*CHAPTER VIII*
*WHICH CONCERNS A VISIT TO INCHMOOR AND A WOMAN WITH A LIMP*
The following day was dry, with a hint of sunshine in the air, whichtempted the four girls to plan a four-mile walk over the hills toInchmoor, the nearest market town. They each wanted to do some shopping,and Isobel wanted to make inquiries about a 'Dancing Academy' advertisedin the local paper.
So, with great enthusiasm, the girls set about their morning tasksbefore they started out--each making her own bed and tidying her room.
Old Martha shook her head and smiled as she crossed the landing, dusterin hand.
"Too good to last," she thought to herself.
True, the enthusiasm did not last longer than a week, but the girlsstuck to their plan nevertheless, and whether they felt enthusiastic ornot they made their beds and tidied their rooms each day without fail;it became, after a time, a matter of habit.
As Martha crossed the landing and was passing Pamela's bedroom door thedoor sprang open and Pamela ran out, almost colliding with Martha, whomshe grasped by the arm.
"Oh, Martha, I'm so sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?" she cried. "Butyou're the very person I wanted. Do come and look out of my window fora second, and tell me who this is!"
She hurried old Martha across to the window, and pointed out to her awoman dressed in grey, who was walking briskly away along the green.
"I can't see very well without my glasses," said Martha, peeringintently through the window, while Pamela added a few words ofdescription of the woman in grey to help Martha to recognize her."Oh--_that_ young person," Martha exclaimed suddenly; "well, she isn'texactly what you might call young--but still-- That's Elizabeth Bagg,Miss Pamela. Old Tom Bagg's sister."
"Tom Bagg?" queried Pamela, who had not heard the name yet.
"The old cabman what brought your luggage up here the other night, MissPamela."
"Oh! That is whom she reminds me of then," Pamela said. "I knew I'dseen some one like her recently, but do you know, I couldn't think forthe life of me who it was. But tell me--is she an artist? I saw hercarrying an easel--and she dresses very artistically."
"Yes, she do go in for painting a bit, Miss Pamela," said Martha. "But,poor creature, she don't get much time to herself. She keeps house forher brother--and him a widderer with six little children--so you maydepend she's got her hands full. How she manages to keep the childrenand everything so nice, and yet get her painting done and all, is more'nI can understand. She gives lessons over at a young ladies' school atInchmoor too--twice a week."
"I'd like to get to know her, and see some of her pictures," saidPamela, watching the figure in grey as it disappeared in the distance.
"She's rather difficult to get to know--keeps herself _to_ herself, ifyou know what I mean, Miss Pamela," said Martha.
"I know," Pamela replied. "But people who paint always interest me somuch----"
"I daresay she'd be glad of some one to take an interest in her work--itisn't much encouragement she gets from her brother, _I_ know--not thatshe ever says anything about it; he seems to expect her to be alwayscooking and baking and sewing and cleaning for him and the children--andhe don't set any value on her pictures at all. Yet what _is_ nicer, Ialways say, than a nice picture to hang on the walls! It makes a placelook furnished at once, don't it?"
Pamela nodded. "Where does she live?" she inquired.
"You know the blacksmith's place, Miss Pamela?--well, half-way up thatlane that runs beside the blacksmith's--a little house on the right-handside as you go up is Tom Bagg's, called 'Alice Maud Villa'--out ofcompliment to old Tom's aunt what they thought was going to leave themsome money--but she didn't."
"'Alice Maud Villa,'" mused Pamela. "I thought perhaps she lived atthat little white cottage opposite, as I saw her go in there."
"Oh, no, she don't live there," said Martha. "She was probably onlyleaving some new-laid eggs or a plaster for Mrs Gresham'srheumatics--she do have rheumatics something chronic, poor dear. That'swhat it was, most likely, Miss Pamela. Elizabeth Bagg is a verykind-hearted creature."
"I shall do my best to get to know her," said Pamela.
Half an hour later--after a slight delay caused by Caroline being unableto make up her mind whether she should take her mackintosh as well asher goloshes and umbrella, and finally deciding to take it in spite ofIsobel's unconcealed mirth--the four girls started off on their walk toInchmoor. Beryl and Caroline were introduced to the village by the othertwo girls, before they all turned up the lane that led through thefields, and over the hill, to the market town.
