“I’m terribly sorry! It’s nearly half-past two. Yes, isn’t it scandalous? I’m glad mother and Joy aren’t here. Make yourself at home! We can have late breakfast, to make up for it. What is that infant doing downstairs?”
“Oh, no, we can’t!” Jen cried from the doorway. “No late breakfasts for any of us! We’ve work to do to-morrow. I’ll tell you in just two minutes. Hop into bed, Joan! I’ll put this on your knee.”
“What have you brought, Jen?” Joan asked indignantly.
“Only apples and bread and butter and biscuits, and a jug of milk and three glasses. There’s nothing nicer than one of your—of Joy’s—lovely apples with bread and butter and milk. But it meant knives and plates. I like to peel my apples. There, Jandy Mac! It was to be just biscuits to keep Joan and me alive, but when you appeared it turned into a feast.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure. A really thoughtful burglar,” Janice mocked.
“Did you think I was a burglar?” Jen grinned. “It’s much more exciting than that! Here, Curate! I guessed Joan would capture you and bring you to the feast. Here are water biscuits for you.” And she crumbled some pieces on the edge of the tray and gave him milk in a saucer.
She handed a plate and knife to Janice. “We’ll all have to wash, but it isn’t far to the bathroom. Is there anything you’d rather have? There’s a very tempting pie in the larder, but I didn’t think you’d fancy it at night.”
“Jen!” Joan said sternly. “You’re trying to turn this into a midnight feast!”
“Yes, Joan, dear, a feast of rejoicing. But not midnight; we’re long past that. You don’t mind, do you? Shall I peel your apple for you?”
“She does look over-excited.” Janice studied Jen’s eager face critically. “We’d better find that ice for her head.”
“I am over-excited—terribly! And so will you be, when I tell you what it’s all about,” Jen exulted. “You won’t kick and spill that milk, will you, Joan?”
“Jen Robins, tell us what you mean!” Joan said sternly.
Jen looked round at them—at Joan in bed, Janice crouching beside her, the Curate unconscious of anything but milk.
“Well, Joan, I’ve solved our problem. I’ve found the field and the V-shaped place and the tree,” she said simply. “Wouldn’t you be excited if you’d done that, Joan, dear?”
CHAPTER XXII
JEN’S GREAT IDEA
They gazed at one another—Janice in her crimson gown, Joan in her blue one, staring at Jen, whose yellow plaits were in wild disorder.
“Where is it?” Joan asked breathlessly.
“If you really have made a discovery, we’ll forgive you for all this disturbance in the small hours,” Janice said.
“But how, Jen? How did you find out? And where is the place?” Joan pleaded.
“I can’t be certain till we’ve dug for the treasure and proved it. But I’m sure in my own mind. It’s just the place the highwayman would choose. Much more likely than a field away at King’s Bottom! And the best of it is”—and Jen hugged herself in glee—“that old Jaikes pig will spend all night digging in the wrong place for something that isn’t there and never was there!”
“Tell us where you think it is, Jen.” Joan spoke quietly, but with the authority of a senior and a Queen.
Jen responded instantly. “In the gate-house meadow, Joan, dear.”
“What?” There was a shout from Joan and Janice.
“That’s how I felt when I woke up knowing we’d been all wrong to go to King’s Bottom Farm.” Jen hurriedly steadied the tray. “It’s all right. You only spilt a drop or two. I was prepared; I knew you’d jump.”
“Our own meadow!” Joan exclaimed, looking dazed. “The fish-stream and the road through the gate-house—they do meet at the little bridge. It might be, Jen.”
“I’m sure it is. They make a V, just the shape that’s on the map.”
“And the shaded thing, like a building, on the line of the road, is the gate-house itself,” Janice cried.
“Yes, Jandy Mac. The road goes right through it. And the cross on the map?” Jen paused expectantly.
“Our tree! Ambrose’s tree!” Joan and Janice cried together.
“And we’re going to dig round it for the treasure to-morrow, while Mr. Jaikes digs round his tree in the dark to-night! He’s doing it at this moment, and not finding anything!” Jen exulted again. “I am so glad about that!”
The elder girls looked at one another. “I shouldn’t wonder if she’s right, Jandy,” said Joan.
