CHAPTER XXIV
The Royal George
When Leonard brought Marjorie and Dona back to The Tamarisks there wasstill one more golden half-hour before they need return to school. AuntEllinor proposed tennis, and suggested that her nephew should play hissisters while she sat and acted umpire. The game went fairly evenly, forLeonard was agile and equal to holding his own, though it was oneagainst two. They were at "forty all" when Dona made a rather brilliantstroke. Leonard sprang across the court in a frantic effort to get theball, missed it, slipped on the grass, and fell. The girls laughed.
"You've been a little too clever for once," called Dona. "That's ourgame!"
"Get up, you old slacker!" said Marjorie.
But Leonard did not get up. He stayed where he was on the lawn, lookingvery white. Mrs. Trafford ran to him in alarm.
"What's the matter?" she cried.
"I believe I've broken my ankle--I felt it snap."
The accident was so totally unexpected that for a moment everyone wasstaggered, then, recovering her presence of mind, Aunt Ellinor, withMarjorie and Dona's help, applied first aid, while Hodson hurried intoWhitecliffe to fetch the doctor. He was fortunately at home, and came atonce. He helped to carry Leonard into the house, set the broken bone,and settled him in bed.
"You'll have to stay where you are for a while," he assured him."There'll be no walking on that foot yet. It'll extend your leave, atany rate."
"I can't imagine how I was such an idiot as to do it," mourned Leonard."I just seemed to trip, and couldn't save myself."
"We'll borrow you some crutches from the Red Cross when you're wellenough to use them," laughed the doctor. "You'll be well looked afterhere. Miss Elaine is one of my best nurses at the hospital."
Marjorie and Dona arrived back at school late for Preparation, but weregraciously forgiven by Mrs. Morrison when they explained the unfortunatereason of their delay.
"It's ripping to have both Leonard and Larry at Whitecliffe," said Donato Marjorie in private.
"Rather! I think I know one person who won't altogether regret theaccident."
"Leonard?"
"Yes, Leonard certainly; but somebody else too."
"I know--Elaine."
"She'll have the time of her life nursing him."
"And he'll have the time of his life being nursed by Elaine," laughedDona.
It was now getting very near the end of the term, and each hostel,according to its usual custom, was beginning to devise some form ofentertainment to which it could invite the rest of the school. Aftermuch consultation, St. Elgiva's decided on charades. A cast was chosenconsisting of eight girls who were considered to act best, Betty,Chrissie, and Marjorie being among the number. No parts were to belearnt, but a general outline of each charade was to be arrangedbeforehand, the performers filling in impromptu dialogue as they wentalong. To hit on a suitable word, and think out some telling scenes, nowoccupied the wits of each of the chosen eight. They compared notesconstantly; indeed, when any happy thought occurred to one, she madehaste to communicate it to the others.
An inspiration came suddenly to Marjorie during cricket, and when thegame was over she rushed away to unburden herself of it. She had thoughtseveral of the performers might be in the recreation room, but she foundnobody there except Chrissie, who sat writing at the table.
"I've a lovely idea, Chris!" she began. "You know that word we chose,'cough', 'fee'--'coffee'; well, we'll have the first syllable in a RedCross Hospital, and the second in an employment bureau, and a girl canask if there's any fee to pay; and the whole word can be a scene in adrawing-room. Chrissie, do stop writing and listen!"
Her chum shut up her geometry textbook rather reluctantly. She wasputting in extra work before the exams, and was loath to be interrupted.She kept on drawing angles on her blotting-paper almost automatically.
"They'd be ripping if we could get the right properties," she agreed."Could we manage beds enough to look like a hospital? Yes, those smallforms would do, I dare say. The employment bureau will be easy enough.The drawing-room scene would be no end, if we could make it up-to-date.I ought to be an officer home on leave, and you're my long-lost love,and we have a dramatic meeting over the coffee cups!"
"Gorgeous! Oh, we must do it! Shall I droop tenderly into your arms?What shall I wear?"
"Some outdoor costume, with a picturesque hat. I must have a uniform, ofcourse."
"A brown waterproof with a leather belt?"
Chrissie pulled a face.
"I hate these make-ups out of girls' clothes! I'd like a real genuineuniform to do the thing properly."
"But we couldn't get one!"
"Yes, we could. It's your exeat on Wednesday, and you might borrow yourbrother's. He's in bed, and can't wear it."
"What a ripping notion!" gasped Marjorie. "But I couldn't carry a greatparcel back to school. Norty'd see it, and make one of her stupidfusses."
"We must smuggle it, then. Look here, when you go to your aunt's makethe clothes into a parcel and leave it just inside the gate. I've afriend at Whitecliffe, and I'll manage to write to her and ask her tocall and take it, and drop it over the wall at Brackenfield for me."
"Won't Norty ask where we got it, when she sees you wearing it?"
