CHAPTER XV
The Empress
The S.S.O.P. was duly, thrilled when Marjorie reported her act ofpatriotism. Its members, however, reproached her that she had notcopied down the names and addresses of other lonely soldiers on heraunt's list, so that they also might have had an opportunity of"doing their bit".
"There wasn't time," Marjorie apologized. "Elaine came back into theroom almost immediately, and I daren't let her and Dona know, because itwould have broken my vow."
Her friends admitted the excuse, but it was plain that they weredisappointed, and considered that with a little more promptitude shemight have succeeded.
"Did you tell him about our society?" asked Betty.
"No, of course not."
"Well, I didn't mean betraying the secret, exactly, only I think youmight have mentioned that there are several of us who want to do thingsfor the soldiers. And there was a beautiful snapshot that Patricia tookof us all--you might have put that in."
"But I hadn't got it with me."
"You needn't have been in such a hurry to send off the letter. You couldhave waited till you'd seen us."
"How could I post it from school? It was by sheer luck I slipped it intothe pillar-box at Whitecliffe. I got my chance to write that letter, andI had to take it at once or leave it."
"Perhaps our turns may come another time," suggested Patriciaconsolingly.
Though it was Marjorie who had done the actual writing, the whole of theS.S.O.P. felt responsible for the letter, and considered that they hadadopted the lonely soldier. In imagination they pictured PrivateHargreaves sitting disconsolately in a dug-out, gazing with wistful eyeswhile his comrades read and re-read their home letters, then an orderlyentering and presenting him with Marjorie's document, his incredulity,surprise, and delight at finding it actually addressed to himself, andthe eagerness with which he would tear open the envelope. Opinionsdiffered as to what would happen when he had read it. Sylvia inclined tothink that tears would steal down his rugged cheek. Betty was certainthat, however bad he might have been formerly, he would at once turnover a new leaf and begin to reform. Patricia suggested that he wouldwrite on the envelope that he wished it to be buried with him. Schemesfor sending him pressed violets, poems, and photographs floated on thehorizon of the society. He should not feel lonely any more if theS.S.O.P. could help it. They decided that each would contributetwopence a week towards buying him cigarettes. They went about theschool quite jauntily in the consciousness of their secret. The rivalsecret society, noticing their elation, openly jeered, but that no doubtwas envy.
A fortnight passed by, and the girls were beginning to forget about it alittle. The snow had melted, and hockey practice was uppermost in theirminds, for the match between St. Githa's and St. Elgiva's would soon bedue, and they were anxious for the credit of their own hostel. Just atpresent the playing-fields loomed larger than the trenches. St. Elgiva'steam was not yet decided, and each hoped in her innermost heart that shemight be chosen among the favoured eleven. Marjorie had lately improvedvery much at hockey, and had won words of approval from Stella Pearson,the games captain, together with helpful criticism. It was well knownthat Stella did not waste trouble on unpromising subjects, so it washighly encouraging to Marjorie to find her play noticed. Golden visionsof winning goals for her hostel swam before her dazzled eyes. She dreamtone night that she was captain of the team. She almost quarrelled withChrissie because the latter, who was a slack player, did not share herenthusiasm.
One Monday morning Marjorie woke up with a curious sense of impendingtrouble. She occasionally had a fit of the blues on Mondays. Sunday wasa quiet day at Brackenfield, and in the evening the girls wrote theirhome letters. The effect was often an intense longing for the holidays.On this particular Monday she tried to shake off the wretched dismalfeeling, but did not succeed. It lasted throughout breakfast in spite ofChrissie's humorous rallyings.
"You're as glum as an owl!" remarked her chum at last.
"I can't help it. I feel as if something horrible is going to happen."
Marjorie's premonition turned out to be justified, for, as she wasleaving the dining-hall after breakfast, Miss Norton tapped her on theshoulder, and told her to report herself at once to Mrs. Morrison.
Wondering for what particular transgression she was to be called toaccount, Marjorie obeyed, and presented herself at the study. ThePrincipal was seated at her desk writing. She allowed her pupil to standand wait while she finished making her list for the housekeeper andblotted it. Then, taking an envelope from one of her pigeonholes, sheturned to the expectant girl.
"Marjorie Anderson," she began sternly, "this letter, addressed to you,arrived this morning. Miss Norton very properly brought it to me, and Ihave opened and read it. Will you kindly explain its contents?"
The rule at Brackenfield, as at most schools, was that pupils might onlyreceive letters addressed by their parents or guardians, and that anyother correspondence directed to them was opened and perused by the headmistress. Letters from brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends were ofcourse allowed if forwarded under cover by a parent, but must not besent separately to the school by the writer.
