What Miss Kaye Thought of It
Tuesday passed just as usual, and no casual observer would have
noticed that anything was amiss with the members of the third class.
Elsie Thompson had evidently been frightened into silence by Hazel's
threat, no one else mentioned the subject, and beyond the fact that
Nina looked pale, and Linda rather distressed, the matter seemed
likely to sink into oblivion. At about a quarter to four, however,
when Miss Arkwright was in the very middle of explaining the
difference between a nominative of address and a nominative in
apposition, the door opened suddenly, and Miss Kaye made her
appearance. She so seldom came into a class during the afternoon that
the hearts of three of her pupils began to thump, their guilty
consciences telling them beforehand that her errand must surely
concern them and no others. Nor were they mistaken. After apologizing
to Miss Arkwright for interrupting the lesson, Miss Kaye turned
towards the girls with that stern look in her eyes which they knew and
dreaded to meet.
"Hazel Prestbury, Linda Marshall, and Nina Forster," she said in a
voice that though quiet was full of emotion, "I am deeply grieved to
find that you have been deceiving me. Elsie Thompson told me
yesterday that she had seen you run through the gate and down the road
towards Aberglyn. I asked you if this were so, and you all three
denied it. Knowing that Elsie is not always very truthful I believed
your word in preference to hers. This afternoon I happened to meet
Miss Newman, a lady who lives near Valley Lane, and she told me that
she noticed some of my girls coming out of Mrs. Price's shop yesterday
at about ten minutes to five, and hurrying back towards Heathercliffe.
I am more pained than I can tell you, not only to think that you
should have broken the rules, but that you should have stooped to
utter such deliberate falsehoods. You allowed me to accuse Elsie of
the very fault you were committing yourselves, and meanly left her to
bear the blame. I am thoroughly ashamed of you, and hope you are
equally ashamed of yourselves. Go at once to your bedrooms. Your tea
will be sent to you later. I feel that, until you have fully realized
what you have done, you are not fit to mingle with the rest of the
class. You will, of course, take no part in our fifth-of-November
party to-morrow."
Poor Linda! She left the room feeling as if her trouble were almost
greater than she could bear. It was impossible now to explain that she
had only gone as far as the gate. Miss Kaye would probably not believe
her, and in any case would think that she was trying to shirk her part
of the blame, and cast it on Hazel and Nina. She was beginning to
experience the truth of the old proverb that you cannot touch pitch
and keep your hands clean; she had never intended to do anything in
the least dishonourable, but having taken a first step it had been
very difficult to act in such a sudden emergency. Friendship had
seemed to demand that she should not betray her companions, though
their conduct certainly did not justify any great consideration on
their behalf.
"If I'd only never left the house," she thought, "or if I had told
Miss Kaye I had gone into the garden! But then she would have known
the others must have been there too. Oh, it's all a horrid puzzle, and
I'm simply miserable! I shan't see Guy Fawkes to-morrow, and I hate
everybody and everything, and I wish I were at home."
She went to bed in tears, which increased when Miss Coleman brought
her her tea, and, after collecting Sylvia's nightclothes, informed her
that her roommate, together with Connie Camden and Jessie Ellis, were
to sleep in a large bedroom generally called "The Hospital", and no
one would be allowed even to come in and speak to her. The prospect of
sleeping alone without Sylvia made her feel wretched, and it was not
till then that she began to realize how much her friend was to her,
and what a terrible loss it would be if they were separated.
"Perhaps Miss Kaye won't let us have a bedroom together again," she
said to herself. "I wonder whom she'll put me with! Suppose she sent
one of the big girls to sleep here, Bessie Cunningham, or Marjorie
Moreton. How hateful it would be! There'd never be any fun or talks
in bed in the mornings. Or perhaps I shall be just alone, as I was
before Sylvia came. I didn't care then, but I mind it dreadfully now
I'm so accustomed to her."
In the meantime Sylvia was feeling as dejected as Linda at the course
which events had taken. She knew her friend was not so much to blame
as the others, and it was terrible to find her mixed up in such an
unpleasant business.
"Hazel often tells stories," she reflected, "and I never thought much
of Nina. But I'm sure Linda wouldn't do such a thing. There must be
some mistake. If I could only see her, and get her to explain it all."
That, however, was impossible. She was strictly forbidden to go into
her bedroom, and neither Miss Coleman nor Miss Arkwright would give
any news of the three banished offenders.
It was a very dismal evening in the playroom for the remaining members
of the third class. It cast quite a gloom over their spirits. Connie
Camden did not tease and play tricks as usual, and Jessie Ellis had to
retire to a corner occasionally and wipe her eyes.
"You shouldn't have let them go," said Marian to Sylvia. "You were
there and heard their plans."
"How could I stop them?" cried Sylvia indignantly. "I said I wouldn't
go myself. Hazel is more than a year older than I am, and she never
listens to anything I say. She was as rude as she could be, and
persuaded the others to go with her. Did you want me to go telling
tales to Miss Arkwright?"
"No, but you might have said more. I don't believe they would have
gone if I had been there. I should have thought of so many reasons to
stop them. It was a great pity I was at my practising," said Marian,
who was always wise after an event.
