CHAPTER IV
Red Devon by the Sea
Mavis now found herself placed in a somewhat embarrassing situation. Theschool favourite had taken rather a fancy to her and extended overturesof friendship. Had she been at The Moorings by herself she might haveresponded, but it was impossible to be chums with a girl who displayedsuch open hostility to Merle. The two were "diamond cut diamond". Eachwas a strong character, and neither would give way an inch. Theysquabbled and heckled one another continually. If Opal had had even aterm's experience of a big school, and if Merle had possessed a littletact and forbearance, they might have rubbed along together. As it wasthey went about like two thunderclouds. Mavis found her best safety layin neutrality. She was quite nice to Opal, but not expansive, andwhenever opportunity offered she patched up a truce, though the task ofpeacemaker was often a thankless business, for Opal would say: "Oh, ofcourse, you side with that sister of yours!" and Merle would indignantlyaccuse her of not taking her part with sufficient vehemence.
Merle had found an ally in Iva Westwood. Iva was a ratherout-of-the-way girl, proud and reserved. She did not often care to wagebattle with Opal herself, but she keenly enjoyed hearing somebody elsedo it, and was ready to act "backer-up" within limits. She appreciatedboth the Ramsays, though her particular temperament was more attractedby Merle. In a certain off-hand, abrupt fashion she might be considereda chum.
On the second Friday afternoon after their arrival at Durracombe, Mavisand Merle went to The Moorings as usual. To their immense surprise, whenthey arrived there, they found the whole school arrayed in light frocks,silk stockings, and sandalled slippers.
"Hello! What's the meaning of this? Is there going to be a party?" theyasked quickly.
"Party? No! Don't you know it's dancing afternoon?" replied Nesta,re-tying her pale-blue hair-ribbon, which was coming off. "Surely MissPollard told you?"
"She never said a word about it."
"Well, she told Opal to tell you at any rate. Just when you'd gone homethis morning I heard her say to Opal: 'Run after those two and remindthem it's dancing afternoon.'"
"Opal never came near us. What a shame!" blazed Merle.
"We didn't have dancing last Friday," objected Mavis.
"No, because Miss Crompton hadn't come back. We shall have it everyFriday now."
"Where? In the playroom?"
Nesta laughed.
"Oh no! We don't have it at school. There's no room big enough. We go toMiss Crompton's class in the public hall."
"Well, look here! What are we to do?" asked Mavis. "We can't turn up aswe are? Shall we run home and change into 'war paint'?"
"I don't know. You'd better ask Miss Pollard. Oh, here she is! MissPollard, please! Mavis and Merle didn't know it was dancing afternoon."
"How very annoying! I told Opal to remind you," said the mistress,turning to the aggrieved pair almost as if it were their own fault. "Gohome to change? Oh no! There isn't time now. You must all come along atonce or we shall be late. It's a tiresome mistake but it can't be helpedand you mustn't miss the lesson. You'll know better next week."
"Might we _tear_ home and change, and run on to the public hall?" beggedMavis desperately.
"No, no! You must all come together. Never mind. I'll explain to MissCrompton, and it will be quite all right."
It was all very well for Miss Pollard to say "Never mind" in so easy afashion. Mavis and Merle were furious. They possessed dainty dresses,thin stockings, and dancing slippers in their wardrobe at Bridge House,and when the whole school was arrayed _en fete_ it was most humiliatingto be marched off in their brown knitted jerseys, ribbed stockings, andordinary serviceable shoes. They both looked daggers at Opal, who justthen put in an appearance very prettily got up in a white _crepe deChine_ dress and a big, pale-pink hair-ribbon. She started guiltily whenshe saw them.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you two about the dancing. It simply went out ofmy head," she exclaimed.
"Then your head's as empty as a brass nob," exploded Merle. "It was just_criminal_ of you to forget. I believe you did it on purpose."
