CHAPTER XIV
A Stolen Meeting
Honor had hurried with the other girls from the garden, laughing andjoking as she went, and was almost in the act of running into the housewhen quite unexpectedly something happened, something utterly amazingand out of the common, and which was to be fraught with entirelyunlooked-for consequences. As she put her foot on the first of thesteps that led to the side door a figure moved silently from under theshade of a lilac bush close by, and, tapping her upon the arm, drew heraside with a whispered "Sh-sh!"
Honor suppressed an exclamation of astonishment, and, peering throughthe dusk to see who thus accosted her, recognized Annie, anunder-housemaid who had only lately come to St. Chad's.
"I've been waiting to catch you alone, miss," whispered the girl, "anda difficult matter it's been too. I didn't dare speak to you before theother young ladies. I'm to give you this letter, safe into your ownhand. I'd never have done it if I hadn't promised so faithful--it'salmost as much as my place is worth!"
"What is it? Who sent it?" asked Honor, taking the note.
"It's from one of the young gentlemen at Orley Grange, and I was to besure you got it secretly. Put it in your pocket, miss, and run indoors!I must be off to the kitchen," and without another word Annie turnedand fled, as if relieved to have accomplished her errand. Full ofcuriosity, Honor entered the house. The clock had not yet struck nine,so, seeing that the light was on in the dressing-room, she peepedinside. Fortunately, nobody was there, and she was able to go in andread her letter free from all observation. Its contents appeared tooccasion her no little perplexity and dismay, for she knitted her browsand shook her head as she replaced the envelope in her pocket. Shewent, however, to the recreation room, where the rest of the girls wereassembled waiting for the bell that always rang to proclaim bedtime;but she was in such an absent and abstracted frame of mind that severalof her friends noticed and remarked upon it.
"What's wrong with Paddy?" asked Lettice. "She's shut up suddenly, likean oyster. I can't get a word out of her."
"I can't imagine," said Pauline. "I spoke to her just now, and shedidn't seem to hear me."
"It's most unlike her," commented Ruth. "She generally goes to bed withso many jokes and parting shots."
To-night Honor walked upstairs with unwonted staidness and gravity. Shewent quietly into her cubicle and drew the curtain, and answered sobriefly when her room-mate spoke to her that the latter was almostoffended.
"Perhaps she's only tired though," thought Janie charitably. "This hotweather is enough to wear anybody out. I don't always care to talkmyself."
Janie was certainly not a girl to push conversation where it wasevidently not wanted, so the pair undressed in absolute silence. FromHonor's cubicle came sounds that suggested that its occupant wasfumbling with a key and unlocking a box, but as she did not volunteerany explanation, her room-mate made no comments. When Vivian arrived athalf-past nine to switch out the light, both girls were in bed.
Next morning Janie woke suddenly just as the grey dawn was growingstrong enough to show faintly the various objects that were in theroom. Some unusual noise had disturbed her, and she lay listeningintently. She could hear stealthy movements in the next cubicle, andwondering what her friend was doing, she popped out of bed and peepedround the curtain. There was Honor, fully dressed, and in the act ofputting on her hat.
"What's the matter?" asked Janie anxiously. "Honor! where are yougoing?"
"I hoped I shouldn't waken you," replied Honor in a whisper. "Hush!Don't talk loud, because with all the windows so wide open the girls inNo. 6 can hear quite plainly when we speak in this room."
"All right. But do tell me why you're getting up at this extraordinaryhour?" said Janie, in a subdued tone.
"I'm in a dreadful fix! I must meet Dermot down on the beach soon afterfive o'clock."
"Meet Dermot! Your brother? But why?"
"He's in such a scrape, and I have to get him out of it."
"How do you know?"
"One of the servants slipped this note into my hand last night, as wecame in from the garden. You can read it if you like."
Janie took the letter, which was written in a scrawling, boyish hand ona piece of paper apparently torn out of an exercise-book. It ran thus:--
"ORLEY GRANGE, "_Tuesday_.
