Yule-tide
The end of the term was, to use Merle's expression, 'a little thin.' Miss
Mitchell did not seem disposed to make any very great fuss about it, and
merely set aside the last hour of the last afternoon for the play which
the boarders had prepared. She suggested, indeed, that the day-girls
might get up some tableaux, but as no one evinced any enthusiasm the
matter dropped.
"Tableaux are rather tame unless you have most beautiful dresses,"
sniffed Muriel.
"It really isn't worth our while bothering over them," agreed Merle.
They were decidedly disappointed to have no chance to exhibit their own
dramatic talents, but they were 'sporting' enough to give a hearty clap
to the boarders' performance, a really magnanimous attitude on the part
of Mavis, who had lent a pale pink silk dress to Nesta, and watched
candle grease dropping down the front of it as that heroine pretended to
investigate a smuggler's cellar with a light.
"Never mind! We'll have some acting of our own in the hols," she
whispered to Merle, who sat next to her.
"Rather! And it will beat this simply into fits, though of course I
shan't tell them so."
The holidays this Christmas were to compensate for every disagreeable
thing that had happened in the course of the term. First and foremost,
and this ought to be written in big letters like a poster heading, BEVIS
WAS COMING TO STAY. Mrs. Ramsay had invited him for a three weeks' visit
to Bridge House, and he was to arrive on December 23rd. He had always
been a great favourite with Dr. Tremayne, who thought that the boy's
position was rather a lonely one, and that on this first Christmas in
particular, after the solution of the mystery of his birth, he would feel
the lack of any family of his own and would be glad to be welcomed by
friends.
Naturally, to Mavis and Merle this was the event of greatest importance,
but there was to be another pleasant happening as well. Cousin Clive was
also coming to spend the holidays. He was Dr. Tremayne's grandson and his
home was in London. The girls had never seen him, as he had not paid a
visit to Durracombe during the last year, and they were very curious to
know what he was like. Any misgivings which they may have cherished
vanished instantly, however, at the first sight of Clive. He was a very
big boy of twelve, as tall as Merle, with merry grey eyes that looked
capable of fun. He was, of course, full of the affairs of his own
preparatory school, but as he found they were ready to listen to his
accounts of football matches or dormitory 'rags' he took them into his
masculine confidence and extended the hand of friendship. He showed a
particular fancy for Merle, whose robuster constitution allowed her to
tear about with him and indulge in some rather hoydenish performances.
"You're a thorough tomboy!" said Mother, having called her younger
daughter down from the coach-house roof, whither she had climbed in
company with her cousin.
"Well, you see, Mummie dear, I have to amuse Clive!" was always Merle's
excuse. "If I didn't keep him quiet he'd kick up no end of a racket and
disturb Aunt Nellie. It's really very kind of me!"
"There's a large spice of enjoyment mixed with the philanthropy!"
twinkled Mother.
"Well, that's the right spirit. We ought to enjoy our own good deeds!"
laughed Merle.
As Aunt Nellie was really a consideration in regard to noise, the young
people had taken over the harness room as a temporary boudoir during the
holidays. They carried down some basket chairs, tacked a few coloured
pictures from annuals on its bare walls, and made it look quite pretty.
Tom lighted them a blazing fire every day, and tended it during their
absence with the care of a vestal virgin, so they were extremely cosy and
jolly there. The joiner's bench and the glue-pot gave facilities for any
hobbies they wished to carry on; they could make as much noise as they
liked, and walk in and out with dirty boots, unreproved.
To Bevis this visit was elysium. All his experiences of young people had
been confined to school, and he had never before spent such a holiday.
"It's grand to be in a home like this!" he said, once, to Mavis. "I can't
help thinking, sometimes, how different life would have been to me if my
mother had lived. It's hard not to have even the slightest remembrance of
her. Suppose she had been here now and living at 'The Warren'!"
"You'll go there yourself some day."
