CHAPTER XV
Joy-riding
The post at Pendlemere Abbey was distributed after breakfast, and thegirls devoured their correspondence in the short interval before lessonsbegan. One morning in April the usual weekly letter with the Parispostmark arrived addressed to "Miss Hewlitt", and, five minutes afterreceiving it, Diana came tearing down the corridor in search of Loveday.She looked the very incarnation of joy--her face was aglow, and her eyesshining.
"Such news!" she gasped. "What d'you think? I'll give you three guesses.Father and Mother are coming over to England for Easter. I haven't seenthem since last September, and I'm simply off my head. Isn't it ripping?And that's not all, by any means. Come up to the ivy room, Loveday mine.I want to tell you all about it without those kids hanging aboutlistening to every word one says. Come now!"
Linking her arm in Loveday's, Diana dragged her friend upstairs, awayfrom the eyes and ears of inquisitive juniors, who were veritable littlepitchers where their elders' affairs were concerned. It was only whenthey were in the safety of their own sanctum that she fully unbosomedherself.
"Somebody else is coming to England. It's my brother Giles. He's beenmade London correspondent of the _Louisville Herald_. He wanted mostfrightfully to join the army, but they wouldn't accept him because ofhis eyes. He'll be just standing on his head with joy at getting toEurope after all. Did I tell you he was in a newspaper office? He'scrossing next week, and he's to go and see Father and Mother in Parisfirst, then come back with them to England, and have a holiday before hebegins his new work. Dad's going to hire a car and take us a joy-ride,and Lenox is to get leave and join us. You know Lenox isn't demobilizedyet. He's in a camp in Wales. But he expects they'll give him about fivedays. Think of seeing Britain in a car, with Father and Mother and Gilesand Lenox! I want to shout!"
"You little lucker!" sympathized Loveday.
"But that isn't all yet. I haven't finished telling you," triumphedDiana, laying a fluffy head on her room-mate's shoulder, and poking acaressing finger into Loveday's dimples. "Mother said in her letter thatshe guessed I'd enjoy the tour so much more if I had a girl companionwith me, and would I like to ask one of my school friends? You bet Iwould! Ra--ther! Do you know whom I'm going to ask?"
"Wendy?"
"Wendy! No! I'm very fond of her, but she's not _the_ one for a tourlike this. Besides, I know she's going to the seaside with her own homefolks. There's only one person from Pendlemere I want, and that'sLoveday. Will you come? I'd just adore to have you!"
"O-o-o-oh! If your mother really asks me."
"Of course she does! She says she's writing about it to Miss Todd."
Such a dazzling prospect as a joy-ride through England was hardly to berefused. In due course Loveday's aunt gave her permission, and theinvitation was accepted. It was arranged for the motor tour to begin onEaster Tuesday, so as to allow Diana and her family to have a few quietdays together first. They were to spend them at Windermere, then callwith the car at Liverpool for Loveday, and also to pick up Lenox, whowould join them there from the American camp in Wales.
Loveday went about the school feeling as if her reason were rocking. Shehad never imagined that anything so nice could happen to her. Since theloss of her parents life had not been too bright. Sometimes she almostdreaded the holidays at her aunt's. She was shy and sensitive, and theimpression that she was not altogether welcome there was a bitter one.It is very hard for a girl when she has no home of her own, and no onewhose special prerogative it is to love and encourage her. Though heruncle and aunt saw that she had everything needful in the way ofeducation and clothing, they never petted her, and she had grown upwith the starved feeling of the child who lacks kisses. She had toomuch self-respect to parade her woes at school, and perhaps her fellowseniors mistook her shyness for pride; they were nice to her, but shehad not a real confidante among any of them. It was Diana--Diana whomshe had at first resented as an intruder in the ivy room--who had brokendown the wall of her reserve and found the road to her heart.
The remainder of the term passed quickly; the spring days were so fullwith lessons and land-work that time at the Abbey literally raced along.Nevertheless, with characteristic impatience, Diana crossed off thecalendar each evening, and counted the lessening dates in hugesatisfaction. Then came the joyful afternoon when trunks were broughtdown from the box-room, and the school began its congenial task ofpacking. The accustomed term-end routine was gone through, and nextmorning three tired mistresses saw twenty excited pupils safely intotheir respective railway carriages.
"Only a week and we meet again," said Loveday to Diana, whose trainstarted first.
"Just seven days," returned that damsel, leaning dangerously out of thecompartment window. "Guess I'm about living for that tour. If we don'thave the time of our lives, I'm much mistaken. Ta-ta till next Tuesday."
