CHAPTER XVII
A Tangled Story
MEG rushed to the lecture hall just in time to enter unobtrusively amonga crowd of other girls, and to take her seat for afternoon call-overwithout attracting special notice from mistresses or monitresses. Shecongratulated herself on having been promoted to Mr. Cobb's paintingclass. The fact of her change of costume would be quite lost upon him,though Miss Harris, the ordinary drawing mistress, might possibly haverecognized Gipsy's dress. One or two of her Form mates stared at hercuriously, but the greater number were too much preoccupied withanswering "present" to their names, and filing away to their variousclasses, to pay any particular attention to her. The girls at thepainting lesson, with the exception of Fiona Campbell, were all Seniors.If they realized any difference in Meg's appearance, there was noopportunity either for them to make comments or for her to giveexplanations. I am afraid the study in oil colours of carnations, uponwhich she was engaged, did not make much progress that afternoon, forher thoughts were entirely about Gipsy, wondering how far she had gotupon her travels, and whether Miss Poppleton had yet discovered herabsence.
Directly the four o'clock bell rang and the class was released, Meg,leaving the other girls leisurely putting away their tubes of paints andcleaning their palettes, scrambled her possessions together anyhow, andbolted from the room before she could be questioned. Going boldly to theboarders' cupboard in the hall, she purloined Gipsy's hat, and, withoutwaiting even to tell her story to Hetty and Dilys, departed from thepremises with all possible speed.
She had come to school that day on her bicycle, and fetching it hastilyfrom the shed where all the machines were stored, she rode away in thedirection of Greyfield. There was something slightly wrong with one ofher pedals, and her father had told her that morning that she had betterhave it mended at once, so she intended to take the cycle to the depotwhere it had been bought, and let it be thoroughly overhauled before shereturned home. The assistant at the shop promised to have the repairsfinished in about half an hour, and Meg therefore strolled into thetown, to wait with what patience she could muster. She walked upCorporation Street and round by the Town Hall, peeped into the ParishChurch and the Free Library, then finding herself close to the railwaystation, decided to go and buy a copy of _Home Chat_ or _Tit Bits_ atthe bookstall.
"Want a ticket, Miss?" asked a porter, as she passed the booking-officenear the entrance.
"No, thank you; I'm only going to get a paper," replied Meg, walkingbriskly on.
She noticed that the man looked at her keenly, and said something toanother official. Immediately afterwards an inspector came on to theplatform, and eyed her with more than ordinary curiosity. She couldhear the telephone bell ringing hard, but it never struck her that theseoccurrences had anything to do with herself. She walked to thebookstall, and after spending some minutes looking at the variousmagazines spread forth, bought a copy of _Tit Bits_, and strolled backdown the platform reading it as she went, and smiling over the jokes. Atthe automatic sweet-machine she paused, put a penny in the slot, and hadjust withdrawn her box of chocolates when, turning round, she foundherself face to face with a policeman.
"Very sorry, Miss," said the man civilly, "but I'm afraid you've got togo along with me."
Meg was so surprised that she nearly dropped both _Tit Bits_ and thechocolates.
"To go along with you!" she gasped. "Indeed I shan't do anything of thesort."
"Better not make a scene, Miss," advised the policeman, with anindulgent smile. "I'm sorry, but it's my duty to take you in charge."
"But what for? I've done nothing!" protested Meg in huge indignation.
"That's a little matter between your schoolmistress and yourself. It'snone of my business. My instructions are to take you straight to thepolice station."
"But I tell you I won't be taken!"
"Better go quietly, Missy," said the station inspector, who had comebustling up. "You don't want to attract a crowd, I'm sure, do you? No;then let me put you in this cab, and drive you round to the policestation. It's only a couple of streets away. They'll explain everythingto you there."
There was sense in his remarks, for people on the platform werebeginning to stop and stare at Meg with an interest she deeply resented.To enter the cab seemed the lesser evil, even if she must pay a visit tothe police station. The inspector handed her in politely, and enteringafter, took the seat opposite, while the policeman mounted the boxbeside the driver.
"They seem desperately afraid of my escaping! I wonder they don'thandcuff me!" thought Meg, waxing more and more angry at the indignityof the proceeding. The little drive only occupied a few minutes, andarrived at the police station, she was shown at once into the headinspector's office.
"I should like to know what charge you have against me," demanded Meg,determined to hold her own, and not to be frightened at her arrest.
"Withdrawing yourself from the hands of your lawful schoolmistress andpresent guardian," replied the inspector pompously.
"But I was only on my way home!"
The official, however, was busy reading something from a notebook.
"'Surname Latimer, Christian name Gipsy. Height, 5 feet 1 inch. Eyesbrown, complexion dark, hair brown. Dressed in navy-blue alpaca frockover white delaine blouse top, and probably wearing sailor hat withblue-and-white striped band, and a pair of tennis shoes.' The wholetallies exactly," he murmured, surveying Meg from head to foot, to seethat he had not omitted any of the items.