"She might be nasty about it beforehand, but I don't believe she'd sayanything on the evening, especially if the charade goes off well. It'sworth risking."
"You'd look ripping in Leonard's uniform! Of course it would be toobig."
"That wouldn't matter. Will you get it for me?"
"Right oh!"
"Good. Then I'll write to my friend."
"You're writing now!" chuckled Marjorie, for Chrissie had beenscribbling idly on the blotting-paper while she talked. "Look whatyou've put, you goose! 'Christine Lange!' Don't you know how to spellyour own name? I didn't think it had an _e_ at the end of it!"
Chrissie flushed scarlet. For a moment she looked overwhelmed withconfusion; then, recovering herself, she forced a laugh.
"What an idiot I am! I can't imagine why I should stick on an extra _e_.Lang is a good old Scottish name."
"Are you related to Andrew Lang, the famous author?"
"I believe there's a family connection."
The charades were to be held on the evening of the next Wednesday, aftersupper, which was fixed half an hour earlier to allow sufficient timefor the festivities afterwards. That afternoon would be Marjorie's andDona's last exeat before the holidays, and they were determined to makethe most of it. They would, of course, visit Leonard and Larry, and theyalso wished if possible to say good-bye to Eric. They had begged Elaineto leave a note at the kiosk, asking him to be waiting at their oldtrysting-place on the cliffs at five o'clock, and they meant to take himsome last little presents. If they did not see him to-day it would bethe end of September before they could meet again.
"He'll miss the fairy ladies when we've gone home," said Dona. "Sweetdarling! I wish we could take him with us!"
"I wonder if he ever goes away?" speculated Marjorie.
"I shouldn't think he'd be strong enough to travel."
When the girls arrived at The Tamarisks they found Leonard installed inbed, a remarkably cheerful invalid, and apparently not fretting over hisenforced period of rest.
"I've got a little Red Cross Hospital here all to myself," he informedhis sisters. "A jolly nice one, too! I can thoroughly recommend it. Ishan't want to budge."
"Then they'll send an army doctor down to examine you for shirking,"laughed Marjorie.
"I can't hop back to the front on one leg," objected Leonard.
Elaine was head nurse in the afternoons, an arrangement which seemed tobe appreciated equally by herself and the patient.
"I'd run up with you to the Red Cross Hospital to see Larry," sheassured Marjorie and Dona, "but I oughtn't to leave Leonard. Hodsonshall take you, and go on with you to the cove afterwards. Give my loveto Eric. I hope the dear little fellow is better. I bought the thingsfor him, as you asked me. Th
ey're on the table in the hall. We'll havetea in Leonard's room before you start."
Under a pretence of inspecting Eric's presents, Marjorie ran downstairs.She wanted somehow to get hold of Leonard's uniform, and she was afraidthat if she mentioned it, Elaine, in her capacity of nurse, would sayno.
"I shan't ask," decided Marjorie. "Elaine is a little 'bossy', andinclined to appropriate Leonard all to herself at present. Surely hisown sister can borrow his uniform. I know it's in the dressing-room. Icould see it, and I got up and shut the door on purpose. I'll go roundby the other door and take it."
The deed was quickly done. Leonard's suit-case was lying open on thefloor, and she packed in it what she wanted, not without tremors lestElaine should come in suddenly from the bedroom and catch her. She couldhear nurse and invalid laughing together. Bag in hand, she hurrieddownstairs and out into the garden. Down by the gate a woman was alreadyhanging about waiting. It would be the work of a moment to give it toher. But Marjorie had not calculated upon Dona. That placid young personusually accepted whatever her elder sister thought fit to do. On thisoccasion she interfered.
"What are you doing with Leonard's suit-case?" she asked.
Marjorie hastily explained.
"Don't," begged Dona promptly. "Leonard will be fearfully savage aboutit. How are you going to get his things back to him?"
"I don't know," stammered Marjorie. She had, indeed, never thought aboutit.
"I've been watching that woman," urged Dona, "and I don't like her. Sheasked me if this were 'The Tamarisks', and she speaks quite brokenEnglish. You mustn't give her Leonard's uniform."
"But I promised to get it for Chrissie to act in."
"Marjorie, I tell you I don't trust Chrissie."
The woman, seeing the two girls, came inside the gate, and advancedsmilingly towards them. Marjorie, annoyed at Dona's interference, andanxious to have her own way, greeted the stranger effusively.
"Have you come for the bag? For Miss Lang? Thanks so much. Here it is!"
Then for once in her life Dona asserted herself.
"No, it isn't!" she snapped, and, snatching the bag from her sister'shand, she rushed with it into the house.
Marjorie followed in a towering passion, but her remonstrances wereuseless. Dona, when she once took an idea into her head, was the mostobstinate person in the world.
"Leonard's things are back in the dressing-room, and I've opened thedoor wide into his bedroom," she announced doggedly. "If you want to getthem you'll have to take them from under Elaine's nose."