"Perhaps. It'll be rather a forlorn business though, being in that big
house with only a pack of servants. I believe I'll take a voyage round
the world in a yacht. The fact is I can't quite see my future. I'm going
to Cambridge, but after that things are vague. I always had dreams of a
profession, but the lawyers say I ought to settle down on the estate.
What's a fellow to do?"
"I wouldn't worry your head about it yet. There'll be plenty of time to
think things over while you're at College," counselled Mavis. "Enjoy your
holidays at any rate."
"No mistake about that. I'm having the luck of my life!"
It was only to Mavis's sympathetic ear that Bevis poured out these
confidences. With Merle he was on different terms. He called her
'Soeurette' (little sister) and was always ready for some joke with her.
She and Clive together led him a lively time, as well as keeping him busy
helping them to make boxes, build a boat, and several other joinering
enterprises.
"It does Bevis all the good in the world to be teased!" declared Merle.
"He certainly gets it, then!" laughed Mavis.
One special grievance had Merle. Bevis had devoted some of his spare time
at Shelton College to taking motoring lessons, for he hoped to buy a car
some day, and he could now drive so well that Dr. Ramsay trusted him at
the steering-wheel.
"It's too bad!" declared that indignant damsel. "Just because Mother's
nervous and thinks I'm going to run her into the ditch! Wait till I've
had _my_ course of motoring lessons! I'll take the shine out of
Bevis! See if I don't!"
"You shall try my motor bike, if you like, Soeurette!" consoled Bevis.
"That's to say, if they'll allow you."
"Don't, for goodness' sake, ask anybody, but just take it out on the
quiet and I'll guarantee to ride it. Let's do it this very afternoon!"
returned Merle, somewhat pacified.
On the whole the weather had proved exceedingly wet, so with the
exceptions of a few runs in the car with the hood up, they had not
ventured very far away, and had mostly taken walks in the neighbourhood.
Bevis naturally wished to explore the Durracombe district, and they had
not been to Chagmouth since his arrival, and knew nothing of what was
going on there. One drizzling morning, however, when they were all
sitting in the harness room, they heard a clatter of hoofs and then a
shout in the stable yard, and looking out of the window saw Tudor
Williams on his little horse, Armorelle. The girls ran out at once.
"I say! How d'you do?" said Tudor. "Isn't your man about anywhere to take
this horse?"
"Tom's in the greenhouse, I'll fetch him!" and Merle darted across the
dripping yard.
"Have you come to see Uncle?" asked Mavis, stroking Armorelle's satin
nose.
"No, I've a message from the Mater for you and Merle. Oh, here's your
groom! Yes, just give her a wipe down, please" (as Tom led Armorelle away
to the stable), "she's too fat and gets easily hot! Ugh! It's rather a
horrid day. The Mater wanted to send me in the car, but I said I'd rather
ride."
"Won't you come into the house?" asked Mavis.
"Or into our den?" invited Merle. "We've made the harness room into a
snuggery."
"By Jove! Not a bad idea, that! Yes, take me there. I'm too splashed to
be fit for the drawing-room. I say, this is no end! What a decent fire
you've got!"
"You know Bevis? And this is our Cousin Clive," said Mavis, performing
the introductions.
Tudor nodded, flung himself into a basket chair and looked round the room
with some amusement.
"It's like you two!" he vouchsafed. "_I_ should never have thought
of taking over the harness room! 'Pon my word, it's cosy! You won't want
to turn out when I tell you what I've come for!"
"Turn out where?"
"Well, it's a long story. You see there are some new
people come to live in Chagmouth--an artist with a family about a yard
long. Of course, the Mater goes and calls and gushes and comes back
talking about beauty and talent and all the rest of it. She's an eye to
business though, has the Mater! Mr. Colville had asked her to get up a
concert in aid of something or other, I don't know what it's for! The new
Vicar's as bad as the old one for wanting money, and the Mater's
perpetually raising the wind for the parish with entertainments. She's
worked all her local stars rather hard, so you can imagine she pounced
upon anybody new, and got them to promise about half the programme. She
came back purring. There was the other half of the programme, though, to
be fixed up. The Girl Guides had learnt a dialogue, so she said they
might as well act it, and she had the posters printed and sent the school
children round selling tickets."
