MARGOT’S STORY
Margot was seated on the edge of her bed in the dormitory, no single
item of the magnificent feast then in progress so much in demand as was
the story which she was engaged in telling; her hearers sat transfixed,
listening open-eyed, while dainties of the most delicate description
were held motionless and forgotten half-way to their lips.
“And you met Long Jake!” broke in Josy, in amazed and envious tones.
“Why, it sounds as though you’re making the whole thing up! How I wish I
could have seen him! But what a wonderful thing! Oh, do go on! Don’t
take any notice of me if I interrupt.”
“We went to the ‘Little House’ and knocked, and I could _plainly_ hear
voices inside. Of _course_, I thought it was Sybil. Yes, we’d left the
rector’s pony tethered up. Wasn’t it _awful_ about his knees--I told
you, didn’t I? Then, after Long Jake had knocked again most awfully
loud, the door was opened, and there stood the _rector_!”
“But _how_?” interrupted Gretta. “I thought Stella said he was away.”
“For a week he was; but he’d come back that afternoon; and when the
curate told him about the old man, and how he’d spoken to Stella on the
moor that day, you know, and how he’d said something about a
‘confession,’ he just came off straight to see him on his way to the
parish-room, where he had some business or other.”
“Well?” inquired her hearers, each taking advantage of the moment in
which Margot paused for breath to pop a dainty into her receptive mouth.
“Well, he looked surprised enough to see us, and seemed to think we were
lost tourists or something, and had come to ask our way, and he tried to
hustle us off; but Long Jake soon told him, and when he heard my name
and knew I’d come from the school, he seemed to understand all right,
because Stella had been talking about us all at home, you see.”
“And what did he _say_?” inquired Josy. “Here, Margot, you’ll be hoarse
with talking; eat a Brazil nut--they’re nearly gone!”
“I couldn’t--_really_!” said Margot, taking one nevertheless. “I feel as
though I should never eat again after to-day; it’s been so exciting.
Well, he just said that Sybil wasn’t there, but that there was someone
very ill in the house, and that he supposed Long Jake didn’t happen to
be a doctor.”
“And was he one?” inquired Josy; for in the minds of all those in
Dormitory 3 the hero had become an Admirable Crichton at least.
“Well, he _isn’t_ one, of course,” said Margot; “but he said he’d had a
good deal of experience--so he had, in the Bush, you know; oh, you
should have seen him when----! Oh, but I can’t tell you that now; it’s
too long. So the rector and he went into a little room, and I sat and
waited, and it was growing dark; and then I heard sounds like someone
very ill. Oh----!”
Margot’s eyes filled with tears at the remembrance; she bit violently
into a sausage-roll to hide the state of her feelings, and waited a
moment before resuming her story.
“Oh, _do_ go on,” begged Josy. “I mean, if you possibly can. Leave out
that part, and have some ginger-beer first; it’s most awfully
reviving.”
“I’m all right,” said Margot. “Then--well, then----! After what seemed
like ages, _and_ ages--then mother came!”
“Oh, weren’t you glad to see her?” inquired Gretta, to whom Auntie Tib
was the beau-ideal of every virtue. “Didn’t it make _all_ the
difference?”
“I should just think so; she always puts things right; and when I’d told
her, we just built up a fire, and then she went into the room.”
“Did she leave you alone for long?” burst in the listeners.
“No, she didn’t--not that time. She was dreadfully anxious about Sybil
still; and I--it just _shows_ how stupid I am!--I got such a fright
about the poor old man being so ill, and all that, that I’d forgotten
all about her.”
“Well?” asked the others.
“Well, the next time mother came to me the rector was with her, and they
arranged that he was to bring me back to school in the car and see Miss
Slater, and ask if Sybil had returned; and then fetch the doctor on his
way back again. Then mother and Long Jake were left with the old man,
you see.”
“But why leave Long Jake?” inquired Josy. “You’d think _he’d_ have
brought you, and then we might have seen him!”
“Well, I wondered about that,” replied Margot, “and I asked the rector.
I hadn’t time to ask mother; she was busy cooking something for the old
man when we came away. But the rector said the most queer thing. He
said, when I asked him: ‘Under the circumstances Long Jake, as you call
him, is the right one to hear the old man’s confession!’”
“What on earth did he mean?” burst in Josy; here was another rôle for
the dormitory hero. “He’s not a clergyman as well, is he?”
“No, of course not; and I _said_, ‘Why?’ to the rector; and _he_ said,
‘I can plainly see the hand of Providence in the fact of the arrival of
Mr. Courtney at that moment!’”
“Mr. Courtney?” inquired Josy. “Oh, yes, that’s his right name, isn’t
it? But I don’t understand.”
