Spooks
March had come, and even in the northern mountainous region of
the Pennines, where snow lingers long after it has melted in more
favoured districts, winter had begun to make way for spring. The
snowdrops--January flowers in Wales or Cornwall, fair maids of February
in most counties--were late bloomers at Pendlemere, and were never in
their prime till St. Patrick's Day. They made up for their tardy arrival
by their luxuriance. They grew almost wild in the orchard, and spread
like a white carpet over the grass, tossing fairy bells in the wind.
Diana, promoted to help Miss Carr in the spraying of apple-trees, paused
in her work to look round and revel in nature's re-awakening. She was a
sun lover, and the long months of perpetual mist and rain had tried her
very much. She had, to be sure, kept up her spirits in spite of weather;
still, the sight of fleecy, white clouds scudding across a blue sky, and
the sound of the missel-thrush tuning up on the bare branch of the
plum-tree were particularly cheering. Hedge-sparrows twittered among the
shrubs, and rooks were busy flying with large twigs in their bills to
repair their nests in the elms near the church. In the March sunshine
the lake glittered like gold.
"I wonder if it looked just like this when the old monks lived here,"
said Diana. "Did they see exactly what we do now?"
"Pretty much the same, I expect," answered Miss Carr rather
abstractedly. "The lake and the fells would be there, and probably most
of the farms, though the buildings would be different in those days. The
lay brethren would attend to the land just as we do. I dare say they dug
in this very orchard, and grew herbs in the same place where we're going
to plant our potatoes."
"It's a pity we can't call up a vision of them!"
"No, thank you!" said Miss Carr, who was a practical person, and not
given to romance. "I've not the slightest desire to see spooks. I'm
quite content with modern life, and don't want fourteenth-century ghosts
gliding about the place. Get on with your work, Diana! I'm more
concerned with apple-trees than with the old monks."
When Diana got an idea into her head, however, it was apt to stick. She
had a lively imagination, and she liked to picture what the Abbey had
once been. She read the account of it in the local guidebook and in
Chadwick's _Northern Antiquities_, which she borrowed from the library,
and she further devoured Scott's _The Monastery_. Steeped in this
mediaeval atmosphere, she began to tell the girls such vivid stories of
the doings of the brethren that they almost believed her. She invented
several fictitious characters: Brother Amos, Brother Lawrence, Brother
John, and Prior Andrew, and gave a most circumstantial account of their
adventures.
"How do you know what they used to do?" asked Jess, much impressed.
"I guess I sort of feel it," said Diana. "It's almost like remembering."
"Some people think we come back to earth and live again. Were you one of
the old monks, Di?"
"She must have been an unholy one, if she was!" interrupted Sadie.
"Anybody less like a monk than 'Stars and Stripes' I couldn't think of!"
"There were all sorts, of course. I've told you Brother Lawrence was up
to tricks sometimes, and got the discipline. The Prior used to be down
on him, just as Toddlekins is down on us. He was more sinner than saint.
That's why he can't rest quietly."
"Doesn't he rest?" Jess's voice held a note of uneasiness.
"No, I don't think he does. I've a kind of feeling that he haunts the
place, coming back to find out what it's like now."
"An earth-bound spirit!" gasped Jess.
"Yes, he's got some sins to expiate, you see."
The conversation was growing creepy. Sadie, Tattie, Jess, and Peggy, who
with Diana were squatting near the schoolroom fire in the gloaming,
moved a little nearer together. There is comfort in physical contact.
The fact that Brother Lawrence was entirely an invention of Diana's did
not relieve the tenseness of the situation; she had talked about him so
often that she seemed to have conjured him up. They could almost see his
white habit gliding along the corridor, and his unsaintly eyes gleaming
from under his cowl. They began to wish he had behaved better during his
lifetime, or at any rate that he had not chosen to revisit the scenes of
his old sins.
"If I were really to see him I'd have forty fits!" shivered Peggy, who
was a superstitious little soul who threw spilt salt over her left
shoulder, and curtsied religiously to the new moon.
"It isn't everybody can see ghosts," declared Diana. "You've got to have
the psychic faculty. Some people can feel they're there, even when they
can't see them."
"Oh, that would be _far_ worse! It would be awful to know something was
in the room, and not be able to see it!" exploded Jess. "Tattie, may I
come and sleep in your bed to-night?"
"There's not much room, but you can if you like," conceded Tattie; "so
long as Geraldine doesn't find out."
"I'll creep in when she's asleep."
It was all very well for Diana to people the corridor with imaginary
monks; she knew they were images of her own creation; the more
weak-minded of her form mates, however, were frankly frightened. Nothing
spreads more readily than a ghost scare. Sadie, Jess, and Peggie were
bolting squealing along the passage one evening, when they almost
collided with Geraldine. She seized Jess by the arm, and pulled her into
the radius of the lamplight, nodding to the other two to follow.