This was the lane that led past the picturesque old windmill thatMillicent Jackson had told Pamela about in the paper-shop; and knowingthis, Pamela had brought a notebook and pencil with her in case she felttempted to stop and make a sketch of it while the others went on toInchmoor. There was nothing she wanted to get particularly at the shopsin the little town, and a fine day in January was a thing to seize forsketching--there were so few fine days; and one could always do shoppingin the rain.
The lane that ran between the fields was very pretty even in January,and Pamela found herself wishing that her brother Michael was with her;he always appreciated the same scenery as she did, and her thoughts werewith him and those at home while she joined in, more or less at random,the animated conversation that was going on around her. She dared notlet herself think too much about her home, or such a wave ofhomesickness would have engulfed her that she would have wanted to gostraight off to the station and take a through ticket to Oldminster atonce. She felt she could not possibly endure six whole months without asight of her mother or any of them.
"But I've got to see this thing through now," she told herself. "Imustn't be silly. And six months will pass quickly if I've got plentyto do."
Pamela had thought over her duties as hostess carefully, and wasconvinced that it was necessary to have some kind of work for each ofthem to do, day by day, if they were not to become bored or irritablewith each other, and if their six months' stay in Barrowfield was to bea success. Of course, it was too early to be bored with anythingyet--everything was so fresh; but presently, when they had got used toeach other and Barrowfield, she feared things might not run soeasily--unless there was plenty of interesting work to be done. Cut offfrom their home interests, they were left with many blank spaces intheir lives which needed filling--and Pamela meant to see that thesespaces were filled; she was a great believer in keeping busy.
Enthusiasm is generally catching. And Pamela's enthusiasm had beencommunicated to the other three--which explains Isobel's desire tointerview the principal of the Dancing Academy; and Caroline'sdetermination to inquire about dress-making lessons in Inchmoor, thoughunfortunately she had not been able to find anything about the matter inthe local paper. Beryl was in quest of some musical studies which shemeant to buy out of her three pounds. But enthusiasm can keep at whiteheat with but few people; and those who are naturally enthusiastic mustkeep the others going--as Pamela was to find out.
The four girls soon began to ascend a steep incline in the lane, withtall hedges bordering each side now, and separating them from thefields. Whenever they came to a gate set in a gap between the hedges,and leading into one or other of the fields, they would stop for amoment and look over the bars of the gate at the fine view of hills andwoods that unfolded itself before them. They were certainly in themidst of charming country; even Isobel admitted this involuntarily, andshe rarely if ever expressed any appreciation of scenery.
At length, as they turned a bend in the lane, the old windmill came insight.
"What a fine picture it makes!" thought Pamela; then she exclaimedaloud, "Oh, and there's a pond beside it--Millicent Jackson nevermentioned the pond. It's just exactly what it wants to complete thepicture."
So attracted was Pamela by the windmill, which proved on nearerinspection to be even more picturesque than it had appeared from adistance,
that she arranged at once to stay behind and make a sketch ofit while the other three went on to Inchmoor.
"And if I've finished before you return I'll come on to the town andmeet you. But if you don't see me wandering round Inchmoor, look for mehere as you come back. You don't mind me staying behind, do you? But Ifeel just in the mood to try sketching this old place to-day," Pamelasaid.
The others said that of course they did not mind, and after refreshingeach other's memory with the reminder, that five o'clock was the hourthey had told Martha they would be home for 'high tea,' they left Pamelabeside the old mill on the hill-top and started to wend their way downthe lane on the other side, toward the distant spires of Inchmoor, twomiles away.
"Do you know, I've been thinking quite a lot about that locked-up roomnext to mine," said Isobel to the other two, as they went along. "Oh,yes, I know Pamela thinks it wiser not to talk too much about it forfear of adding 'fuel to the flames' of curiosity! But one can't helpthinking about it! It's so frightfully strange. Now what do youthink--in your own mind, Caroline--what do you think _is_ inside thatroom?"