"Well?" said Mavis, as Tudor paused for breath.
"I'm coming to the point fast enough! It seems the principal characters
in the dialogue are three sisters, and yesterday one of them developed
measles! The other two are contact cases and, of course, they're not
allowed on the boards. You can't act 'Hamlet' without the Prince of
Denmark and Ophelia and Polonius! It's the same business here. The
dialogue has collapsed like a pricked balloon!"
"Have they no understudies?"
"Never heard of such things, and say it would take them six weeks to
train any one else in the parts, besides which the others say they
wouldn't dream of doing it without Gertie and Florrie or whatever their
names are. The Mater sprinted round the village trying to fill up her
empty programme but all her stars were huffy because they hadn't been
asked before, and they said they had colds or they wanted to go to their
grandmothers' funerals, or some such excuse. Back comes the Mater almost
in tears and says she really doesn't know whatever she's going to do
about it, and there never was such a fiasco, etc. Then Babbie suggested
'Send for Mavis and Merle, they'll help you out.' Mother jumped to it
like a drowning man at a rope. So I trotted off immediately after
breakfast to ask if you'll come to the rescue."
"O-o-h! But when is the concert?"
"To-night at 7 prompt."
"Great Scott! We can't!"
"Yes, you can! Any of those impromptu things you give will simply delight
people. They've paid their shillings and their sixpences to see some
acting and they don't mind what it's like so long as it makes them laugh
and they get their money's worth. The Mater'll send the car over for you
after lunch and she'll put you up for the night--you, Talland, too, and
you," nodding to Clive. "Be sporting, all of you, and come!"
"Could we possibly get through the thing we did last night?" hesitated
Mavis, looking at the others.
"Let's try," decided Merle. "It's all gag, Tudor, and if we get stage
fright and can't go on we shall just have to walk off, that's how it is."
"You won't do that! I say, you know, it's most awfully kind of you! The
Mater will be _so_ relieved. She'd have written a note but there was
some other hitch about the refreshments and she was interviewing the
schoolmaster. Shall we send the car at three? Then I'd better hurry home
now and set the Mater's mind at rest."
"Wait, Tudor! We haven't asked Mother yet."
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I met Dr. and Mrs. Ramsay in your car and stopped
them, and they both said 'Go, by all means.'"
"Well, we've let ourselves in for something!" exclaimed Mavis as Tudor
rode away on Armorelle. "It was your fault, Merle!"
"No, it wasn't, it was yours! I think it will be rather fun! Cheer up,
Bevis! Don't look such a scared owl! Here's old Clive absolutely
peacocking at the idea."
"If I'm to be Isabella?" grinned Clive.
"Of course, if I'm Augustus!"
"Merle--you _can't!_"
"Who says I can't? The joke of it will be that nobody'll know. Clive and
I are the same height and really rather alike, and if we change clothes
they'll all think _he's_ Augustus and _I'm_ Isabella."
"Will anybody recognise me as Uncle Cashbags?" groaned Bevis.
"Not your nearest and dearest. Be as gruff as you can, and limp as you
did last night. We're not going to let you off! Don't you think it! Why,
we couldn't possibly do the piece without you!"
The young people, ostensibly for the entertainment of their elders, but
largely for the amusement of themselves, had been acting in the evenings
to an audience of Aunt Nellie, Uncle David, and Father and Mother. Their
last performance had really been so successful that they felt they might
venture to give it in so great an emergency. They began at once to pack
their various properties.
"Rather a score to be asked to appear on a public platform! I wish Miss
Mitchell could be there to see us!" triumphed Merle.
"The joke is that I don't believe Chagmouth people will recognise any of
us," said Mavis, hunting for a pair of spectacles she had mislaid. "I'm
going to bargain that our names aren't announced beforehand."
"Right-o! The audience can imagine we're a London Company on tour in the
provinces, or anything else they like. They'll think far more of us if
they don't know who we are till afterwards. Tudor mustn't give us away!"