by L. T. Meade
to them for aminute and put them on their honour."
"Do, Deborah," said Mrs Hazlitt, "and then come back to me. Don't tellany one what you are specially doing; just come here; I shall be waitingfor you."
The governess withdrew, to return in the course of a few minutes.
"It's all right," she said. "I went first of all to Penelope, but sheseemed rather fluttered at being disturbed and said that she always didsuppose that recess was at her own disposal. But the children will bequite good; they will play in the woods and keep out of the sunshine."
"Then that is all right," said Mrs Hazlitt. "And what is Penelopedoing in her room, Deborah?"
"She is writing a letter."
"A letter?" said Mrs Hazlitt. "Did you see her writing one?"
"Oh, yes--at least I think so."
Deborah coloured, for she knew that Penelope had hastily put a sheet ofpaper over the letter when the English teacher had entered the bedroom.Deborah never would tell tales of the pupils whom she loved, nor didMrs Hazlitt expect her to. Nevertheless, that good woman gazed nowintently at the English governess.
"Deborah," she said, "I cannot help confiding in you. There is a spiritat present abroad in this school which I feel, without being able todifferentiate. It is an unholy and a mischievous spirit and it hasnever been in our midst before. There are certain girls in the schoolwho are acting in a sort of conspiracy. I cannot tell why, but I feelassured on that point, and I believe that the head of the conspiracy isno less a person than Penelope Carlton."
"Now, my dear Mrs Hazlitt," said Deborah Duke, "I never did hear yougive way to such unchristian sentiments before. You will forgive me, mydear friend, my best friend--but why should you accuse poor littlePenelope of anything so base?"
"I accuse her of nothing, but I have a feeling about her. I know for afact that five letters left this house a couple of days ago--on theevening of the day when it was decided that Penelope was to take thepart of Helen of Troy. I also know that five letters in reply werereceived this morning, and that they gave universal satisfaction.During the time of suspense between the departure of the letters andtheir replies four of my pupils were absolutely good for nothing--uneasy, incapable of work; in short, quite unlike themselves. It is myrule not to open my pupils' letters; nevertheless, I am full ofsuspicions, and my suspicions particularly centre round the girl who isto take the part of Helen of Troy. Why did she volunteer for the part?I can put up with her, but she is not suitable. Do you know anythingabout it, Deborah?"
"All I know is this," replied Deborah--"that Honora Beverley would nottake the part because she was full of horror with regard to thecharacter. I thought `A Dream of Fair Women' was practically at an endwhen Penelope--of all people--came forward. I believe she was very muchpressed by the other girls to do this. They thought of her because sheis fair."
Mrs Hazlitt looked full at Miss Duke. After a minute, she saidabruptly:
"You say that Penelope is at present writing a letter?"
"That is true."
"When she has finished it, she will drop it into the post box, will shenot?"
"Yes; that is true also."
"I shall do something which I am not accustomed to doing, but I must doit for the sake of the school," said Mrs Hazlitt. "I shall openPenelope's letter before it goes, and acquaint myself with thecontents."
Miss Duke gave a start.
"You will not do that," she said. "It would distress Penelope verymuch."
"She need never know. If the letter is straightforward and above board,nothing will occur. If the spirit of mischief--nay, more, of intrigue--is abroad, the sooner I can nip it in the bud, the better. I sent foryou to consult you. I am within my rights in this matter. Don't say aword to any one. I think that is all."
"I am very much distressed," said Deborah. "I wish you would not dothis thing."
"I have made up my mind, dear friend; we will not argue the point. Iwill read the contents of the letter, and it shall reach its destinationif there is nothing in it. No harm will be done. If there is mischiefin it, I shall at least know where I stand."
Deborah sighed profoundly and left the room.
Now, upstairs a girl, who had hastily finished a hasty scrawl and hadthrust it into its envelope, was busily engaged putting on her hat anddrawing some cotton gloves over her hands.