Diana enjoyed the quiet week at Windermere with father, mother, andbrother, and though the little circle was not quite complete--for therewas a brother of seventeen at school in America--it was delightful tobe among her own family again. Mr. Hewlitt was very tired after his longspell of arduous work in Paris, and was glad to rest his brains, so theyspent most of the time boating on the lake, or strolling in the woods,getting new-made-over in the fresh, bracing country air. The car theyhad hired was to meet them at Lancaster. They went thus far south bytrain, then motored to Liverpool. Loveday, ready with suit-case packed,was eagerly expecting them. From the window of her aunt's drawing-roomshe watched the big six-seater car arrive at the door. Giles--amasculine edition of Diana, in spectacles--was driving. Lenox--a beamingkhaki-clad figure with twinkle-some brown eyes--sat by his side. Mr. andMrs. Hewlitt and Diana were in the rear seat. A goodly pile of boxes andbaskets was strapped on to the luggage-carrier behind. A change ofplaces was effected, resulting in the two girls sitting with Giles inthe front. Loveday's suit-case was stowed away, her aunt waved good-bye,the electric-starter was applied, and the car moved off on its eventfuljourney south.
It was a delightful way of travelling, to whiz along by road instead ofby rail. The country was just in the blush of spring, the woods werebursting into tender leaf, plum blossom made fairy lace-work in waysideorchards, and wallflowers and cowslips bloomed in cottage gardens.Giles, who drove the car, had planned out their tour carefully. He wasdetermined to see rural England to best advantage, and, instead ofkeeping always to the main roads, he intended to take by-ways, so as topass through typical country villages. Once free from the suburbs ofLiverpool, they avoided large towns as far as possible, as they madetheir way through Cheshire to the Midlands. Their first object was thatMecca of all American pilgrims--the Shakespeare country.
"In five days we haven't time to look at everything as we go along, so Iguess we'd better just sprint till we get to Kenilworth, and start oursight-seeing there," decreed Giles.
He made an excellent chauffeur, and fortunately encountered no policetraps, though he certainly exceeded the speed limit when he saw a clearroad ahead. A lunch-basket with thermos flasks was packed in the car,and the party picnicked for their mid-day meal in a wood where primroseswere opening their little pale-yellow flowers, and king-cups blazed in amarshy ditch. The air was fresh with spring, and cuckoos were callingfrom the fields by a river.
"When I was a small girl," said Loveday, "I thought there was only onecuckoo in the world. People used to say: 'Oh, have you heard the cuckooyet?' so, of course, I thought there was only one. Nobody said: 'Haveyou seen the swallow yet?' when swallows returned. I was fearfullypuzzled one day when I heard _two_ cuckoos both cuckooing at once."
They reached Kenilworth just at sunset, when a crimson sky was flamingbehind the old castle, and glowing on the windows of the picturesquecottages that faced the ancient ruin from the other side of the villagegreen. Its grey walls, magnificent even in their decay, seemed teemingwith historic memories, and, in the glamour of the sunset, they couldalmost, in imagination, restore the half-legendary splendour of itslater days, and picture Queen Eli
zabeth arriving there on her famousvisit to the Earl of Leicester. It was too late to do any exploring thatevening, so, after a halt to admire the beauty of the scene, they wenton to their hotel, promising themselves to make it the first object oftheir sight-seeing to-morrow.
"It seems so extraordinary," said Mr. Hewlitt at dinner, "that everylittle bit of ground we're passing over now has a history that datesright back to the Middle Ages. It's a wonderful corner of England, andso unspoilt. Half of the houses look as if they'd stepped straight outof an artist's canvas."
For the next few days the party lived with guidebooks in their hands.They thoroughly explored Kenilworth Castle, tried to call up a vision ofthe pageant that was presented before Queen Elizabeth there, anddeplored the tragic fate of poor Amy Robsart. Then the car splashedthrough the ford at the foot of the wood, and carried them along theWarwick Road, past Blacklow Hill, where Piers Gaveston was executed, andwhere, it is said, his restless spirit still rides at drear midnight, toGuy's Cliff, with its old Saxon mill and romantic view of the Avon.Then on to Warwick, to look at the treasures of a castle fortunatelyuntouched by the ravages of war, and the beautiful Beauchamp Chapel,with its tomb of the "King Maker". They could have stayed a long time inancient, picturesque Warwick, admiring the quaint, old houses and thesmooth stretches of the river, but the attractions of Stratford lay onlyeight miles away, and they had booked their rooms in advance at thehotel there. None of them ever forgot their first entry intoShakespeare's town. It was the season of his anniversary, and in hishonour flags decorated the black-and-white houses, and dainty littlemaidens, with May garlands of flowers, came tripping down thesixteenth-century streets. Our pilgrims did their devoirs in orthodoxfashion, beginning with Shakespeare's birthplace and its museum ofrelics, going on to the Grammar School where he learned his "littleLatin and less Greek", to the remains of his house "New Place", and histomb and monument in the glorious old church. They could hardly tearthemselves away from Anne Hathaway's thatched, half-timber cottage atShottery, with its carved, four-post Elizabethan bedstead, its gardenfull of rustic flowers, and its ingle-nook where perhaps Shakespeare satto woo.
"If we could only take it just as it is, and carry it out to America,"sighed Diana.
