CHAPTER IV
Exeats
Marjorie and Dona possessed one immense advantage in their choice of aschool. Their aunt, Mrs. Trafford, lived within a mile of Brackenfield,and had arranged with Mrs. Morrison that the two girls should spendevery alternate Wednesday afternoon at her house. Wednesday was the mostgeneral day for exeats; it was the leisurely half-holiday of the week,when the girls might carry out their own little plans, Saturdayafternoons being reserved for hockey practice and matches, at which allwere expected to attend. The rules were strict at Brackenfield, andenacted that the girls must be escorted from school to their destinationand sent back under proper chaperonage, but during the hours spent attheir aunt's they were considered to be under her charge and might gowhere she allowed.
To the sisters these fortnightly outings marked the term with whitestones. They looked forward to them immensely. Both chafed a little atthe strict discipline and confinement of Brackenfield. It was Dona'sfirst experience of school, and Marjorie had been accustomed to a mucheasier regime at Hilton House. It was nice, also, to have a few hoursin which they could be together and talk over their own affairs. Therewere home letters to be discussed, news of Bevis on board H.M.S._Relentless_, of Leonard in the trenches, and Larry in thetraining-camp, hurried scrawls from Father, looking after commissariatbusiness "somewhere in France", accounts of Nora's new housekeeping,picture post cards from Peter and Cyril, brief, laborious, round-handepistles from Joan, and delightful chatty notes from Mother, who sent akind of family chronicle round to the absent members of her flock.
One Wednesday afternoon about the middle of October found Marjorie andDona walking along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. They werepoliced by Miss Norton, who was taking a detachment of exeat-holdersinto the town, so that at present the company walked in a crocodile,which, however, would soon split up and distribute its various members.It was a lovely, fresh autumn day, and the girls stepped along briskly.They wore their school hats, and badges with the brown, white, and blueribbons, and the regulation "exeat" uniform, brown Harris tweed skirtsand knitted heather-mixture sports coats.
"Nobody could mistake us for any other school," said Marjorie. "I feelI'm as much labelled 'Brackenfield' as a Dartmoor prisoner is known byhis black arrows! It makes one rather conspicuous."
"Trust the Empress for that!" laughed Mollie Simpson, who was one of theparty. "You see, there are other schools at Whitecliffe, and othergirls go into the town too. Sometimes they're rather giggly and silly,and we certainly don't want to get the credit for their escapades.Everybody knows a 'Brackenfielder' at a glance, so there's no risk offalse reports. The Empress prides herself on our clear record. We've thereputation of behaving beautifully!"
"We haven't much chance of doing anything else," said Marjorie, lookingrather ruefully in the direction of Miss Norton, who brought up therear.
At the cross-roads the Andersons found their cousin, Elaine, waiting forthem, and were handed over into her charge by their teacher, with strictinjunctions that they were to be escorted back to their respectivehostels by 6.30.
Marjorie waved good-bye to Mollie, and the school crocodile passed alongthe road in the direction of Whitecliffe. When the last hat had bobbedround the corner, and the shadow of Miss Norton's presence was reallyremoved for the space of four whole hours, the two girls each seizedElaine by one of her hands and twirled her round in a wild jig oftriumph. Elaine was nearly twenty, old enough to just pass muster as anescort in the eyes of Miss Norton, but young enough to be still almost aschoolgirl at heart, and to thoroughly enjoy the afternoons of hercousins' visits. She worked as a V.A.D. at the Red Cross Hospital, butshe was generally off duty by two o'clock and able to devote herself totheir amusement. She had come now straight from the hospital and was inuniform.
"You promised to take us to see the Tommies," said Marjorie, as Elaineturned down the side road and led the way towards home.
"The Commandant didn't want me to bring visitors to-day. There's alittle whitewashing and papering going on, and the place is in rather amess. You shall come another time, when we're all decorated and inapple-pie order. Besides, we haven't many soldiers this week. We sentaway a batch of convalescents last Thursday, and we're expecting a freshcontingent in any day. That's why we're taking the opportunity to have aspecial cleaning."
