THE TELEGRAM
Peace and harmony reigned supreme at St. Etheldreda's during the next
few weeks, for the girls simply had no time to get into mischief,
every minute of the day being fully occupied. Work, of course, came
first, and the term examinations, which took place the second week in
December, loomed appreciably nearer. Girls who had slacked at the
beginning of the term decided that it behoved them to work harder if
they did not wish to take home a poor report at Christmas. The
Dramatic Society, with Glenda as its shining star--Glenda, who had
set her heart on becoming a Silver Medallist that year--was busy
preparing various scenes from Shakespeare which they hoped to perform
on Speech Day. With the improvement in the weather, out-of-door
pursuits were booming; groups of girls took long country walks, while
games were in full swing.
There were no more quarrels between the netball and hockey clubs.
The latter's hopes of gaining the shield were high, for should they
win their next match they would be entitled to meet the victors in
the other section--Fairhurst Priory, the present holders--in the
Final.
On Friday morning--the day before the match--the postman was rather
earlier than usual and Irene happened to be the only girl near the
door to see him arrive, though usually he was accosted by an
expectant crowd. She seized hold of the bundle of letters to take
them into the hall, where they were spread on the table for their
owners to claim. On the top of the bundle was a letter addressed to
Miss M. Carr in extremely black, square handwriting, that set a chord
of remembrance vibrating in Irene's mind. In a flash she recollected
where she had seen it before. Here was another letter to Monica from
the girl Lilian at Fairhurst Priory School.
Before Irene had finished spreading the letters on the table it was
surrounded by a crowd of girls eagerly searching for their own names,
while from others, who were unable to get close enough to see there
came a chorus of inquiry.
One thought only was running like a flame through Irene's mind.
Could she by any chance get a glimpse of the contents of Monica's
letter? She waited by the table till most of the crowd had
dispersed. At last she saw Monica, one of the late comers, saunter
into the hall with Nat and, at a cry of "Letter for you, Monica.
Aren't you going to claim it?" fetch her letter from the table. As
she did so the prayer bell rang and Monica and Nat, with Irene close
behind, joined the stream of girls hastening towards the assembly
room.
Prayer bell rang at five to nine in order to give everyone time to be
in her place for nine o'clock prayers. Then the girls filed off to
their various classrooms and Irene watched Monica as, seated at her
desk waiting for the entry of the mistress who was to take them for
their first lesson, she tore open the envelope, hurriedly read the
letter and, on Miss Moore's entry, thrust it inside her desk--the
present style of frocks rarely provides anything in the way of pocket
accommodation!
When the bell rang for the fifteen minutes' interval all the form
left the room in groups of twos and threes, some to practise passing
or shooting outside with a netball, some to stroll round the grounds
chatting, many to partake of hot milk and biscuits. Irene stayed
behind, under pretence of hunting for a mislaid book. Now, when the
room was deserted by all except herself, was her chance. She opened
Monica's desk, and after a hasty search found the letter thrust
between two books. With the envelope in her hand she hesitated and
glanced around guiltily, half inclined to put it back unread. Then
came the insidious whisper that she owed it to the other girls, to
the school, to read the letter and discover if the black sheep of St.
Etheldreda's was plotting some fresh mischief against her fellow
scholars. Spurred on by this thought she inserted her fingers in the
envelope and drew out the letter. This time its contents were
disappointing. They were brief and written very hurriedly:
"Dear Monica,
"Please excuse me for being so long in acknowledging your letter.
Your idea about the telegram is really clever though quite simple. I
shall be curious to see how it works. I suppose St. Etheldreda's
girls are hoping to win the shield. So are our girls. Well, time
will show!
"Supper bell, so I must finish. I will write a longer letter next
time. The news may be more interesting then.
"With best wishes from,
"Lilian."
When she had finished reading this apparently quite harmless little
letter Irene was conscious of a fervent wish that she had not meddled
with it at all. She thrust it back into Monica's desk, and with
cheeks that burned for some time afterward, slipped out of the
classroom and rejoined her friends, who were partaking of milk and
biscuits.
That evening the atmosphere in Nat's study was particularly serene.
No clouds disturbed Nat's horizon, for once again her name had
appeared in the team for the shield match--not, it is true, in
Irene's place, but instead of the other wing, whose play Deirdre and
the hockey committee now considered inferior to Nat's. As this was
the second time she had been chosen to represent the school Nat now
cherished the hope that her permanent place in the team was assured.