Marjorie, in some amazement, opened the letter which Mrs. Morrison gaveher. It was written on Y.M.C.A. paper in an ill-educated hand, and ranthus:--
"DEAR MISS,
"This comes hoping you are as well as it leaves me at present. I was very glad to get your letter, and hear you are thinking about me. I like your photo, and when I get back to blighty should like to keep company with you if you are agreeable to same. Before I joined up I was in the engine-room at my works, and getting my L2 a week. I am very glad to have some one to write to me. Well, no more at present from
"Yours truly "JIM HARGREAVES."
Marjorie flushed scarlet. Without doubt the letter was a reply from thelonely soldier. It came as a tremendous shock. Somehow it had neveroccurred to her that he would write back. To herself and the othermembers of the S.S.O.P. he had been a mere picturesque abstraction, aromantic figure, as remote as fiction, whose loneliness had appealed totheir sentimental instincts. They had judged all soldiers by theexperience of their own brothers and cousins, and had a vague idea thatthe army consisted mostly of public-school boys. To find that herprotege was an uneducated working man, who had entirely misconstrued thenature of her interest in him, and evidently imagined that she hadwritten him a love-letter, made poor Marjorie turn hot and cold. She wasessentially a thorough little lady, and was horror-stricken at the falseposition in which her impulsive act had placed her.
Mrs. Morrison watched her face narrowly, and drew her own conclusionfrom the tell-tale blushes.
"Do I understand that this letter is in reply to one written by you?"she asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Morrison," gasped Marjorie, turning suddenly white.
The Principal drew a long breath, as if trying to retain herself-command. Her grey eyes flashed ominously, and her hands trembled.
"Do you understand that you have not only broken one of our principalrules, but have transgressed against the spirit of the school? Everypupil here is at least supposed to be a gentlewoman, and that aBrackenfielder could so demean herself as to enter into a vulgarcorrespondence with an unknown soldier fills me with disgust andcontempt. I cannot keep such a girl in the school. You will go for thepresent to the isolation room, and remain there until I can makearrangements to send you home."
THEN SOMEHOW MARJORIE FOUND HERSELF BLURTING OUT THEENTIRE STORY _page 172_]
Mrs. Morrison spoke quietly, but very firmly. She pointed to the door,and Marjorie, without a word, withdrew. She had been given no chanceto explain matters or defend herself. By acknowledging that she hadwritten to Private Hargreaves Mrs. Morrison considered that she hadpleaded guilty, and had condemned her without further hearing. As ifwalking in a bad dream, Marjorie crossed the quadrangle, and went downthe path to the Isolation Hospital. This was a small bungalow in aremote part of the grounds
. It was kept always in readiness in case anygirl should develop an infectious complaint. Marjorie had been there fora few days last term with a cold which Miss Norton suspected might beinfluenza. She had enjoyed herself then. How different it was now to gothere in utter disgrace and under threat of expulsion! She sat down inone of the cosy wicker chairs and buried her face in her hands. To beexpelled, to leave Brackenfield and all its interests, and to go homewith a stigma attached to her name! Her imagination painted all it wouldmean--her father's displeasure, her mother's annoyance, the surprise offriends at home to see her back before mid-term, the entire humiliationof everybody knowing that she had been sent away from school.
"I shall never be able to hold up my head again," she thought. "And itwill spoil Dona's career here too. They won't be able to send Joan toBrackenfield either; she'll have to go to some other school. Oh, why wasI such an absolute lunatic? I might have known the Empress would take itthis way!"
Sister Johnstone, one of the school nurses, now came bustling in. Sheglanced at Marjorie, but made no remark, and set to work to light thefire and dust the room. Presently, however, she came and laid her handon the girl's shoulder.
"I don't quite understand yet what it's all about, Marjorie," she saidkindly; "but my advice is, if you've done anything wrong, make a cleanbreast of it and perhaps Mrs. Morrison may forgive you."
"She's expelled me!" groaned Marjorie.
"That's bad. Aren't there any extenuating circumstances?"
But Marjorie, utterly crushed and miserable, only shook her head.
The Principal was sincerely concerned and grieved by the occurrence. Itis always a blot on a school to be obliged to expel a pupil. She talkedthe matter over carefully with some of the teachers. Marjorie's recordat Brackenfield had unfortunately been already marred by severalincidents which prejudiced her in the eyes of the mistresses. They hadbeen done innocently and in sheer thoughtlessness, but they gave a wrongimpression of her character. Miss Norton related that when she first metMarjorie at Euston station she had found her speaking to a soldier, withwhom she had acknowledged that she had no acquaintance, and that she hadbrought a novel to her dormitory in defiance of rules. Mrs. Morrisonremembered only too plainly that it was Marjorie who had asked theaviator for his autograph on the beach at Whitecliffe, and had startedthe ill-timed episode of snowballing the soldiers. Judging by thesesignposts she considered her tendencies to be "fast".
"I can't have the atmosphere of the school spoilt," said Mrs. Morrison."Such an attitude is only too catching. Best to check it before itspreads further."
