Schoolgirl Jen at the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  “I feel sore all over. I’d like to go to bed. But I can kick and I can hold your hand.” And Jen demonstrated by a feeble kick of each leg in turn and by gripping Joan’s eager hands. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”

  “I’m sure nothing’s broken. You’ll be all right, Jenny-Wren. But we’ll wait for the doctor to make certain. Hold my hand and lie still.”

  “I shall go to sleep,” Jen said wearily.

  There was great thankfulness in Joan’s heart as she crouched on the floor, holding Jen’s hand. “She can’t be badly hurt. She can’t! If there was concussion, it’s passing off. Here’s the doctor. He’s been very quick,”—at the sound of the men, speaking to someone on the terrace.

  Then she looked up in startled unbelief, as words reached her, spoken in a clear, girl’s voice.

  “Not go in? Of course, I shall go in! What’s wrong with you all?”

  “Jandy!” Joan whispered. “Hours earlier than we expected!”

  She tried to draw away her hand, but Jen’s grip tightened at once. Helpless, Joan knelt on, but looked up at Janice as she came in.

  “Why are you being a tableau? Is it charades?” Janice cried gaily.

  “Don’t, Jandy! Don’t wake her. We’re waiting for the doctor,” Joan faltered.

  “Oh—Joan! Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry! What has happened?” Janice tiptoed to her. “Is she hurt? Oh, Joan, what’s the matter?”

  “I can’t get up. She’s clinging to my hand. We daren’t move her till the doctor has examined her. But I think she’s all right,” Joan said, very quietly. “She spoke to me and she was quite sensible.”

  “Sensible!” Jen’s eyes were suddenly wide open. “I should hope so! Did you think I’d been knocked silly? Hallo, Jandy Mac! What are you doing here? You weren’t coming till the evening!”

  Janice dropped limply into a chair. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Well, you needn’t, for I’m not.” But Jen’s voice was very weak and tired. “I’m all right, but the big tree came down and hit me. How did you get here so soon, Jandy Mac?”

  Janice looked at Joan. “May she talk?”

  “I’d rather she didn’t. Tell her why you’re so early. I thought you were only to reach London about six?”

  “I travelled by night and spent a few hours in town. Alec asked me to see some people for him. I walked up from the station. My bag’s there, waiting to be collected. Why don’t you have taxis?”

  “Here’s the doctor!” Joan said quickly, at the sound of a car. “Run upstairs, Jandy, there’s a dear! Your old room is ready. I’ll come and tell you all about it presently.”

  Janice turned to the staircase. “Good luck, Jenny-Wren!” she said gently. “Sorry I butted in. I’ll be waiting for you, Joan, dear. Come as soon as you can. You look all done in. I shall have to take care of you both, I think.”

  CHAPTER IX

  JEN REMEMBERS

  Janice Macdonald, a pretty dark girl with wavy brown hair cut short, was stowing away the things she had brought from the station in her small case, when Joan came quietly in.

  “It’s all right, Jandy Mac. The doctor has put Jen to bed, and he says we’re not to worry. I’ll tell you how it happened, but there’s a lot I don’t understand myself.” She dropped wearily into a chair by the window. “Jen will be all right; that’s the big thing. She’s badly bruised and she has a big lump on the back of her head, but nothing is broken. She’ll need to rest for a few days and be kept quiet—if anyone can keep Jen quiet! But there’s nothing to be worried about. Oh, Jandy Mac! I had the fright of my life when I thought she was dead!”

  “You poor thing! I’m sure you did. I could see what a shock you had had,” Janice said gently. “I suppose that tree by the gate-house hit her when it fell? I saw it as I came up the lane. But why was Jen in the way? What was she doing near the tree?”

  “She’s been interested in a village child called Lavinia, or Vinny. Vinny loved that tree, and she was there, watching the men take it down——”

  “One thing!” Janice begged. “Why were they doing it? Why did you allow it?”

  “It was diseased; it had to come down. We felt terrible about it, but there was no other way. Jen was heart-broken. I’ve kept her out on the hills all day, hoping it would be over before we came home. But the men hadn’t finished, and the tree was just coming down as we came back. Young Vinny was watching, and suddenly she rushed out right under the tree, and we all thought she’d be killed. That’s the part I don’t understand. I can’t think why she did such a mad thing.”

