CHAPTER XX
Patriotic Gardening
The direct result of the potato walk to Mr. Briggs's farm was that afriendship sprang up between Winifrede and Marjorie. It was, of course,rather an exceptional friendship, involving condescension on the part ofthe head girl and frantic devotion on Marjorie's part. Six months ago itwould not have been possible, for Winifrede's creed of exclusiveness haddiscouraged any familiarity with her juniors, and it was only inaccordance with Mrs. Morrison's wishes that she had broken her barrierof reserve. She had, however, taken rather a fancy to Marjorie, andsometimes invited her into her study. To go and sit in Winifrede's tinysanctum, to see her books, photographs, post cards, and other treasures,and to be regaled with cocoa and biscuits, was a privilege that raisedMarjorie to the seventh heaven of bliss. Her impulsive, warm-hearteddisposition made her apt to take up hot friendships, and for the presentshe worshipped Winifrede. To be singled out for favour by the head girlwas in itself a distinction; but, apart from that, Marjorie keenlyappreciated her society. She would wait about to do any little errandfor her, would wash her brushes after the oil-painting lesson, sharpenher pencils, set butterflies for her, mount pressed flowers, or printout photographs. Winifrede was fond of entomology, and Marjorie,beforetime a lukewarm naturalist, now waxed enthusiastic in thecollection of specimens. She was running one day in pursuit of agorgeous dragon-fly through the little wood that skirted theplaying-fields, and, with her eyes fixed on her elusive quarry, shealmost tumbled over Chrissie, who was sitting by the side of the stream.
"Hallo!" said Marjorie, drawing herself up suddenly. "I didn't see you.As a matter of fact I wasn't looking where I was going."
"What are you doing here?" asked Chrissie.
Marjorie pointed to her butterfly-net.
"What are you doing here?" she returned.
"Reading."
Chrissie's eyes were red, and she blinked rapidly.
"You've been crying," said Marjorie tactlessly.
Her chum flushed crimson.
"I've not! I wish you'd just let me alone."
"Cheer oh! Don't get raggy, old sport!"
Chrissie turned away, and, opening her book, began to read.
"Will you come round the field with me?" asked Marjorie.
"No, thanks; I'd rather stay where I am."
"Oh, very well! I'm off. Ta-ta!"
This was not the first little tiff that had taken place between the twogirls. Chrissie seemed to have changed lately. She was moody andself-absorbed, and ready to fire up on very slight provocation. Herdevotion to Marjorie seemed to have somewhat waned. She scarcely evermade her presents now or wrote her notes. She was chatty enough in thedormitory, but saw little of her in recreation hours. Marjorie set thisdown to jealousy of her friendship with Winifrede. In her absorption inher head girl she had certainly not given Chrissie so much of her timeas formerly. She walked along the field now rather soberly. She dislikedquarrelling, but her own temper was hot as well as her chum's.
"I can't help it," she groused. "Chrissie's always taking offence.Everything I do seems to rub her the wrong way. She needn't think I'mgoing to give up Winifrede! I wish she'd be more sensible. Well, I don'tcare; I shall just take no notice and leave her to herself, and thenshe'll probably come round."
Marjorie's surmises proved correct, for Chrissie placed a dainty littlebottle of scent and an enthusiastic note on her dressing-table thatevening, the clouds blew over, and for a time, at any rate, matters werequite pleasant again. Constant little quarrels, however, wear holes in afriendship, and it was evident to St. Elgiva's that some cleavage hadtaken place.
"Chrissie and Marjorie seem a little off with the David and Jonathanbusiness," commented Francie.
"Too hot to last, I fancy," returned Patricia. "Marjorie's got a newidol now."
One reason for the separation between the two girls was that, whileChrissie cared chiefly for tennis, Marjorie was a devotee of cricket,and was spending most of her spare time under the coaching of StellaPearson, the games captain. She showed much promise in bowling, and wasnot without hopes of being put into her house eleven. To play for St.Elgiva's was an honour worth working for. It would be a great triumph tobe able to write the news to her brothers.
Dona had not taken violently either to cricket or tennis, and beyond thecompulsory practice never touched bat or ball, giving herself upentirely to Natural History study and Photography. She was not soenergetic as her sister, and did not much care for running about. Athalf term, however, a new interest claimed her. The head gardener wastaken ill, and Sister Johnstone assumed the responsibility for his work.She asked for helpers, and a number of girls volunteered their services,and occupied themselves busily about the grounds. They rolled and markedthe tennis-courts, earthed up potatoes, put sticks for the peas, plantedout cabbages, and weeded the drive.
It was the kind of work that appealed to Dona, and her satisfaction wascomplete when Mrs. Morrison excused her cricket practices for thepurpose.
"I like gardening much better than games," she confided to Marjorie."There's more to show for it. What have you got at the end of a wholeterm's cricket, I should like to know?"
"Honour, my child!" said Marjorie.
"Well, I shall have six rows of cauliflowers, and that's more to thepoint, especially in these hard times," twinkled Dona. "I consider it'sI who am the patriotic one now. You're not helping the war by bowlingwith Stella, and every cauliflower of mine will go to feed a soldier."
"I thought the school was to eat them."
"They won't be ready till the holidays, so Sister Johnstone says they'llhave to be sent to the Red Cross Hospital. We're going to gather thefirst crop of peas, though, to-night. You'll eat them at dinnerto-morrow."
Two of the prefects, Meg Hutchinson and Gladys Butler, had joined theband of gardeners, and carried on operations with enthusiasm.