Even Mavis did not attempt to palliate Merle's home truths, for she wasbubbling over with injury, and sharper words still might have followedhad not Miss Fanny arrived and swept her whole flock from the house fora "crocodile" walk to the public hall. The big room here, engaged byMiss Crompton, was certainly a very good one for the purpose, with apolished floor and nice decorations, so that it looked quite festive and"Christmasy", as the girls, having left their coats and hats andover-shoes in the cloakroom, marched in and took their places. The classwas not confined to the pupils at The Moorings; girls from variouscountry houses in the neighbourhood, and a sprinkling of little boyswere also there. The array of light dresses and thin shoes made theRamsays more indignant than ever. And there would have been plenty oftime to go home and change. Miss Crompton and her assistants were solong in getting the children arranged, that Mavis and Merle might easilyhave been back from Bridge House, robed in their best, before the firstdance began.
Miss Crompton ascertained that her two new pupils were no novices, thenplaced them in the senior class. In revolt against what some parentstermed "stage posturing" she had revived some of the old Victoriansquare dances, and was teaching the first figures of the quadrille.Merle happened to be _vis-a-vis_ with a girl of about her own age, atall athletic girl with fair hair, who looked as if she would be more athome on horseback than in a ballroom, but who, nevertheless, gaped atthe Ramsays' morning costumes with unconcealed scorn, and arranged theskirt of her own pretty dress rather ostentatiously, as if callingattention to the difference. When she met Merle in "the ladies' chain",instead of joining hands as the figure required, she deliberatelyrefused the outstretched fingers and swept past without touching them.
To Merle it was an open insult. She looked at Miss Crompton to seewhether the teacher had noticed, but Miss Crompton's attention wasconcentrated on two special bunglers, and though the incident happenedagain as the girls crossed back to their own places, it drew down noreproof.
"Slack teaching here," thought Merle, fuming with wrath. "Such a thingwould never have been allowed in our class at Whinburn. I don't know whothat girl is, but she's an out-and-out blighter. This is one of the mostgrizzly afternoons I've ever had in my life."
The Ramsays were indeed glad when half-past four arrived, and they wereable to go home and pour out their woes to Aunt Nellie and Jessop, bothof whom were most sympathetic and indignant about the whole business.
"I'd have brought your dresses to the town hall for you if I'd onlyknown," declared Jessop.
"It was a great mistake of Miss Pollard's; she ought to have sent youhome to change, even if you missed part of the lesson." (Gentle AuntNellie sounded quite wrathful). "How could you dance properly withoutyour thin shoes? Never mind, dears! You'll know better next week, andwe'll take care you go really nice. I wouldn't worry any more about itif I were you. Do your preparation this evening, and if it's fineto-morrow perhaps Uncle David will take you with him to Chagmouth. Thatwill give you something else to think about, won't it?"
The girls cheered up at this suggestion. They were very anxious indeedto go out with Dr. Tremayne in his little Deemster car. He had a branchsurgery at Chagmouth, a village ten miles away, and every Saturday hespent most of the day there, seeing patients and visiting a sanatoriumto which he was consulting medical officer. He would have taken thegirls on the previous Saturday, but there had been a strong gale, and hewas afraid of Mavis running any risks just at first.
"When you're acclimatized we shan't fear a puff of wind or a few dropsof rain," he said, "but we'll harden you gradually, like Tom does withhis bedding-out geraniums."
"Devon wind and rain are so soft they don't hurt me," urged Mavis. "Thewhole air has a different feel from the north. It's nearly as mild asour summer. Uncle David, I just want to forget I ever had a sore chest!"
"That's the best way; still we must go slow and sure. I don't want tohave to order you to bed with
a bronchitis kettle."
"I hope I've said good-bye to that wretched old kettle for evermore. Ididn't want Mother to pack it, but she put it in. I'll give it awaywillingly to the first person who needs it."
Saturday morning fortunately proved fine and mild enough to dispel allfears on Mavis's behalf, and the girls were ready and anxious to startlong before Dr. Tremayne had finished his work in the surgery. Theyfumed round the waiting-room door, casting indignant glances at thepatients seated within, and hoping their cases were not serious, andwould not require much of the doctor's time and attention; then, findingsuch hanging about rather dispiriting, they went to the garage andhelped Tom to polish the brasses of the car--a praiseworthy occupationthat kept them busy until the last patient had been dismissed from thesurgery.