“I know I’m right. I woke up knowing. I had a sure and certain feeling I was right. Something inside told me,” Jen insisted.
“We were rather dense not to think of it before. It’s so very obvious, once it has been pointed out to us,” Janice said ruefully.
“Oh, I don’t know! It never occurred to Joy.”
“Joy never thought that the mysterious map was a place right on her own doorstep,” Jen grinned. “You’ll let us dig up the meadow, won’t you, Joan? You won’t be a pig like Mr. Jaikes?”
“If it was the garth, I might hesitate,” Joan retorted. “But I’ve no holy feeling about the meadow. We’ll certainly dig—or find somebody to dig for us. But we may not find anything. In that case, we’ll have to look for a third V-shaped place.”
“There isn’t another. We won’t need to look any more,” Jen said confidently. “Oh, don’t you wonder what the treasure is?”
Joan slowly peeled her apple, looking thoughtful. “The Abbey was a heap of ruins, all cluttered up with farm ploughs and carts, with hay stored in the day-room and apples in the chapter-house. Little Jane wandered in and made her play-place in a corner and kept it a secret. Then she had to tell her mother, who was getting anxious about the father’s doings; she may not have known he was robbing ladies in their coaches up on the hills, but she probably suspected it. She guessed he might need a hiding-place, so she encouraged Jane and gave her more things for the secret house, and Jane played there and made a fire and fetched water from the stream and did a little cooking. Old Miles discovered the tunnels under the Abbey and used them as a store for his booty; then one day he found the way through the old chest, and it closed after him, and he thought he was buried alive and would never get out again.”
Jen shivered. “I thought that about you and Joy and Jandy. I don’t really like this story, Joan.”
Joan cut her apple into slices and went on: “He dug himself out, but he dropped the wallet that held the rings and brooches and the pearls, and he’d had such a fright that he never went back to find them; he couldn’t bear the thought of the tunnels. He came out through the gate-house, as we did. Perhaps it was then he buried something under the tree and made the map; he may have found something down there, or held on to something when he dropped the wallet. Then the police or soldiers, or whoever they were, came after him, and Mrs. Miles said he’d have to get out of the country, and told him——”
“And she cried,” Jen interrupted. “She cried and cried, and I don’t blame her. She didn’t want him to be hanged. Sorry, Joan, dear! I didn’t mean to spoil the story.”
“She told him about Jane’s secret place, and he went there and hid till it was dark, and then he escaped. I don’t suppose they ever saw him again. He gave Jane the map and told her to dig there and she’d find something that would bring her luck. It may have been money or jewels, or it may have been some country charm in which he had faith. That’s the story, as we know it.”
“So far,” Janice added. “The next thing is to dig. Perhaps we’ll find an old horse-shoe.”
“For luck,” Jen remarked. “If we do, we’ll hang it up in the gate-house, to bring luck to our visitors.”
Joan shook her head at her. “The Latin words over the door are more likely to bring them luck than a horse-shoe.”
Jen quoted the motto she loved: “‘Gate open be To honest men all free.’ Yes, it’s better than a charm. I wonder if it is just a horse-shoe!”
/>
“Now, don’t you go guessing!” Janice said. “You guessed old hymn-books, you know.”
“And I got little Jane’s diary—much better than I’d guessed!” Jen said in triumph. “I shall hope for a lucky horse-shoe, and perhaps I’ll get something simply marvellous.”
Joan laughed. “Jenny-Wren, I’ve forgiven you for your excitement. I don’t blame you for being thrilled; you’ve thrilled us too.”
“She certainly couldn’t wait till the morning,” Janice agreed, helping herself to a biscuit. “I’m glad she provided the feast. We’d have had to go and look for food, after all this chatter.”
Jen bowed graciously. “I thought you’d be pleased. At least, I hoped you would. Oh, Joan, couldn’t we dress at once and go out and dig?”
“And give Ann and Boniface the shock of their lives? Not likely! You’re going back to bed, my dear—unless you’d care to share my bed for the rest of the night?”
“Good idea,” Janice remarked. “You can keep tight hold of her, to make sure she doesn’t go off and dig on her own. She’s quite capable of it.”