"I want a word with you," she said. "It's high time you stopped this
ridiculous nonsense. I don't know who started it, but it's getting the
limit. Oh, yes! I know you go creeping into Tattie's bed when you think
I'm asleep, and you daren't walk upstairs alone. I'm not as blind or
deaf as you seem to suppose. You're putting silly ideas into juniors'
heads. Whoever heard of the Abbey being haunted? Such stuff! You'll be
afraid of your own shadows next. Do try to be more strong-minded! I
really shouldn't have expected----"
Geraldine stopped, because something like a whirlwind suddenly descended
the stairs and stampeded towards them. It resolved itself into
Diana--Diana with scarlet cheeks, shining eyes, and face simply bubbling
over with excitement.
"Hallo! I say!" she jodelled, "What _do_ you think?" Then she saw
Geraldine, and halted dead.
"Come here!" commanded the head girl. "I want to talk to you too about
this absurd spook scare. It's mostly among you intermediates, and the
sooner you get it out of your silly heads the better. Pity you can't
find something more sensible to talk about. Why don't you read, and fill
up your empty brains? There are heaps of good books in the library, if
you'd only get them out. You spend all your spare time gossiping."
"We _do_ read!" retorted Diana, taking up the cudgels for the maligned
intermediates. "I've just read _The Monastery_, and that's all about a
ghost called 'The White Lady of Avenel'. It's _grand_ where she rides
the sacristan's mule down the river and sings:
'Merrily swim we; the moon shines bright.
Good luck to your fishing! Whom watch ye to-night?'
There are heaps and loads of ghost tales in the guide book and in
Chadwick's _Northern Antiquities_, and those are all books Miss Todd
_told_ me I might read. She said they were 'educational'."
"She didn't mean you to take the ghosts seriously, though, any more than
you'd believe in the gods of Greece because you were learning classical
literature. Why, you'll tell me next that you expect to see the
fairies."
"I'm not sure that I don't!"
"Then you're a bigger goose than I thought you. Really, at fourteen! I'm
astonished at all of you. You don't see _me_ running squealing away from
supposed ghosts. Don't let me catch you being such little idiots again."
Having finished her harangue, and having, as she thought, thoroughly
squashed the folly of the intermediates, Geraldine proceeded on her way,
happily oblivious of the faces they were pulling behind her back.
"I'd like to see _her_ squeal and run," grunted Jess.
[Illustration: ITS COWL FELL BACK, AND DISCLOSED A WELL-KNOWN AND
DECIDEDLY MIRTHFUL COUNTENANCE]
"So should I," agreed Sadie. "She's always _very_ superior. By the by,
Stars and Stripes, what were you just going to tell us?"
"Nothing particular."
Diana was looking preoccupied, as if her thoughts were far away.
"I'm sure it was," urged Sadie. "Don't be mean! Go on!"
"I've changed my mind. No, I'm _not_ going to tell you. It's no use
bothering me, for I just shan't."
"I think everybody's horrid to-night," said Sadie, turning away much
offended.
It was on the very next evening that Ida Beckford, going to her bedroom
in the gloaming, caught a glimpse of a white-robed figure with a cowl
over its head gliding along the passage and up the stairs. Ida was not
so strong-minded as Geraldine. She turned the colour of pale putty, and
went straight downstairs again to relate her psychic experience to her
fellow seniors. She did not meet with the sympathy she expected.
"Some silly trick of those intermediates," sniffed Hilary.
"I'll be down on them if they go shamming spooks," threatened Geraldine.
"If it happens again we'll set a watch and catch it," declared Stuart
loftily.
Ida cheered up at this mundane view of the matter, and recovered her
colour; but she abandoned the blotter she was going to fetch, and stayed
in her form-room instead of walking upstairs again. The news began to
creep about the school, however, that the Abbey was being haunted by a
spiritual visitor. Many of the girls saw it glide along the landing in
the dusk, and disappear up a certain narrow flight of stairs. Now herein
lay the mystery. The stairs went up ten steps in full view of the
passage, then they turned a sharp corner, rounded a yard of landing, and
with four more steps ended in a locked attic door. Several of the most
venturesome members of the school had tried to follow the figure, but
when they came round the corner, to their immense surprise it had
utterly disappeared. And there was absolutely no place in which it could
possibly have concealed itself.
"Has it crept through the keyhole?" quavered Peggy.
"Or just vanished into thin air?" speculated Magsie.
"The door's really locked!" declared Vi, rattling the handle again to
make sure.
"We certainly _saw_ it go up, but it's not here now!"
"Flesh and blood can't disappear in a second!"
"It's most uncanny!"
"The old Cistercians wore white habits."
"I say, I don't like this!"
Brother Lawrence, as the girls began to call the apparition, showed
himself frequently, but always with the same elusiveness. The phenomenon
was invariably as before: his white monastic robes would glimmer
through the darkness, glide up the stairway, and then seemingly melt
into nothing. Geraldine herself pursuing hotly on the scent, found that
she was utterly baffled.