She was doing her prep with prodigious pains, anxious to run no risk
of getting a returned lesson or lines the next morning. So blissful
was her state of mind that she even assisted Monica to hang a fresh
set of recently-taught data upon the walls, and afterwards
volunteered to hear her construe her Latin paragraph. Monica, too,
seemed to be in a blithe and happy mood, for she made numerous jokes
and witticisms as she worked, without any traces of the old sullen,
defiant expression. When in a laughing, happy frame of mind, she
really was quite an attractive girl, Nat thought to herself. What a
pity it was she was prone to those queer moods and tempers.
Lessons went well and smoothly next morning. Even Miss Bennett wore
a beaming smile as she dismissed the Fifth, when the final bell rang,
with her best wishes for their success that afternoon. Then there
came a general scramble for the dormitories and a hasty change into
sports' rig-out, for the team and the girls who had obtained
permission to accompany them as spectators were to depart by train as
soon as dinner was over.
Allison was changing in her cubicle when Pam tapped and poked her
head inside. "Prinny wants you Allison," she said. "A telegram has
just arrived for you."
Allison looked up, surprised. "A telegram! Who from, I wonder? I'm
not expecting any important tidings."
"Not bad news, I hope," said Pam sympathetically, as Allison hurried
out.
Miss Julian was in her room. "Oh, there you are, Allison," she said.
"A telegram has just come for you," and she picked it up from the
table. Allison took it and tore it open quickly. Miss Julian at
once noticed the change in her expression. "Is it bad news,
Allison?" she inquired with concern.
Allison nodded. "I'm afraid so," she replied in a low voice and she
handed the telegram to the Principal, who read the brief message:
"_Mother taken ill suddenly. Come at once. Will meet you at
Victoria next train--Father._"
"This is very sudden, Allison," said Miss Julian gravely. "You have
had no previous apprehensions concerning your mother's health, have
you?"
"No," replied Allison, her voice shaking a little. "When I last
heard from home, mother was perfectly well. I may go, may I not,
Miss Julian?"
The Principal was already turning over the leaves of her time-table.
"Yes, of course, Allison," she replied, "and we will hope that things
may turn out less serious than might be imagined from this telegram.
The next train for London leaves at a quarter to two. There will
just be time for you to have your dinner, pack a few necessities for
the night and catch the train. Do not trouble about packing much.
We can soon send on anything you may require later."
"Thank you, Miss Julian," replied Allison gratefully, and still
feeling stunned at the suddenness and vagueness of the news contained
in the telegram, she hurried back to her cubicle to pull off her
tunic, resume her ordinary frock, and throw a few things she would
need into a small hand-case. She then sought out Deirdre and told
her of her urgent and immediate summons to London.
"Oh, I am so sorry," said Deirdre at once. "Can't I do
anything--help you pack?"
"No, thanks all the same. I'm not taking much with me. Only just
got time to swallow some dinner--Prinny insists on it--then rush for
my train. Sorry I have to let the team down like this," and Allison
was gone, leaving the dismayed hockey captain to dash round the
school, hunting out another recruit for the team. At length she ran
down one of the Fourth Form players.
"Get into your tunic, Olive, will you?" she said peremptorily. "I
want you to come as reserve. Lorna, who is down as reserve, will be
playing after all."
Bad tidings travel quickly. In a very few minutes an excited little
group of hockey players, who had gathered in the hall to await the
dinner bell, were discussing the bad news in dismay.
"Oh dear!" said Glenda, as Madge gave them the details. "What hard
luck for Allison! I do hope her mother's illness isn't serious!
Rotten luck for us, too, though, of course, we shan't mind if things
come right for Allison. I'm afraid it means losing the match to-day.
Allison at centre-half is as good as half a dozen ordinary players,
and we've no one to put in her place."
The girls nodded with grave faces. Allison's presence in the team
did indeed make all the difference, for she was a tower of strength
in the defence, her judgment in popping up just where the ball was
coming being positively uncanny; her passes to her forwards were
generally inspired, as Deirdre once said, and the fiercer the
opposition the higher the level of play Allison seemed able to
attain. Last, but by no means least, her presence in the team acted
as a kind of moral support to the rest of the players. With these
thoughts in their minds the girls looked at each other in dismayed
silence. It was indeed hard luck--just when they had begun to
believe that their dreams of seeing the shield the property of St.
Etheldreda's had an excellent chance of becoming a reality.
Glenda was suddenly recalled to the present by a fierce and decidedly
painful grip on her arm.