  “And Jen tried to stop her?”

  “Jen rushed after her and flung her almost clear. They were caught by the small branches that hadn’t been lopped off, and Jen got the worst of it. I thought her back might be broken.” And Joan shivered, looking white.

  Janice glanced at her anxiously. “You weren’t fit for such a shock. Try not to think about it, Joan, dear. Remember that it hasn’t happened. You said Jen would be all right. Stick to that! Say it over and over again: ‘Jenny-Wren’s all right!’ We can’t let you have nightmares and go off your sleep. And you must think what a little brick Jen was. Fancy running into such danger to save the child!”

  “Running! She went like a flash. I never saw her go so quickly. The men all ran, but she was far ahead of everybody.”

  “Did she realise the danger?” Janice asked curiously.

  “I think she did. She called out, ‘She’ll be right under the tree!’ and rushed to the rescue.”

  “Plucky kid! I’ve always loved Jenny-Wren. This isn’t the first time she has been brave.”

  “In those tunnels,” Joan agreed, looking out of the window, where the men were carrying the hurdle across the lawn. “I must thank the boys who thought of bringing that thing. It was just what was needed. I expect they’re Scouts. I asked them to take it away and to hurry on with the business. I want all signs of that tree cleared up as soon as possible; I’ve had more than enough of it.”

  Janice assented. “It must go now. It would always remind you of Jen and the other child.”

  “Lavinia. I must see if she’s all right. But she wasn’t hurt; I heard her asking what had happened. I forgot all about her—I was so frightened for Jen. I think I said Mrs. Watson must look after her.”

  “I’ll come with you and we’ll ask what she meant by running out like that. But couldn’t we have some tea first?” Janice looked anxiously at Joan’s strained face. “I want my tea, Joan. I had a hot tramp from the station.”

  “Yes, of course. Tea is the first thing. It will be ready; let’s go down. Oh, Jandy, I am so glad you’re here! It’s a real comfort to have you for company!”

  “I’m glad I’m here,” Janice said sturdily. “You need somebody to look after you. It’s too soon after your illness for you to have shocks like this.”

  “I wasn’t really ill, you know. But we had a very bad time with Joy; we thought we were going to lose her for a day or two. I’m thankful she and Mother are away. This business would have been bad for them both.”

  “How are they? I was terribly sorry to hear of Mrs. Shirley’s breakdown.”

  “Poor Mother just collapsed when Joy was so ill; it was too much for her. They’re better, and the holiday will do them all the good in the world. But Mother ought not to have any more shocks, I shan’t tell her about Jen till she comes home.”

  “Much better not. What about Jen’s own people?”

  “There’s no need to worry them, since she isn’t in any danger. She’ll be going home in a few days, and she can tell them the story herself.”

  “I’m sorry I spoilt your holiday,” Janice said, as they sat down to tea.

  “I didn’t really want to go and live in an hotel. I’d rather be at home. Tell me about your journey! Did you sleep? Aren’t you terribly tired?”

  “Not a scrap. I slept well, and I was quite fresh this morning.”

  Janice was still talking of her Scottish aunts and of
boating on the wild, beautiful loch and roaming on the hills, and trying to take Joan’s thoughts off the disasters of the day, when a tiny maid knocked and entered.

  “Please, Miss Joan, would you come and speak to Miss Jen?”

  “It’s Susie Spindle. I told you her story in my letters,” Joan said in a low voice. “I left her sitting with Jen. I’ll come, Susie. But why isn’t Jen asleep? You haven’t been talking to her, have you?”

  “Not more as I couldn’t help, Miss Joan. But Miss Jen, she kept thinking of things.”

  “Very hard on Susie,” Janice remarked. “We know Jen! You’d better go and see what’s on her mind, Joan. May I come too?”

  “She knows you’re here, but perhaps she thinks she dreamt about you. Come and show her you’re real!” And they bent together over Jen’s bed.

  “What’s the matter, Jen? You bad girl! You’re supposed to be asleep,” Joan scolded gently.

  Jen’s eyes went from one to the other. “Jolly good thing Jandy Mac’s here to be company for you! I’ve let you down badly, haven’t I? Oh, Joan, I remembered something! I’ve been to sleep and I’m going again, but I woke up remembering. Susie doesn’t know anything about it, so I had to have you. Joan, when Vinny ran under that tree, did you hear what she said?”

