Selma at the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  “I don’t see how any man could help wanting to marry one of you, and I suppose Angus is a man, though he doesn’t behave like one. I thought Joy was the most likely, because of her music. You’re far too good for him.”

  “Your mind can be quite at ease! Neither of us is thinking of marrying Angus Reekie, even if he becomes a famous violinist. His girl is in Glasgow, working in a shop, and he’s really terribly keen on her. I liked him better, when he talked about her, than I’ve ever done. Terry has given him a cheque, and he wants to spend it on this girl.”

  “That’s decent of him,” Jen acknowledged. “But what does he want you to do about it? I suppose they’re engaged?”

  “No, nothing like that. Selma is only sixteen.”

  “Who?” Jen’s eyes widened again.

  Joan smiled at her. “Her name is Janet.”

  “Poor bloke! I couldn’t like anybody called Janet.” Jen disliked her own name heartily. “But that’s not what you said. You called her something else.”

  “She’s Janet Selma Andersson,” and Joan told of the origin of Selma’s name, so far as she knew it.

  “Selma! Oh, that’s better! It’s rather pretty! Yes, I like Selma.”

  “Angus says she is pretty too; he was quite poetical about her. But—don’t you see?—it’s too early to talk of marrying. He is twenty-one, but she is only sixteen. He can’t ask her to be engaged for a year or two.”

  “Some girls would,” Jen said thoughtfully. “But I think it’s silly. I’m nearly sixteen myself, but I’m not going to get engaged just yet.” And she gave Joan an impish grin.

  “Please don’t! You haven’t heard yet what Angus wants us to do for Selma.”

  “No. Tell me, Joan. What can you do for her?”

  “He wants us to have her here.”

  Jen had settled herself comfortably to listen, stroking the happy Timmy, but at this she sat up suddenly.

  “Joan! But why? Oh, Joan, tell me more! I’m sorry, Timsy; I know I startled you, but Joan made me jump right up in the air. Settle down again, Angel. Joan, why?”

  “He said, quite simply, that if Selma could live with people like us it would be just what she needed.”

  “He’s right there! It was jolly clever of Angus. But, Joan——”

  “I think it’s because of Mother,” Joan said. “He looks at her as if she is something very special—precious and rather rare. I watched him, and there was something almost touching in the way he looked at her and held her hand. He has never seen anyone like her.”

  “I’d never have believed Angus had so much sense! Does he want her to adopt Selma? But hasn’t she any family?”

  “Only a stepfather, whom she dislikes. Angus is thinking of the future. He’s determined to be a great violinist and play with big orchestras in London; he’s also determined to marry Selma. But he feels——”

  “If she’ll have him,” Jen interrupted.

  “Yes. But he’s quite firm about it. She is his girl, his lassie, as he says.”

  Jen pursed her lips. “When Selma grows up, she may like somebody else better.”

  “He has to risk that. I don’t think it has occurred to him. Well, you see, he feels that she is not having the education she needs for the future. She has been to school; a good school, I think, from his tone; but now she has a job in a shop, and he feels it isn’t good enough. He is going ahead, with his first-class lessons from McAlistair, but she is stuck in a rut.”

  Jen nodded. “A change would be useful for her. He wants her to come here and see if she’ll get infected with your niceness?”

  “Oh, Jen!” Joan laughed. “Not our niceness; I daren’t claim that. But he thinks it would be good for her to live with new people for a while.”

  “And especially with you and dear Aunty Shirley. I do think Angus is sensible! You’ll let her come, won’t you? But you said I was to back you up. Do you want me to be friends with her? How can I, if I’m at school?”

  “What if you were here?”

  “To live with you? Is that what you mean?” Jen gave her well-known shriek of delight, and once more had to apologise to Timmy. “Oh, Joan, will you have me again, like last term?”

  “We might manage to bear it,” Joan said seriously. “We shall have to ask your mother, but the Head understands and is willing you should come.”

  “The darling! She really is a lamb sometimes. Oh, Mother will let me come. It’s so much better for my health than living in Wycombe.” Jen’s solemnity matched Joan’s.