"You're making a mistake. My name's Margaret Gordon, not Gipsy Latimer!I live at The Gables, near Willowburn. My father is a solicitor in thetown. His office is at 15 Wells Street."
"We'll soon see about that. I think I must trouble you for yourpocket-handkerchief, Missy, please."
Considerably mystified, Meg felt in her pocket and handed over thearticle in question. The inspector examined it closely, then shook hishead.
"It has 'G. Latimer' marked in the corner. That doesn't look much likeMargaret Gordon, does it?"
Meg was furious at her own stupidity. She and Gipsy had never thought ofexchanging the contents of their pockets.
"Look here! Send for my father!" she begged. "He'll soon tell you who Iam, and explain the whole matter."
"We don't need to send for anybody," returned the official. "MissPoppleton's quite enough for us. We've got her description of you, andour instructions are to take you straight back to the school. You'llfind you've not gained much by running away."
There was only one consolation for Meg, the remembrance that her capturewould possibly enable Gipsy to escape in safety.
"They must have been looking out for her at the railway station," shethought, "but they wouldn't recognize her in my dress. I'd like to knowwhat Poppie'll say when I turn up instead!"
There was undoubtedly a humorous side to the situation, and Meg laughedas she pictured the discomfiture of the officials when they discoveredtheir mistake. It seemed of no further use to try to prove her identityat present, so she allowed herself to be once more escorted to the caband driven off, this time in the direction of Briarcroft.
"I wonder what sort of a scrape I'm in for," she thought, as they drewup at the front door, and the constable in charge solemnly marched herinto the house. Miss Poppleton came hurrying out of the library into thehall, followed by Miss Edith.
"I am happy to be able to inform you, Madam, that our search has beensuccessful," said the policeman, standing at attention.
"What? Have you found her?" cried Miss Poppleton eagerly; then shestopped as she recognized Meg. "Ah! So that's it, is it? I'm sorry tosay, constable, that you've brought the wrong girl!"
Meg had thought out her plan of action carefully during her drive in thecab, and took advantage of the sensation that followed to rush at thePrincipal with an air of aggrieved and injured innocence.
"Oh, Miss Poppleton! Isn't it a horrible mistake!" she exclaimed. "Itold them my name, and they wouldn't believe me! Oh! please, may I gohome immediately? My mother will be
so dreadfully anxious at my being solate!"
"Meg, do you know where Gipsy is?" interposed Miss Edith, catching herby the arm.
"Indeed I don't; I haven't the least idea!" replied Meg truthfully."Please let me go home, and relieve Mother's mind!"
"Yes, go at once!" answered Miss Poppleton distractedly; and turning tothe rueful constable, she began to explain matters with much volubility.
Meg vanished like the wind, thankful that in the general excitementnobody had remarked upon the fact that she was wearing Gipsy's dress.She considered that she had come out of the affair uncommonly well, andcongratulated herself upon her presence of mind in the emergency. Shehurried home as fast as she could, anxious to tell the tale of Gipsy'sescape and her own adventure, and rather proud of her share in both. Toher surprise her mother took an utterly different view of the case fromher own.
"Gipsy run away!" cried Mrs. Gordon in great consternation. "And youchanged dresses with her so as to help her? Oh, Meg! what have you done!You naughty, foolish, foolish girl! You little know the dangers you mayhave thrown her into. We must do our utmost to find her and bring herback this very evening. We should never forgive ourselves if any harmcame to her. I must telephone at once, and see if Father's still at theoffice."
"But, Mummie darling, Gipsy doesn't want to be caught and brought backto Poppie's tender mercies. She's going to ship as a stewardess, and goto South Africa to look for her father. I think it's ripping!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Meg. Gipsy is too young tomanage her own affairs without consulting her elders. I would have hadthe poor child here, rather than that she should run away. Tell meeverything you can remember of her plans. I expect Father will start forLiverpool at once in search of her."
"You won't tell Poppie, Motherkins?"
"I shall send a note to Miss Poppleton as soon as I have telephoned toFather. We must leave no stone unturned to find Gipsy. Miss Poppletonwill be as alarmed and anxious as I am myself. She may be a littlestern, but she is a good, conscientious person in the main."
Mrs. Gordon's estimate of Miss Poppleton's character was a correct one.The latter, though she had been severe and even hard with Gipsy, hadmeant well by her, and had intended to take charge of her until shefound an opportunity of sending her, under careful protection, to herrelations in New Zealand. She was in a state of the utmost concern atthe girl's rash action in running away, and had lost no time insummoning the aid of the police to track her and ensure her safety. IfGipsy were the black sheep of the flock, she was at any rate the lostsheep, to be sought for diligently, and rejoiced over when found.
