“No. I wonder if Rykie was right to grab the part? She was right in saying it was better for the school.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t why she did it,” Joy retorted. “That was only an excuse. School or no school, she’d have thrown it up more than once, for her own sake, if we hadn’t held her to it.”
“She’s excellent; she couldn’t be better. I do hope Tuesday is fine, so that Mother can come!”
The arrival of Belle and Terry remained in doubt. They knew the place, date, and time of the fête, and they had promised to be there, if possible. That was all they could say.
The bustle of preparation for the State procession amused Rykie and even impressed her. The Hall was filled with flowers on Tuesday morning, and Joan wove crowns for herself and Joy and a wreath for Jen. Joy had found long trails of creamy “Traveller’s Joy” in the hedges, and Joan mixed these with green leaves for her crown. For herself and Jen she had sprays of heliotrope, since violets were out of season, mixed with dark purple pansies.
“Everybody will come to smell you and me,” Jen said happily. “You could have lobelia, if it was violet and not so very blue!”
“Lobelia blue would make a lovely train. Perhaps a Queen will wear one some day. But it would hardly do with my violet colours.”
“Your first little girl could be a Lobelia Queen.”
“My what? Oh, Jen dear, do stop arranging our future families for us!” Joan cried.
Jen grinned. “She’s sure to have hair like yours. I’m looking forward to seeing Janice crowned in a lobelia train.”
Joan stared at her, distinctly startled. “Who?”
“Oh, Joan! You know you’ve promised to call your first girl for Jandy Mac!”
Joan laughed. “I believe I did! When I see that little girl I’ll remember she is to be Janice—Janice Margaret, for Mother as well.”
“And tell her to choose lobelia blue when she’s Queen.”
“I shan’t do that,” Joan said firmly. “She’ll choose for herself or not at all. Do stop talking nonsense, Jenny-Wren!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
IN THE FOREST OF ARDEN
As the procession moved slowly across the lawn to the thrones prepared for the Queens, led with great dignity by Joy, Joan caught sight of Terry Van Toll, standing beneath a tree and holding up some curious gadget, through which he was peering. She thought of field-glasses; then guessed the truth and smothered a laugh as she took her seat on her flower-decked chair. She said nothing, but kept an eye on him during the country-dancing.
“There they are!” Joy said suddenly. “Belle has found Mother, and Rykie’s with them. Where’s Terry?”
“Over here, under the trees. I’ve been watching him.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Guess,” said Joan.
Joy stared at Terry and his instrument. “What has he got there?”
“He’s making a film of the dancing. Isn’t that a cine-camera?”
Jen gave a little shriek of joy. “Will he let us see it? You said he’d want to film the dancing! How thrilled the girls will be!”
“He took you, too,” Joan remarked. “I’m positive certain he took the procession as we came across the lawn.”
Jen gave a real shout of excitement this time. “Then we’ll be film stars after all! Oh, Joan, I never thought I’d see you on the pictures! Won’t the President be mad? She’d have loved to be a film star!”
“This will be a very private film. I hope he’ll manage to let us see it. The dances should be lovely. Go and join in, Jen! Your duties are over. Yes, do go; I hate to think you’re left out.”
“Sure you don’t mind?” Jen sprang up and held out her hand to Beatrice, who, as Nesta’s maid, could now be spared. “Come on, old Beetle! Have ‘Jenny’ with me!” She flung off her maid’s wreath and ran to find a place in a set.
Joan saw Terry’s eyes on her and knew he was following her with the camera, as she put her stout little partner into the middle of the set with a courtly gesture and then swung off in a beautiful skipping movement.
In an interval, the dancers dropped on the grass in a big ring, and Jen, a little breathless and pink with excitement and “Goddesses,” led out a line of tiny children in white suits and coloured frocks, small boys as well as girls. Nesta, on her throne, and Beatrice and others of her form-mates, giggled rudely, but she had no time to notice them. She placed her babes in a circle, the fiddler sounded a note, and everyone, dancers as well as little ones, began to sing “Oats and Beans and Barley Grow.”
The game was rapturously applauded, winning almost more praise than the country-dances had done. “Old Roger” gave even greater joy, and “Roman Soldiers” was received with wild delight and much laughter. An encore was called for, and Miss Macey advised repeating the last game and then giving “Three Dukes” and “When I was a Schoolgirl.”
To tumultuous applause Jen chased the children off the lawn and they ran like chickens before the mother hen, as she said afterwards. Everybody laughed and cheered, and Beetle, sitting at her Queen’s feet again, nudged Nesta. “Call for Teacher! You’re the Queen, it’s your job! It will make Jen wild!”
“Teacher! Teacher!” shouted Nesta from her throne, and the cry was taken up by the dancers.
“How Jen will loathe us!” Beetle chuckled.
Thrust forward by those near her, Jen stood, scarlet and amused, just inside the ring, and bowed, and then bobbed a curtsey and fled. There were more cheers and everyone laughed again. Then, at a chord from the violin, the dancers ran to take partners for “Haste to the Wedding.”
“Did you do that, old Beetle?” Jen demanded, meeting Beatrice in the dance.