  “I know she called out something, but I didn’t hear the words. But it can wait, Jen. I want you to stop thinking about the tree.”

  “I’m going to stop. I’m tired, and I’m going to sleep. But I want you to find Vinny and ask her what she meant.”

  “Then I shall have to do it, I suppose. What did Vinny say?”

  “She saw old Boniface at the Abbey door, and she yelled, ‘Uncle Bonny!’ He couldn’t really be her uncle, Joan!”

  “I’ll tell you about Boniface presently, Jandy Mac,” Joan said. “No, Jen, he couldn’t be her uncle; he’s far too old. But she may have known him when he lived in the Abbey. Perhaps all the children called him Uncle Bonny.”

  “Go and ask her!” Jen pleaded. “I want to know. It would be fun if he was her real, proper uncle, and it would be awfully convenient. He could take care of her. Perhaps he could take her to America!”

  “Jenny-Wren, you’re altogether too bright and sparkling for an invalid!” Joan said reproachfully.

  “It sounds like a nightmare,” Janice remarked. “Have you been dreaming, Jenny-Wren? What’s all this about America and somebody called something very odd?”

  “Good old Boniface!” Jen murmured. “Go and ask Vinny, Joan. Or if they’ve sent her home, ask him. He’ll know if he’s her uncle.”

  “He’s too old to be Lavinia’s uncle,” Joan said again. “But I want to know if she’s all right, so I’ll ask what he thinks she meant, at the same time. I shan’t tell you any more about it until to-morrow, so the sooner you forget it all and go to sleep, the sooner you’ll hear what Boniface Browning says.”

  “Yes, Joan, dear,” Jen said submissively. “So long as you’re finding out, I can bear to wait. But I had to tell you Vinny said he was her uncle. I didn’t think you’d heard.”

  “I was too much upset about you to hear anything,” Joan retorted. “How do you think I felt when you charged out, right under that tree?”

  Jen glanced up at her and saw in her eyes something of what that moment had been.

  “Sorry!” she murmured. “But I thought the kid would be squashed flat. I had to try to get her out.”

  “Go to sleep!” Joan commanded, and bent and kissed her.

  “Take care of Joan, Jandy Mac!” was Jen’s last word.

  “‘Squashed flat’!” Joan shuddered when she and Janice were safely downstairs again. “Just what I thought too, but not about Vinny Miles!”

  “Don’t think about it! What’s this talk of America? And who is the very old person with the weird name?”

  “Boniface Browning. It really is his name! He was the caretaker in the Abbey till he grew too old. When he was sent away, Mother and I took over. He turned up last night, when Jen and I were having a midnight picnic in the Abbey.”

  “Joan! Is that what happens when your mother goes away?” Janice cried.

  “It wasn’t really midnight; more like nine or ten o’clock. Jen begged for it, to celebrate our one night alone together, and I couldn’t refuse her.”

  “Wish I’d been here, instead of in the train! You might have waited for me!”

  “Jen went wandering about by moonlight, while I packed the picnic stuff. Suddenly she came flying back, terrified, screaming that she had seen old Ambrose in the sacristy. She doesn’t believe in ghosts, and yet she had seen a very old man with a long white beard. She’d had a real shock. I knew him as soon as I saw him. He came out to apologise.” And Joan told how Mr. Browning had stayed behind the other tourists, because of his love for the Abbey, and of Jen’s idea that he should be invited to end his days there and so bring back the ancient custom of tending aged and infirm folk.

  She explained her invitation to Mr. Browning, and Janice pursed her lips. “To live in your private room? But you won’t be able to use it any more?”

  “No, I shall have to give it up to Boniface—as Jen calls him all the time. There’s no other place for him.”

  “I don’t approve,” Janice said hotly. “It’s your one little spot. Why should you give it up? The old chap has a home of his own.”

  “We don’t know yet that he’ll want to stay here. He may choose to go back to Birmingham,” Joan said hopefully.

  “Don’t you think it! If he’s keen on your Abbey, he’ll like it much better than a city. You’ll have him on your hands till he dies.”