"Ow!" she gasped. "Who's pinching me?" and turned round to behold
Irene standing at her elbow and wearing such a transformed
expression--her face white with emotion, her eyes blazing with
excitement--that she exclaimed in astonishment: "What's the matter,
Irene? Have you just seen a ghost, or what?"
"The t--telegram!" stuttered Irene, speaking with a visible effort.
"I've just remembered that the l--letter m--mentioned a telegram."
"What telegram? What letter? You're speaking in riddles."
Irene still seemed in the grip of some great emotion. "Wait here,
all of you," she cried. "Don't move till I come back. I'll explain
then," and with that she dashed off like a mad creature into the
Annexe and along to her study, seized her writing-case and recklessly
tossed out its contents till her fingers closed on the object of her
search, the letter she had taken from Monica's study on the memorable
afternoon when she had been locked in her own room. With the letter
firmly clutched in her hand, she tore back to her mystified audience.
"It's one of Monica's letters," she explained, jerkily. "I--I found
it weeks ago and--I read it by mistake, and because I thought it
sounded so suspicious and because we all know what sort of a girl she
is, I--I thought I was justified in keeping it. Listen, and I'll
read it out," and while the girls were still trying to grasp what she
had just said, she read the letter in a voice that shook both with
emotion and lack of breath.
"But--surely----" Madge, who had joined the group with Deirdre, began
doubtfully, as Irene stopped reading.
"Wait till I've finished," Irene interrupted. "That isn't all.
Yesterday, I saw another letter of Monica's in the same handwriting
lying about, and--oh, I don't care what you think of me for doing
it!--but I read that one too. I can only say I thought it might be
for the best. I was ashamed then, now I am glad I did. As nearly as
I can remember, it said this," and Irene, who was gifted with a good
memory, repeated the gist of the contents of the second letter.
"Don't you see--they were plotting to knock St. Etheldreda's out of
the running for the shield! Monica Carr would love to spite the
school like that. She hates us all, and she doesn't know what it
means to be sporting. She was clever enough to realize that our
chance of winning would be a poor one without Allison and so she
planned to entice her away by a bogus telegram; the telegram referred
to in the second letter is the telegram Allison has just received."
Madge looked incredulous. "But it can't be! It sounds like an
old-fashioned melodrama. Besides--where was that telegram handed in?"
Deirdre shook her head. "Somewhere in London, I believe. But you
don't really think Irene's idea is true, Madge?"
Madge glanced again at the letter Irene had handed her. "I don't
know what to think," she confessed vexedly. "If it does happen to be
a bogus telegram then we shall be made fools of--and Allison will
have suffered all this anxiety for nothing. On the other hand,
Allison must go if there's a chance of it's being genuine. She
daren't risk it. The fact that her mother may be seriously ill means
more to her than all the hockey in the world. Oh, bother! There's
the dinner bell. What shall we do?"
"I think it's a case for Miss Julian," said Deirdre decidedly, and
there were murmurs of relieved acquiescence from the other girls.
"You're right," cried Madge. "Come along with me, Irene, and Miss
Julian will advise us what to do. Dinner must wait for once."
Irene followed her willingly, for to do her justice, she was ready
enough to own up to the ignominy of prying into another girl's
correspondence if by doing so she might prevent them all from walking
into a trap carefully laid for them. Nat and Glenda, too anxious to
trouble about breaking the rules of punctuality at meals, followed
them instead of making for the dining-hall, and waited in the passage
while they entered the Principal's sanctum.
Miss Julian listened patiently as Irene repeated her story, and
though she was doubtless very much amazed at hearing such an
extraordinary tale she showed few signs of it in her quiet face, and
quickly grasped the essential points of the case from Irene's sketchy
and incoherent narrative.
"Allison must go unless we can verify beyond any doubt the falsity of
the summons," she said with decision, as soon as Irene had finished.
"However, I expect I can learn the truth from Monica herself. Will
you fetch her, Madge? But no, wait one moment. Do you know if
Allison's people are on the 'phone?"
Madge started forward, her eyes lighting up. "Why, yes, Miss Julian,
I am sure they are. I never thought of the 'phone."
Miss Julian smiled as she lifted down her telephone directory, and
her fingers swiftly turned over the pages. "It is the most obvious
and the simplest expedients that usually are overlooked, Madge," she
remarked, "especially by highly intellectual people. Yes, I have the
number." She turned to the telephone by the wall. "Irene, find
Allison and bring her here, please. Should the telegram prove
genuine, there will still be time for her to catch her train, if the
telephone exchange do not keep us waiting too long."