To Miss Edith the affair was a sad blow. She was genuinely fond ofGipsy, and had been greatly distressed by the events of the last fewdays. Though she dutifully accepted her sister's opinion, and believedGipsy guilty, she nevertheless was ready to welcome back the prodigalwith open arms. She did not dare to break down before Miss Poppleton,who disliked a public exhibition of feeling, so she retired to the linenroom to wipe her eyes in private. Having indulged in a littlesurreptitious weeping she felt better, and decided to try to distracther mind by tidying her cupboards. Now, though Miss Edith was on thewhole a good housekeeper, she had a poor memory, and was very apt to putthings away and forget all about them. As she rearranged her drawers andshelves on this particular evening, she was dismayed to find severalarticles for which she had searched in vain elsewhere.
"Why, here's the tea cloth that I thought had been lost in the wash!"she exclaimed. "And Miss Lindsay's dressing jacket--she was afraid shemust have left it in London. Why! and here's a coat of DaisyScatcherd's. I remember quite plainly putting it by last autumn, whenshe had such a terrible cold. I thought it was too thin for her to wear.Why didn't the child ask me for it? She's as forgetful as I am. It'sjust the thing for chilly evenings, to slip on when she's been playingtennis."
Miss Edith gave the coat a good shake, and as she did so there fell fromthe pocket an unopened letter. She picked it up and looked at theaddress:
"MISS GIPSY LATIMER, Briarcroft Hall, Greyfield, England."
She read it twice before she realized its significance. Then, tremblingviolently, she sank on to a chair, and gave way to what very closelyresembled a fit Of hysteria.
"Fetch Miss Poppleton!" she cried to the alarmed servant who ran to thelinen room at the sound of her wails. "Oh, dear! To think it's all myfault!"
Miss Poppleton hurried to the scene at once, and though at first hersister's explanation was rather incoherent, she managed to grasp themain facts of the case.
"It's Gipsy's missing letter, Dorothea! It must have come after all, yousee, only I can't imagine how it got into Daisy Scatcherd's pocket. Idon't remember looking in the pockets when I put the coat by. And it'sbeen there all this time! Look, the postmark is Cape Town, 3 November.Oh, isn't it dreadful? And the poor, dear child has just run away!Dorothea, whatever are we to do about it?" moaned Miss Edith, almostbeside herself with horror at her discovery.
"In the circumstances I consider I am perfectly justified in reading theletter," replied Miss Poppleton, solemnly tearing open the envelope."Why, here's an enclosure for me inside it!"
The long-delayed missive was from Gipsy's father, and contained the veryinformation for which Miss Poppleton had waited more than six wearymonths. Mr. Latimer informed her that he was on the point of startingwith a pioneering expedition to prospect for minerals in the almostunexplored district at the sources of one of the tributaries of theZambesi. It might be several months before he would be in any civilizedplace whence it would be possible for him to communicate with her again,but during his absence he was glad to know that his little daughter wasleft in good hands. For all expenses in connection with Gipsy'seducation, dress, and pocket-money, he begged to refer her to his Londonbankers, Messrs. Hall & Co. of Lombard Street, who had instructions tosettle the account as soon as submitted to them.
"I hope my girlie will behave well, and give no trouble," he wrote. "Sheis generally ready to attach herself to anybody who is kind to her."
Miss Poppleton turned a dull crimson as she finished reading the letter,and handed it to Miss Edith.
"I must question Daisy Scatcherd at once," she remarked peremptorily. "Ican't understand how the letter came to be in her pocket at all."
The luckless Daisy, subjected to a searching examination, could at firstrender no account of how she came to be mixed up in the affair. Thenlittle by little a vague remembrance returned to her, and she begandimly to recall the circumstances.
"It must have been on my birthday," she faltered. "I have a kind ofrecollection that I stopped the postman in the drive, and he gave meseveral letters. But indeed I never noticed one for Gipsy! If I evenlooked at the name, I didn't take it in properly. I suppose I only sawit wasn't for me, and stuffed it in my pocket while I opened my ownletters. Then I utterly forgot all about it."
"It must be a warning to you, Daisy, against carelessness--a warning tolast you the rest of your life," said Miss Poppleton, relieving herfeelings by improving the occasion. "Your thoughtless act has had themost unfortunate consequences. It's no use crying now" (as Daisydissolved into tears). "You can't mend matters. But I hope you'll takethis to heart, and be more careful in future."
"If we could only find that poor, unfortunate child, Gipsy," sobbed MissEdith, when the weeping Daisy had taken her departure. "I always saidperhaps her father wasn't an adventurer after all. I think you were toohard on her, Dorothea--too hard altogether!" Which, was the nearestapproach to insubordination that Miss Edith, in all her years of meeksubserviency to her sister, had ever yet dared to venture upon.
The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School Life Page 20