  “That’s Jenny-Wren’s idea. The monks used to do it, and she wants me to revive the custom.”

  “Will you like knowing this old man is always there, quite apart from giving up your room?” Janice demanded. “You’ve felt that once the gate was closed to tourists, the Abbey belonged to you. Now old Browning will be there, wandering about all over the place. Do you like the thought of it?”

  “No,” Joan admitted. “I shall lose my Abbey. I shan’t go there as I used to do. I feel rather bad about it. But I couldn’t disappoint Jen, Jandy!”

  Janice frowned. “It isn’t sensible, Joan. I know you’re a saint and an angel and the right person to have charge of the Abbey, but this is doing too much. You’ll spoil the place for yourself and for everybody, if you have an old man about all the time.”

  “Ass!” said Joan indignantly. “I’m so little of a saint and angel that I’m hoping desperately Boniface won’t want to stay, or his son won’t agree. He’s an old dear; they may insist on keeping him in Birmingham. Or he and Ann Watson may not get on well together—that’s very important!”

  “But if none of those hoped-for things happens, you’ll give in and keep him here?”

  “I feel,” Joan explained, “that the monks have asked me to give Boniface the chance. I can’t let the Abbey down.”

  Janice shrugged her shoulders. “It’s too much to do for an idea out of the past.”

  “Perhaps it is. But I have to do it.”

  Janice softened towards her suddenly. “You are a jolly decent old thing! I won’t scold any more. I hope your Abbey won’t be spoiled for you, that’s all.”

  “It might be spoiled, if I refused,” Joan said quietly. “As I’ve had the idea, I’d never feel quite comfortable in there again if I’d turned Boniface down.”

  “No, he’d haunt you,” Janice agreed. “Let’s go and tackle him! Perhaps he’ll say he can only stay for a day or two.”

  Joan’s face lit up. “That would be an easy way out. Come and ask him if he really is anybody’s uncle, Jandy Mac!”

  CHAPTER X

  UNCLE BONNY

  “Mr. Browning would like to speak to you, Miss Joan.” Susie Spindle met the girls as they went downstairs.

  “Is he here?” Joan exclaimed. “Bring him into the library, Susie. We were going to the Abbey to look for him.”

  “He’d do very
well for Ambrose,” Janice murmured, as the old man appeared in the doorway. “I really don’t blame Jenny-Wren. If I’d seen him first by moonlight, not knowing there was anybody in the Abbey, I’d have yelled myself. He might quite well be the ghost of Ambrose!”

  “Is little Lavinia all right, Boniface?” Joan asked. “I said something about asking Mrs. Watson to look after her, didn’t I? It was such a muddle for a moment, that I hardly know what happened.”

  “Her be well enough, Miss Joan. I done what you says and called Mrs. Watson. Vinny were only frit; her hadn’t took no hurt. Us sent her home to farm.”

  Jandy’s eyes met Joan’s, full of laughter. Later, Joan remarked that she hoped Mr. Browning’s conversation had grown worse since he gave up his job at the Abbey.

  But he was very much in earnest, and he hurried on.

  “I thanks ye, Miss Joan, for that kind thought o’ yourn. I’d be mighty pleased to bide in the old place for a few days. Like home, it seems to me. I’ll never feel settled-like in a town. My son be good to me, but they’ve a pack o’ youngsters, and they haven’t much room. Always kids about all the time. I likes ’em well enough, but I’m old now, and the noise and clatter frets me. ’Tis quiet in the Abbey, and it be like home to come back. It’s real kind of ye to think o’ me.”

  “You must stay for a while and have a good rest,” Joan said quietly.

  “’Deed I will, if you’ll put up wi’ me, miss, and I thanks ye more than I can say. Is the other little lass badly hurt, Miss Joan? She were sweet to me last night, giving me cushions an’ makin’ me easy-like. The men did say as how she might have broke her back. I hope it isn’t so?”

  “She might have done, but she didn’t. It must have been only a small branch that knocked her down. She has to rest for a few days, and she has some bad bruises, but nothing’s broken, I’m thankful to say.”

  “Glory be! I were afeared for the lass. I’ll tell Mrs. Watson. She were frit about her too. When I saw that small maid run right under the tree, my heart, it just stopped, Miss Joan.”