  Joan laughed. “We feel Selma should go to school. You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”

  “I’ll take care of a dozen girls, if I may live with you! But will she like going back to school, if she’s grown up and been in a shop?”

  “Angus wants her to get experience in meeting all kinds of people. He didn’t put it that way, but that’s what he meant. And the right sort of people. He particularly asked if you would be friendly with her; he seems to have a high opinion of you. Showing his good sense again, you see!”

  “Goodness!” Jen cried. “But I was the one who jumped on him and knocked him down!”

  “It seems to have made a good impression on him; he thinks a lot of you. Perhaps he liked being jumped on. Will you be kind to Selma, Jen?”

  “Joan, I will!” Jen promised fervently. “Whatever she’s like, I’ll be nice to her. But I hope she’ll be a good sort. Do you suppose she’ll be like Rykie?”

  “Why should she be like Rykie? And you managed Rykie all right.”

  “Only sometimes. She was a bit of a trial to me. You’ll write to Mother to-morrow, won’t you?”

  “And to Angus. We haven’t promised anything yet. We’re thinking it over and consulting Miss Macey, and your mother, and you.”

  Jen grinned. “Miss Macey and I are willing, and we know Mother will say yes. You can write to Angus. But there’s one thing bothering me.”

  She sat gazing across the garth at the broken remains of the cloisters, her yellow plaits falling on each side of her grave face, Timmy in her lap forgotten.

  CHAPTER 6

  A NEW POINT OF VIEW

  “You look very sober,” Joan said. “What’s the matter?”

  “I was wondering,” Jen explained, “just what Selma is going to say about it. How do you suppose she’ll feel?”

  Joan looked at her curiously. “How do you mean? Do you think she won’t want to come?”

  “If she knew what it’s like here, and what you are like, of course she’d want to come. She’d just leap at the chance. But she doesn’t know. She may hate the very thought of it, and of us. I wouldn’t like it.”

  “This is serious.” Joan’s tone was grave. “I’m afraid I hadn’t realised Selma’s point of view. You think she may not like the plan?”

  “I wonder what Angus has said to her?” Jen pondered. “For if she’s not engaged to him and if she’s not supposed to know how he feels, she may ask why on earth he should go sending her places—to the ends of the earth, to stay with strange people? Into a new country, to people she has never heard of? She may say it’s no business of Angus Reekie’s.”

  “It’s perfectly true. We ought to have thought of that.” Joan, too, gazed across the garth, her eyes troubled.

  Jen glanced at her, and they sat silent, both looking thoughtful.

  “I don’t believe Angus has told her the plan,” Joan said at last. “He said something in the car; that he’d wait to hear from us before he said anything to Selma.”

  “He’d be afraid you’d refuse,” Jen assented. “Then you can tell him to be careful, when he tells her. I think he’ll need to be very tactful.”

  “Can Angus be tactful?” Joan asked doubtfully.

  “I shouldn’t think so. He’s much more likely to rush at Selma, all thrilled with his big idea, and have a ghastly shock, if she says she won’t come here.”

  “If only we knew a little more about her!” Joan exclaimed. “What will she do? What is she li
ke? Everything turns on that!”

  “A complete mystery,” Jen agreed. “She’s X, the unknown quantity. How can we make plans, when we don’t know what X is like?”

  “We’ll see if Joy has any ideas,” Joan said, as they went to the house for tea, leaving the cats purring happily in a sunny corner.

  “Joy won’t have any. Aunty Shirley might be able to help.”

  But Mrs. Shirley merely looked dismayed, when the problem was put to her. “I hope the child will not be difficult,” she said dubiously. “It is quite possible she may resent Angus’s action and look on it as interference.”

  “She’ll get her back up, if she thinks he’s trying to boss her,” Joy said. “It’s not as if they were engaged. He’d have some right to butt in then. Well, amuse yourselves nicely, dear people! I’m going to wrestle with my tune.”

  “Play it to us, Joy!” Jen pleaded.

  “It’s not nearly ready for that,” Joy retorted.

  “Is it a dance? Or a lullaby?”

  “A love song. Angus and Selma must have given me inspiration.”

  “You don’t know anything about love songs!”

