Selma at the Abbey

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Selma at the Abbey Page 6

by Elsie J. Oxenham

“I’ll carry that!” Jen seized Selma’s case. “I’m sure you’re tired to death. Joan said I wasn’t to make you talk; you’re to rest in the car. Come on! This way!”

  Dazed, Selma followed her to the big car which stood waiting. “Oh!” she said. “Did you come to fetch us? But how jolly nice of you! And what a lovely car!”

  Joy grinned at the Scottish accent. Jen, from Yorkshire, noticed it but found it less strange.

  “Jump in and make yourself comfortable, Dark Daughter of the Vikings!” Joy said, and turned to look for Angus and the porter.

  “Oh! But how did she know?” Selma turned to Jen. “I’ve been calling myself that. But who told her?”

  “Your name,” Jen explained. “We always call you the Daughter of the Vikings. Do you mind? Here’s Angus; now we can get home. Joy’s a marvellous driver; she’ll do it as quickly as is safe. Did the journey seem dreadfully long? I live near Sheffield; I’ve never been as far as Scotland.”

  “We didn’t come through Sheffield,” Selma said doubtfully. “I’ve been watching the map all the way.”

  “No, it’s on the other line. I go to school near the Abbey, and I’m staying at the Hall with Joan and Joy. I cycle or go by car every day. If you’d go with me I could always go by bike; they won’t let me ride alone, so Joy has to take me in the car. If we could go together it would be marvellous.”

  “Jenny-Wren, how could you spring that on Selma before you’ve known her for five minutes?” Joy cried indignantly.

  Selma was looking still more dazed. “Go to school?” she echoed. “But I’ve done with school.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jen said contritely. “I’m always in a hurry. Don’t think about it just now; forget I said it. But we did think it would be jolly for both of us, if you went with me.”

  “Come in front, Angus,” Joy commanded, taking her place. “We’ll leave these two to chatter. Don’t keep it up all the way, Jen! Remember how far Selma has come to-day.”

  “I’ll try,” Jen said sadly. “But I do like talking!”

  Selma’s eyes were busy, as they crept into the traffic. “I want to see London,” she said.

  Jen grinned. “You look at it. I won’t talk. You’ll see quite a lot before we get out into the country.”

  “Millions of cars and people!” Selma murmured, gazing entranced.

  Presently the crowds grew less, and she turned to Jen, who was watching her with interest. “Who is she?” She nodded at Joy’s back. “Is she Miss Joy Shirley?”

  “That’s right. She’s the one the house belongs to; no, that’s bad grammar! The Hall, to which we are going, belongs to her,” Jen said primly.

  Selma gave a sudden laugh. “Do you have to be careful what you say? Angus has been warning me about things.”

  “What sort of things?” Jen’s eyes danced.

  “The way we talk at home.”

  “I’d like to hear you do it. I’ll come into your room some night, and you’ll talk Scots and I’ll talk Yorkshire.”

  Selma laughed. “We will so! Angus calls you ‘little Miss Jen.’ ”

  “Like his cheek! I’m nearly as old as you. But I’m talking again, and Joan said you were to rest.” And Jen was resolutely silent.

  Selma’s eyes twinkled, but she was very tired, so she followed Jen’s example and sat silent in her corner.

  CHAPTER 11

  GOOD-BYE TO ANGUS

  “Daughter of the Vikings, you’ve been asleep.” Jen poked her companion in the ribs. “Jolly sensible,” she added. “I nearly dropped off myself.”

  Selma sat up, startled. “Did I go to sleep? How dreadful! Was it no’ very rude?”

  “Not a scrap. You must be dead tired. But we’re almost home.”

  “It’s dark.” Selma peered out into the night. “Is it trees?”

  “The beech avenue; two rows of huge beeches on each side. They’re frightfully ancient; Joy’s tremendously proud of them. Here we are!”

  Selma could see little of the house but a wide-open door and welcoming light streaming out. Then someone threw open the door of the car, crying, “We’re very glad to see you! Come in, Selma! Are you worn out? Has Jen talked you into a muddle?”

  “I’ve been tactfully silent and she’s been to sleep,” Jen said haughtily.

  “Well done! The best thing she could do. Let’s look at you, Selma!”