"Just a few bottles of medicine to make up, and then we're off," saidUncle David, giving some instruments to Jessop to sterilize. "Have youeach got a warm scarf, girls? And where's the rug? Tell Tom to put mybag inside the dicky, there won't be room for it in front to-day. Youtwo will have to sit close, but we'll squeeze in somehow."
The little yellow car was only a two-seater, but it held three at apinch. Mavis, in the middle, sat as far back as possible, so as not toincommode Uncle David's left arm as he drove, while Merle sat a littleforward, to give extra room. Jessop tucked the rug over their knees, Tomstarted the engine, Aunt Nellie waved good-bye out of the open window,and at last they were off, over the bridge and along the road that ledto the south. It was a lovely sunny morning, with great fleecy clouds onthe horizon, and a blue sky overhead. Small birds were flitting about inthe hedges, and large flocks of rooks and starlings were feeding in theploughed fields. The banks were green with masses of beautifulhart's-tongue ferns, and all nature seemed alive and stirring andthinking of spring. The car whizzed along at a good pace, and they weresoon scaling the hill and crossing the portion of the moor that laybetween Durracombe and Chagmouth. The glistening drops from yesterday'sshowers still shone on the brown heather, sheep were feeding on thepatches of fine grass, and wild little ponies stampeded away at theapproach of the car, as if they were running a race with motor power.
It was so beautiful on the uplands that the girls were quite sorry whenthe open, hedgeless road dipped between banks into a valley and turnedinto the orthodox deep Devonshire lane. Down and down they went, sosteeply that Uncle David seemed to be hanging on to the brakes, and forat least two miles there was no occasion to use the engine, then quitesuddenly they whisked round a bend of the road and caught a glimpse ofthe village lying below them. Chagmouth came afterwards to mean so muchto Mavis and Merle that they never forgot their first sight of it. Itburst upon them, a compact mass of picturesque houses lying huddledbetween two magnificent headlands crowned with gorse and brown bracken.
A rushing stream ran through the valley, flowed under several bridges,and poured itself into the harbour, where gulls were flapping andscreaming, and the rising tide was rocking the fishing-boats gently toand fro. Out beyond the jetty white sea-foam was flying round jaggedrocks, and a motor-launch was making its way cautiously among choppingwaves. Though it was only the first of February, the village, owing tothe large number of its half-exotic shrubs, was framed in a setting ofgreen, among which the little colour-washed houses shone like flowers.Seen as a bird's-eye view from the road above, Chagmouth indeed lookedlike a gigantic flower border with the emerald sea for a lawn. As theydipped downward into the ravine there rose up towards them certainscents and sounds intimately connected with the place, and afterwardsindissolubly associated with it in the minds of the two girls--themurmur of running water, the cries of sea-gulls, the twitter of smallbirds, the salt smell of the sea, the pungent smoke of burningdriftwood, and the faint, aromatic odour of moist evergreen shrubssteaming in the sunshine.
Dr. Tremayne halted at a house at the top of the village, and took hiscar round into the stable-yard. The house was a farm, and he rentedrooms there for the purpose of his profession. A brass plate upon thedoor set forth his surgery hours. People in Chagmouth, unless they wereseriously ill, kept their aches and pains until Saturdays, for it was along way to fetch the doctor from Durracombe to pay a special visit. Thewaiting-room at Grimbal's Farm was generally full when he arrived, andthere were enough messages from patients requiring his attendance tokeep him busy for the whole of the day.
When the car had been put safely under cover, Uncle David took Mavis andMerle beneath the great arch of fuchsias that framed the doorway andinto the wide, old-fashioned hall, where the farmer's wife, who had beenwatching for the car, was standing to greet them.
