Produced by Delphine Lettau, Suzanne Shell, lbh and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE GIRLS OF ST. OLAVE'S
The Girls of St. Olave's
BY MABEL MACKINTOSH
AUTHOR OF "_The Doings of Denys._"
John F. Shaw & Co., Ltd.,
3, Pilgrim Street, London, E.C.
[Illustration: "In the centre of the group was a little figure in a
short, black kilted frock."--_Page 247._]
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. AS GOOD AS GONE 7
II. LOVE AND MONEY 14
III. A GREAT BIG SHAME 23
IV. A SMALL WORLD 33
V. A WILD-GOOSE CHASE 40
VI. A TICKET FOR ONE 50
VII. HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS 58
VIII. IN FEAR 67
IX. BROTHERS-IN-LAW 80
X. A MEAN THING 89
XI. WITH A PURPOSE 98
XII. MASTER AND MAN 107
XIII. BEARDING THE LION 118
XIV. AN UNWELCOME GUEST 129
XV. THE LAST HOPE 140
XVI. LINKS IN A CHAIN 150
XVII. MEETING AND PARTING 161
XVIII. A BASE TRICK 174
XIX. A SUCCESSFUL RAID 183
XX. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 194
XXI. THE HIDING-PLACE 203
XXII. OUT OF THE NORTH 217
XXIII. THE MEETING OF THE WAYS 224
XXIV. THE SUN SHINES OUT 239
CHAPTER I.
AS GOOD AS GONE.
"You won't be any more use to us after this," said Gertrude
positively.
A quick flush coloured Denys's cheek.
"Oh, Gertrude! why not?"
"Engaged girls never are the least use to their families," reiterated
Gertrude. "All they think about is the postman and their bottom
drawer. The family goes to the wall, its interests are no longer of
interest, its sewing is no longer necessary, its duties----"
But Denys's good-tempered laugh rippled out and interrupted the flow
of eloquence.
"Really, Gertrude! you are too funny!"
"I don't feel at all funny," grumbled Gertrude, half laughing and half
ashamed of herself, "only I'm quite busy enough, and I can't be piled
up with any of your odds and ends! Talking of bottom drawers," she
added, more contented now she had said her say, "if I were you I would
put away all your ornaments and vases, or Pattie will break them all
before you are married."
Denys's eyes wandered round the room, the dear old night nursery where
she had slept with one after another of the babies. The walls were
adorned with coloured prints, of which the stories had been told and
re-told to Tony and little Jerry and baby Maude, and the odds and ends
of little ornaments and carved brackets had each its own history of
a birthday or a holiday or a keepsake. There was nothing of value,
except in the value of association, and Denys smiled tenderly as she
shook her head.
On this evening, when she was just engaged to be married, every
association in the room was tugging at her heart, and weaving its
threads into the new fabric of joy that was spread out before her.
Gertrude's glance followed hers round the room.
"It isn't a half bad room," she remarked, "only those rubbishy old
pictures spoil it. When you are gone I shall have this room and you
will see the difference I shall make. What a joke it will be to see
you come poking round to see all our arrangements then!"
With a gay little laugh, she rubbed her pretty round cheek against
Denys's in a sort of good-night salute and departed, shutting the door
behind her.
A moment later she opened it a crack.
"Don't lie awake thinking of him," she said, "you know Conway wants
breakfast early."
Left alone at last, Denys gave a sigh of relief. It was just like
Gertrude to come up and make arrangements not to be overworked! How
Conway would rage if he knew! And this night of all nights in her
life!
And then Denys forgot all about Gertrude, and sitting on the rug in
front of the fire gave herself up to thinking of her happy future.
It was just like her mother to have lighted a fire for her to sit and
dream by. Mother always seemed to think of little bits of comfort to
give people.
And she was engaged to be married!
She got up hurriedly, unlocked her desk and took out a little pearl
ring which had been her mother's. In the firelight she slipped it
on to the third finger of her left hand, and sat down again to
contemplate it and all that a similar ring given her by Charlie could
mean!
And she would have to call Mrs. Henchman Mother, and Audrey would be
her sister!
Her eyes brimmed over with amusement.
What would they all say! Would they be pleased and surprised--her
grandmother and Mrs. Henchman and Audrey? Had they ever guessed at
what Charlie had made up his mind to three years ago?
Mrs. Henchman had seemed to like her then, but then she had been an
ordinary chance visitor coming in for a cup of tea, the granddaughter
of Mrs. Henchman's old friend Mrs. Marston. What would she think of
her now as her only son's future wife?
The fire was sinking down and Denys rose and lit a candle and looked
at herself critically in the glass, and then she laughed into her own
face at the ridiculousness of the position. Who would have believed
that she, Denys Brougham, on the evening of her engagement day, would
have been staring at her own reflection in the glass, trying to find
out what her future mother-in-law would think of her!
And Charlie's words came back to her, a fresh and tender memory to be
treasured for ever.
"I want to say something to you which I have waited three years to
say. I've loved you ever since I've known you."
She slipped her mother's ring from her left hand and put it away.
She unbound her bright brown hair with its curly waves, turned by the
candle light into a halo of red gold, and laid a happy face upon her
pillow.
Not a pretty, piquant face like Gertrude's, quickly smiling or quickly
clouded, but a cheerful, reliable face with a pretty, good-tempered
smile and kind, gentle eyes; a face that little children smiled
back at, and which invalids loved to see bending over them. But the
looking-glass did not tell Denys anything of all that.
Upstairs in the so-called spare-room where Tony slept, Charlie was
standing at the tall dressing chest trying to describe Denys to his
mother.
"I have got the berth I came for," he wrote, "I'll tell you all about
it when I come, and I have got Denys! I'm so happy, mother darling,
I can't write about it, but she is the prettiest, dearest, sweetest
girl, and I know you'll love her."
He could not think of any more to say and he fastened his letter and
opened his door a crack. Seeing a light still in the hall, he crept
downstairs to find Conway just locking up. He held up his letter with
a smile.
"The midnight post?" asked Conway, "not a love letter already!"
"It's to mother," answered Charlie simply.
"I'll show you the way," said Conway politely. "I have my latch-key
and it's a lovely night."
It was not far to the post office, and the two young men walked there
and back again in silence. Conway, always a silent boy, could think of
nothing to say. He felt towards this stranger who, twenty-four hours
ago, had been nothing but a name to him, as he might feel towards a
burglar who had just stolen his greatest treasure, and who yet had to
be treated with more than mere politeness because he now belonged
to the family--a combination of feelings which did not tend towards
speech.
But Charlie was too engrossed in his happiness to heed either silence
or conversation. His mind was busily planning out trains and times for
the next day's journey home. What would be the last possible minute
that he could give himself at Old Keston?
They reached the house and Conway opened the door with his key and
held out his hand.
"Good-night," he said.
Charlie's handshake was a hearty one.
"Good-night!" he said. "Good-night! How long do you reckon it takes to
walk to the station?"
Conway smiled to himself as he put up the bolts.
"I wonder," thought he, "I wonder if my turn will ever come!"