again in a petulant voice--
"Don't croak, Mary Morris. Out with the chickens, lay the ham in thiscorner, and the cherries will make a picturesque pile in the middle.Twelve meringues in all, that means a meringue and a half each. Weshall have some difficulty in dividing. Oh, dear! oh, dear! how hungryI am! I was far too excited to eat anything at supper-time."
"So was I," said Phyllis, coming up and pressing close to Annie. "I dothink Miss Danesbury cuts the bread and butter too thick--don't you,Annie? I could not eat mine at all, to-night, and Cecil Temple asked meif I was not well."
"Those who don't want chicken hold up their hands," here interruptedAnnie, who had tossed her brown cap on the grass, and between whosebrows a faint frown had passed for an instant at the mention of Cecil'sname.
The feast now began in earnest, and silence reigned for a short time,broken only by the clatter of plates, and such an occasional remark as"Pass the salt, please," "Pepper this way, if you've no objection," "Howgood chicken tastes in fairy-land," etc. At last the ginger-beerbottles began to pop--the girl's first hunger was appeased. Rovergladly crunched up all the bones, and conversation flowed once more,accompanied by the delicate diversion of taking alternate bites atmeringues and cheesecakes.
"I wish the fairies would come out," said Annie.
"Oh, don't!" shivered Phyllis, looking round her nervously.
"Annie, darling, do tell us a ghost story," cried several voices.
Annie laughed, and commenced a series of nonsense tales, all of aslightly eerie character, which she made up on the spot.
The moon riding high in the heavens looked down on the young giddyheads, and their laughter, naughty as they were, sounded sweet in thenight air.
Time flew quickly, and the girls suddenly discovered that they must packup their table-cloth and remove all traces of the feast unless theywished the bright light of morning to discover them. They rose hastily,sighing, and slightly depressed now that their fun was over. The whitetable-cloth, no longer very white, was packed into the basket, theginger-beer bottles placed on top of it, and the lid fastened down. Nota crumb of the feast remained; Rover had demolished the bones, and theeight girls had made short work of everything else, with the exceptionof the cherry-stones, which Phyllis carefully collected and popped intoa little hole in the ground.
The party then progressed slowly homewards, and once more entered thedark wood. They were much more silent now; the wood was darker, and thechill which foretells the dawn was making itself felt in the air.Either the sense of cold, or a certain effect produced by Annie'sridiculous stories, made many of the little party unduly nervous.
They had only taken a few steps through the wood when Phyllis suddenlyuttered a piercing shriek. This shriek was echoed by Nora and by MaryMorris, and all their hearts seemed to leap into their mouths when theysaw something move among the trees. Rover uttered a growl, and, but forAnnie's detaining hand, would have sprung forward. The high-spiritedgirl was not to be easily daunted.
"Behold, girls, the goblin of the woods," she exclaimed. "Quiet, Rover;stand still."
The next instant the fears of the little party reached their culminationwhen a tall, dark figure stood directly in their paths.
"If you don't let us pass at once," said Annie's voice, "I'll set Roverat you."
The dog began to bark loudly, and quivered from head to foot.
The figure moved a little to one side, and a rather deep and slightlydramatic voice said--
"I mean you no harm, young ladies; I'm only a gypsy-mother from thetents yonder. You are welcome to get back to Lavender House. I havethen one course plain before me."
"Come on, girls," said Annie, now considerably frightened, whilePhyllis, and Nora, and one or two more began to sob.
"Look here, young ladies," said the gypsy in a whining voice, "I don'tmean you no harm, my pretties, and it's no affair of mine telling thegood ladies at Lavender House what I've seen. You cross my hand, dears,each of you, with a bit of silver, and all I'll do is to tell yourpretty fortunes, and mum is the word with the gypsy-mother as far asthis night's prank is concerned."
"We had better do it, Annie--we had better do it," here sobbed Phyllis."If this was found out by Mrs Willis we might be expelled--we might,indeed; and that horrid woman is sure to tell of us--I know she is."