"I daren't put the letter into the post box," she said. "I wish Deborahhadn't come into my room; she saw quite well that I was writing. I mustmanage somehow to get to the village and will post the letter myself."
She flew downstairs. A minute later, she was out of doors. She lookedswiftly round her; there was not a soul in sight. The children, whowere her constant companions, were playing happily in the distant woods.The girls whom she trusted were in the Queen Anne parterre or in theQueen Elizabeth garden. All the world seemed still and sleepy.Penelope made a hasty calculation. Mrs Hazlitt's oak parlour lookedout on the Queen Anne parterre. There was no one to see her. Thevillage was a mile away; yes, she could get there; she would get there.By running fast she would accomplish this feat and yet be back justwithin time for afternoon school.
Outside Hazlitt Chase was just the reverse of peace and quietude. Therewas a wide and dusty road over which motors flew at intervals; and heavycarts, drawn, some by horses and some by oxen, toiled over the road;carriages, pony traps, governess carts also traversed the King'shighway, and amongst them, flying in and out, ran a girl in a dustybrown holland dress, her fair face suffused by ugly colour, her eyesfull of dust, her lips parched.
All in good time she reached the village and dropped the letter, whichshe had already stamped, into the post box. She was safe. She drew along breath of relief. Nothing would induce the village postmistress togive up her letter; all was right now; Brenda would be happy to-morrowmorning and she--she could perform her task with a light heart.
She had done a great deal for her beloved sitter. Deborah had given thewhole show away by coming to visit her in her room. Penelope was quickenough, to be certain that there was something up, or the Englishteacher would not have come in looking so _distraite_ and unlikeherself. Deborah was the last person in the world ever to ask Penelopeto take care of the younger children. Yes; it was all too plain; MrsHazlitt's suspicions were aroused. Well, they would never be verified,for the letter was posted. If only Penelope could get back in safety--could creep up to her own room without being observed, she might snapher fingers at the enemy; all would, all must be--well.
She returned to the school by the same dusty highway, entered by a backdoor, went to her room, threw herself on her bed for five minutes, thenwashed her face and hands and went downstairs for afternoon school. Nota soul had seen her go; not a soul had witnessed her return.
Mrs Hazlitt watched her as she took her place in class--her faceflushed, her lips dry. Miss Duke raised a guilty and startled face whenthe girl--whose secret, if she had one, was so soon to be exposed--tookher usual place and went through her usual tasks with that skill andability which always characterised her. Mrs Hazlitt was moredetermined than ever to take steps to discover what she felt was wrong;but she looked in vain in the letter box. Childish productions frommore than one member of the school were there, but there was no letteraddressed to Miss Brenda Carlton--no letter of any sort in PenelopeCarlton's upright and somewhat remarkable handwriting. What could havehappened? Had the girl dared to go to that extreme of disobedience?Had she posted her letter herself?
CHAPTER SIX.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE VISIT.
For a few days Mrs Hazlitt examined the post box, but there was noletter of any sort from Penelope. In the end, she was obliged toconfess to Deborah that she had been--she supposed--quite mistaken inthe girl.
"I am distressed about her," she said; "for she doesn't look well orhappy. But there is no doubt that she has not written anything which Iought to see. Do not make yourself unhappy therefore, Deborah dear, butlet us continue our usual pleasant life and trus
t that my suspicionshave not been justified."
"Oh, I am certain they have not," said Deborah. "Meanwhile," continuedMrs Hazlitt, "we are exceedingly busy; I find the tableaux are going tobe much better than I expected. The little plays too, and the garden ofroses--an extravaganza--will be quite sweet. But I am really puttingall my strength and energy into Tennyson's poem; I am only vexed thatHonora Beverley cannot be Helen of Troy."
"But what do you think of the present Helen?" enquired Miss Duke.
"She is much more remarkable than I thought it possible she could be. Iam most anxious to see her to-night, when we have a dress rehearsal andshe will wear her costume for the first time. She is a queer girl, andnot a