  “Oh!” Selma cried. “But you’re just like”—and she looked at Joy, who still sat in the car, waiting to take it round to the garage.

  “Just like Joy,” Joan said cheerfully. “There are two of us; can you bear it? We aren’t twins, but our fathers were. We’re cousins, and I’m one month older than Joy. But Joy is the lady of the house; it belongs to her. Come in and get warm!” and she led the way to the big entrance door.

  Angus looked at Joy. “Will I say good-bye to Selma and clear out? I can get a train back to town. You’ll no’ want me here now.”

  “Ass!” Joy said brusquely. “You’ll stay the night, of course. Go in and get some supper! I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Selma stood before the daintiest little lady she had ever seen. By some odd impulse, she bobbed a tiny curtsey, as she took Mrs. Shirley’s hand. “I hope you’re very well, ma’am,” she said.

  Jen was staring with wide eyes. Joan’s face was full of amusement.

  Angus, in the background, stared as blankly as Jen.

  “It’s exactly what I wanted to do myself,” he thought. “But I did no’ ken how. Good for Selma! She feels just as I did!”

  “I am very well, my dear, I thank you. Are you tired after your long journey? You must be hungry. Jen will take you upstairs; a wash will refresh you, and supper is ready.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. And—and thanks for letting me come here.” Selma struggled with a host of new thoughts aroused in her by the big house and the little lady.

  Mrs. Shirley smiled. “We hope you will be happy with us. You must stay for some time. Go with Jen, my dear. I must speak to Angus.”

  “Why did you do that?” Jen burst out, as they reached the bedroom. “That curtsey, you know. Do you always do it to people?”

  “I never did it before in my life! I don’t know why, but she looked like a wee queen. I never saw anybody like her; I wanted to kiss her hand, but I didn’t dare. She’s—I don’t know—she’s lovely. Angus said she was, but I didn’t understand.”

  “How frightfully nice of you!” Jen cried. “Aunty Shirley’s very choice and we all love her. But I didn’t think you’d see it so quickly. You are jolly clever! Look, here’s your room, next to mine. Do you think you’ll like it?”

  She switched on the light, and Selma looked round the pretty bedroom, decorated in pink and white and lit by a rosy lamp.

  “Oh, how bonny!” she cried.

  “Rykie slept here. You know her, don’t you? My room’s blue and it’s just through there, so if you want anything, tap on this wall. Now come to the bathroom, and then we’ll go down and get something to eat.”

  Conscious that though nobody stared unkindly, everyone had looked at her curiously—and, she thought, with approval—Selma was shy and silent. Very anxious to do Angus credit, she was afraid of slipping into the Scots talk of Mollie and her friends and was too nervous to say much, lest her “school speaking” should desert her.

  To cover her shyness Angus bravely did his best to talk, telling of his lessons in Glasgow and his teacher’s high opinion of his progress. But presently he hesitatingly renewed his suggestion that he should go back to town at once, to catch the midnight train.

  “It’s easy,” he urged, as Joy and Jen cried out in protest and Joan and Mrs. Shirley looked at him thoughtfully. “I ken—I know”—colouring suddenly and shooting a quick glance at Selma’s dancing eyes—“the road to your wee station here and how to get the train for London, and I’d be in Glasgow by the morning.”

  “But you can’t travel all night, after coming from Scotland to-day!” Joy said indignantly. “D
on’t you ever rest?”

  “I’ll sleep in the train. I’m good at it. I’d like to be home to-morrow,” he urged.

  “He’s no’ blate.” Selma spoke suddenly. “He’s thinking o’ McAlistair.”

  Everybody looked at her, Jen chuckling, Joy with a broad grin, Mrs. Shirley puzzled, and Joan with a smile of sympathy.

  “Selma!” Angus cried in horror.

  Selma grew crimson. “I forgot,” she apologised hurriedly. “I can talk properly, really I can. I wasn’t thinking. I’m frightfully sorry.”

  “You speak two languages, and that’s the one that sounds like home to you,” Joan said. “Don’t look so worried! We don’t mind. But tell us what you mean about Angus.”

  “It isn’t that he’s shy about stopping here,” Selma explained, grateful for the understanding. “He’s thinking about McAlistair and to-morrow’s lesson.”