"Quite sure to tell, dear," said the tall gypsy, dropping a curtsey in amanner which looked frightfully sarcastic in the long shadows made bythe trees. "Quite sure to tell, and to be expelled is the very leastthat could happen to such naughty little ladies. Here's a nice littlebit of clearing in the wood, and we'll all come over, and Mother Rachelwill tell your fortunes in a twinkling, and no one will be the wiser.Sixpence apiece, my dears--only sixpence apiece."
"Oh, come; do, do come," said Nora, and the next moment they were allstanding in a circle round Mother Rachel, who pocketed her black-maileagerly, and repeated some gibberish over each little hand. OverAnnie's palm she lingered for a brief moment, and looked with herpenetrating eyes into the girl's face.
"You'll have suffering before you, miss; some suspicion, and danger evento life itself. But you'll triumph, my dear, you'll triumph. You're aplucky one, and you'll do a brave deed. There--good-night, youngladies; you have nothing more to fear from Mother Rachel."
The tall dark figure disappeared into the blackest shadows of the wood,and the girls, now like so many frightened hares, flew home. Theydeposited their basket where Betty would find it, under the shadow ofthe great laurel in the back avenue. They all bade Rover anaffectionate "good-night." Annie softly unlocked the side door, and oneby one, with their shoes in their hands, they regained their bedrooms.They were all very tired, and very cold, and a dull fear and sense ofinsecurity rested over each little heart. Suppose Mother Rachel provedunfaithful, notwithstanding the sixpences?
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
HESTER'S FORGOTTEN BOOK.
It wanted scarcely three weeks to the holidays, and therefore scarcelythree weeks to that auspicious day when Lavender House was to be thescene of one long triumph, and was to be the happy spot selected for aMidsummer holiday, accompanied by all that could make a holidayperfect--for youth and health would be there, and even the unsuccessfulcompetitors for the great prizes would not have too sore hearts, forthey would know that on the next day they were going home. Each girlwho had done her best would have a word of commendation, and only thosewho were very naughty, or very stubborn, could resist the all-potentelixir of happiness which would be poured out so abundantly for MrsWillis's pupils on this day.
Now that the time was drawing so near, those girls who were working forprizes found themselves fully occupied from morning to night. Inplay-hours even, girls would be seen with their heads bent over theirbooks, and, between the prizes and the acting, no little bees in anyhive could be more constantly employed than were these young girls justnow.
No happiness is, after all, to be compared to the happiness of healthfuloccupation. Busy people have no time to fret and no time to grumble.According to our old friend, Dr Watts, people who are healthily busyhave also no time to be naughty, for the old doctor says that it is foridle hands that mischief is prepared.
Be that as it may, and there is great truth in it, some naughty sprites,some bad fairies, were flitting around and about that apparentlypeaceful atmosphere. That sunny home, governed by all that was sweetand good, was not without its serpent.
Of all the prizes which attracted interest and aroused competition, theprize for English composition was this year the most popular. In thefirst place, this was known to be Mrs Willis's own favourite subject.She had a great wish that her girls should write intelligibly--she had agreater wish that, if possible, they should think.
"Never was there so much written and printed," she was often heard tosay; "but can anyone show me a book with thoughts in it? Can anyoneshow me, unless as a rare exception, a book which will live? Oh, yes,these books which issue from the press in thousands are, many of the
m,very smart, a great many of them clever, but they are thrown off tooquickly. All great things, great books amongst them, must be evolvedslowly."
Then she would tell her pupils what she considered the reason of this.
"In these days," she would say, "all girls are what is called highlyeducated. Girls and boys alike must go in for competitive examinations,must take out diplomas, and must pass certain standards of excellence.The system is cramming from beginning to end. There is no time forreflection. In short, my dear girls, you swallow a great deal, but youdo not digest your intellectual food."
Mrs Willis hailed with pleasure any little dawnings of real thought inher girls' prize essays. More than