"But it would be nothing without its surroundings," said Loveday. "It'sbecause Shakespeare seems associated with every corner of Stratford thatthe whole place is so fascinating. Wherever you go you feel as if youwere following him round. I'd like to spend a month here, and do eachseparate spot leisurely and quietly."
If the whole of the projected tour was to be carried out, and theShakespeare villages inspected, not to speak of Edgehill, Evesham,Broadway, and Gloucester, which they had also set their hearts onseeing, it was impossible to do more than rush through the varioussights, so their boxes were once more strapped on to theluggage-carrier, and the car set off on its further travels.
They did not escape the usual accidents that delay motorists: a tyreexploded one afternoon with a terrific bang, and the ladies of the partyhad to sit for an hour by the roadside, while the men-folk fixed on theStepney wheel. Giles's love for by-roads landed him sometimes indifficulties. He whisked them once down a charming primrose-starredlane, only to find that it ended in a ford. As you cannot run a carthrough even the shallowest river without stopping the engine, it wasevidently a case of "thus far and no farther", and there was nothing forit but a return to the highway. There was no room to turn in the narrowlane, so the car had to back the whole distance to the road--a mostdifficult performance between high banks and round sharp corners, andone which required all Giles's skill as a chauffeur. Another time,trying a short cut across some fields, the car ran into soft earth andrefused to stir. Her occupants got down and tried with their unitedefforts to push her out of her "slough of despond", but with no effect.Giles kept starting the engine, but the wheels, instead of gripping,simply turned round and round, and sank deeper into the soil. They wereobliged to go to a farm for help, and have planks fixed under the wheelsbefore the heavy car could move on to terra firma and proceed with itsjourney. These little accidents, however, all added a spice of adventureand fun to the tour; the young folks, at any rate, did not wisheverything to be too plain sailing; they thoroughly enjoyed the romanticside of the trip, and liked to get off the beaten track into the wildsof the country. They had brought all sorts of wonderful contrivances forcooking the mid-day lunch, which they always ate out-of-doors. There wasan apparatus with a spirit-lamp for making coffee, which whistled like acanary when the beverage was brewed; there was a marvellous doublefrying-pan, heated merely by strips of newspaper being lightedunderneath it, which cooked eggs and sausages with surprising speed; andthere was a neat canteen-basket with cups, plates, spoons, forks, andknives all ready to hand. In their enthusiasm the boys would have likedto sleep in the car had that been possible, and Lenox often regrettedwistfully that they had not brought tents with them to pitch for thenight.
"No, thanks," said Mr. Hewlitt. "You youngsters may enjoy that sort ofthing; but I consider this British climate is too damp for camping out,and I much prefer a comfortable bed at a decent hotel."
"Besides which, the hotels are so delightfully old-world and quaint, Ishouldn't like to miss them," added Mrs. Hewlitt.
"Rather _too_ old-world sometimes," shivered her daughter.
Diana had had an unpleasant experience the night before. Generally sheand Loveday slept together, but on this occasion they had been givenseparate rooms. Diana, who had a tiresome trick of waking, furiouslyhungry, in the small hours of the morning, put a couple of biscuitsunder her pillow before she got into bed, so as to be prepared for anyemergencies of appetite. She woke suddenly in the night, with thehorrible sensation that a hand was groping under her pillow. Sheswitched on the electric light by her bedside, but nothing was to beseen. Thinking she must have been dreaming, she switched off the lightand lay down again. Hardly was she settled, and sinking off to sleep,when once more came a most unmistakable movement under her pillow.Thoroughly scared, she switched on the light, only to find nothing. Whenthis happened a third time she no longer dared remain in the dark, solighted a candle which fortunately stood on the mantelpiece, and placedit on a table not far from her bed. She could not see everything in theroom, and lay watching with wide-open eyes. For a few minutes all wasabsolutely still; then came a slight noise, and along the rail at thefoot of the bed ran something with whiskers, either a young rat or thevery biggest mouse she had ever seen.
"Sh-sh-sh-oo-oo!" cried Diana, sitting erect in bed with roundfrightened eyes. The intruder, equally terrified, took the hint to quit,and scuttled noisily away. The idea that it might return to seek herbiscuits was too much for Diana.
"Even if I eat them it'll come back to see if they're there," shethought. "I'd have a fit if I felt it under my pillow again. I can'tsleep another wink in here, that's certain. I'd as soon have spooks asrats or mice. I'm going to Loveday."
So, though the time was about 1 a.m., she jumped up, seized the candle,and managed to find her way along the passage to her friend's room.Loveday, much astonished to be thus awakened, took her into her bed, andthey laughed over the little adventure.
"Oh, yes, it's all very fine to laugh," said Diana. "But if _you_ wereall alone you wouldn't like it yourself. Nothing will induce me to sleepby myself again in a strange hotel; so I warn you. You'll be saddledwith your pixie girl for the rest of the tour. She's a scared baby atnights, and she doesn't mind confessing it. Rats--ugh! The very name ofthem makes me creep."
A harum-scarum schoolgirl Page 15
