Stowaways in the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  He was so slow in his movements that it was after six when he came up to the garth again and he had not seen the sacristy or the site of the great church, with its white violets flowering among the bases of the ancient pillars.

  Ann was in despair, but dared not show it. The Abbey was supposed to close at six. She knew Joan would not wish any one to be hurried away, and certainly not this elderly invalid; but she was afraid of what might happen at any moment.

  They were turning back to the garth from their inspection of the spot where the altar had stood in the vanished church, when a distant sound of voices told Ann that her fears were realised and they had stayed too late.

  Down the dark passage which led to the Hall came a stream of girls, all laughing and shouting; more and more followed, till the quiet garth was filled with noise and laughter. All wore loose swinging frocks of vivid colours, yellow and blue and green, violet and red and brown and gold; some had white caps laid on their hair; all wore light stockings and flat black shoes. The transformation of the silent green-and-grey garth into a place of radiant colour and enjoyment was instant and amazing.

  “Is it a children’s party?” The visitor turned to Ann.

  The caretaker looked worried. “It’s the dancing, sir; country-dancing, on the lawn at the Hall. They’ve come to see the pictures. We hadn’t ought to be here; it’s after six.”

  “They’ve no time for us,” he said, with a chuckle. “And I do not think they would object. Is this one of your heiresses—the tall girl in grey, with the auburn hair?”

  “It’s Miss Joan; the Abbey belongs to her.”

  “Ah! Here is somebody I know,” Sir Keith Marchwood murmured. “Still in a state of wild excitement, I see!”

  A long-legged girl in vivid blue, with flying yellow plaits, shot ahead of the crowd and went leaping up the refectory stair.

  “It’s Miss Jen. She wants to show the rest,” Ann said.

  The red-haired girl in the plain grey frock ran round the outside of the crowd and stood at the foot of the stair, to see that too many did not try to force their way up at once. The girl in blue had disappeared, the first to reach the steps and go racing up.

  A slim boyish figure in a gym tunic, with smooth black cropped head, came sauntering down the passage after the rest. She, of all the noisy crowd, was in no hurry, and her look swept round the garth and fell on the visitor in the gap which led to the site of the great church.

  Her dark eyes danced and she came across the garth to him. “I say, how marvellous of you to come to the party! You remember me, don’t you? I’m the one in the background; the one that didn’t turn head over heels.”

  “The second witness to a certain document,” Sir Keith agreed.

  “I thought you’d know me again! I’m Jack. Did you see Jen? I guess she was the first to arrive, judging from the rate she was going when she started.”

  “She seemed to be leading the crowd,” Sir Keith assented. “She was—er—a little excited, I thought.”

  Jack grinned. “You bet! I mean, yes, she was. Joan invited the Hamlet Club to see the pictures; that noisy crowd in gaudy frocks is the Hamlet Club; and Jen said it was her job to show the others, as she and I found the pictures.”

  “It was certainly her right,” he agreed. “Why are you not in a—a gaudy frock too?”

  “Because I don’t belong to the Club. I go in for cricket; but they let me come as a visitor, because I helped about the pictures. Jen will be terribly pleased to see you. There! Joan’s shoved them all safely into the refec. I’ll tell her about you; she’ll be thrilled to the limit to know you’re here.”

  “Ask her——” he began, and Jack paused. “Ask her if they would do a dance for me. I should be much interested.”

  “They’ll always dance, if you give them half a chance. They’ll go on for an hour yet; perhaps you could come back to the garden and watch. This is an end-of-term party to celebrate the pictures, and because the measles and quarantine are done with and everybody’s all right again. I’ll ask Joan.”

  Jack sped away and disappeared into the refectory, while Ann Watson, relieved and rather overwhelmed to find that her tourist was a friend of the family, hurried to bring a chair and place it in the sunshine.

  “Is it Sir Keith Marchwood, sir? I didn’t understand. Miss Joan will want to thank you for the pictures.”

  As Sir Keith sat stiffly down, Jack appeared again, and with a wave of her hand raced to the tunnel and off towards the Hall. Then Joan came alone from the refectory, a slight grey figure in the dark doorway of the ancient stair.

  She crossed the garth quickly. “How good of you to come! Oh, Sir Keith, I do thank you for the Abbey church! It was the one thing we were still missing. Now we feel we have the church again, thanks to your pictures. Oh, please don’t get up! Jen told me. Did you manage to climb to the refectory? How brave of you!”