Full of wrath, Marjorie had nevertheless to make the best of it. Thewoman had vanished from the garden, and Elaine was calling to them thattea was ready in Leonard's bedroom. The invalid had a splendid appetite,and, as his nurse did not consider that he ought to be rationed, thehome-made war buns disappeared rapidly.
"It's top-hole picnicking here with you girls," he announced. "Wouldn'tsome of our fellows at the front be green with envy if they only knew!"
Marjorie was distant with Dona all the way to the Red Cross Hospital,but recovered her temper during the ten minutes spent with Larry. Theywere not allowed to stay long, as it was out of visiting hours, thoughElaine had obtained special permission from the Commandant for them tocall and say good-bye to him. Still laughing at his absurd jokes, theyrejoined Hodson, and set off along the road over the moor. As theyneared the cove they looked out anxiously to see if Eric were at theusual trysting-place, but there was no sign of him to-day. They sat downand waited, thinking that the long perambulator had probably beenwheeled into Whitecliffe, and had not yet returned. In about ten minutesLizzie came hurrying up alone.
"I've run all the way!" she panted. "He got your letter, did Eric, andhe was that set on coming, but he's very ill to-day and must stop inbed. He's just fretting his heart out because he can't say good-bye toyou. He'll say nothing all the time but 'I want my fairy ladies--I wantmy fairy ladies!' His ma said she wondered if you'd mind coming in for aminute just to see him. It's not far. It would soothe him downwonderful."
"Why, of course we'll go," exclaimed the girls with enthusiasm. "Poorlittle chap! What a shame he's ill!"
"I hope it's nothing infectious?" objected Hodson, mindful of herduties.
"Oh no! It's his heart," answered Lizzie. "He's got a lot of differentthings the matter with him, and has had ever so many doctors," she addedalmost proudly.
She led the way briskly to the little village of Sandside. Where didEric live, the girls were asking themselves. They had always wonderedwhere his home could be. To their amazement Lizzie stopped at the "RoyalGeorge" inn, and motioned them to enter. Hodson demurred. She was anardent teetotaller, and also she doubted if Mrs. Trafford would approveof her nieces visiting at a third-rate public-house.
"Wait for us outside, Hodson," said Marjorie rather peremptorily.
"I'll go into the post office," she agreed unwillingly. "You won't belong, will you, miss?"
The passage inside the inn was dark, and the stairs were steep, and asmell of stale beer pervaded the air. It seemed a strange place for sucha lovely flower as Eric to be growing. Lizzie went first to show theway. She stopped with her hand on the latch of the door.
"His ma's had to go and serve in the bar," she explained, "but hisaunt's just come and is sitting with him."
Dona and Marjorie entered a small low bedroom, clean enough, thoughrather faded and shabby. In a cot bed by the window lay Eric, white ashis pillow, a frail ethereal being all dark eyes and shining goldencurls. He stretched out two feeble little arms in welcome.
"Oh, my fairy ladies! Have you really come?" he cried eagerly.
It was only when they had both flown to him and kissed him that thegirls had time to notice the figure that sat by his bedside--a figurethat, with red spots of consternation on its cheeks, rose hastily fromits seat.
"Miss Norton!" they gasped, both together.
The mistress recovered herself with an effort.
"Sit down, Dona and Marjorie," she said with apparent calm, placing twochairs for them. "I did not know you were Eric's fairy ladies. It isvery kind of you to come and see him."
"This is Titania," said the little fellow proudly, snuggling his handinto his aunt's. "She knows more fairy tales than there are in all thebooks. You never heard such lovely tales as she can tell. Another,please, Titania!"
"Not now, darling."
"Please, please! The one about the moon maiden and the stars."
The dark eyes were pleading, and the small mouth quivered. The childlooked too ill to be reasoned with.
"Don't mind us," blurted out Marjorie, with a catch in her voice. Donawas blinking some tear-drops out of her eyes.
Then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Norton, beforetime the cold,self-contained, strict house mistress, dropped her mask of reserve, and,throwing a tender arm round Eric, began a tale of elves and fairies. Shetold it well, too, with a pretty play of fancy, and an understanding ofa child's mind. He listened with supreme satisfaction.
"Isn't it lovely?" he said, turning in triumph to the girls when thestory was finished.
"We must trot now, darling," said his aunt, laying him gently back onthe pillow. "What? More presents? You lucky boy! Suppose you open themafter we've gone. You'll be such a tired childie if you get too excited.I'll send Lizzie up to you. Say good-bye to your fairy ladies."
"Good-bye, darling Bluebell! Good-bye, darling Silverstar! When am Igoing to see you again?"
Ah, when indeed? thought Dona and Marjorie, as they walked down thesteep dark stairs of the little inn.
A Patriotic Schoolgirl Page 24
