SYBIL RETURNS
“Whew!” said Josy incisively, addressing Gretta and Stella, but gazing
after Margot’s rapidly disappearing figure. “If she doesn’t take the
cake for daringness! But, I say, oughtn’t we to stop her?”
“It’s simply no good,” answered Gretta, white-faced with fear at the
possibility of the dangers that might have overtaken her little sister.
“She’d go all the same. When she feels like this she forgets about
rules--at least, about them being at all important, I mean. I think
she’s frightfully brave, and it would be a blessing for Sybil if she
went. And,” this with a sudden resolve, “I’m going too. I simply must!”
She turned to make her way in the direction her cousin had taken, but
Josy was beside her in a minute. “Gretta, you can’t; besides, didn’t
Margot tell you to give a message to her mother, or something, when she
comes? If she’s got to go, let her; but it won’t help anyone for you to
break rules too.”
“But suppose they really _do_ see that old man?” objected Gretta, still
undecided as to which way duty was really calling. “They’ll be all
alone.”
“Well, _you_ couldn’t help,” insisted Josy unflatteringly. “Depend upon
it, Margot’s all right, and it’s awfully likely that she’ll meet her
mother on the way, I should think; you said she was coming in her car,
didn’t you?”
“Yes, she is,” answered Gretta, greatly comforted by this suggestion.
“And I should think they’re bound to meet. Well,” she half turned back
as she spoke, “if I can’t be any good it’s no use going; she’s got
Stella’s boy, of course, and he’ll be much more use than I could. Oh, I
_do_ hope they’ll meet auntie.”
“They’re sure to,” declared Josy confidently. “And then she’ll take
Margot on in her car, I expect, and Jim’ll come back to wait for Stella.
I _don’t_ think we need tell Miss Read, do you?”
“Oh, that’s all very well,” announced Stella in a grumbling tone. “And
suppose Jim _doesn’t_ come back? What about _me_? For all I know dad’ll
be furious with me for letting the pony have the extra journey, and I
don’t see why I should be blamed. It’s not the _first_ time I’ve got
into trouble over Margot, and I’m going to ask Miss Read what to do;
it’s only sensible.”
“Well, you may be ‘sensible’ about it,” remarked Josy witheringly, “but
you’re being jolly selfish as well! If you don’t, perhaps Margot and
Sybil will get back in about half an hour, and no one will ever know
anything about it. But, if you do----”
But Stella had already departed on her errand, which was to prove a
lengthy and fruitless one, for, when she returned, the match was nearly
over, and the house-mistress had not been found.
“She may have been in the mistress’s room, of course,” she concluded,
after an account of her adventures; “but we’re not allowed in there, so
I didn’t----”
“And that Jim of yours has been searching for you all round the field
like a lost puppy, while you’ve been gone,” replied Josy, still feeling
rather stand-offish, as she would have expressed it, on account of
Stella’s “tell-tale ways!” “He’s gone back now; he wanted to ask
you----”
At that instant two figures were seen approaching the little group from
the two different school entrances. One was Jim, returning breathless
and excited--a very different youth in appearance from the sulky,
sheepish yokel who had, after scouring the playground, returned to where
the rector’s trap had originally stood. Stella started towards him at a
run, just as Gretta turned to fly joyfully in the direction of the
second new-comer, Mrs. Fleming herself, who had evidently singled out
her niece in spite of the crowd, and was bearing down upon her.
“Why, here you are, Gretta!” she exclaimed. “And where are the other
two?”
“Then you haven’t----?” Gretta began feverishly, then stopped, for
Stella and Josy, followed by Jim, with eyes full of despair, joined the
pair breathlessly, excitement lending wings to any feelings of shyness
that might otherwise have attacked them in the presence of a stranger.
“She’s gone!” cried the two. “Margot’s gone! She’s taken the trap,
and----!”
“Margot gone! But _where_?” inquired that damsel’s mother anxiously.
The tale was not a long one, but so involved did it become through the
efforts of the three girls to tell it at one and the same moment, while
near by shouted and clapped a crowd of hockey enthusiasts, that Mrs.
Fleming was little wiser at the end of the recital than at the
beginning.