  “Not much, but I have some imagination. It never occurred to me to try something sentimental before,” and Joy went off to her piano.

  Joan was almost ready for bed when a tap came at her door, and Jen slipped in, in slippers and blue dressing-gown, with very neatly braided hair.

  “May I come for one minute, Joan-Queen? I want to get something off my mind. I can’t go to sleep till I’ve asked you about it.”

  “Quickly, then!” Joan commanded, and tossing back her long red plaits she came to sit on the bed. “Get inside, if you like.”

  “This will do,” and Jen squatted beside her and drew the eiderdown over their knees. “It’s not a midnight feast; I’ll only stay for two minutes. I nearly sat on the Curate. Does he always sleep with you?”

  “He never sleeps indoors. He comes for half an hour and then he goes off on his own, to prowl in the woods. He’s a restless person. Tell me, Jen!”

  “Well, Joan dear, why don’t you write to Selma, before Angus tells her, and invite her to come here?”

  Joan gazed at her. “That strikes me as quite a brilliant idea. You think she’d like it better?”

  “Better than being told by Angus that he’s arranged everything without asking her.”

  “Yes. Let me think! Yes, I believe you’re right. A direct invitation from us, saying we’ve heard of her from Angus and we’d like her to come and stay with us for a time; is that right?”

  “And make her feel you really want her. But if she says ‘No, thank you,’ it’s going to be jolly awkward,” Jen added.

  “Then Angus would have to persuade her. We won’t say anything about school. That would look too much arranged and it might give her a shock. If she comes, you can tell her about things and ask her to go with you. She’ll think she’s only been invited for a short visit, but if we seem to be getting really friendly, I shall have to talk to her; I’ll say we’ll be pleased if she will stay for some time, and that I think Angus would be pleased too.”

  “And then you’ll see what she says and you’ll be able to guess what she thinks of Angus.”

  “How she reacts,” Joan agreed. “I’ll do it, Jen. Thank you for a very helpful idea. You may have made things much easier for Selma.”

  “I only know how I’d feel, if I were in her place.”

  “Yes. I’ll write to-morrow; what a good thing we asked for her address! I’ll write to Angus too, and warn him not to say anything. Let it come from her! If they are really as good friends as he says, Selma will tell him of the invitation at once.”

  “Especially as you’ll have told her that you know him,” Jen added. “I wonder if she’s heard the story of how you got to know him? But I guess not; he wouldn’t tell her.”

  “We won’t tell her either. That story must be buried,” Joan said firmly.

  “Righto! I won’t give him away. Thanks for letting me tell you! I can go to sleep now.”

  “Thank you for a useful and brilliant idea!” Joan said, looking much relieved. “You’ve helped us already, Jenny-Wren.”

  “If only we knew what Selma is like!” Jen sighed again, as she went off to bed.

  “Any more brilliant ideas?” Joan asked next day.

  Jen looked doubtful. “Perhaps a little tiny one. I’m afraid it isn’t worth very much. Joan, if Selma is working in a shop, with other girls, they’ll have talked to her about her boy-friend; girls do, you know.”

  Joan looked interested. “You mean Selma will know that Angus wants to be more than just a casual friend?”

  “It’s all very well for him to talk as if she was still at school. She isn’t; she’s grown-up and she’s with grown-up girls, even if she’s only sixteen. I think she’ll understand.”

  “You may be right,” Joan assented. “It might make things easier.”

  “She can’t be as—as simple and infantile—as he thinks. She may not be in love with him, but she’ll know what he wants, and she may be thinking that perhaps some day she’ll want it too.”

  Joan agreed. “I shall be careful what I say. We mustn’t try to hurry her.”

  “No, but remember she isn’t a school kid, as Angus thinks.”

  “You really are very useful to us, Jenny-Wren!” Joan said, with conviction. “But I wonder if Selma will want to go back to school?”

  “After being in business? Perhaps she’ll say she won’t go. I think Angus is all wrong about her age. She may be much more grown-up than he thinks.”

  “It makes her still more of a mystery; the unknown quantity. It’s difficult to know how to write,” Joan said.