"I wish I were old enough to be a V.A.D.!" sighed Marjorie. "I'd love itbetter than anything else I can think of. It's my dream at present."
"I enjoy it thoroughly," said Elaine; "though, of course, there's plentyto do, and sometimes the Commandant gets ratty over just nothing at all.Have you St. John's Ambulance classes at school?"
"They're going to start next month, and I mean to join. I've put my namedown."
"And Dona too?"
"They're not for Juniors. We have a First Aid Instruction class of ourown," explained Dona; "but I hate it, because they always make me be thepatient, as I'm a new girl, and I don't like being bandaged, and walkedabout after poisons, and restored from drowning, and all the rest ofit. It's rather a painful process to have your tongue pulled out andyour arms jerked up and down!"
"Poor old girl! Perhaps another victim will arrive at half-term and takeyour place, then you'll have the satisfaction of performing all thoseoperations upon her. I've been through the same mill myself once upon atime."
The Traffords' house, "The Tamarisks", stood on Cliff Walks, a pleasantresidential quarter somewhat away from the visitors' portion of thetown, with its promenade and lodging-houses. There was a beautiful viewover the sea, where to-day little white caps were breaking, and smallvessels bobbing about in a manner calculated to test the good seamanshipof any tourists who had ventured forth in them. Aunt Ellinor was in thetown at a Food Control Committee meeting, so Elaine for the present wassole hostess.
"What shall we do?" she asked. "You may choose anything you like. Thecinema and tea at a cafe afterwards? Or a last game of tennis (the lawnwill just stand it)? Or shall we go for a scramble on the cliffs? Votes,please."
Without any hesitation Dona and Marjorie plumped for the cliffs. Theyloved walking, and, as their own home was inland, the seaside heldattractions. Elaine hastily changed into tweed skirt and sports coat,found a favourite stick, and declared herself ready, and the three, invery cheerful spirits, set out along the hillside.
It was one of those beautiful sunny October days when autumn seems tohave borrowed from summer, and the air is as warm and balmy as June.Great flocks of sea-gulls wheeled screaming round the cliffs, theirwings flashing in the sunshine; red admiral and tortoise-shellbutterflies still fluttered over late specimens of flowers, and thebracken was brown and golden underfoot. The girls were wild with thedelight of a few hours' emancipation from school rules, and flew aboutgathering belated harebells, and running to the top of any littleeminence to get the view. After about a mile on the hills, they dippeddown a steep sandy path that led to the shore. They found themselves ina delightful cove, with rugged rocks on either side and a belt of hardfirm sand. The tide was fairly well out, so they followed the retreatingwaves to the water's edge. A recent stormy day had flung up great massesof seaweed and hundreds of star-fish. Dona, whose tastes had just begunto awaken in the direction of natural history, poked about with greatenjoyment collecting specimens. There were shells to be had on the sand,and mermaids' purses, and bunches of whelks' eggs, and lovely littlestones that looked capable of being polished on the lapidary wheel whichMiss Jones had set up in the carpentering-room. For lack of a basketDona filled her own handkerchief and commandeered Marjorie's for thesame purpose. For the first time since she had left home she lookedperfectly happy. Dona's tastes were always quiet. She did not likehockey practices or any very energetic games. She did not care aboutmixing with the common herd of her schoolfellows, and much preferredthe society of one, or at most two friends. To live in the depths of thecountry was her ideal.
Marjorie, on the contrary, liked the bustle of life. While Donainvestigated the clumps of seaweed, she plied
Elaine with questionsabout the hospital. Marjorie was intensely patriotic. She followed everyevent of the war keenly, and was thrilled by the experiences of hersoldier father and brothers. She was burning to do something to help--tonurse the wounded, drive a transport wagon, act as secretary to astaff-officer, or even be telephone operator over in France--anythingthat would be of service to her country and allow her to feel that shehad played her part, however small, in the conduct of the Great War. Asshe watched the sea, she thought not so much of its natural historytreasures as of submarines and floating mines, and her heart went out toBevis, somewhere on deep waters keeping watchful guard against theenemy.