"But I have always found Marjorie such a nice girl," urged MissDuckworth. "From my personal experience of her I could not have believedher capable of unladylike conduct. She has always seemed to me veryunsophisticated and childish--certainly not 'fast'. Can there possiblybe any explanation of the matter?"
"I fear not--the case seems only too plain," sighed Mrs. Morrison. "I amvery loath to expel any girl, but----"
"May I speak to her before you take any active steps?" begged MissDuckworth. "I have a feeling that the matter may possibly admit of beingcleared up. It's worth trying."
No principal is ever anxious for the unpleasant task of writing to aparent to request her to remove her daughter. Mrs. Morrison had nervedherself to the unwelcome duty, but she was quite willing to defer ituntil Miss Duckworth had instituted enquiries. She had an excellentopinion of her mistress's sound common sense.
Marjorie spent a wretched day in the isolation ward. Sister Johnstoneplied her with magazines, but she had not the heart to read them, andsat looking listlessly out of the window at the belt of laurels thatseparated the field from the kitchen garden. She wondered when she wasto leave Brackenfield, if her mother would come to fetch her, or if shewould have to travel home by herself. It was after tea-time that MissDuckworth entered.
"I've come to relieve Sister for a little while," she announced, seatingherself by the fire.
Sister Johnstone took the hint, and, saying she would be very glad to goout for half an hour, went away, leaving Miss Duckworth and Marjoriealone in the bungalow.
"Come to the fire, Marjorie," said the mistress. "It's damp and chillythis afternoon, and you look cold sitting by the window."
Marjorie obeyed almost mechanically. She knelt on the rug and spread outher hands to the blaze. She had reached a point of misery when shehardly cared what happened next to her. Two big tears splashed into thefender. Miss Duckworth suddenly put an arm round her.
"I'm sorry you're in trouble, Marjorie. Can't you tell me why you didsuch a thing? It's so unlike you that I don't understand."
Then somehow Marjorie found herself blurting out the entire story to herform mistress. How she had found the soldier's address at her aunt's,and had written to him in a spirit of sheer patriotism.
Incidentally, and in reply to questioning, the aims and objects of theS.S.O.P. were divulged.
Miss Duckworth could hardly forbear a smile; the real circumstances wereso utterly different from what they appeared in the Principal's eyes.
"You've been a very silly child," she said; "so silly that I think yourichly deserved to get yourself into a scrape. I'll explain the matterto Mrs. Morrison."
"I'd like her to know, even though I'm to be expelled," groanedMarjorie.
On hearing Miss Duckworth's version of the story, however, Mrs. Morrisonreconsidered her decision, sent for the culprit, lectured her, andsolemnly forgave her. She further summoned all the members of theS.S.O.P. to present themselves in her study. In view of the recentoccurrence they came trembling, and stood in a downcast line while sheaddressed them.
"I hear from Miss Duckworth," she said, "that you have founded a secretsociety among yourselves for the purpose of encouraging patriotism. I donot in general approve of secret societies, but I sympathize with yourobject. It is the duty of every citizen of our Empire to be patriotic.There are various ways, however, in which we can show our love for ourcountry. Let us be sure that they are wise and discreet ways before weadopt them. Some forms of kindness may be excellent when administered bygrown-up and experienced women, but are not suitable for schoolgirls. Ifyou want to help the soldiers you may sew bed-jackets. I have justreceived a new consignment of flannel, and will ask Sister Johnstone tocut some out for you to-morrow."
The S.S.O.P. retired somewhat crestfallen.
"I hate sewing!" mourned Betty.
"So do I," confessed Sylvia. "But we'll all just have to slave away atthose bed-jackets if we want to square the Empress. It must come out ofour spare time, too, worse luck!"
Marjorie entered St. Elgiva's in a half-dazed condition. A hurricaneseemed to have descended that morning, whirled her almost todestruction, then blown itself away, and left her decidedly battered bythe storm. Up in her own cubicle she indulged in the luxury of athorough good cry. The S.S.O.P. in a body rose up to comfort her, but,like Jacob of old, she refused comfort.
"I'm not to be t-t-trusted to have my own postage stamps," she sobbed."I've to take even my home letters to the Empress to be looked at, andshe'll stamp them. I'm to miss my next exeat, and Aunt Ellinor's to betold the reason, and I'm not to play hockey for a month."
"Oh, Marjorie! Then there isn't the remotest chance of your getting intothe Eleven for St. Elgiva's. What a shame!"
"I know. It's spoilt everything."
"And the whole school knows now about the S.S.O.P. It's leaked outsomehow, and the secret's gone. It'll be no more fun."
"I wish to goodness I'd never thought of it," choked Marjorie. "I've gotto sit and copy out beastly poetry while somebody else gets into theEleven."
A Patriotic Schoolgirl Page 15