"Well," replied Caroline slowly, "I shouldn't be surprised if MissCrabingway kept all her private papers and possessions that shetreasures, and does not want us to use or spoil, locked up inside theroom. I know that's what I'd have done if I'd been Miss Crabingway."
"You think it's only _things_ then?" Beryl broke in. "Not--not aperson?"
"What do you mean?" cried Isobel instantly, turning to Beryl with greatinterest.
Seeing that the other two were waiting eagerly for her reply, Beryl felta momentary thrill of importance, and let her imagination run away withher.
"I mean," she said nervously, "supposing there was a secret entranceleading into that room--so that a person could get in and out without usknowing anything about it. And supposing some one occasionally creptinto the room and--and spied on us through the keyhole--just to see whatwe were doing."
"Oh, Beryl, what an idea!" gasped Isobel in delight. "Whatever made youthink of that?"
"I don't know--it--it just came into my head," stammered Beryl.
"I don't think it's at all a likely idea," Caroline deliberated."Surely one of us would have heard some little sound coming from theroom if there had been anyone inside there! I haven't heard anythingmyself. Besides, who would want to spy on us?"
"There's only one person, of course--and that's Miss Crabingway," saidBeryl.
Caroline's eyes grew wide and round with surprise; but Isobel narrowedhers, and looked at Beryl through the fringe of her eyelashes.
"You don't mean to say," Isobel said incredulously, "that MissCrabingway would spend her time ... well, I never! What an idea!"
"But Miss Crabingway's in Scotland, isn't she?" asked Caroline in mildastonishment. She had been told that Miss Crabingway had gone toScotland and had never questioned the matter--of course having no reasonto do so.
"Well--so we're told," said Isobel; then she gave an exaggerated shiver."Ugh! I don't like the idea of an eye watching me through the keyhole!"
"We might ask Martha to hang a curtain in front of the door--say we feela draught coming through on to the landing," suggested Beryl. "Butreally, please don't take this seriously--I only made it all up--in fun,you know--it isn't a bit possible. I--p'r'aps we ought not to havetalked about it. Pamela said 'fuel for the flames.' ... And it does makeyou more curious when you discuss it, doesn't it?"
"I don't know," said Isobel. "_I_ certainly shan't be tempted to lookthrough the keyhole myself--in _case_ there's anything in your idea, andMiss Crabingway sees me, and I lose my fifty pounds. But I shall_listen_, and if I hear any sounds coming from the room----"
Isobel was evidently rather taken with Beryl's suggestion, for shereferred to it more than once before they reached Inchmoor.
When they at last arrived in the busy little market town they decidedthat it would probably be quicker for each of them to go about her ownaffairs, and then all to meet in an hour's time at a certain tea-shop inthe High Street, where they would have some hot chocolate and sandwichesto keep them going until they got home again.
"P'r'aps Pamela will have joined us by then," said Beryl hopefully.
Inchmoor was a bustling, cheerful little place, with very broad streets,plenty of shops, a town hall, and a picture palace.
Beryl quickly discovered a music shop, and here she spent an enjoyablehalf-hour turning over a pile of new and second-hand music, and pickingout several pieces that she had long wanted to buy. When she at lengthtore herself reluctantly away from the music-seller's, it occurred toher that perhaps she might buy a new and warmer blouse if she could seeone in a draper's window; but she was not used to buying clothes forherself and rather dreaded the ordeal of entering a big draperyestablishment when she was not sure what kind of material she preferred,nor how much she ought to pay for it. She passed and re-passed onedraper's shop, but catching sight of the Wellington-nosed shop-walker,and a fashionably dressed lady assistant, eyeing her through the glassdoor, her courage failed her and she passed on down the street toanother draper's. Here the exasperated tones of a girl serving at theblouse counter came to Beryl's ears, and she hesitated, lingered for afew moments looking in the window, and then decided not to bother abouta blouse to-day--there was not much time left before she would have tomeet the others at the tea-shop. She looked about for a clock, andspying one, found that there was no time left at all, and, inwardlyrelieved, she walked briskly away down the street.
In the meantime Isobel had found Madame Clarence's Dancing Academy, andwas now occupied in interviewing no less a personage than MadameClarence herself.