"Well, Mrs. Penruddock, how are you? Anybody waiting for me thismorning?" began Uncle David. "You see I've brought my nieces with meto-day. They'll take a look round the place while I'm busy. Can youmanage to find any lunch for them, do you think?"
"Of course I can, Doctor," smiled Mrs. Penruddock. "It's a nice day forthem to see Chagmouth. It's really quite warm down by the harbour. Thereare ten people in the waiting-room, and I have the messages here. Mrs.Glyn Williams said there was no hurry, any time would suit her."
"I'll go up in the afternoon then, when I take the Sanatorium. I'll seethe people who are waiting now, and then have lunch, please, before Ibegin my round. Have you a watch, Mavis? That's right! Then run down andlook at the sea, you two girls, and be back by one o'clock. Don't forgetthe time, because I shall have a long round to-day, and must make anearly start."
Dr. Tremayne disappeared into his surgery, and Mavis and Merle, after afew directions as to their route from Mrs. Penruddock, turned down thestreet that led towards the sea. Chagmouth was nothing more than avillage, though its natives liked to call it a town. To enter it waslike exploring a new world. The road to Chagmouth was happily too steepand narrow for charabancs, so that, even in summer, trippers, with theirterrible train of sandwich-papers and cigarette-ends, had not yetdiscovered it and defiled its beauty. It was the most picturesque jumbleof fishermen's cottages that could possibly be imagined; its narrowalleys, its archways, its flights of steps, its green half-doorways, itstiny windows and chimneys set at every quaint angle, its cobble stonesand deep gutters, seemed a survival from old days of wrecking andsmuggling, and transported one's charmed imagination back to theeighteenth century. Every corner was an artist's subject, the roofs wereyellow with lichen, and many of them were covered with masses of ferns;fishing-nets hung out to dry over palings, and clumps of valerian andstocks and snapdragon grew in the crevices of the walls. Sea-gulls wereeverywhere, as tame as chickens. They sat in rows on the roof ridges,they perched on the chimneys, and flapped down into the streets to catchthe bread the children threw for them, they swam with the ducks in thewide pool where the stream emptied itself into the harbour, and circledwith loud cries round the jetty and the arcade where the fish waspacked. Nobody in Chagmouth ever molested the gulls; they were themascots of the village, and, according to all traditions handed downfrom time immemorial, to injure one of them would be to court instantbad luck and risk at sea. Even the naughtiest boys did not throw stonesat them, and they were indeed considered almost as sacred as are thestorks in some countries.
Mavis and Merle, much thrilled with their surroundings, plunged downthe narrow little street and along flights of steps and under a deeparchway, till they found themselves by the harbour, where red-sailedfishing-boats were at anchor, and blue-jerseyed, bronze-faced men weresitting on casks or on coils of rope, smoking, and talking aboutprospects of future catches. It was such a picturesque sight that Maviswanted to linger, but Merle, who could catch a glimpse of the spraybeyond the breakwater, pulled her on towards the sea. So they climbedone flight of steps, and went down another on the far side of the jetty,finding themselves on a strip of sand and shingle with high rocks and aheadland behind, and the stretch of green open channel in front.
The midday February sunshine made gleaming, dancing lights on thewater. Each wave as it rolled in showed a transparent window of amber,then fell in foaming white on the beach, ca
rrying back with it a mass ofgrinding pebbles. The south wind was fresh, but not at all cold. Mavisdrank in great gasping breaths of it, as if it were something for whichshe had craved and pined. A fortnight of Devon had already brought apink tinge to her cheeks, and the sea air to-day was turning them rosy.The girls walked about on the shore, picking up shells, examining thegreat tangled pieces of seaweed, and peeping into the pools among therocks. They would have liked to go round the point, but Mavis'swristwatch warned her that time was galloping, and that if they meant toclimb back up the hill to Grimbal's Farm they must turn at once andhurry their steps; so, very reluctantly, they said a temporary good-byeto the beach, promising themselves many further visits there on futureSaturdays, and each taking a cockleshell to carry in her pocket as acharm to lure her again to the domain of the sea-nymphs.