Irene ran off. Five slow minutes ticked by while the two in the room
waited, Miss Julian in undisturbed calm--outwardly, at any
rate--Madge in a fever of impatience which she could hardly control.
At last the telephone bell rang sharply and Miss Julian picked up the
receiver with a murmured: "We are fortunate, after all." Just then
Irene burst with scant ceremony into the room, to halt and stand in
silence as the Principal began to speak into the mouthpiece.
"This is the Principal of St. Etheldreda's. Who am I addressing?
No, you need not disturb him. I only wish to know how Mrs. Ravenel
is... Ah, yes... You see, Allison has received a telegram summoning
her at once to London, on account of her mother's sudden illness...
Yes, this morning, handed in at Victoria... Yes, we had reason to
believe it a bogus telegram... No, but I think it will be easy to
find out... Then there is no need for Allison to come?... Ah, thank
you, that is all I wanted to know. Perhaps Allison can ring you up
for herself later on. Good morning."
As she finished she wheeled round sharply. "You were right, Irene.
Allison's people have no knowledge of the telegram. Where is
Allison? Has she gone?"
"Yes, Miss Julian," Irene hastened to say. "She had just left the
dining-room when I got there. I hurried to her study and her
cubicle, but she wasn't there. Then one of the maids told me she had
already set off for the station."
"We must stop her from going if possible," said Miss Julian. "It
will save her a useless journey, as well as unnecessary anxiety."
"Glenda and Nat are outside," interposed Irene eagerly. "They both
have bicycles in use. Shall I tell them to cycle to the station and
stop Allison?"
Miss Julian nodded approval without inquiring what Nat and Glenda
were doing outside in the passage when they should have been at
dinner, and two minutes later both girls, hatless and gloveless,
having stopped only to snatch their coats, were wheeling their
machines out of the bicycle shed. In another two minutes they were
pedalling furiously down the road that led to the station.
The school was perhaps a mile and a half from the station and
fortunately the road, even when it passed through the town, was not
much frequented by traffic; for Nat and Glenda paused for nothing
their headlong career and did not slacken speed for a second till
they jammed on their brakes and flung themselves off before the
station entry.
"It's all right," gasped Nat, pointing to the station clock. "Five
minutes yet before the train is due. My, didn't we scorch! I bet we
could have given Jehu himself a start and then beaten him."
Allison was standing at the ticket office in the act of asking for
her ticket when both her arms were seized from behind and she was
violently dragged away, to the astonishment of the booking-clerk.
Jerking herself round, she beheld the crimson but familiar faces of
the two St. Etheldreda's girls.
"No need to take a ticket, Allison!" cried Glenda. "That telegram
was a fake. Prinny 'phoned through to your home. There's nothing
whatever the matter with your mother."
The worried, anxious look vanished from Allison's face and was
replaced by a dawning expression of joy and relief. "Are you
_sure_?" she demanded.
"Absolutely sure," replied Nat. "Prinny sent us after you post-haste
to stop you from starting. You're coming the other way with us--to
the hockey match."
"The team will be here before long," added Glenda. "No sense in
going back. We may as well wait at the station."
The three girls paced up and down the platform, talking eagerly.
"I was in such an awful hurry and so worried, I didn't think of
anything but the fact that mother was ill and I must catch this next
train at all costs," Allison confessed. "But as I was trying to
swallow a mouthful of food and nearly choking in the attempt, it did
cross my mind to wonder why dad didn't 'phone. I put it down to the
'phone being out of order. It was, the last time I was home.
Fortunately Prinny thought of it."
"Yes, but not until we put it into her head to suspect the
genuineness of the telegram," said Glenda.
"What do you mean? What made you suspect it wasn't genuine? I can't
think who on earth played such a mean trick. It gave me a pretty bad
half-hour, I can tell you."
"Wasn't it a beastly, low-down thing to do!" cried Glenda vehemently.
"It was Irene who found it out. I don't quite know how--something
about a letter she saw, a letter written to Monica Carr by one of the
Fairhurst Priory girls. It's that girl Monica Carr who is at the
bottom of this, of course. There'll always be trouble in the school
as long as she's allowed to stay here."
Allison looked greatly disturbed. "I hope we are mistaken in
thinking so. I should hate to think one of our own girls was
responsible for this."
"Not much room for a mistake. And we can't call Monica Carr one of
our own girls exactly. She's never fitted in with the rest of us."
"What do you think, Nat?" asked Allison, for Nat had not yet spoken.