It was so delightful in the cove that the girls were loath to go. Theyclimbed with reluctance up the steep sandy little path to the cliff. Asthey neared the top they could hear voices in altercation--ahigh-pitched, protesting, childish wail, and a blunt, uncompromising,scolding retort. On the road above stood an invalid carriage, piled upwith innumerable parcels, and containing also a small boy. He was acharmingly pretty little fellow, with a very pale, delicately oval face,beautiful pathetic brown eyes, and rich golden hair that fell in curlsover his shoulders like a girl's. He was peering out from amidst thehost of packages and trying to look back along the road, and evidentlyarguing some point with the utmost persistence. The untidy servant girlwho wheeled the carriage had stopped, and gave a heated reply.
"It's no use, I tell you! Goodness knows where you may have dropped it,and if you think I'm going to traipse back you're much mistaken. We'relate as it is, and a pretty to-do there'll be when I get in. It's yourown fault for not taking better care of it."
"Have you lost anything?" enquired Elaine, as the girls entered the roadin the midst of the quarrel.
"It's his book," answered the servant. "He's dropped it out of the pramsomewhere on the way from Whitecliffe; but I can't go back for it, it'stoo far, and we've got to be getting home."
"What kind of a book was it?" asked Marjorie.
"Fairy tales. Have you found it?" said the child eagerly. "All aboutRumpelstiltzkin and 'The Goose Girl' and 'The Seven Princesses'."
"We haven't found it, but we'll look for it on our way back. Have youany idea where you dropped it?"
The little boy shook his head.
"I was reading it in the town while Lizzie went inside the shops. Then Iforgot about it till just now. Oh, I _must_ know what happened when thePrince went to see the old witch!"
His brown eyes were full of tears and the corners of the pretty mouthtwitched.
"He's such a child for reading! At it all day long!" explained theservant. "He thinks as much of an old book as some of us would of goldensovereigns. Well, we must be getting on, Eric. I can't stop."
"Look here!" said Dona. "We'll hunt for the book on our way back toWhitecliffe. If we find it we'll meet you here to-day fortnight at thesame time and give it to you."
"And suppose you don't find it?" quavered the little boy anxiously.
"I think the fairies will bring it to us somehow. You come here to-dayfortnight and see. Cheer oh! Don't cry!"
"He wants his tea," said the servant. "Hold on to those parcels, Eric,or we shall be dropping something else."
The little boy put his arms round several lightly-balanced packages, andtried to wave a good-bye to the girls as his attendant wheeled him away.
"Poor wee chap! I wonder what's the matter with him?" said Elaine, whenthe long perambulator had turned the corner. "And I wonder where he canpossibly be going? There are no houses that way--only a wretched littlevillage with a few cottages."
"I can't place him at all," replied Marjorie. "He's not a poor person'schild, and he's not exactly a gentleman's. The carriage was very shabby,with such an old rug; and the girl wasn't tidy enough for a nurse, shelooked like a general slavey. Dona, I don't believe you'll find thatbook."
"I don't suppose I shall," returned Dona; "but I have _Grimm's FairyTales_ at home, and I thought I'd write to Mother and ask her to send itto Auntie's for me, then I could take it to him next exeat."
"Oh, good! What a splendid idea!"
Though the girls kept a careful look-out along the road they came acrossno fairy-tale volume. Either someone else had picked it up, or it hadperhaps been dropped in the street at Whitecliffe. Dona wrote homeaccordingly, and received the reply that her mother would post the bookto "The Tamarisks" in the course of a few days. The sisters watched theweather anxiously when their fortnightly exeat came round. They werefascinated with little Eric, and wanted to see him again. They could notforget his pale, wistful face among the parcels in the longperambulator. Luckily their holiday afternoon was fine, so they wereallowed to go to their aunt's under the escort of two prefects. Theyfound Elaine ready to start, and much interested in the errand.