Beetle grinned. “No, Teacher, it was the Queen. But I put her up to it.”
“Rotter!” Jen flung at her, as she moved up one place. “I felt an awful ass!”
“You looked just like Teacher!” Beetle called over her shoulder.
“You made a film, didn’t you?” Joan challenged Terry, when the end of this part of the programme released the Queens from their thrones and girls began to go round with trays of tea and cakes.
Terry sprang up and bowed. “Your Majesty! It’s a great idea. May Day and all that, I presume?”
“You look lovely, Joan,” Belle laughed. “The procession was charming; I do think you grown-ups are sensible to take part! It would be much poorer with only one Queen!”
“There ought to be seven of us. We four felt very lonely. Terry, did you get Jen in your pictures? She’s a lovely dancer; one of our very best.”
“I did,” he smiled. “I thought she was quite beautiful when she danced. And I took those enchanting babies of hers in their games. I hope to be able to show you the results some day. I’d have liked to take more, but I had to keep some film for the play.”
“Did you take my children?” Jen came racing to Terry. “I’m sure they were worth filming!”
“They were, and I did,” he assured her.
“I’ll love you for ever!” Jen beamed on him happily.
“It’s a perfect setting, both for the dances and the play,” Belle said. “It could easily be a glade in the Forest of Arden. Shall we be able to hear the girls?”
“You’ll hear young Rykie.” Joy came up, her green train thrown over her arm. “Her voice rings out like a bell. And she looks a picture; black is just right for her, with her white hair.”
“Lint-white, please!” Belle protested.
“She looks lovely, Belle,” Joan said.
In looks, in voice, and in manner, Rykie satisfied both Terry and Belle, and she was warmly congratulated at the end of the play.
“Her future will take care of itself,” Terry said exultantly. “We won’t give too much time to dancing; perhaps not even to singing. She shall have the best possible training in drama.”
“Educate her thoroughly as well!” Joan pleaded. “Her grammar isn’t always too steady!”
Rykie, bright-eyed and happy, ca
me running to them. “Belle, the girls want to speak to you. They’re terribly thrilled to have you here.”
“Bring them along!” Terry said gaily. “Mrs. Van Toll will hold a reception!”
“I suppose you can’t tell us if those pictures you took are any good?” Jen asked wistfully. “No, I know you can’t; I’m not a baby! But you will let us know, won’t you?”
“I’m usually very successful,” he assured her. “I’ll try to arrange for you to see them presently.”
“But I shan’t be here! I’m going home to Yorkshire on Thursday!”
“That’s serious. We shall have to get over the difficulty somehow,” he said, with laughing eyes.
In a corner of the grounds Nesta and Beatrice had caught the reporter, who was going about making notes for his article on the fête.
“You’re putting down the names of everybody who does anything, aren’t you?” Nesta challenged him.
He looked at her—white crown on dark hair, silver train bordered with purple and decorated with gleaming white circles, big shower bouquet of white flowers—and made a low bow.
“One of the Queens! May I be honoured with your name?”
“The reigning Queen; Queen Honesty,” Beetle informed him.
“My name doesn’t matter,” Nesta said hurriedly. “But don’t you want to put in a bit about the girl who trained the infants in those games? She’s only a kid; she’s in our form. She did it for fun, and then the Head bagged the babes and the games for the show. That’s her over there, with the yellow pigtails; she’s Jen Robins.”
“Go and ask her about it. She’ll be terribly shy,” Beetle grinned. “Call her Janet! She’ll have a fit on the spot.”
The reporter made some notes. “Many thanks, your Majesty, and——” He looked at Beatrice.
“Her maid-of-honour, usually known as Beetle.”
He laughed and went to speak to Jen. “Little brats! Giving away their pal like that!”
“Miss Janet Robins? Might I ask——?”
Jen whirled round. “Who told you to call me that?”
“Queen Honesty and her Beetle. They sent me to talk to you.”
“I’ll slay them!” Jen scowled at Nesta and Beetle, grinning at her from a safe distance.
“I’m writing a report for the local paper. Will you tell me how you trained your delightful children? I understand the games were your work.”
Jen, conscious of Rykie’s envious stare and Joy’s wide grin, drew herself up with dignity.
“There’s nothing to tell. We just played games after school, when I had to wait for a friend who is Jaques in the play. There she is! You can talk to her, if you like. If you put me in the paper, for goodness’ sake don’t call me Janet! I’m just Jen.”
He made a note seriously and asked a few questions. Then he moved on in search of fresh prey, and Jen turned to face her amused friends.
“Your first encounter with the Press, Mrs. Wren?” Joy mocked.
“It was quite right, Jen. You and your babes deserve to be in the paper,” Joan said. “If he wants a group of the children, you must certainly be taken sitting in the middle. Think how pleased your mother and father will be!”
“This is fame!” Jen said solemnly. “I thought Rykie was to be the star of the fête!”
“Everybody’s raving about those kids of yours,” Rykie said in puzzled surprise. “They’ve stolen the show.”
Photos were duly taken, and on Thursday Jen carried home in triumph a picture of herself surrounded by small children, which gave great pleasure to her parents.
