doing it; never a day arrived but she went about inquiring in melancholy accents if anyone had seen her indiarubber, her penknife, her keys, her gloves. She was always leaving things about, and, upon suddenly discovering their presence, popping them into impromptu hiding-places to save running upstairs-- behind a photograph, in an empty flower-pot, beneath a mat or cus.h.i.+on, anywhere and everywhere, as circ.u.mstances prompted. Nothing was certain but that nine times out of ten she would forget the whole incident, and would have no better clue to help her in her search after the missing article than that she had put it "somewhere!"

"Poor old Dreda!" said Barbara sympathetically. "Hard lines, when she has worked so hard! The Duck will be down upon her like a ton of bricks. She loathes untidiness. Poor old Dreda--she'll get a rowing instead of praise. It's tragic when you think of that fine cover, and all the beautiful black letters!"

"She's been an awful bore. It will do her good to be taken down a bit."

"Poor Dreda all the same. Things that do you good are so _very_ disagreeable. I like her enthusiasm, when it doesn't interfere with me!

And she's a real good sort. A bore at times, but a good little meaner."

"It's no use meaning, if you don't perform, where The Duck is concerned.

I wouldn't be in her shoes."

Meanwhile Dreda had turned out the contents of her desk for a second time, while Susan stood anxiously looking on. When the last paper had fluttered to the ground, the two girls faced one another in eloquent silence.

"It isn't there," said Susan at last. "There must be some mistake.

Think, dear! Are you _quite_ sure that you put it here, and nowhere else? What did you do after you finished binding the papers? Where did you go? Think of everything you did."

"But I did nothing!" cried Dreda miserably. "I only dressed and went down to supper. I never took it out of this room at all--I'm certain, positive--as certain as I'm alive!"

"But we could look. It is worth while looking. We must find it!"

But at this very moment the door of Miss Drake's room opened, and a quick voice called out a summons.

"Dreda! I am waiting. Kindly come at once."

The colour ebbed still further from Dreda's cheeks, her eyes grew wide and tragic, she extended her hands towards Susan, as if mutely appealing for help, and felt them clasped with a strong protecting pressure.

"You must go, but I'll search. I'm a good looker, you know. Poor darling! It _is_ hard, but I'll help--I _will_ help."

Then Etheldreda the Ready threw her arms round her friend's neck and cried brokenly:

"Susan, dear Susan, you are good, and I love you! I was horrid about the editors.h.i.+p... You would have been far better than I. This is my punishment--I have brought it on my own head."

Her voice was so sweet, her eyes so liquid and loving, she drew herself up and marched to her doom with so gallant an air, that her faithful admirer thought instinctively of the martyrs of old. She turned and ran hurriedly upstairs.

Meantime Miss Drake sat looking towards the door with an impatient frown. The frown deepened at sight of Dreda's empty hands, and she tapped on the table with the end of her pencil. Dreda's heart sank still further at the sound which Miss Drake's pupils had learnt to a.s.sociate with their blackest hours.

"You have kept me waiting for ten minutes, Dreda. Where is your ma.n.u.script? I have no time to waste."

"I--I--can't--I can't find it, Miss Drake."

Miss Drake leant back in her chair and became in a moment a monument of outraged dignity. Looking at her, it was impossible to believe that one had even ventured on the liberty of calling her by so familiar an epithet as "The Duck." She turned her long neck from side to side, elevated her eyebrows, and cleared her throat in an ominous manner.

"I am afraid I don't understand. You told me a few minutes ago that everything was ready."

"So it was. In my desk. I left it there last night--I went to find it just now, and--it's gone! Disappeared. I can't _think_ what has happened. It was bound like a book. It looked beautiful. It's not my fault!"

"Nonsense, Etheldreda!" cried Miss Drake sharply. "If you had put it in your desk, it would be there still. This is just another example of your careless, unmethodical habits. You have put the book in some unlikely, out-of-the-way corner, and have forgotten all about it. I feared some _contretemps_ of the kind, and was much relieved when you told me that all was ready. I am very much disappointed and annoyed!"

"Miss Drake, it _was_ there! I'm absolutely positive. I never was surer of anything in my life than that I left it there last night, and saw it again this morning."

Miss Drake shrugged her shoulders expressively.

"Extravagant a.s.sertions do not prove anything, Etheldreda. In a case of this sort I judge by previous experience. I have repeatedly warned you about your careless habits, but apparently without success. In this case you had a responsibility to fulfil for others as well as yourself, which should have made you doubly careful. You had better continue your search in the other rooms."

"It is no good, Miss Drake. The book _was_ in the desk."

Dreda kept her place stolidly, and there was a settled conviction upon her face which Miss Drake was quick to note. She watched the girl in silence for several moments, her brow knitted in thought, then suddenly her expression softened and her voice regained its habitual kindly tone.

"If you put it there, my dear child, it must be there still. Perhaps it is! I know your sketchy fas.h.i.+on of looking. See! I will come and help you to look again. Perhaps we shall find the book hidden away in a corner where you have never thought of looking!"

Dreda thought ruefully of the scattering of her treasures which had twice over left the desk bare and empty, but it seemed easier to allow Miss Drake to see for herself than to protest any further; so she meekly opened the door and followed the governess down the pa.s.sage. From above could be heard the voices of the girls ascending to dress for the evening; doors opened and shut, and echoes of suppressed laughter floated to the ear. Everybody, Dreda reflected darkly--everybody was happy but herself! She led the way to her desk and opened the lid, revealing the confused ma.s.s of books and papers. She was miserably resigned to receiving yet another lecture on untidiness, but The Duck smiled in a forbearing fas.h.i.+on, and said: