Jen assented, relieved that the subject was to be dropped, for it was becoming too deep for her. They climbed in silence to the top of the wood, crossed the lane, and followed the path straight up the hill to the quarry, where the monks’ cave was cut out of the chalk.
Neither had much to say, as they sat on the rim of the hollow and ate their lunch, looking down on the Hall and the Abbey and out over the wide stretch of country to the blue distance. Jen glanced at her watch from time to time, and at last she sprang up.
“We mustn’t go too soon, or Susie won’t be there. Come along the hill and look down on the Manor! Queer to think we’ve been inside. There’s the lake; now we can see the house. It’s a jolly place; I hope somebody will live in it some day. Now, Jack, we could go down, couldn’t we? I can’t bear it much longer.”
“We’ll go slowly,” and Jack went to pack up the remains of the lunch.
They were going soberly down the wood-steps, which were slippery and uneven, when Jack exclaimed,
“Susie’s waiting for us!”
Jen ignored the need for caution, and went plunging ahead. “Susie! Tell us! Oh, Susie, it’s good news!”
Susie was waving her arms and shouting. “Miss Jen! Miss Jack! Miss Joy’s asleep and it’s what they wanted. Nurse says there’s every hope now that she’ll get well!”
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SHADOW LIFTS
“Oh, glory!” Jack cried.
Jen, with a wild whoop, was dancing for joy. “Oh, good! Oh, marvellous! Oh——”
“Stop that, lunatic!” Jack caught her arm. “You’ll break your ankle. This isn’t the library at the Manor! It’s a jolly good thing Susie told us out here. If you go on like that in the house, or even on the lawn, Nurse will throttle you.”
“I know.” Jen turned a final somersault. “That’s why I asked Susie to come here. I knew I couldn’t answer for myself if there was good news. If it had been bad I should have rushed off to the Abbey, as you said, but I was afraid if it was good I might have an attack of—what did Sir Keith Marchwood call it?”
“Delirious excitement. Well, you’ve had it. Susie’s sure you’re mad.”
“Are you, Susie?” Jen asked with interest.
“I’m glad about Miss Joy,” Susie said cautiously. “Nurse says as how we’ll all have to be quieter than ever.”
She looked at Jen doubtfully.
“I know,” Jen assured her. “I shall be definitely as silent as a mouse in the house. But they couldn’t hear us out here.” And she shook off Jack’s hand and began dancing round in a wide circle, great leaps on to her left foot, her arms flung up.
“Try the other leg,” Jack mocked. “You’ll wear out that foot, bumping on it like that.”
Jen ended with a few steps in front of Susie and flung-up arms again. “Wouldn’t do. That was a bit of ‘Princess Royal’ jig. You have to land on your left, but I didn’t bump. I came down frightfully gently.”
“Do it again and I’ll watch,” Jack suggested.
Jen repeated the dance. “That was capers. You ought to caper about when you’re too joyful for words.”
“It was capers all right,” Jack agreed. “And you did come down lightly. But then you’re always light when you dance. I didn’t know it was anything real; I thought you were just celebrating again. All the same, I should have thought you could change the leg now and then. Doesn’t it make you stiff?”
“Till you’re used to it,” Jen grinned. “Susie, do you think I’m batty?”
“I see Miss Joy and Miss Joan do that one day on the lawn, and a lot more. Dancing together, they was.”
“We shall really have to adopt Susie and teach her to speak English,” Jen said seriously. “I say, Susie, I’ll tell you a secret, because you were the one to tell us about Joy! Where do you think Jack and I went on Wednesday?”
Susie stared at her blankly. “In the Abbey?”
“Good guess! But it wasn’t the Abbey this time. We went to the Manor, and we talked to Sir Keith Marchwood about Timothy; he’d come from town for the day.”
“Oh, Miss Jen!” Susie looked at her in an agony of suspense. “Is it the police, Miss Jen?”
“Silly kid, no! I told you there was good news; good for everybody, now that Joy is better. Sir Keith is going to be nice to Timothy. I won’t tell you the rest; Timothy will want to tell you himself. Sir Keith’s given me a gorgeous present; and the most marvellous thing of all, Susie—there are some pictures of what the big church used to be like, before it was pulled down, and he’s going to give them to Joan, to hang in the Abbey! Isn’t that terribly thrilling?”
Susie looked bewildered. “Yes, Miss Jen,” she said politely.
Jen laughed. “Go and talk to Timothy! He’ll tell you what Sir Keith said. You don’t care two hoots about pictures for the Abbey, do you? And you think we’re quite mad. But Joan will care, you know. It’s the very biggest present she could have. She’ll be crazy with joy.”
“Scoot along to Timothy, Sue,” said Jack. “We’re going to creep into the house.”
Susie vanished, still looking puzzled as to why pictures of a lost church should be so important.
Jack turned reproachfully on Jen. “That poor kid thinks you’re a lunatic. Why did you tell her all that stuff?”
Jen laughed again. “I don’t know. I just felt I had to tell her. It seems such a big thing to us, but I could see she didn’t care a scrap. Let’s go in. Perhaps Nurse will tell us more about Joy.”
Nurse smiled at them as they crept upstairs, and nodded reassuringly. She signed to them to be quiet, and they went to their room, and presently slipped out again to go and tell Mrs. Watson the good news and to beg for tea in her rooms in the Abbey.
The shadow seemed really to be lifted from the Hall at last. Joy slept, and woke to sleep again, and gained strength steadily. Mrs. Shirley improved a little every day and rejoiced in having Joan as her nurse and companion. Joan herself was almost well, but the shock of her mother’s illness and the anxiety over Joy had told on her in her weakened state, and she was tired and limp. Nurse forbade any window talks for a few days, and insisted that she must keep quiet and must rest and feed up till she was stronger, so the younger girls did not see her and were forced to keep their secret to themselves.
“You don’t think it would be a good plan to ask Sir Keith to send the pictures, so that they’d be here when Joan’s ready to be told about them?” Jack asked.
Jen considered the matter. “If other people knew, somebody might tell Joan. I’m looking forward most frightfully to seeing her face when she hears about them.”
“You could hide them in the Abbey.”
“No,” Jen said. “Somebody might hear about them. Joan won’t mind looking forward to them for a day or two. I want to tell her about my locket and purse, too, and all the story of Katharine Marchwood. But the pictures are the biggest thing.”
“Won’t Joy have said anything about Katharine and Peregrine? You told her, just before she was ill.”
“I’m certain she hasn’t said anything, or Joan would be asking questions. I expect it went right out of Joy’s head; perhaps she never really understood what I was saying.”
“That’s quite likely,” Jack admitted. “And what she said while she was so feverish wouldn’t sound like sense. They’d say she was delirious.”
“That’s what I think. Anybody can see Joy hasn’t told Joan a word about the Manor. We shall have to tell her all over again, when she’s better.”
“I don’t suppose Joan has been with Joy. She may not have seen her at all,” Jack said. “It’s her mother she’s been allowed to sit with.”
On Monday evening, when the younger girls had spent three quiet days together, at cricket practice, or rambling on the hills, Nurse Parker spoke to them as they went up to bed.
“I suppose you’re going home to-morrow, Jack?”
“I hadn’t heard of it.” Jack stared at her. “Won’t they have me here any longe
r? I’m sure,” indignantly, “I haven’t been as much trouble as all that!”
Nurse laughed. “I thought you came for a week?”
“Oh, but I don’t want her to go!” Jen cried. “I’d be lost without her now! We didn’t say a week, did we?”
“When did your case of measles at home begin?” Nurse looked at Jack.
“Friday night. I see what you mean,” Jack said glumly.
“We can’t keep you here much longer. If you should by any chance develop the trouble, you might give it to Jen. You’d be better at home, where your father can watch you.”
“I don’t feel in the least like measles,” Jack urged.
“If I was going to have it, wouldn’t I have taken it from Joan or Joy?” Jen demanded.
“Probably, but we can’t be sure. There’s no use in running a needless risk. Jack must go home before there’s any chance of either of you infecting the other. It would mean another fortnight of quarantine.”
“I simply adore being in quarantine in the summer term,” Jen said defiantly. “But I don’t want Jack to have measles, just for my sake,” she added.
“I don’t intend to,” Jack grinned at her. “All right, Nurse! I’ll ring up and talk to mother in the morning.”
“Then I suppose our happy time is at an end!” Jen groaned.
“You’ll be back at school next week. I’m going to whack you into shape for the return match with St. Anne’s. They come to play us in a fortnight,” Jack said. “I’m sure your fielding’s gone to pieces, though you’ve worked at your bowling all right.”
“We must beat them again! They’ll put on a terrific spurt, hoping to have their revenge. O.K., Jacky-boy! I’ll work. But if you go down with It, the match will have to be postponed, you know.”
“No measles about me,” Jack said cheerfully. “If I caught one from Mary, it’s been blown out of me long ago, by the wind on your hills.”
CHAPTER XIV
BETRAYED BY SUSIE SPINDLE
Jen and Jack came down from the hills on Wednesday afternoon, carrying their picnic baskets. Mrs. Wilmot and Nurse had agreed to one more day, but Jack was to go home in the evening.
“Jen! Jenny-Wren!” called an eager voice.
“It’s Joan! At her window again!” Jen set off at a run. “Oh, Joan! Are you all right? You look quite well. Oh, you’re dressed! You do look nice! Oh, Joan, how soon can you come downstairs?”
“In a day or two. Dr. Brown is being very careful. But I’ve been on the terrace in the sun to-day, since we knew you were safely out of the way. Jen, what’s this about pictures hidden at the Manor? Pictures of the Abbey church? It isn’t true, is it?”
“Who told you?” Jen gave a wild cry, her face crimson, then white.
“Gosh! Who told you, Joan?” Jack asked, hurrying to Jen’s side.
Joan stared at them. “What’s the matter? Is it all a joke? I don’t understand.”
“Who told you?” Jen shouted.
“Susie. I talked to her from the window before I went out. I wanted to hear about her brother.”
“The little pig!” Jack gasped. “Oh, what a little brute! Jen, old girl, hard lines!”
“I’ll never forgive Susie Spindle!” Jen cried.
She turned and rushed away, not to the Abbey, but back into the woods from which they had come.
“She means it. She never will, and I don’t blame her,” Jack said bitterly.
“Jack, what does she mean? I don’t understand in the least!” Joan asked, completely bewildered.
“Jen’s been counting the days till she’d be able to talk to you. She wouldn’t write, because she wanted to see your face when you heard about the pictures. She’s been dying to tell you, and looking forward terribly to being allowed to see you. And now it’s spoiled. Susie—little beast!—has told you. Jen will break her heart; it means a frightful lot to her. If I see Susie, I shall shake her all to bits,” Jack said angrily.
Joan looked grave. “I’m terribly sorry. I wouldn’t have listened to Susie, if I’d understood. But Susie meant no harm, Jack. She didn’t understand; I’m certain of it. Can’t you make Jen see that?”
“No.” Jack’s tone was blunt. “I don’t know how. Perhaps you can, but I couldn’t. It’s a good thing I’m going home; Susie won’t be safe while I’m here. I feel just sick about Jen. You don’t know how much she’s been looking forward to telling you. She’s talked of it every day.”
“Susie didn’t understand,” Joan said again. “And, of course, I didn’t. Hadn’t you better tell me more about it?”
“No. It’s Jen’s story. If you really don’t understand, there may be something left for her to tell you. Susie’s done enough harm. I’m not going to butt in, too.”
“I see that. But it’s very hard on me! I don’t know whether to believe what Susie said or not.”
“Oh, you can believe it all right! Susie couldn’t make up anything like that, if she tried.”
“Why did Susie know about it?”
“Jen told her, that day we heard Joy was better. Susie met us in the wood and gave us the news, and Jen went off her head with joy and danced ‘Princess Royal,’ and then she told Susie. I didn’t think the kid had grasped what it was all about.”
“She evidently did understand. She seemed to think I had helped Timothy as well as Jen, and she wanted to tell me something that would please me. I’m sure she never thought of Jen’s point of view at all. Pictures of the Abbey church, Jack? Is it really true?” Joan pleaded. “Oh, well, if you can’t tell me, at least you could fetch Jen! Explain to her that I don’t know the whole story and I’m dying to understand. Won’t you do that, Jack?”
“Must give Jen time to get over it. She had a ghastly shock!” Jack said gloomily. “She’d been dreaming about telling you; and then to find you knew——!”
Suddenly her eyes hardened. Joan followed their direction, and saw Susie crossing the corner of the lawn, on her way to the raspberry canes in a strip of fruit garden.
Jack strode towards her. “Hi, you! Stop a moment!”
“Jack, be careful what you say!” Joan cried.
From the shrubbery came Jen, rushing at full speed upon Susie. Jack ran to join her, but had no need to speak.
“You little beast!” Jen was shaking, half-sobbing still, her cheeks wet with tears. “How could you do it? I hate you! I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never speak to you again. I’m sorry I helped Timothy. I’m sorry I ever spoke to you. I’d never have believed any one would do such an awful thing. I never want to see you again!” Her voice broke, and she fled to hide herself in the shrubbery.
Susie, terrified, looked at Jack. “Miss Jack, what be the matter with her? I’d”—she choked—“I’d do any mortal thing to please Miss Jen, as was so good to Timothy and I.”
“You’d better keep out of her sight, and out of mine too, you little bounder,” Jack said bitterly. “Why couldn’t you think? You’ve just about broken Jen’s heart. Didn’t you know, you silly idiot, that she wanted to tell Joan about those pictures herself? You’ve gone and spoilt it for her. You really are the biggest ass I’ve ever known.”
She turned and followed Jen into the woods.
Susie, white and frightened, dropped her basket and stood staring after them. “Miss Jack! Oh, Miss Jen! I’m sorry. I didn’t know——”
Joan, helpless at the window, called to her, but Susie did not hear. Sudden terror seized her; had Miss Jen really meant it?
Just as Jen’s dream had crashed about her at Joan’s question, so Susie’s fell in ruins now. She was eager to please Joan, but since that night in the Abbey Jen had been her idol. She crept to the bushes and pushed her way through.
Jen lay on the ground, torn by sobbing. Jack had her arm round her. “Buck up, old dear!” she was pleading.
Jack looked up and saw Susie’s frightened face.
“Get out!” she said roughly. “This is your fault. Get away from me, before I do something to you. We don�
�t want you.”
Susie gave a heartbroken sob and fled across the lawn, down the path, and into the Abbey, the only place where she could hope to be alone.
Joan saw her go, but could do nothing to help.
“Jack!” she called. “Jack! Jen! Please come here!”
There was no response. Susie’s basket lay on the lawn; cook would wait a long while for her fruit. No sound came from the shrubbery, and none from the Abbey.
CHAPTER XXV
JOAN HEARS THE STORY
Nurse Parker came along the shrubbery path and stood beside the two girls. Jen still lay on the ground. Jack sat by her, patting her shoulder.
“Do buck up, old dear!” she whispered at intervals.
Nurse looked down at them. “I don’t know what has happened, but I want my patient to come indoors, and she absolutely refuses to do it until she has talked to you again. So please come back and explain all this at once.”
“It’s rotten for Joan, Jen. She’s in an awful fog about things,” Jack said. “Couldn’t you pull yourself together and tell her the story properly?”
“You tell her,” Jen said brokenly. “I can’t. It won’t be the same.”
“No, that little blighter has spoilt it. But Joan doesn’t know what it’s all about yet. I’m sure Susie muddled it. By the way,” Jack said, trying to lighten Jen’s gloom, “when you speak to Susie next time, it had better be about English grammar. I don’t know what they taught her at school, but she calls you ‘Miss Jen, as was so good to Timothy and I.’ You can’t let her go on like that.”
“I’m not going to speak to her ever again.” Jen’s tone was hard.
“Oh, well! Joan will put her right. I don’t suppose it matters, if you don’t want ever to see her again. But you’d better come and talk to Joan, for she’ll stay at that window till you do. We don’t want her to have pneumonia next.”
Jen sprang to her feet at this appalling suggestion. She rushed across the lawn and up on to the terrace.
“Joan! You haven’t stayed too long, have you? You won’t go and have pneumonia?”
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