"DEAR HONOR,
"I am in the most awful row, and if I can't get a sovereign by to-morrow morning I shall be done for. I owe it to Blake. I haven't time to tell you the whole affair, but I have been an absolute idiot. Blake wants the money, and he's a mean sneak. He says if I don't pay up he'll let on about something that I'm trying to keep dark. He really means it, too, and if it gets to the Head's ears I shall be expelled. Can you possibly lend me anything? I'd have written to the Mater, but I hear she has one of her bad attacks, so it wouldn't do to upset her. As for the governor, he'd be furious if he knew. He told me last term that if I ran into debt I needn't trust to him to get me out of it, for he wouldn't stir a finger to help me, and would give me a thrashing for my pains. He must not know on any account. It is of no use writing to Brian or the others, because it is so near the end of the term they're sure to have no money left. Have you spent all yours? I am going to get up before five o'clock to-morrow and climb out through the dormitory window, and go along the shore to the beach below Chessington, just by your bathing-place. Can you manage to do the same, and bring me any cash you can gather? Perhaps Blake might take something on account, if you haven't the whole. The janitor has promised to go with this letter to St. Chad's; he says he thinks he can get it smuggled in through his niece, who is a servant there. But he won't have time to wait for an answer, so the only way to give me the money is to meet me on the shore. I am awfully sorry to have to ask you to do this, but it is the one chance I have left, and if you knew what a hole I am in I think you would be sorry for me. I must stop now. The bell is ringing.
"Your loving brother,
"DERMOT."
"Oh, Honor! Are you going?"
"Of course I am. I wouldn't fail Dermot at such a pinch. Luckily I havethe money too. I shall let myself out by the dressing-room window, andclimb over the fence at the end of the cricket field. It won't takevery long. I shall be back before any of the servants are stirring."
"But it's such a frightfully risky thing! Suppose you were caught,you'd certainly get into a scrape."
"I shall have to take the risk. Dermot will get into a far worse scrapeif I don't go. I couldn't bear to think of him waiting for me on theshore, and finding I never came. Hush, Janie! Please don't ask me anymore. I've made up my mind."
Honor had put on her tennis shoes, and now stole very softly out of theroom and down the passage. Janie went to bed again, though certainlynot to sleep. She heard the stairs creak, and wondered if anyone elsewere awake in the house, and would notice the compromising sound.
"Oh, dear! What is to be done?" she thought anxiously. "It's fearfullynaughty of Honor, yet I sympathize with her wanting to help Dermot. Ibelieve I should have gone myself, if I'd had a brother of my own introuble. Major Fitzgerald must be a very stern man; they both seem toofrightened of him to tell anything, and their poor mother is so ill shemustn't be disturbed. I'm sorry for Honor. I hope she won't be longaway; I shall be wretched till she comes back. Somebody might see herfrom a window, even if no one hears her in the passage, and then--Idon't like to think of the consequences!"
Honor was indeed determined to do her utmost for Dermot. Of all herfive brothers, he was the dearest. Rather younger than herself, he hadbeen her inseparable companion in nursery days, when the pair hadshared everything, from sweets to scoldings, with strictestimpartiality. Honor had never forgotten the terrible parting when herfather had decreed that Dermot was old enough to go to school--how shehad cried herself sick, and how absolutely lonely and deserted theCastle had seemed when she was obliged to wander about and amuseherself alon
e. She had grown accustomed in time to solitary rambles,but she had always looked forward to her brother's return with keenestanticipation, and regretted bitterly that holidays were so short.
That Dermot was in trouble and wanted her was now the one thoughtuppermost in her mind, and rules were entirely ignored in her desire tosee him and speak with him. Though she was determined to carry out herproject she knew, however, that it was a most unorthodox andunwarrantable proceeding to leave St. Chad's at such an hour, and onsuch an errand, and she had no desire to be caught and prevented fromgoing.
She stole along the landing, therefore, as softly as possible, pausingevery now and then to listen if all were quiet. The whole house seemedto be sound asleep, and not a door opened as she passed. Once down thestairs and in the hall she felt safer, and hurrying quickly into thedressing-room, she easily unbolted a French window that led into thegarden.
Was that a step on the stairs? Honor was not sure. She dared not goback to ascertain, but, rushing outside, fled as fast as she couldround the corner in the direction of the cricket pitch.
"Whoever it was will find the bird flown," she said to herself."Perhaps I was mistaken, though, and only imagined I heard somebody."
A glance at the little watch pinned to her blouse told her that she hadnot much time to lose. She did not wish to keep Dermot waiting, for sheknew he would be in a fever of anxiety until she made her appearance.
"I hope he has managed to get off safely," she thought. "It must bemore difficult to leave a large dormitory than a small bedroom; still,I don't suppose any of the other boys would try to stop him, or wouldtell afterwards."
She had now reached the playing-fields, and she climbed over the fencethat separated them from a neighbouring pasture. A few hundred yards,and a stile brought her to a path along the cliffs that led to thebathing-place.