“But I’m much more thrilled about Mr. Terry Van Toll’s films!” she said. “I’m simply dying to see them!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FILM STARS AFTER ALL
To Jen, holiday-making in the heather on her moors, there came an urgent letter from Joan.
She went racing to her mother. “Oh, Mother, let me go! Just for a week-end, to say good-bye to Rykie!”
“It seems a long way for such a short time,” said the matter-of-fact mother.
“Joy will meet me in London with the car; it’s as easy as easy! And I may never see Rykie again. The Van Tolls are to be at the Abbey for the week-end. They’ve been to Rome and Vienna; fancy Rykie seeing Rome! And they’ve been to Glasgow to see Angus, and he’s getting on awfully well. His McAlistair man thinks no end of him. It’s all in Joan’s letter. They’re starting for Hollywood on Tuesday. Oh, Mother dear, do let me go!”
“You shall certainly go,” her father said. “But I didn’t think you were so keen on this friend?”
“Rykie? I loathed her at first. She was a complete and absolute stranger, and she didn’t fit in with any of our ways and ideas. But she got a lot better, and I quite liked her before the end of the term. And she really is clever. She’ll be a great actress before very long.”
Joy and Rykie met the train and joyfully carried her off to the Hall. Joan and Belle and Terry were on the steps to greet her, and then she ran in to hug Mrs. Shirley and thank her for the invitation.
“Now you must be fed,” Joan said. “And after that we have something to show you.”
Jen looked round at them, her eyes very bright. “Pictures? Were they good? Have we really been in a film?”
“They’re very good indeed,” Joan said, laughing. “Set your mind at rest about that. But you won’t see them till you’ve had a good tea.”
As Joan led her upstairs for a wash after her journey, Jen said thoughtfully, “I want to talk! I’m alone a lot at home and I’ve had time to think. Joan, it does seem as if you needn’t have sold that ruby! Mr. Terry Van Toll could have given Angus his music lessons, and you could have kept all Jehane’s jewels together.”
“I know. But I’m glad we did it. I like to feel we helped Angus to have his start. Presently Terry will take care of his career. And don’t you think it has made a difference to Rykie?”
“Your selling the ruby? Of course it has! She’s much nicer than she was. You and Joy showed her how marvellous people could be. She’ll be different all her life, because of that ruby.”
“Then it has been well worth it. We don’t grudge one ruby.”
“All the same, it’s jolly decent of you,” Jen said. “Do you suppose we’ll hear about Rykie when she goes to Hollywood?”
“She’ll write once or twice and then she’ll forget us,” Joan prophesied. “I don’t expect her to keep up with us for very long. But she may come to see us, if she is in England at any time, and presently we may hear of her from the newspapers.”
“ ‘This brilliant young actress’; that’s what you mean? But I don’t believe she’ll forget you, and all of us, and the Abbey, though she may not write many letters.”
“You think we’ve made an impression on her? I wonder!” Joan said thoughtfully.
“A jolly big one, I should think. She won’t forget the refectory in a hurry! And I’m sure she’ll always squirm inside when she sees a ruby. I’m ready! Now for tea, and then pictures! It was lovely of you to ask me. Do my children come out well?”
“Beautifully. They make a charming film,” Joan assured her.
Jen sat in rapture before the screen which Terry had rigged up in the library, giving little cries and gasps of delight, at which the rest smiled in sympathy.
“The procession—Joy, how beautifully you did it! So slow and dignified! Joan—oh, you look lovely! I say! Aren’t I funny? Too funny for words! But I’m walking quite nicely; I don’t scuttle along like a frightened rabbit! Now the dances—oh, how lovely! Just exactly as they look! You are clever, Mr. Terry Van Toll!”
“You didn’t expect them to look different, did you?” he said, laughing.
“There’s me doing ‘Jenny’!”
“Jen, dear! Your grammar is as bad as Rykie’s!”
“There am I, doing ‘Jenny Pluck Pears,’ and not at all badly either,” Jen said, with dignity. “Oh, look at my babies! How simply marvellous!”
&nb
sp; “Terry is giving us the film and the projector and other things, and he has shown us how to use them,” Joy said. “So we shall have a permanent record of our dances, and we’ll invite the Club for a private view.”
“Oh, glorious—super! But don’t you want to take the films to America?” She looked at Terry. “It’s terribly kind of you to give them to us!”
“We’re going to make another one for him to take away,” Joan explained. “To-morrow Nesta and Beetle and Muriel and one or two others, and Miss Lane and her fiddle, are coming to tea, and we’re going to dance on the lawn, while Terry makes films, so that he can show English dancing to his friends. We’ll do ‘Newcastle’ and ‘The Old Mole,’ and ‘Picking Up Sticks’ and ‘Hey, Boys’ and ‘Jenny,’ and some longways. We had to have you, of course!”
“And some morris jigs,” Joy added. “You’re going to do ‘Jockie’ with me, and ‘Princess Royal’ with Joan. It will be quite a decent show.”
“Think of America seeing me doing ‘Jockie’!” Jen chuckled. “We really shall be film stars! I never thought I should see Joan on the pictures!”
Strangers at the Abbey Page 17