"I thought you and Monica were getting on pretty well together
lately."
"So we were," replied Nat unhappily. "I was beginning to fancy she
might perhaps be quite a jolly little soul when she forgot her queer
moods and tantrums. Of course, I don't know anything about this.
She's never mentioned it to me. But you can't exactly account for
what she's going to do next."
"Evidently not," Alison agreed, a little dryly.
A few minutes later Miss Cazalet arrived, accompanied by Madge,
Deirdre and half a dozen others, while many more were close behind.
Quite a large number of girls were going to the match as spectators.
Deirdre welcomed Allison with heartfelt relief.
"Thank goodness! I've been wondering all the way how on earth I
could fill your place without disorganizing the team too hopelessly,
supposing Glenda and Nat had not been in time. However, it's all
right now."
"And for once in my life," added Madge, "my scatterbrains have
functioned properly. I've remembered to bring your stick and your
pads, also your hockey kit, which I found flung in an untidy heap on
your cubicle floor. Two other girls are bringing along your sticks,
Glenda and Nat."
When the train steamed into the station there was a general scramble
for empty carriages. Miss Cazalet, Madge, Deirdre, Pam, Allison and
Nat crowded into one compartment with several other members of the
team. While in the act of scrambling in, Nat recollected with dismay
that the previous evening Monica had suddenly and inexplicably
announced her intention of putting her name on the list of those who
wished to accompany the team to the match, and she hung out of the
window to see if there were any signs of her. Yes, there she was,
getting into a carriage with several other girls. Nat withdrew her
head hastily as the train began to move.
There were only two members of the team in the party who occupied
Monica's carriage, Olive James--the girl who had come in as reserve
when it was thought Allison would not be playing--and Lorna Payne,
the original reserve, who played inside-right. Of course, as things
had turned out, it was probable that neither would be called upon to
play. Among the others were Prue and Meggie, who had forgotten their
animosity against the hockey club when there was a chance of a day's
outing. Prue had an extraordinary nose for scandal or a lively story
of any description and seemed able to smell one a mile off, as her
sister Pam was wont to say rather unkindly. Therefore no one was
surprised when, the moment they were all seated, Prue turned to Lorna
and Olive and demanded:
"Hey, what's this we hear about someone sending a bogus telegram to
entice Allison away? I heard Madge and Deirdre say something about
it."
"You would," returned Lorna sarcastically, while Olive piped in: "All
I know is that, just before dinner, Deirdre grabbed me in an awful
stew and told me I should be going as reserve and Lorna would be
playing, as Allison had had bad news from home and wouldn't be able
to come."
Lorna was one of those girls who had been present when Irene told her
tale. "The story comes from Irene," she explained. "She accused
Monica of plotting with one of the girls at her old school, Fairhurst
Priory, to entice Allison away with a sham telegram in order to spoil
our chances of winning the shield."
Monica, who occupied a corner seat and had been gazing out of the
window, turned round with a start as she heard her name mentioned.
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What does Irene say about me?"
"She read one of your letters by mistake, the letter this Fairhurst
girl sent you. Irene kept the letter. In fact, she showed it to us."
Great commotion amongst the listeners!
Prue pretended to fan herself vigorously, overcome with horror.
"Tell it me again," she exclaimed, "my poor wits won't grasp it."
Lorna, with a glance of contempt at Monica, repeated Irene's story.
Prue listened attentively and Meggie cried indignantly:
"What a mean trick! Fancy having a real, live traitor in the school."
"It seems," said Prue with equal indignation, "that we have been
nourishing a viper in our bosoms. What have you to say for yourself,
miss?" addressing the culprit.
Monica seemed to shrink back in her seat.
"Nothing," she replied sullenly. "I haven't anything to say. I
didn't send the telegram, though."
"We don't suppose you did," retorted Lorna with sarcasm, "seeing that
it was sent from London. No doubt you got someone to send it for
you."
"Don't argue with her, girls," advised Olive. "She isn't worth it.
Just ignore her. If this is true, there are plenty who will see the
matter isn't overlooked."
"Prinny for one," stated Lorna. "Madge and Irene went to tell her
all about it."
Another sensation!
"My gracious!" said Meggie solemnly. "Prinny will soon get to the
bottom of it. I wouldn't be in Monica Carr's shoes for anything.
This will mean expulsion for her, girls, mark my words."
Monica turned her face to the window again and continued to gaze out
as if absorbed in the scenery, and for the rest of the short journey
her fellow-travellers ignored her completely.