  “I had to miss to-day.” Angus spoke quickly, to cover her confusion. “And yesterday I cut my lesson, and McAlistair was mad; he was ill last week, so he told me to go every day this week, and I’ve missed two days already.”

  “But will you be fit for a lesson, if you travel all night?” Joan asked.

  “Oh, aye! I will sleep, and to-morrow I’ll put in a bit of practice before I go to him.”

  “What were you doing yesterday?” Joy asked severely. “Why didn’t you have your lesson, when you knew you’d be in the train to-day?”

  “It was Selma’s last day,” Angus began.

  “It was for me,” Selma said quickly. “He wanted to give me a good-bye present, so we went out together.”

  “To shop?” Jen’s curiosity was aroused. “What did he give you? But did it take all day? Couldn’t he fit in the lesson?”

  “Don’t ask so many questions, Jenny-Wren,” Joan scolded.

  “He wanted to buy me an umbrella, or a hat.” Selma turned to Joan and spoke desperately. “I would no’—I wouldn’t!—let him do it. I haven’t got an umbrella, and I haven’t one single hat. Do you mind very much?”

  “No doubt we can find you one, for going to church,” Joan assured her. “Our vicar prefers ladies to wear hats. But for other days we don’t mind at all. We aren’t keen on hats ourselves.”

  “Then what did he give you?” Jen asked eagerly.

  “He took me down the water to Rothesay. I’d rather have that than anything. It’s the thing I like best in the world.”

  “Tell us about it! It sounds thrilling. In a boat, do you mean?”

  “A steamer!” Selma looked bewildered. “We went to Rothesay and walked across to Ettrick Bay, and sat on the sands and looked at the Arran hills.”

  “You must tell us more about it later,” Joan said. “But now we must let Angus decide what he’ll do. Do you really want to travel to-night, Angus?”

  “I ought to go home, Miss Joan.”

  “Then make an extra good supper, and Joy and I will take you through the woods to the station. You can’t find the path in the dark, and we’ll enjoy the walk.”

  “Let us come too!” Jen pleaded. “Selma ought to see the last of him. She went to sleep in the car; a walk would be good for her! Do you want him to go?” and she turned to Selma. “Do you mind being left alone with us? We’re not in the least fierce or terrifying.”

  Everybody looked at Selma, realising what this parting might mean to her. Would she be tearful, or frightened?

  Selma’s chin went up. “I want to stay here. I think it will be fun, and I’m sure you’ll all be nice, when I get to know you. Angus has to go; his lessons are what matter most. I’ll write and tell him how I’m getting on. Aye, I want him to go. It’s better than putting it off till the morning. Angus, I’ll be all right here. Don’t worry about me!”

  “Viking Daughter, valiantly looking ahead,” Joy said. “Well done, Janet Selma!”

  Selma reddened, but looked at Angus. “Thank you for bringing me. I’d like to come to see you off,” and she looked at Joan, recognising her already as the one to be consulted, although the house belonged to Joy.

  “I don’t approve, but we’ll do it. We’ll all go,” Joan said. “It won’t take us half an hour, Mother. Angus will just catch a train, if we start at once, and there’s not another for an hour, so he’d better not miss it. Get your coats, girls, and strong shoes; the wood path may be muddy.”

  As they went through the beech woods to the railway, Angus and Selma fell behind, and Joan shook her head at Jen, who would have joined them.

  “Sorry! I didn’t think. Last words, I suppose.” And Jen walked sedately between the elder girls. “But they aren’t talking much,” she added.

  The two behind were almost silent. Angus had too much to say, and dared not begin. Selma did not know how to put her thoughts into words.

  “I’m going to like it, Angus. I’m glad they asked me.”

  “Aye, you’ll like it, lassie. But I’ll be missing you.”

  “You’ll be too busy at your lessons. I’ve wasted a lot of your time lately.”

  “I’ve been glad. I’ll work better because of it.”

  “Nothing could go wrong in a house with that dear old lady in it.”

  “That’s so. Miss Joan’s like her, too. Do you like little Miss Jen?”

  “I’m going to like her rather a lot. I don’t call her that, do I?”

  “No, she wouldn’t like it. It’s different for me.”

  “I think she’d have a fit,” Selma said. “I believe we’ll be friends. Good-bye, Angus! I shall wave to you from the platform.”

  Angus nodded, and they clasped hands.