The Academy was in a side-street, and was a tall, flat-fronted old housewith a basement and an area; it did not look as if it belonged toInchmoor at all, being quite unlike the other houses in itsneighbourhood, which were frankly cottages, or really old-fashionedcountry residences. The Academy was an alien; it looked so obviouslythe sort of house that is seen in dozens on the outskirts of London. Itgave one the feeling that at some time or other it really must have beena town house, and that one night it must have stolen away from theLondon streets and come down here for a breath of the fresh country air.And once having reached Inchmoor it had stayed on, lengthening itsholiday indefinitely, until every one had forgotten that it was only tohave been a holiday, and had accepted the Academy as a permanentresident.
Madame Clarence, who received Isobel in a drawing-room which seemed tobe mostly blue plush, long lace curtains, and ferns, was a small,bright-eyed woman, dressed in a black and white striped dress. Madamewalked in a springy, dancing manner, and when she was not talking shewas humming softly to herself. She wore a number of rings on her shortwhite fingers--fingers which were never for a moment still, but wereeither playing an imaginary piano on Madame's knee, drumming on thetable, toying with the large yellow beads round Madame's neck, or doingappropriate actions to illustrate the words Madame said. Madame had greyhair, though her skin was soft and unwrinkled, except for a certainbagginess under the eyes.
To all appearances Madame must have been inside the house when it camedown from London, for she gave an impression of being town-bred, and,judging by her conversation, of having conferred a favour on Inchmoor byconsenting to reside in so unimportant a spot. She said she would becharmed to have Miss Prior as a pupil, and ran over, for Isobel'sbenefit, a long list of names of Society people to whom she claimed tohave given dancing lessons. Isobel was duly impressed and inquired herfees. After ascertaining what kind of dancing Isobel wished to beinstructed in, Madame said the fee would be three guineas a term; and asMiss Prior had come when the term was already well advanced, Madame saidshe would give her extra private lessons until she caught up with therest of the class. This seemed so generous of Madame that Isobel closedwith the offer at once, although the appearance of the Academy was notquite what she had expected; but still, Isobel reminded herself,Inchmoor was only a little country town, and it was a marvellous andfor
tunate thing to find anyone so exclusive as Madame in such abackwater. And Isobel wondered how the little dancing-mistress haddrifted here.
Isobel's thoughts were interrupted by Madame rising and offeringpersonally to conduct her over the dancing-hall, which she proceeded todo, humming as she led the way into a large room with polished floor,seats round the walls, and a baby-grand piano; around the piano wereclustered bamboo fern-stands and pedestals, which supported large fernsgrowing in pots.
"This floor is a perfect dweam to dance on," Madame informed Isobel."I'm sure you will enjoy it."
After exchanging one or two polite and complimentary remarks withMadame, and having arranged to come over to the Academy every Tuesdaymorning and every Friday afternoon, Isobel was about to depart whenMadame said:
"It is a long way for you to come fwom Bawwowfield alone--have you not afwiend who would care to come with you and take lessons also?"
Isobel had not thought of this before, but told Madame Clarence shewould see if she could arrange for a friend to come with her, admittingthat she would certainly prefer it to coming alone.
On her way to the tea-shop she turned the idea over in her mind, andspeculated on the likelihood of one of the other girls joining her. Shehad not much hope of Pamela (whom she would have preferred), because shedid not seem to be interested in dancing and wanted all her spare timefor her sketching and reading. Beryl was a doubtful person--no, Isobelthought it unlikely that Beryl would join. Caroline--Isobel smiled toherself at the idea of slow, clumsy Caroline dancing. "It would do hera world of good though," she thought to herself. "And, anyway, thoughI'm not frightfully keen on her company, she'd be better than no one."She would put the matter to all three, Isobel decided, and see if any ofthem seemed inclined to join her.
She found Caroline and Beryl waiting at the tea-shop for her, and thethree of them went in and ordered hot chocolate and sandwiches. Theychose a table near the window so that they were able to watch all thatwent on in the street outside.