“I wouldn’t leave Joan out. I don’t care quite so much about you, Jandy Mac,” Jen retorted. “Oh, Joan, let me sleep with you! I’m sure you’d be a soothing influence, and I feel I need it to-night.”
“I’ll say you do! You’d better stay. But I warn you I’m not going to talk.”
“No, Joan. We’ll keep quiet,” Jen promised.
“I shall fetch Bob, who dug up Lady Jehane’s jewels for us,” Joan decided. “He’s working for our gardener. He’s a good lad; he’ll keep quiet if we find anything we don’t want talked about. Now, Jen and Jandy, pack up the remains of the feast. We shall have to explain to cook in the morning.”
“My feast of rejoicing.” Jen began to fill the tray.
“Couldn’t we wash up and leave no traces of our—our nocturnal adventures?” Janice asked.
“That’s a good way to put it, since we can’t say midnight feast! I’m not going to wash up to-night!”
“This morning!” Jen put in.
“You’re altogether too bright for three a.m., Jenny-Wren; this morning it is. I’ll wash up after breakfast, if Susie Spindle hasn’t done it for us by then. Now don’t drop that tray! I shall carry the Curate, so that you won’t trip over him again.”
“Oh, couldn’t he stay? He’s curled round into such a tight little bunch and he’s so hot and happy!” Jen pleaded.
“He can’t stay, if you do. Three in a bed is one too many. Besides, he’ll want to do some more roaming about in half an hour. He’d disturb us just as we were going to sleep. I’ve had him on my bed before; I know his little ways.” And Joan gathered the warm, singing Curate into her arms. “He wouldn’t stay; he’s far too hot. Lead the way and switch on the lights, Jen. Jandy will carry the tray.”
“We’re a triumphal procession. Couldn’t we sing something? A hymn, perhaps?” Jen suggested.
Janice grinned. “What was that one you spoke of, out of your old book? Something about ‘lower lights’? Most appropriate!”
Jen giggled. “‘Let the Lower Lights be Burning’! I’ll switch on for you, Jandy Mac! I think we won’t sing; it might terrify Susie. Joan and the Curate could dance the Helston Furry, in front of you and the tray, and I’ll do a jig behind you.”
“Stop talking nonsense!” Joan commanded. “Go on, you two. I want to get to bed, and the Curate wants to go out for a ramble.”
“I am looking forward to to-morrow morning!” Jen sighed happily.
“You mean this morning. Caught you out that time, Jenny-Wren!” Janice exclaimed.
Jen grinned. “Right you are, Jandy Mac! Don’t you wonder if it’s an old rusty horse-shoe?”
“Or a tiara, or a diamond necklace. Or a hymn-book,” Janice teased.
“You won’t mind if I don’t go to sleep, will you, Joan, dear?” Jen pleaded.
“I’ll mind very much. I’m terribly sleepy. You couldn’t be so unkind as to keep me awake.”
“I won’t! Oh, I won’t! I’ll lie like a mouse when the Mother Superior’s watching its hole!”
“I think you’ll sleep,” Joan said grimly. “You’re tired out.”
CHAPTER XXIII
DIGGING FOR TREASURE
“I’ve been to sleep!” Jen sat up, blinking in the sunshine, and stared at Joan, who was brushing her hair.
“You’ve slept for hours. Look at the time!”
“Nine o’clock! What will cookie think of us?”
“We’ll have to own up,” Joan remarked.
“I’d better get dressed. We’ve a lot to do to-day. I say, Joan, what will you do with all that stuff when you put it up at Christmas? I want to know how you’re going to look.”
Joan glanced at her and hesitated. Then she laughed and quickly twisted her hair into two thick plaits. She swung them round her head and made them safe with hairpins. Then she looked at Jen. “How’s that?”
“A crown! Oh, lovely! You look quite grown-up and just terribly pretty. Don’t take it down for a moment! Jandy! Hi, Jandy Mac! Come here!” And she ran to the door.
“Oh, Jen! I never said you might call Jandy! It was only for you,” Joan protested.
“Jandy’ll want to see you. She won’t be here at Christmas. She ought to know what you’re going to look like.”
“What’s all this?” Janice came to the door in her crimson gown. “Are you playing charades? Dressing-up? Oh, Joan, you do look pretty! You’ll wear it like that when you put it up for good, won’t you?”
