Etheldreda the Ready Part 12

"You _have_ been making hay of your possessions! No wonder you could not find what you wanted. Now what was this book like? You said that the papers were bound."

"A s.h.i.+ny black cover with a paper label on the back."

Miss Drake lifted up the loose papers with her pretty white hands, laid them daintily on one side, and proceeded to examine the exercise books one by one, while Dreda stood by in hopeless silence. One might search all day and all night, but it was impossible to find what was not there.

Her eyes looked listlessly on the map book, the arithmetic book, the French exercise book; even the big untidy note book roused no flicker of animation, though if it chanced to fall open it would reveal caricature drawings of school authorities which must needs draw confusion upon her head. She would never have the heart to draw caricatures again! The thick book with the mottled cover contained the compositions which had won praise and distinction. She had felt so proud of the "Excellent"

written in pencilled letters at the end of the final sentences. Never again would she know what it was to be happy and gay! The big drawing- book must have suffered from its fall--for the leaves appeared to be bent and doubled back. Dreda felt the calm indifference of despair, but Miss Drake frowned and made a clicking sound of disapproval.

"My dear! Your drawing-book! You are really incorri--"

She stopped short in the middle of the word, for the moment that the drawing-book was opened her quick eye had caught sight of a s.h.i.+ny black cover behind the crumpled papers. She lifted it rapidly, saw the printed label on the back, and held it out towards her pupil with a mingling of triumph and impatience.

"My dear Dreda! What did I tell you? All this fuss for nothing. You are really too trying. Why didn't you look properly before coming to me?"

Dreda's exclamation of bewilderment was echoed by another, as Susan entered the room on her return from her unsuccessful search upstairs.

She added her own quiet testimony to Dreda's excited protestations that the synopsis was not, could not conceivably have been in the desk when she had turned it out ten minutes before, but Miss Drake refused to listen. Her temper was ruffled, she enforced silence with an imperative gesture, bade Dreda follow her to the study, and seated herself at her desk with her most severe and school-mistressy expression.

As for Dreda, she feebly dropped into a chair and sat staring blankly before her, the image of limp dejection. The very stars in their courses seemed conspiring to fight against her, for no ordinary, every- day reason could explain the extraordinary happenings of this afternoon!

She was so stunned and bewildered that she forgot to watch the effect of the great synopsis on the Editor-in-chief, and so missed a delightful study in expressions, as The Duck's irritation gave place to smiles and dimpling spasms of amus.e.m.e.nt. It was only after she had finished the reading (after all the labour of production what a short time it took to read), and had asked a word of explanation, that Dreda seemed suddenly galvanised into fresh life, but as usual with her, when the awakening came, it came with a vengeance. She leapt to her feet, and disregarding the question, launched her thunderbolt with dramatic vehemence.

"Miss Drake, I wish to resign being editor."

"Do you, Etheldreda? Why?"

The voice was so calm, Miss Drake's whole manner so devoid of surprise or chagrin, that Dreda felt as if a douche of cold water had been suddenly poured down her back. No kindly protests, no encouragement, no sympathy. Nothing but that cool, level "_Why_?" She stood gaping and hesitating, for in truth it was hard to answer. To say that she was sick of the whole thing because she had encountered a few initial difficulties and worries seemed mean and poor-spirited, and Dreda could not think so lightly of herself. In the minute of hesitation she had lightly brushed aside difficulties, and felt a swelling of righteous renunciation.

"Because--I want Susan to take it. She would do better than I."

"Have you only just discovered that, Dreda?"

The question was put in a tone which Dreda had never heard before from Miss Drake's lips--a tone so tender, so gentle and conciliatory, that it startled as much as the words themselves. Dreda stared, the colour paling on her cheeks, her hands clenched at the back of her chair. What did it mean? Susan had volunteered her services, and Miss Drake had deliberately rejected them in favour of herself, and now she said, she implied-- The girl's lips quivered as she spoke again:

"You _chose_ me!"

"Why?" asked Miss Drake once more, in the same gentle voice. "_Why_, Dreda? Think a moment! Does it not occur to you, dear, that I might have chosen you, not because the work needed _you_, but because you needed the work? Your duties called for patience, and perseverance, and method, and punctuality, and neatness, and tact--all qualities which needed development in your case; while in Susan's--"

"You would rather have had Susan! You didn't really want me at all!"

The bitter disappointment in the girl's voice went to the hearer's heart. It was one of the hardest tasks which she had ever had to perform to answer truthfully, and so give another pang to the sensitive young heart. The colour rose on her cheeks and her brows twitched nervously, but she would not allow herself to prevaricate.

"Yes, Dreda, dear. For the sake of the work I should have preferred Susan, but I wanted to help you to get the better of your failings. I wanted it so much that I was prepared to undertake the extra work which your carelessness might involve, for the magazine could not be allowed to suffer. I am afraid it is painful to you, dear, to hear this, but if your vanity is wounded, you can comfort yourself with the remembrance that I was so much interested in you, so anxious for your improvement, that I rejected a most capable helper on your account."