  Jen grinned at her. “You write the letter and I’ll crit. it. What frightful cheek! Don’t take any notice of me. You’ll write a beautiful letter, Joan-Queen.”

  “With your help I may manage it,” Joan retorted. “We’ll make it up together this afternoon, in the Abbey.”

  “Oh, yes! I’ll love that. I’ll tell you what to say!”

  “It will be safest to say as little as possible, so long as we sound cordial and welcoming,” Joan said. “There are so many pitfalls in writing to an unknown quantity!”

  “We’ll ask the Mother Superior to help. Anyone can see she’s bursting with wisdom.”

  “With experience, anyway,” Joan assented, with a laugh. “There’s nothing young and innocent about her.”

  “But she’s very nice! Her experiences have had a—a gentling effect on her.”

  “Mellowing is the word,” Joan told her. “All right! We’ll ask the Mother Superior’s advice.”

  CHAPTER 7

  AN EXPLORER AT HEART

  “See you to-night at Club!” Mollie Macpherson waved good-bye to her friend and went off to her home.

  “What’s happened?” she demanded, an hour later, as Selma Andersson appeared for the meeting of the Youth Club, to which they belonged. “You look gey queer!”

  “I feel queer! I’ve had the funniest letter. It was waiting when I went in. So odd, Mollie!”

  “From the boy-friend?”

  “I wish you would no’ call him that! He really isn’t, you know; not as you mean it. No, from somebody I’ve never heard of before.”

  “Weird! But you’ll have to keep it till later. They’re making up sets; you’re late. Are you going to do ‘Petronella’ with me?”

  “I am so!” and Selma ran to the dressing-room to leave her coat and change her shoes. She liked the country-dance class best of all the activities of the Club, and even with thrilling news to tell she did not want to miss any of it.

  But when “Petronella” had been followed by “Strip the Willow” and “Haymakers,” and then by a boisterous Eightsome Reel, even Selma and Mollie were ready to rest. The others in the class felt the same, and a babel of talk filled the hall, while the leader went to stand by the pianist and chat.

  “All exhausted and breathle
ss! But they can still make a good deal of noise,” she laughed.

  “Now tell me!” Mollie demanded, waving off several boys who would have joined them. “Go away! Awa’ wi’ ye! We’re busy!”

  “I wish Angus could play for the reels,” Selma remarked. “A piano’s feeble; it just can’t play reels. I know Miss Davidson’s good, but the piano isn’t—no’ for reels. Angus does it marvellously. All right, Mollie! It was a letter from somebody in the South, in England, asking me to go and stay with her. Now what do you think o’ that?”

  “Either she’s mad, or you are, or I am,” Mollie said simply. “Why should you go and stay with her? Who is she? And how has she heard about you?”

  “She knows Angus. His sister stayed with her in the summer.”

  “The boy-friend again! He’s definitely useful, is he no’? Oh well, if he kens these people, they must be a’ right.”

  “I’m sure they’re all right. It’s a jolly kind letter. But I don’t see why they should want me.”

  “Is his sister still there?”

  “No, she’s gone to Hollywood, to be a film star; he told me. I know her; her name’s Rykie, short for Frederica. I don’t like her awfully much. She’s crazy about films and acting, and I’m not.”

  “Do they want to make you into a film star too?”

  “They’d better no’ try! Rykie was keen before she went there. No, they just say they’re friends of Angus Reekie’s and he spoke to them about me, and they’d like to get to know me.”

  “Very queer!” Mollie acknowledged. “I wonder what he said about you? It must have been something nice, since it made them want to see you! What will you do?”

  “Ask Angus about them, the first chance I get. I wondered if you’d cut canteen and First Aid and come with me, and we’d go round and ask him what he thinks about it. He’s playing at the dance hall, and I’m no’ keen on going there alone.”

  “He’ll no’ have time to talk, if he’s playing, and he’ll no’ love you for bothering him.”

  “He doesn’t like me to go there,” Selma admitted. “But I must ask him about this, Mollie!”

  “Leave a note at his digs, asking him to see you at lunch-time to-morrow. You must eat, and so must he. Why not eat together?”