A head girl, especially a prefect with a scorn for superstition, does
not like to admit herself baffled. Geraldine thought the matter over,
took Loveday into her confidence, and went to Miss Todd. As the result
of her interview she resolved to set what she called "a very neat little
spook-trap". She and Loveday said nothing about it to the rest of the
school. They merely bided their time.
Brother Lawrence did not always show up when anybody was on the watch
for him; he seemed to prefer displaying his supernatural powers to the
unwary. For two whole days he did not put in an appearance; whether he
was haunting elsewhere or expiating his sins in purgatory was a point
for discussion. On the third evening, however, Tattie, Jess, and Magsie
had screwed their courage to sticking-point, and strolled upstairs in
the twilight, half hoping and half fearing to catch a glimpse of the now
almost familiar apparition. They kept in the shadow of the big cupboard,
and held each others' hands without speaking. A full moon was shining
through the landing window, and lit up the narrow staircase with a
silvery, ghostly gleam. Suddenly from the darkness of a doorway emerged
the white robes, and passed rapidly upwards in the moonlight. Still
clutching hands for moral support, the three girls tore after it.
Surely this time they could manage to overtake it? But no; it had turned
the corner before they reached the lowest stair, and by the time they
had dashed up the ten steps it had made its usual disappearance. They
halted on the yard of landing, breathing hard; then their hearts seemed
to turn somersaults, for the attic door suddenly opened. It was no ghost
who peered forth at them, but Geraldine and Loveday. The former had a
candle in her hand; she struck a match and lighted it calmly.
"You needn't look so scared!" she said to the panting trio. "I'm just
going to show you your precious spook. Stand back a little, will you? I
assure you it won't bite you!"
She descended to the landing, turned round towards the four steps that
led to the attic door, then, to the immense amazement of the girls,
raised up the steps like the lid of a chest. There was a good-sized
cavity below, and in this place of concealment crouched a white-clad
figure. Geraldine took it by the arm and hauled it unceremoniously
forth. It issued chuckling, and, as its cowl fell back, disclosed a
well-known and decidedly mirthful countenance.
"Stars and Stripes!" ejaculated Jess.
"The game's up!" proclaimed Diana coolly. "You two"--nodding at the
seniors--"have been too many for me."
"I always thought you were at the bottom of all this, Diana Hewlitt!"
said Geraldine. "I was quite determined I'd catch you. Take those
things off at once. What are they? Sheets? Fold them up properly; don't
trail them on the floor. Do you know that if anybody in the school had
had a weak heart you might have killed her by playing such a trick?"
"I knew you were all too strong-minded," twinkled Diana. "Of course,
nobody believed in Brother Lawrence, any more than they believed in the
fairies or the gods of Greece. I guess it's rather nice sometimes to
make a sort of practical demonstration of one's reading. It shows one
appreciates the books and takes an intelligent interest. There are heaps
of good books in the library. I'm going to borrow _Customs and
Superstitions of the Celts_."
"You may borrow what you like," said Geraldine grimly; "but if we've any
more of this business Miss Todd will settle it herself; so I tell you."
"People who provide entertainment are rarely thanked," sighed Diana, as
she folded the sheets. "I ought to receive a stipend for keeping the
school amused."
"You'll receive something you don't bargain for, if you don't take
care," warned Geraldine. "Go downstairs, all of you!"
That Brother Lawrence was identical with Diana did not very much
surprise the school, but everybody went crazy over the discovery of the
secret hiding-place under the stairs. Even Miss Todd had not known of
its existence. Diana confessed that she had found it out quite by
accident, had rushed downstairs to communicate the thrilling news, but
had changed her mind as its obvious advantages flashed across her. She
had not been able to resist making use of it to play a ghost trick. The
little chamber which she had so unexpectedly brought to light was only
just big enough to crouch in, and had probably been made in the
troublous times of the Stuarts as a place of temporary concealment when
the Abbey was searched by soldiers. Unfortunately it was quite empty.
"When I first opened it I expected to find a hoard of spade-guineas or
silver punch-bowls," said Diana ruefully to Loveday--the two girls were
discussing the great discovery as they went to bed. "I nearly howled
when I found nothing but dust."
"I wonder," answered Loveday, "if this is what that gentleman found--the
one, I mean, who came to see Father when I had measles. You know I've
always been hunting about for hiding-places."
"Yes, I know."
"I thought somehow it would be rather better than this, though. It
hardly seemed worth while his troubling to come and call; though, of
course, it's interesting. Mr. Fleming will be very thrilled."
"I'd have been a great deal more thrilled if there'd been anything worth
having inside. As I told you before, I expected spade-guineas. It's one
of the disappointments of my life!" declared Diana, getting into bed.