Dermot was first at the tryst. Even before Honor began to descend theflight of steps she caught sight of his familiar figure on the beachbelow. He was pacing impatiently up and down, glancing first one wayand then another, until at length he happened to look upwards in theright direction, and saw her. He waved his hat, and came eagerly alongthe shingle to meet her.
"All right, Dermot! I've brought you the sovereign!" she cried, anxiousto relieve his mind at once.
"Really? Oh, I say, Sis, it is good of you!"
There was no long line of grinning schoolboys to jeer, nor sedateChaddites to disapprove, so Honor hugged her brother this time to herheart's content. It seemed so delightful to see him again that shealmost forgot for the moment upon what errand she had come, onlyrealizing that he was there, and that she had him all to herself. Theremembrance of his trouble, however, quickly returned to her.
"Come and tell me everything," she said, drawing him towards thebathing-hut. "We can sit on these steps and talk."
"I was rather doubtful whether my letter had reached you," beganDermot; "I'd to settle with the janitor, and at first he said that theCollege was so strictly kept, it would be quite impossible. Afterwardshe gave way and said he'd try, but I couldn't see him again to ask ifhe'd really managed the affair; I had just to come to the cove onchance. I can tell you I was glad when I saw you coming down the rocks.Oh, Honor, I've got myself into the most awful mess!"
"How is it? I don't understand. Who is this Blake?"
"He has a place in Dunscar, a kind of second-rate veterinary surgeon'sbusiness; and he sells dogs, and rats, and rabbits, and even does alittle mole-catching, I believe--rather a low-class sporting chap, infact. Roper took me to the kennels one day, to see a spaniel. Some ofour fellows keep dogs there, and Blake looks after them. Well, I likedthe spaniel; it was a perfect beauty! Roper said Blake only wanted tenshillings for it, and it was an absolute bargain. He advised me to buyit and keep it at the kennels. I'd run through all my cash by then, butBlake said I could go on tick if I cared; and I thought it was a pityto miss the chance, because if I didn't have the dog, Jarrow was goingto take him."
"I suppose you mayn't keep dogs at school?" said Honor.
"Rather not! You'd have liked this one, Honor! His name was Terry, andhe was as jolly as poor old Doss used to be. He got to know medirectly, and he'd come jumping and trying to lick my face. He wasclever, too; he could do all kinds of tricks--trust for a biscuit, andlie down and die, and give three barks for the King. I grew so fond ofhim, and I meant to take him home with me in the holidays. Well, Ihadn't been able to go to the kennels for several days, and when atlast I managed to run down there Blake told me that Terry was dead andburied. He looked so shifty when he said it that I had my suspicions atonce. I don't believe Terry died at all; I'm sure Blake sold him tosomebody else, who has taken him away."
"Oh, what a shame!" exclaimed Honor.
"It's just like the fellow, though--he's an atrocious cad! Of course, Icouldn't prove anything. I could only say that Terry had looked allright when last I saw him, and it seemed a queer thing for him to popoff so suddenly; but then Blake rounded on me with all sorts of medicalterms, and said he'd made a post-mortem examination, and could give mea written certificate. As if that would have been of any use! Well, thelong and short of it was, we had a quarrel, and Blake turned nasty. Hesaid he wanted the money I owed him for the dog, and he gave me animmense bill for its keep. It was quite ridiculous; he made out it hadeaten pounds and pounds of Spratt's biscuits every week, and that he'dbought fresh meat for it too. I'm sure he hadn't! I disputed everyitem; but he said if I wasn't satisfied I could refer the matter to theHead. The whole affair came to exactly a sovereign. I couldn't possiblypay it--I hadn't more than a few shillings left in the world. I triedto get him to give me tick for a little longer, but he was as surly asa bear, and threatened that if I didn't turn up with the money byWednesday, he'd send in the bill to the Head."
"I suppose that would mean a big row?"
"Simply terrific! You see, the kennels are out of bounds; besideswhich, we've all been warned we're to have nothing to do with Blake.The Head said he was a rascal, and any fellow who went to his placewould do so at the risk of expulsion. I was an idiot to let myself getmixed up in such a business, but Roper, and Graveson, and severalothers had dogs, and I was so taken with that black spaniel! I thoughtand schemed how I could find a way out of it. I didn't dare to writehome to the Mater: if she's well enough to read her own letters, she'dbe in quite a nervous state of mind about it; and if she's ill, thenthe governor will open them all for her, and you know what he'd say!"