  “I’ll remember I belong to you,” Selma promised.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE HEART OF A VIKING

  As the train disappeared round the bend, Joan drew Selma’s hand through her arm. “Let’s go home and get to bed. You must be terribly tired.”

  Selma, very quiet but quite composed, gave her a tiny smile. “I’d like to go to bed. Thank you for letting me come to the train.”

  “You wanted to wave good-bye, didn’t you? Did Angus take care of you nicely on the journey?”

  “Oh, aye!—I mean yes! He took me for tea in the tea-car,” Selma said importantly.

  “That was fun, I’m sure. I’ve done very little travelling; it just hasn’t happened. We lived in London, and then we came here. I hope I’ll see more of the world some day.”

  “I’d like to see the whole of the world! I want to go everywhere and see all the places there are. I was thrilled to be coming to England.”

  “It’s a start,” Joan agreed. “You ought to see England before the far-away places. We’ll ask Joy to take us to London for some sight-seeing. Are you a real Viking, in your feelings? Would you like to sail across oceans, as they did?”

  “I would that! I wish I’d lived then. But I’m no’ like them to look at,” she added.

  “Oh, I don’t know! They can’t all have been fair-haired.”

  “I thought they always were?” Selma cried. “Do you think there were dark Vikings too?”

  “They went sailing to all sorts of coasts, didn’t they? They plundered and robbed and carried off the women and the treasures. Some of the women that they married would be dark, and they would have dark children. I expect they took home Irish girls, and perhaps French or Spanish ones too. Probably the fair Viking ladies were madly jealous of the dark beauties who came among them! There would be plenty of dark daughters among the Vikings.”

  “I never thought of that!” Selma’s tone was full of satisfaction. “Then I may be descended from them, after all. I love exploring! Where we live there are lochs running up among the hills, like the fiords in Norway; and ever since I can remember I’ve loved more than anything to get on a steamer and sail up the lochs to some wee place, and then go ashore and find out all about it. We could no’ afford it often, but if ever I could have a treat, that was what I wanted to do. It’s what we did yesterday. We had a lovely time.”

  “Far better
than a new hat or an umbrella,” Joan assented, with a laugh. “Joy must talk to you; she’s our wanderer. She used to tramp all over the countryside; we say she knows every footpath for miles. Now she goes by car, and explores more distant places. I’m a stay-at-home; I take care of Mother and the house and garden.”

  “But Miss Joy’s keen on music, isn’t she? Like Angus?”

  “Oh yes! Music and roaming the country are her two great joys.”

  “Angus is going to play wonderfully some day.”

  “I’m sure he is. But here we are! You must tell us about Angus another time. Off you go to bed!—Jen, too,” and she paused on the terrace for Joy and Jen to come. “Bed, Jenny-Wren! I know it isn’t nine o’clock, but you’ve been to town and back, as well as going to school. It’s a good thing to-morrow’s Saturday!”

  “Wasn’t it tactful of Selma to come on a Friday? We’ve two whole days to get to know her and to show her everything, before I have to go to school and leave her. But perhaps she’ll come with me,” Jen added.

  Joan glanced at Selma’s startled face. “We won’t talk about that to-night. Don’t chatter, Jen! She’s tired; let her get to sleep. No visits; promise!”

  Very reluctantly Jen gave her word. “I’ll only go if she wants me. She might be homesick! Couldn’t you manage to be a little bit miserable?” she asked wistfully, turning to Selma. “Then I could come and sit on you and we could talk. Tap on the wall, if you want me.”

  Selma laughed. “I’m no’ even a wee bittie homesick. This house is much more homelike than any I’ve been in since mother died; I’ve been living in digs—with nice people who were quite kind, but it’s no’ the same. There’s nothing to be homesick for.”

  “Then you’ll soon feel at home with us,” Joan said heartily. “She won’t need any comforting, Jenny-Wren. Good-night, both of you!”

  “Did you manage to draw her out about Angus?” Joy asked, as they went to report to Mrs. Shirley.

  “I was aching to do it, but I didn’t feel it was fair. It wouldn’t have been difficult; she’s quite ready to talk about him; about his music, at any rate. She’s sure about his brilliant future, and she’s proud of him. But I couldn’t ask her about their feeling for one another.”

 

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