  “I have been both up and down. The crypt is truly an amazing discovery. My dear young lady, I understand you are now the owner of the Abbey?”

  “I am. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “The Abbey? Or the fact that it is yours?”

  “Both!” Joan cried laughing. “I still can’t quite believe it.”

  “I congratulate you on its condition. I came here as a boy, when it was a heap of ruins. It seems incredible that all this beauty could have been so completely hidden; and that, having been ill-used in such a way, it could be restored to something so nearly approaching perfection. I was astounded by my first glance at the garth and buildings. And the refectory is amazing.”

  Joan’s eyes were shining. “It’s perfect, isn’t it? We have to thank Joy’s grandfather for that. All I have to do is to see that it’s kept as he left it.”

  “And make discoveries adding to its treasures and its history.”

  “Well, yes, we have done that,” Joan admitted. “We’ve had wonderful good luck, in that way. And you’ve helped; you’ve given us one of the biggest of our new treasures.”

  “I am glad that the pictures should have a fitting home at last. I have always felt they were out of place in my drawing-room.”

  “You can’t tell how much I value them,” Joan said earnestly. “I’m so glad to have the chance to thank you. My letter felt very inadequate. I hoped you’d come some day. Jen will be so pleased! If you can spare the time, I hope you’ll come to the house; Mother would like to see you, and Joy wants to thank you too. Oh, here comes Jack! She said”—and she laughed—“that you’d like to see a dance. I thought we’d do one for you here, just one, and then perhaps you’d come to the garden and watch the rest of the party. Jack went to fetch the fiddler; we can’t do anything without music, you know.”

  A girl in white stood tuning a violin in front of the chapter-house. Jack dashed to the refectory to collect some dancers.

  “The garth was very colourful, when your girls arrived,” said Sir Keith.

  “I’m afraid the girls were very noisy! But it really is a festive occasion; we haven’t met for a month, because of illness and quarantine, so we’re rejoicing because it’s all over, as well as about the pictures. We’ll dance ‘Newcastle’; it won’t be the first time in the Abbey!”

  Joan went out on to the garth, as a chord on the violin brought a crowd of girls running down the stair, still breathless from Jack’s warning shout: “I say, you noisy lot! Sir Keith Marchwood’s out there, and Joan says you’re to come and dance for him!”

  With a shriek of joy, Jen rushed across the garth. “Oh, topping! Marvellous! How lovely of you to come! I’ll come back—but I must dance. Joan! Oh, Joan, ‘Newcastle’ with me! I’ve always wanted it here, since I watched you, that night last summer! Oh, Joan, take me!”

  Joan laughed and held out her hand. “Be first woman, Jenny-Wren. Ready, Margia, thank you!”

  Sir Keith watched, knitting his brows, surprised by the fascination of the sight; the blending colours weaving always in new patterns; Joan’s grey and Jen’s blue meeting and par
ting, and coming together again at the end. The eight well-trained dancers gave a really beautiful rendering of “Newcastle,” and the old grey walls all round made a wonderful setting for the vivid colours of the dresses. The stars, arches, and lines safely over, the dancers bobbed to their partners, then laughed and caught hands in a ring and began again, as the fiddler repeated the tune.

  Jack, with mischievous eyes, had run back to the refectory and said a word to the rest of the Club. “That thing you do in a big ring; you know the one I mean! Do it round these others. You’ll fill the whole garth.”

  They came streaming out from the refectory in a long line, hand in hand and led by Jack, who ran round the garth drawing the string of girls after her, till she reached the other end of her circle and the ring was complete, outside the dancing group.

  A shout went up: “ ‘Sellenger’s Round’! Oh, please, Margia!” The fiddler changed the tune. The inner group saw what had happened, gasped, and laughed, and joined in the new dance, a small ring within the larger one. The circles swept clockwise and back, and up to the centre, all the arms raised as one.

  Then, as the rings broke up into a confused mass of colour, Jen’s voice rang out above the babel. “Three cheers for Sir Keith Marchwood and the pictures!”

  “Thank you, my dears, for a great treat.” Sir Keith rose, as Joan came to him. “I need not go back to town for an hour. I should like to see some more of your dancing.”

  “Then please come to the garden and let us entertain you properly. Mother will be so glad to see you; you shall sit on the terrace, and Joy will tell you the names of the dances. Jen wants to talk to you, and you must see her dance; she’s worth watching. I’ll make her do a jig for you. Girls! Back to the lawn, and on with the dance!”