"Well, why didn't Gwennie say it all?" demanded Sylvia. "She was
there."
"Gwennie is much younger, and isn't expected to tell people what they
ought to do. It's quite enough for her to do as she's told herself."
"I'm only four months older than Gwennie, so I don't see why you
should throw the blame on me as if it were my fault that they went,"
said Sylvia. "You'll be scolding Jessie next."
"No, I shan't. She's so stupid no one takes any notice of her. You're
different and ought to make people care," said Marian, getting her
book and beginning to read, while Sylvia, doubtful whether the last
remark was intended for a compliment or a reproof, took out her
writing case and consoled herself by beginning a long letter home.
It seemed very peculiar and gloomy not to be allowed to go to bed in
her own room; she and Connie and Jessie undressed with many grumbles
in the Hospital, and hoped they would not be compelled to stay there
for the rest of the term.
"They ought to have sent the others here instead of us," said Connie.
"We're being punished for something we haven't done."
"Yes, but the others would have been together, and that's what Miss
Kaye doesn't want," replied Sylvia. "They're each of them quite
alone, and I'm sure they must be having a wretched time. I wonder if
they will be in school to-morrow!"
Evidently Miss Kaye did not consider them yet fit to take their places
among the others, for they did not appear at breakfast, nor afterwards
in the classroom. The headmistress had been greatly distressed by the
whole affair, which showed such a sad lack of the moral courage and
high standard she had tried to impress upon all her girls that she
could not but feel a sense of failure. She decided that it was better
to leave them for some little time to themselves, that they might have
leisure to consider what they had done, and she did not mean to let
them return to their places until after the fireworks were over,
knowing that to prevent them from seeing the bonfire was the greatest
punishment she could inflict.
Nina Forster in any case would not have been able to be present. The
run down the wet garden and road in her house shoes, which she had not
afterwards changed, had brought on a feverish cold and sore throat,
and she was tossing about in bed with a splitting head, too poorly to
think of anything but her aches and pains.
The day dragged slowly along. Lessons seemed very strange in a class
of only five, and even Marian missed the others. The girls went out
into the courtyard at four o'clock to look at the great bonfire which
the gardener had been busy piling up, inspected the tub of newly
washed potatoes which the cook had placed outside the back-kitchen
door, and tried to cajole some pieces of toffee from Cook.
"I gave it all to Miss Kaye," she assured them, "and it's locked up in
the dining-room cupboard. It's not a single piece you'll get till
to-night, so don't come bothering me. Parkin, did you say? It's safe
in the storeroom, and it will stay there till seven o'clock."
In spite of a slight mist it promised to be a fine evening, and the
children looked anxiously up at the sky, hoping it would be clear
enough to show off the rockets to advantage. The fireworks were to
begin after six o'clock, at which hour Mr. Cameron was expected to
arrive, and with the gardener's aid to set a light to the bonfire.
"It's no fun in the least without Linda," thought Sylvia, wandering
round to the front of the house to see if she could catch a glimpse of
her friend at the window. "She'll be so unhappy all alone! I wonder
if----." And she ran back to the side door as quickly as she could,
for a new idea had suddenly struck her.
"Mercy," she cried, meeting the monitress in the passage, "there's
something I want to do if I dare. Do you think Miss Kaye would be very
angry with me?"
"I can't tell you till I know what it is," said Mercy, smiling. "What
do you wish to ask her?"
"Linda will be so miserable by herself this evening. Do you think Miss
Kaye would let me stay with her? You see, it wasn't her fault half as
much as the others', because she didn't really go with them."
"How do you know she didn't?" asked Mercy.
"Because she came back at once and said she had only been to the
gate. She and I sat in the classroom talking till teatime."
"My dear child, if you knew this you ought to have told Miss Kaye
about it before!"
"Ought I? I didn't dare. She looked so angry. I thought perhaps Linda
had told her."
"I don't believe she did. At any rate I think we ought to make sure.
If you like I'll go with you to Miss Kaye now; she's in her study."
"Oh, if you only would!" cried Sylvia, clasping Mercy in one of her
affectionate hugs; "I shouldn't mind a scrap if you were there, but
I'm frightened out of my wits to go alone."
Sylvia clutched Mercy's arm very tightly as they tapped at the door of
the study, and entered in response to Miss Kaye's 'Come in!' She was
thankful the elder girl was there to explain her errand, as she felt
so shy herself, she was sure she would not have known how to begin.
"You are quite certain, Sylvia, that Linda did not accompany the
others to Mrs. Price's shop?" asked Miss Kaye, when Mercy had finished
her account.
"Quite, Miss Kaye," replied Sylvia. "She never said she would. Hazel
tried very hard to persuade her, and she promised to go with them just
as far as the gate. She couldn't have gone farther, because she was
back in a few minutes. I know she came in the moment Marian Woodhouse
stopped practising, and Marian always has the piano till exactly a
quarter to five. Then she was with me all the rest of the time until
tea."
"Miss Newman certainly said she saw two girls, both with light hair,"
said Miss Kaye; "I supposed the third must have escaped her notice. I
am glad to find Linda is not quite so naughty as I thought. I will go
to her at once and see if she is able to explain what happened
afterwards."