“Let me hear one thing!” she begged anxiously. “Whatever Margot and
Sybil may be doing, are they _safe_? Gretta, tell me the story again,
and all alone, please. Then I shall understand better.”
So to Gretta’s share fell the retelling of the story. She repeated it as
carefully as she could. “And the trap’s gone, and Margot’s gone; and we
are sure that Sybil went to the ‘Little House,’” she concluded. “Most
likely because of the bravery prize, you know; and as the old man is
mad, Stella says, and Sybil doesn’t know he is, she’s sure to be
terrified. That’s why Margot went. We hoped you’d meet her, auntie, as
you came.”
“Margot’s far too quick in making up her mind,” said Margot’s mother.
“Gretta, come with me; we’ll go straight to Miss Slater’s room. I have
been with her for nearly an hour, as we had something very important to
talk over, and I must have arrived some little while before Margot
started. Before deciding what is the best thing to be done, we must, of
course, tell Miss Slater what has happened.”
Josy and Stella were left, therefore, to watch the finish of the eagerly
anticipated match and to join in the shouts of victory that rose when,
five seconds before the last whistle blew, Helen, the captain, made an
unexpected and brilliant stroke, thus winning the match by a single goal
for her side.
“Three--two! Ripping, isn’t it?” exclaimed Josy, but not so
whole-heartedly as was her wont. “Oh, I _do_ wish we knew where Margot
was, and how she’s getting on!”
“And the pony, too!” amended Stella dolefully. “I _never_ thought that
anything like this could happen. I do hope dad won’t be too awfully
cross!”
A summons from Miss Slater at this moment struck fear into her heart,
but the interview was not to be a long one; things must be done, and
done quickly, and the head mistress, with Mrs. Fleming’s aid, had
arranged a plan of proceedings.
“Stella, Margot’s mother is going straight to that house on the cliff to
find and bring back
[Illustration: “Helen made an unexpected and brilliant stroke, thus
winning the match by a single goal.”]
both children; she has kindly offered to give you a lift, and will drop
you at the rectory. I have sent Jim off on a bicycle, with a note to
your father which will explain matters; he has probably reached the
rectory by this time.”
“May I go, too?” inquired Gretta, her eyes turned appealingly towards
Mrs. Fleming.
“No, Gretta, I think not,” answered the head mistress. “Stella’s father,
when he reads my note, will probably want to join Mrs. Fleming and go
with her; it will be more sensible and useful for you to stay where you
are!”
It was no time to grumble, the child knew. She watched until the car
turned the corner, and then made her way to the dining-hall, at Miss
Slater’s suggestion, to find Josy. The latter, roaming round, was as
restless as Gretta herself, and equally in need of some employment that
would keep her thoughts busily engaged until the return of the
wanderers.
“I couldn’t have believed that to-day would have turned out like this,”
said Josy despondently. “We’ve not _half_ watched the match, and now who
knows what mayn’t be happening in that ‘Little House’?”
“Look here!” said Gretta, feeling certainly as miserable with anxiety as
anyone could feel, and not daring to think the horrid thoughts that
would come crowding into her mind. “Let’s go back to the field and watch
for auntie’s car; it won’t come for ages yet, of course, but it’ll be
something to do.”
Accordingly, while the fun of the hockey-tea waxed fast and furious, the
two children paced the playground exchanging comforting remarks
concerning the subject most near to their hearts, and listening
anxiously for any sound that might herald the return of Mrs. Fleming.
“There!” said Josy suddenly, for about the tenth time. “What’s that?”
“Why!” answered Gretta, half-amused. “_That!_ Why, it’s only the click
of the school gate! It’s an errand boy with parcels, I think. I can see
him, but it’s getting so dark that I can hardly tell. We’d better be
going in, I think, Josy; we could watch from one of the windows.”
The figure by the gate crouched down as the girls drew near on their way
to the cloak-room; it seemed to try to hide itself in the shadows.
“Hallo!” said Josy, “rather a weird errand boy, isn’t it? I believe
he’s ill or something!”
The pair stood at the bottom of the steps and looked inquiringly at the
crouching figure; then--“SYBIL!” exclaimed Gretta and Josy in the same
breath. “Why, _however_ did you get back!”