"Thank you!" sighed Dreda faintly. There was not a sign of irritation or resentment in her manner, and her thanks were evidently genuine. She might have posed as an image of humility and abas.e.m.e.nt as she stood with bowed head and downcast eyes before the desk. The swing of the pendulum had brought her into the valley of humiliation, and in characteristic fas.h.i.+on she felt a melancholy pleasure in playing her part as thoroughly as possible. "Thank you. You are very good. I am very grateful. We have to learn our lessons in life, I suppose, but it's hard at the time.

It's been a great _shock_, but it's good for me, I suppose. I can never be careless again. I've read in books about something happening and finis.h.i.+ng the girl's youth. I feel like that now! You meant me to learn, and I _have_ learnt, so there's no need to go on. You can have Susan, and no more bother--"

Miss Drake's lips twitched in a smile which fortunately Dreda did not see.

"I think not, Dreda. I should prefer to keep to present arrangements.

If you have really learnt your lessons so quickly there will be no `bother' to fear. You may go now, dear. We will discuss the synopsis later on. I dare say you will like to have a little quiet time before dinner. Come to me to-morrow at the same hour."

Dreda backed silently from the room a picture of tragic despair, and slowly mounted to the dormitory where the faithful Susan awaited her coming. The two girls faced one another in silence for several moments before Dreda spoke.

"Susan! on your word of honour will you answer me a question truthfully?"

"Yes, Dreda, of course I will."

"Why did you offer to be sub-editor after I had asked?"

Poor Susan! The freckles disappeared in a crimson blush which mounted to her temples, and tinged her very neck beneath the stiff brown band.

She twisted her fingers together, and stammered incoherent nothings.

"Go on! You promised. The truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Dreda, dear--"

"Go on! I'm prepared. I've suffered so much humiliation already that a little more or less doesn't matter. Well?"

"I thought--I was afraid--I didn't want you to get into trouble, dear.

You are so clever, and original, and sparkling, it is natural that you should get tired. I am just a dull, plodding old machine."

Dreda bent her tall young head and kissed her friend with an air of humble adoration.

"You are good and true, and I wronged you. I thought you were as despicable as myself. All my life long I shall try to be worthy of your forgiveness. My heart's broken, Susan! Everyone despises me in this school, and I've an enemy, a secret enemy, who is hiding like a snake in the gra.s.s. You know perfectly well that that book was not in the desk when we looked!"

Susan was silent. She was as sure of the fact as it was possible to be, but her cautious nature reminded her of the possibility of mistake, and she would not venture on a definite a.s.sertion.

"I _thought_ it was not; I _thought_ we turned out everything."

"I _know_ we did! It was the work of mine enemy. Some day I'll discover her, and then--"

Susan looked sharply upwards.

"What then?"

"I'll heap coals of fire on her head! I'll forgive her, and try to lead her into better ways. That's all that's left to me now--to be a beacon to others!" Dreda's voice shook, her composure breaking down before the force of her own eloquence. She sank down on her bed, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh! Oh! My heart will break. If it wasn't for the exeat next week I should lie down and die. I'm going home!

They love me there. I never, never valued it before. I'm going home to mother and the girls!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

It was a very subdued, a very humble, a touchingly affectionate Etheldreda who made her appearance at The Meads a few days later, and her mother and sisters regarded her demeanour with anxious curiosity.

"Poor darling, poor darling! She is so sweet and quiet--I'm glad, of course; _very_ glad," repeated Mrs Saxon, with a forced emphasis, which seemed to show that she needed to convince herself of her own sincerity, "but it seems so short a time to have brought about such a change. I'm afraid she has been unhappy!"

Rowena stared thoughtfully at the fire. Her face looked older, the cheeks less rounded, the red lips dropping at the corner. She was a beautiful girl, but the old sparkle had given place to an air of weary endurance sad to see on a young face. At the moment when she had expected most of life, she had been obliged to give up her dreams, and to accept in their place a monotonous, uneventful existence, which left too much time for the indulgence of her own thoughts. The weather was depressing, visitors few and far between, and, from a girl's point of view, lacking in interest when they did arrive. Maud was stupid and obstinate, Dreda and the boys at school, and the parents depressed.

Lessons, walking, and practising occupied the days until four o'clock, then the curtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and each afternoon afresh Rowena counted up the long hours which must elapse before bedtime, and asked herself how she could get through the time. Poor Rowena! She had counted the days until Dreda's return, and now felt yet another pang of depression at meeting this subdued edition of her lively sister. She sighed in melancholy, long-drawn fas.h.i.+on, while Maud wriggled and grimaced.

"I expect she's _misunderstood_. There's lots of people are, besides the book. I know One who is. She's misunderstood by people who think they know best, and are always scolding and finding fault. `'Tis better far to rule by love than fear.' _I_ shall, when I'm big. You could do something then, but when people are always grumbling, it's no use trying. I expect Dreda has some one like that, and it's broken her spirit. If you don't let her leave, she'll pine away and die!"