"And please, Miss Kaye----" said Sylvia eagerly, as the mistress rose.
"Well, my dear?"
"Would you let me stay with her to-night instead of going to the
bonfire?"
"We'll see," replied Miss Kaye; and without committing herself any
further she went upstairs.
Sylvia looked at Miss Kaye many times during tea, trying to read the
answer in her face, but the latter did not glance in her direction,
and seemed fully occupied in a conversation with Mademoiselle. When
the meal was over, however, she called to her to remain after the
other girls had left the room.
"I have seen Linda," she said, "and find her thoroughly sorry for any
part she has played which has not been perfectly honourable and
straighforward. I am sure she will be more careful in future to avoid
even the shadow of an untruth. As I think she was trying to shield
Nina and Hazel I have decided not to punish her any more, and she is
once again free. Did you say that you would be willing to give up your
share of the fun outside and spend the evening with her?"
"Yes, oh yes!" exclaimed Sylvia.
"And miss the fireworks?"
"I don't mind."
"You are a good little friend, but it is not necessary. Linda may come
to the bonfire, and you shall have the pleasure of running upstairs
at once and telling her so yourself."
You may be sure that Sylvia flew like an arrow to her bedroom to
announce the delightful news, and that it did not take Linda long to
put on her outdoor clothes and join the crowd which was already
assembling in the courtyard.
Mr. Cameron had just arrived. He was a tall, jolly, rather elderly
gentleman, with a grey moustache and an endless stock of jokes, which
he fired off like crackers among the girls. They all knew him well, as
he often came to Heathercliffe House. His daughter Doris had been
educated there, and though she was now nineteen, she was fond of her
old school, and had accompanied her father this evening to watch the
fireworks.
"Out of my way!" shouted Mr. Cameron; "make room for the principal
figure, the leading actor on the stage, we may call him, and if you
don't admire him, it's your own bad taste!"
He was staggering from the house as he spoke, carrying in his arms a
huge guy, stuffed with straw, whose comical red face, dangling arms,
and helpless legs roused shouts of laughter all round.
"There," said Mr. Cameron, seating him on a convenient barrel in the
midst of the bonfire, "anyone can change places with him who likes; he
mayn't look clever, but at any rate I can guarantee he'll get a warm
reception before he even takes the trouble to open his mouth. Now
then, stand back, children; we're going to begin."
[Illustration: "IN A FEW MINUTES A GRAND BLAZE WAS FLARING UP"]
The gardener had brought out a large torch, which he applied to some
loose shavings, and in a few minutes a grand blaze was flaring up,
catching the boxes, hampers, and brushwood of which the pile was
composed. Mr. Cameron fastened a match to the end of a pole, and,
lighting it, approached within a few feet of the guy.
"Now look," he said; "watch very carefully, and you'll see him roll
his eyes."
He applied the match to the mask where two small pin-wheels had been
fitted in front of the empty sockets. They went off immediately, and
gave exactly the appearance of two horrible, flaming eyes whirling
round and round in the big head. The younger children screamed and
clung delightedly to the elder ones, and even Miss Kaye was quite
startled at the effect.
"Now he's going to talk," declared Mr. Cameron; "he's like the girl in
the fairy tale who dropped diamonds and pearls whenever she opened her
lips."
He held his lighted pole to the guy's mouth, where a Roman candle was
hidden inside, and out came balls of red and blue and green, shooting
into the air one after another with great brilliance. By this time the
flames had reached his arms and legs, which, being stuffed with squibs
and crackers, exploded with much noise, and the luckless conspirator
disappeared with a crash into the midst of the burning barrels, to the
accompaniment of a storm of clapping and a lusty cheer. When the blaze
had somewhat subsided, the tub of potatoes was carried out, and each
girl was allowed to place one in the hot ashes, together with several
chestnuts, which could be roasting while they ate the toffee and
parkin.
"You wouldn't think of eating sweet things just before you had
potatoes at any other time," said Linda, "but everything tastes so
delicious when it's from the bonfire."
Mr. Cameron was getting ready to let off the more important fireworks,
which had been kept till the end, and the girls arranged themselves in
a half-circle to look at the golden rain, the Catherine wheels, and
the rockets which were to finish the festivities. He had prepared a
surprise for them by writing "Heathercliffe House" in gunpowder on the
ground, which, when it was set alight, stood out in letters of flame,
and had a fine effect. "I always said Heathercliffe House ought to set
the world on fire," he laughed, "and we've done it to-night."
As Linda stood watching the last rocket tearing across the sky, she
put her arm round Sylvia's shoulder. "I shouldn't have been here at
all this evening except for you," she whispered. "It was lovely of you
to go to Miss Kaye. She was so nice about it when I said I was sorry.
I don't think I shall ever be frightened of her again."
"Three cheers for Miss Kaye!" called Mr. Cameron. "Those who feel they
have had a jolly time may join me, and those who don't had better go
to bed. Hip! Hip! Hooray!"
And among all the laughing, clapping girls there were none who
responded more heartily than Linda and Sylvia.