"I mean to go on the land as soon as I leave school," declared Meg. "Mysister Molly's working at a farm in Herefordshire. She gets up at sixevery morning to feed the pigs and cows, breakfast is at eight, and thenshe goes round to look after the cattle in the fields. Dinner is attwelve, and after that she cleans harness, or takes the horses to beshod, and feeds the pigs and calves again. She loves it, and she's wonher green armlet from the Government."
"My cousin's working at a market garden," said Gladys. "She bicyclesover every morning from home. It's three miles away, so she has to startever so early. She's got to know all about managing the tomato housesnow. Once she'd a very funny experience. They sent her out for a day totidy somebody's garden. She took a little can full of coffee with her,and some lunch in a basket. An old gentleman and lady came out tosuperintend the gardening, and they seemed most staggered to find thatshe was a lady, and couldn't understand it at all; but they were verykind and sent her some tea into the greenhouse. Evidently they haddebated whether to invite her into the drawing-room or not, but hadturned tail at the thought of her thick boots on the best carpet. Nelliewas so amused. She said she felt far too dirty after digging up bordersto go indoors, and was most relieved that they didn't invite her. Shehad a tray full of all sorts of things in the greenhouse--cakes and jamand potted meat. The old lady asked her ever so many questions, and itturned out that they knew some mutual friends. Wasn't it funny?"
Mrs. Morrison was very pleased with the results of the girls' work inthe garden. She declared that the tennis-courts had never looked better,and that the crop of vegetables was unusually fine.
"I can't give you armlets," she said, "though you thoroughly deservethem. I should like to have your photos taken in a group, to keep as aremembrance. I shall call you my 'Back to the Land Girls'."
At Brackenfield any wish expressed by the Empress was carried out ifpossible, so Muriel Adams, who possessed the best and biggest camera,was requisitioned to take the gardeners. They grouped themselvespicturesquely round a wheelbarrow, some holding spades, rakes, orwatering-cans, and others displaying their best specimens of carrots orcabbages. S
ister Johnstone, in the middle, smiled benignly. The platewas duly developed, and a good print taken and handed round forinspection. Each girl, of course, declared that her own portrait wasatrocious, but those of the others excellent, and it was unanimouslydecided to have a copy framed for presentation to Mrs. Morrison.
There was one advantage in belonging to the "Back to the Land Girls",they might visit the kitchen garden at any time they wished. It wasforbidden ground to the rest of the school, so it was rather nice to beable to wander at will between the long lines of gooseberry bushes orrows of peas. Dona loved the fresh smell of it all, especially afterrain. She spent every available moment there, for it was an excellentplace for pursuing natural history study. She had many opportunities ofobserving birds or of catching moths and butterflies, and generally hada net handy. With a magnifying glass she often watched the movements ofsmall insects. She had come in one afternoon for this purpose, andwandered down to a rather wild spot at the bottom of the garden. It wasa small piece of rough ground surrounded by a high hedge, on the fartherside of which the land sloped in a sharp decline. As Dona hunted aboutamong the docks for caterpillars or other specimens, greatly to hersurprise she saw a figure come pushing through the hedge. It wore a gym.costume and a St. Elgiva's hat, and, as the leaves parted, they revealedthe face of Chrissie Lang. Her astonishment was evidently equal toDona's. For a moment she flushed crimson, then turned the matter offairily.
"I've often thought I should like to see what was on the other side ofthat hedge," she remarked. "You get a nice view across the country."
"You'll lose three conduct marks if you're caught in the kitchengarden," remarked Dona drily. She was not remarkably fond of Chrissie,and did not see why anyone else should enjoy the privileges accorded tothose who were working in the garden. "Meg Hutchinson's weeding cabbagesup by the cucumber frames," she added.
"Thanks for telling me. I'll go out the other way. I've no particularwish to be pounced upon."
"What's that in your hand?" asked Dona. "A looking-glass, I declare!Well, Chrissie Lang, of all conceited people you really are the limit!Did you bring it out to admire your beauty?"
"I want to try a new way of doing my hair, and there's no peace in thedormitory."
"Can't you draw the curtains of your cubicle?"
"They'd peep round and laugh at me."
"Well, anyone would laugh at you more for bringing out a looking-glassinto the garden. I think you're the silliest idiot I've ever met!"
"Thanks for the compliment!"
Chrissie strolled away, whistling jauntily to herself, and picking agooseberry or two from the bushes as she passed. Dona frowned as shewatched her--it was a point of honour with the Back to the Land Girlsnever to touch any of the fruit. By a heroic effort she refrained fromrunning after Chrissie and giving a further unvarnished opinion of her.Instead, however, she walked back up the other path. She found MegHutchinson and Gladys Butler sitting on the cucumber frame. It was in ahigh part of the garden, and commanded a good view over the country.Gladys had a pair of field-glasses, and with their aid could plainlymake out the German camp on the hill opposite. She was quite excited.
"I can see the barbed wire," she declared, "and the tents, and I believeI can make out some things that look like figures. The focus of theseglasses isn't very good. I wish we had a telescope."
"If they've field-glasses I expect they can see the school," said Meg.
"Oh, but they wouldn't let them have any, you may be sure!"
"Are they kept very strictly?" asked Dona.
"Of course. They're under military discipline," explained Meg.
"Would you like to take a peep?" said Gladys, offering the glasses. "Youmust screw this part round till it focuses right for your eyes. Can yousee now?"
"Yes, beautifully. What are they doing?"
"Just lounging about I expect. I believe they have to do a certainamount of camp work, keep their tents tidy, and clean the pans and peelpotatoes and that kind of thing, and they may play games."
"It's a pity we can't set them to work on the land," said Meg.
"They do in some places. I'm afraid it couldn't be managed here. So nearthe sea it would be far too easy for them to escape."