“Nor did I, and then the rector said the old man had recognized Long
Jake as soon as he went into the room, and had said that he had been
praying to live long enough to make his confession before he died. Then
the car reached the school, and the rector was in such a hurry to get
news of Sybil for mother, and to fly back for the doctor, and all that,
that I didn’t hear another word. Oh, Josy, after all I _will_ have
something if there’s anything left! I’d like a meringue best!”
“Here, I’ve kept you a beautiful unsquashed one,” announced Gretta.
“Margot, what a frightfully interesting time you’ve had! But isn’t it
awfully mysterious about Long Jake? His knowing the old man, I mean. And
do you think he’ll really die?”
“I’m simply wondering with all my might,” declared Margot, “about how
Long Jake knows him. I can’t understand it; but I feel somehow better
about our old man, because he’s got mother.” Then, with her mouth very
full indeed, “Now, I do wish you’d both tell me all about how Sybil came
back.”
“Little beggar!” Josy shook her fist in the direction of the opposite
dormitory, from which no sounds came. “She arrived in at the school gate
with her arms full of parcels; and Gretta and I saw her. She’d gone to
that awful tiny cottage-shop place about two miles away--you know the
place; we passed it last Saturday, and I suppose Sybil saw it then. I
shouldn’t have thought it sold anything, but, anyhow, _she_ managed to
spend I don’t know how much on the most awful coloured sweets and
things; just because she’d made up her mind, with the help of Adela,
that they’d have a feast, too--nurse or no nurse! I can tell you she
reckoned wrongly, though; she’d seen Stella, but she’d gone on all the
same, and bought her things, and turned up as cheeky as a sparrow!”
“But she was most frightfully tired when she got back,” broke in Gretta;
“and we didn’t know _what_ to do, because we didn’t want her to get into
a row, and we knew we’d simply _have_ to tell.”
“What happened then?” asked Margot in great interest.
“Oh, Miss Read came out of the school-door to see if the brake had come
for the Redford girls, just as we were standing staring at Sybil as
though she was a kind of ghost.”
“She took in the whole thing in a minute, and we didn’t have to say a
word. _She_ didn’t say much either; she just marched her off, parcels
and all, straight to Miss Slater’s room!” Thus Josy, with, it is feared,
a certain amount of relish for the story she was telling.
“Oh, I do hope she wasn’t punished,” broke in Margot. “I can’t help
feeling, you know----”
“Well, we haven’t seen her since, anyway,” continued Josy; “but there’s
no sign of a feast in _that_ dormer! Gretta’s sorry for her, but I can’t
say that I am; I think she deserves it!”
“I went to Miss Read,” said Gretta, interrupting at this point, “and I
told her that I didn’t think Sybil understood rules yet, properly; and
that I thought, perhaps, I hadn’t looked after her enough; for I do
think that, you know, Margot. I’ve thought so much of music and
things----”
“Well, and what did she say?” inquired Margot, feeling very
compassionate towards her younger cousin.
“Well, she said perhaps I hadn’t; but that all the same she had caused a
great deal of trouble, and that Miss Slater had spoken to her, and that
she had been sent to bed in the infirmary for punishment.”
“Poor Sybil!” said Margot. “For, you know, I can’t help feeling that if
she hadn’t gone off like that I should never have gone to the ‘Little
House,’ and then Long Jake would never have seen our old man.”
“But what _I_ want to know is _how_ they knew each other!” remarked
Josy. “The whole thing’s so mysterious!”
“I’m going to try and think it all out before I go to sleep,” said
Margot with a very large yawn.
There was silence for a long time after that; even on dormitory
feast-nights sleep must come sooner or later, and the day had been an
exciting one, and consequently very tiring.
“Good night,” said Josy, shaking crumbs from her counterpane; “I don’t
feel somehow as though I’d eat much breakfast to-morrow, but one never
knows! I say, Margot, what happened to that pony?”
“Oh, the rector was awfully nice about him, and he said he’d send Jim
round after him as soon as he got home,” answered Margot; “he’d had an
accident like that before, he said.”
There was silence again, and Gretta was almost asleep, following the
example of Josy, whose snores could be distinctly heard, when Margot’s
voice roused her from her last waking thoughts. “I say, Gretta!”
“Yes,” replied her cousin sleepily.
“Mother told me to tell you, only I forgot because there’s been so much
to think about, that she has something important to say to you. She
meant to tell you to-day.”
“Oh, yes,” said Gretta sleepily; “it was in that letter----”
“Yes, but she said, too, that she might come over to-morrow; and, if so,
she’d have a talk with you. I don’t know what it is, but I believe Miss
Slater knows; and mother, if she comes, will be able to tell us about
our old man and Long Jake.”
The silence that fell again upon Dormitory 3 was not broken until seven
o’clock the next morning. It is likely that Gretta would not have slept
so soundly had she known what her aunt’s news was to be.