“That’s the idea,” Joan explained. “This infant wanted to know how I’d look grown-up. Then she said, quite truly, that you wouldn’t be here at Christmas. I’ve been trying different ways; that’s why I had pins ready. What about it, Jandy? Will it do?”
“Beautifully. I should stick to that way; it suits you. I shan’t have any bother with mine. I wonder what Jenny-Wren will do with all that mane?”
“Oh, mine’s coming off!” Jen said airily. “I shan’t have time for hair when I’ve ten children to look after. I’m going to have it short, like yours. I only keep it long just now to please Father. When it has to go up he won’t mind; I dare say he’ll be pleased if I cut it off and look like a little girl.”
“You won’t look like a very little girl if you go on growing at your present rate,” Janice mocked. “You’ll be a lamp-post or a maypole.”
“I like maypole best,” Jen said haughtily.
“It’s very pretty, Joan, and you look very nice; most impressive! Couldn’t you keep it up?”
“Not until I really must.” Joan pulled out the pins. “I shall be eighteen soon, and then I suppose it will be necessary. I’m glad to have your approval. Now I won’t need to send you a photo!”
“I’d like the photo, all the same. There’s the post! I’ll fetch the letters. Aren’t we naughty girls, to be so late?” And Janice ran downstairs.
They heard her explanation to the maid. “Thanks, I’ll take them. We’re nearly ready.”
“You’d better make that remark true, by starting to get dressed,” Joan said severely to Jen. “I’m nearly ready, and Jandy’s nearly ready, but you certainly aren’t.”
“Is there one for me, Jandy Mac?” Jen cried wistfully. “I want to know about father.”
“None for you and none for me. Two for Joan.”
“You can’t expect your mother to write every day, Jenny-Wren,” Joan said gently. “And Jandy can’t expect to hear from Alec every day, either. Mine are from mother and Joy; Joy said she’d write. Hers will be full of Farmer Jaikes’s field and the spot where we’re to dig.”
Jen chuckled in delight, forgetting her disappointment, as Joan had intended that she should. “And we’re going to dig in the gate-house meadow! Oh, be quick, everybody, and let’s have breakfast!”
“I like that!” Janice protested. “And you still in your pyjamas and your hair the most ghastly mess! You haven’t even been to the bathroom yet. Now
Joan and I look almost beautiful enough to go down. There’ll be no bacon left by the time you’re ready; you’ll have to be content with porridge. Shoo! Go and have your bath!”
Jen fled. “I’ll ask Susie to do me two eggs, if you greedies eat all the bacon!”
“Joy’s full of ideas about our map,” Joan said, as they sat down to breakfast. “But, thanks to our early-morning conference, it’s all entirely and absolutely out of date.”
“Thanks to my bright idea,” Jen corrected her. “You do think I’m right, don’t you, Joan?”
“I think we shall know quite soon. I’ve sent a message asking Bob to come along to the gate-house at ten o’clock. Let me point out that it would have been nine-thirty, if we hadn’t slept till nine. That’s what comes of meals at three in the morning.”
“I had to tell you!” Jen protested.
“She’d have exploded if she hadn’t told somebody, with an idea like that inside her,” Janice remarked.
“Yes, she had to tell us. But don’t be too much upset if we don’t find anything, will you, Jen? Whatever it was has been buried for a hundred years or more. It may have rotted or fallen to pieces.”
“But the highwayman would wrap it up!” Jen objected.
“That might not save it. And he might not be very careful; he never supposed it would lie there for a century. He gave little Jane the map and expected her to find it.”
“It’s a pity he didn’t explain his map to her!”
Joan looked at her. “Perhaps he did. Perhaps she found the thing, whatever it was, and took it away.”
“Oh, Joan!” Jen wailed. “How can you be so blighting!”
“It’s only common sense. I don’t want you to be too much upset if there’s nothing there.”
“I shall be fearfully upset! I know we’re going to find it!”
“But didn’t Jane say she couldn’t understand the map?” Janice interposed. “That doesn’t sound as if——”
“She did! She did say it! Oh, thank you, Jandy Mac! She said she didn’t know what it meant, so she can’t have found the place! There, Joan! Now do stop giving me gentle hints and warnings!”
Schoolgirl Jen at the Abbey Page 13