Caroline was rather sulky over the meal because she had failed to findout anything at all about dressmaking classes in Inchmoor, and wasconsequently disappointed. Such classes did not seem to exist, and shehad spent her hour in fruitless inquiries, and in trying to get acertain kind of embroidery silk to match some that she already had. Thesilk had been unobtainable also, and Caroline's time had been wasted ondisappointing quests. This was not the time to talk about dancing;Isobel had the wisdom to know this, but nevertheless she was dying totalk about it. She forbore, however, in her own future interests.
"I suppose nobody's seen Pamela yet?" Isobel observed. "We shall findher still sketching those few old bricks, I expect--unless she's foundit too cold to sit still! And my goodness! won't she be hungry by thistime!"
"Could we take a couple of sandwiches along with us, do you think?"suggested Beryl. "In case she would like to have them."
"Not a bad idea," said Isobel.
So that is what they did. The short January day was already welladvanced, and a chilly little breeze had sprung up by the time theyemerged from the tea-shop. Isobel and Caroline fastened their furssnugly round their throats, and Beryl buttoned up her coat collar. Thenthe three girls started briskly off toward Barrowfield.
Meanwhile, Pamela, when the other three left her, had first of allexplored the mill and then settled down to her work. That the mill waspartly ruined and wholly deserted made matters perfect, according toPamela's ideas. She wandered up to the open doorway and looked inside.Bricks and dust and broken timber within--nothing else. It was quitelight inside, owing to the many holes in the walls. Pamela steppedcautiously in, picking her way through the dust and dried leaves thathad drifted in, and over the loose bricks and wooden laths, andclambering on to a small mound of accumulated dust and rubbish shelooked through one of the holes in the wall at the magnificent sweep ofcountry stretching away downhill to the little cup in the hill-sidewhere Barrowfield lay. She could see the smoke rising up from thehouses in the village; and beyond this, on the farthest side of the cup,a range of tree-clad hills closed the view. Barrowfield was not in avalley, but in a little hollow among the hills.
On the other hand, Inchmoor, which could be located from a hole in theother side of the windmill, was certainly down in a valley; the roadleading to the market town was only visible for a short distance beyondthe mill; it twisted and curved and then dived out of sight--to becomevisible again far in the distance when about to enter Inchmoor. Pamela,gazing from the hill-top, could not see anything of the three girls ontheir way to Inchmoor, as they were already hidden from her sight by abend in the road.
But when she went back to her former position and took a final look overBarrowfield way before starting work, her eye caught sight of a figurecoming rapidly up the hill, along the lane which the girls had justtraversed. Being the only living thing in sight at the moment, Pamelawatched the figure until it was hidden from her sight for a few minutesby the tall hedges that grew at the sides of the lane. She was notparticularly interested in the figure, but had noticed casually that itwas a woman, and that the woman appeared to have a slight limp. Whenshe lost sight of her Pamela came out of the old windmill, and taking upthe position she had chosen for making her sketch, she got everythingready and set to, and was soon absorbed in her work.
How long she had been sketching before she became aware that some onewas standing watching her Pamela did not know. It was probably aconsiderable time, but she was so engrossed in what she was doing thatshe had not heard footsteps passing in the lane behind her--footstepsthat ceased suddenly, while a woman dressed all in black and wearing ablack hat with a heavy veil over her face, and a thick silk mufflerwound round her neck and shoulders, stopped and stood gazing with astrange and curiously vindictive look at the unconscious Pamela.
Suddenly, without any other reason except that queer, sub-consciousfeeling that one is being watched, Pamela shivered and looked quicklyround over her shoulder--and saw the woman in the lane.
As soon as Pamela stirred the woman turned her head away and moved on,hastily limping forward up the hill.
Pamela, in accordance with the usual country custom, called out in afriendly tone, "Good-day."
The woman made no reply, but continued her limping walk, and was quicklyout of sight.
"I suppose she didn't hear. P'r'aps she's deaf," said Pamela toherself, and thought no more about it.
Could she have seen the expression on the woman's face as she stood inthe lane a few minutes earlier, watching, Pamela would not have resumedher work with a mind as free from curiosity as she did.
The Girls of Chequertrees Page 8