"It would be as bad as when I bought Firefly," replied Honor. "He wasmost fearfully angry that time."
"And he'd be harder on me than on you, because you're a girl. Hecouldn't thrash you, however much he might scold you. I've had a littleexperience of his hunting-crop before, and it's not exactly pleasant."
"Yes, I remember--when you took the cartridges out of his guncupboard."
"Well, I say, Honor, I mustn't stay here too long; I've got to be backbefore anyone's about the place, you know."
"Did you get off all right?"
"Oh, yes! I dropped out of the dormitory window on to a piece of roofnear, and let myself down by the spout. It was quite simple."
"How about climbing up again?"
"Easy as A B C."
"Well, here's the pound, at any rate."
"Thanks immensely! How is it you're so flush of cash?"
"I'm not. I've hardly any of my pocket-money left. This is my Jubileesovereign."
"Not the one Uncle Murtagh gave you?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Honor, I am sorry! I scarcely like to take it."
"Don't be absurd! You must!"
"But you had the thing as a locket, and vowed you'd never part withit."
"It can't be helped. Vows are sometimes better broken. Uncle Murtaghtold me to keep it until I happened to want it very badly, and I'm surewe need it to-day."
"Well, I do, at any rate, though it seems rather a swindle tocommandeer your particular, pet treasure. I'll have to borrow it now,I'm afraid; but I'll get yo
u another some time, I promise youfaithfully."
"I don't care in the least, so long as you get out of this scrape,"protested Honor.
The sun was already so high that its bright rays, reflected in a littlepool near their feet, warned the pair that it was no longer safe todelay their parting.
"It's a quarter to six!" exclaimed Dermot, looking at his watch. "Imust absolutely fly. I'll run all the way to Dunscar. I hope you'll getback quite safely into the College. You were a perfect trump to come.Good-bye; I'm off!"
Honor stood watching him until he had disappeared round the rocks atthe end of the cove, then half-regretfully she climbed up the stepsagain on to the headland. She returned to St. Chad's the same way asshe had come, walking across the pasture and climbing the fence of thecricket ground. She found the French window in the dressing-room stillajar, and bolted it on the inside before she went upstairs. All wasstill quite quiet in the hall and on the landing, and she was able toregain her room without any alarms.
Janie looked up nervously as the door opened. She had been lying awake,suffering far more anxiety on her friend's behalf than Honor hadexperienced for herself, and she gave a sigh of intense relief onhearing that the interview was successfully accomplished.
"I've been thinking it over," she said, "and I really believe it wouldhave been much the best to go straight to Miss Maitland and tell herabout it. She's very kind and sympathetic; perhaps she would have letyou meet Dermot, and then you could have gone openly, and without allthis dreadful stealing up and down stairs."
"I daren't risk it," replied Honor. "Suppose she had said 'No'? Ishould have been far worse off than if I hadn't asked. Besides which,she might have insisted upon telling Dr. Winterton. That's quite withinthe bounds of possibility; and then I should have given poor old Dermotaway."
"On the whole, wouldn't it be more satisfactory for Dr. Winterton toknow?"
"Janie! How can you suggest such a thing?"
"Well, if, as you say, this man Blake is a scamp, and has really soldthe dog, it ought to be enquired into. If it were all exposed, perhapshe would be obliged to leave Dunscar and go to some other place, andthat would be much better for the boys at the Grange."
"But in the meantime Dermot would be the scapegoat."
"I don't believe Dr. Winterton would expel him, if he went and owned uphimself. He'd be rather angry, I dare say, but then the thing would beover, and there'd be no more fear of being found out. If Blake is sucha dishonest man, he may send in the same bill again."
"Dermot said he should make him give a receipt for the money. No,Janie! You don't quite grasp the case. You've no brothers of your own,so how can you understand boys?"
"Then couldn't you have asked your father?" pleaded Janie desperately."It seems--please don't be offended!--not quite straight to besuppressing the whole affair like this."
"You don't know my father, or you wouldn't suggest it. He can be verystern, particularly with the boys. They always say he's more of amartinet at home than ever he was in the Army. Yes, I know you tellyour mother everything, but mothers are much more lenient than fathers.I'd tell mine, if she weren't ill. It's no use arguing, Janie! I'msorry if it isn't all on the square, but Dermot was in a very tightplace, and I felt bound to help him, even if I had to do somethingrather wrong."
The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life Page 14