"The book came a week ago," she informed Dona. "I expect your young manwill be waiting at the tryst."
"He's not due till half-past four--if he keeps the appointment exactly,"laughed Dona; "but I've brought a basket to-day, so let's go now to thecove and get specimens while we're waiting."
If the girls were early at the meeting-place the little boy was earlierstill. The long perambulator was standing by the roadside when theyreached the path to the cove. Lizzie, the servant girl, greeted themwith enthusiasm.
"Why, here you are!" she cried. "I never expected you'd come, and I toldEric so. I said it wasn't in reason you'd remember, and he'd only bedisappointed. But he's thought of nothing else all this fortnight. He'sbeen ill again, and he shouldn't really be out to-day, because the pramjolts him; but I've got to go to Whitecliffe, and he worried so to comethat his ma said: 'Best put on his things and take him; he'll cryhimself sick if he's left'."
The little pale face was whiter even than before, there were large darkrings round the brown eyes, and the golden hair curled limply to-day.Eric did not speak, but he looked with a world of wistfulness at theparcel in Dona's hand.
"I couldn't find your book, but I've brought you mine instead, and Iexpect it's just the same," explained Dona, untying the string.
A flush of rose pink spread over Eric's cheeks, the frail little handstrembled as he fingered his treasure.
"It's nicer than mine! It's got coloured pictures!" he gasped.
"If it jolts him to be wheeled about to-day," said Elaine to the servantgirl, "would you like to leave him here with us while you go intoWhitecliffe? We'd take the greatest care of him."
"Why, I'd be only too glad. I can tell you it's no joke wheeling thatpram up the hills. Will you stay here, Eric, with the young ladies tillI come back?"
Eric nodded gravely. He was busy examining the illustrations in his newbook. The girls wheeled him to a sheltered place out of the wind, andset to work to entertain him. He was perfectly willing to make friends.
"I've got names for you all," he said shyly. "I made them up while I wasin bed. You," pointing to Elaine, "are Princess Goldilocks; and you,"with a finger at Marjorie and Dona, "are two fairies, Bluebell andSilverstar. No, I don't want to know your real names; I like make-upones better. We always play fairies when Titania comes to see me."
"Who's Titania?"
"She's my auntie. She's the very loveliest person in all the world.There's no one like her. We have such fun, and I forget my leg hurts.Shall we play fairies now?"
"If you'll show us how," said the girls.
It was a very long time before Lizzie, well laden with parcels, returnedfrom Whitecliffe, and the self-constituted nurses had plenty of time tomake Eric's acquaintance. They found him a charming little fellow, fullof quaint fancies and a delicate humour. His chatter amused themimmensely, yet there was an element of pathos through it all; he lookedso frail and delicate, like a fairy changeling, or some being of anotherworld. They wondered if he would ever be able to run about like otherchildren.
"Good-bye!" he said, when Lizzie, full of apologies and thanks, resumedher charge. "Come again some time and play with me! I'm going home nowin my Cinderella coach to my Enchanted Palace. Take care
of giants onyour way back. And don't talk to witches. I won't forget you."
"He's hugging his book," said Marjorie, as the girls stood waving afarewell. "Isn't he just too precious for words?"
"Sweetest thing I've ever seen!" agreed Dona.
"Poor little chap! I wonder if he'll ever grow up," said Elainethoughtfully. "I wish we'd asked where he lives, and we might have senthim some picture post cards."
"I'm afraid 'The Enchanted Palace' wouldn't find him," laughed Marjorie."We must try to come here another Wednesday."
But the next fortnightly half-holiday was wet, and after that the daysbegan to grow dark early, and Aunt Ellinor suggested other amusementsthan walks on the cliffs, so for that term at any rate the girls did notsee Eric again. He seemed to have made his appearance suddenly, like apixy child, and to have vanished back into Fairyland. There was a linkbetween them, however, and some time Fate would pull the chain and bringtheir lives into touch once more.
A Patriotic Schoolgirl Page 4