Hide-and-Seek
The July days literally flew, and the term was drawing rapidly to a
close. Miss Russell seemed determined to make the very most of the last
weeks at the Manor, and arranged something fresh for nearly every
afternoon. On one day there was a cricket match, on another a putting
contest, and on a third a tennis tournament, all of which caused much
excitement in the small world of the school.
Both Lindsay and Cicely were fond of games, and anxious to win their
share of distinction, so by mutual consent they decided to relax their
watch on Scott until after the athletic sports. These were always
considered a great event, and this year were to be on a larger scale
than usual.
"It's so splendid to be able to have them in these lovely grounds," said
Mildred Roper. "There never seemed half enough room on the lawn at
Winterburn Lodge."
"I hear Miss Russell is going to give quite a party," volunteered Nora
Proctor. "She's invited the Rector and Mrs. Cross and all the people
who have called on her at Haversleigh, so we shall have plenty of
spectators."
"I wish Mrs. Courtenay could come," exclaimed Cicely.
"I wish indeed she could. I'm afraid she must be worse to-day, as Monica
was not at the history class," said Mildred.
All the girls were busy "getting into good form", as they expressed it.
The elder ones worked untiringly at tennis, while the younger ones
practised running with a zeal worthy of candidates for a Marathon race.
"Miss Russell says there'll be several handicaps, but she won't tell us
what they are," remarked Beryl Austen.
"Well, it's much more fun if you don't know beforehand," returned Effie
Hargreaves. "They wouldn't be handicaps if we could do them too easily."
"I found a piece of four-leaved clover yesterday," observed Cicely, "so
I ought to be lucky. I showed it to Mademoiselle, and she was quite
envious. 'Vous aurez la chance!'" she said.
"How jolly! Have you kept it?"
"Rather! I've left it to press between two pieces of blotting-paper,
under a pile of books. I'm going to have it put in a locket when I go
home."
"I don't believe in luck," declared Nora. "I'm sure all the four-leaved
clovers in the world wouldn't make Marjorie Butler win a race. She's out
of breath before she's run ten yards."
"Is Monica going to take part?" asked Beryl.
"I don't know. She said she had put her name down provisionally. If she
does, I expect she'll astonish us all. She can jump most
beautifully--she's as light as a feather."
The afternoon of the sports was brilliantly fine. By half-past two the
guests had assembled on the big lawn. They looked quite a small crowd.
The school had aroused interest in the neighbourhood, and people had
come from several miles' distance in response to Miss Russell's cards of
invitation. Irene Spencer was the only girl who could boast of having
any relations present, her uncle, aunt, and several cousins having
driven over from Linforth Vicarage. The visitors were evidently prepared
to enjoy everything.
"It is not often we have an opportunity in the country of witnessing
Olympic games. I am looking forward to seeing so many young Atalantas
run races. Where are the wreaths of laurel and parsley that are to grace
the occasion?" said Mr. Cross, the genial rector, who was fond of a
joke, and at home among schoolgirls.
"There aren't any," laughed Cicely. "Miss Russell uses the laurel leaves
to flavour the custards, and the parsley to garnish the hams."
"I'm astonished at her putting such classic plants to such ignoble
purposes. She has asked me to distribute the prizes, and I thought I
should be expected to place green chaplets upon the brows of the
victors. It's too bad, when I had composed a speech on purpose. You
suggest I should make up another? Not so easy, my dears. I shall come to
some of you for assistance. I wonder if Miss Frazer would be equal to
the occasion?"
"I'm sure she couldn't think of anything funny," declared Cicely.
"Then I shall have to trust to what I can say on the spur of the moment.
If you notice I'm breaking down, please begin to clap, and then
everybody will suppose I have finished. Here comes Miss Russell. I
believe she wants me to act umpire too. Greatness is being thrust upon
me. I hope I shan't disgrace my high position."
In spite of the Rector's mock protestations, he seemed very capable of
managing the sports, and reviewed the rows of waiting girls with the eye
of a general.
"It takes me back to my own schooldays," he said. "I used to think then
I would much rather win the long jump than be made Archbishop of
Canterbury; and I considered the captain of our cricket club a far
bigger fellow than the Prime Minister. Where's Monica? Isn't she joining
in to-day's doings?"
Monica arrived at the last moment, just when everybody had given her up,
and took her place quietly among the members of the first form.
"I was afraid I couldn't come at all," she explained; "but Mother is
asleep now, so I can leave her for an hour, at any rate. I have told
Jenny to send for me if she wakes."
The first item on the programme was a tennis contest, limited to the
elder girls. It was a hard-fought battle, as the competitors were evenly
balanced, and it ended in a victory for Mildred Roper and Kathleen
Crawford. Monica played well, but she had not been able to spend so much
time at practice as the others, and she missed several balls.
"It was very stupid of me," she apologized. "I never seem to grow
accustomed to Mildred's fast serves."
A race followed for the second class, which Irene Spencer, much cheered
by her cousins, nearly succeeded in winning, though she was beaten at
the last by Merle Hammond, who made a sudden and unexpected spurt. It
was now the turn of the third-form girls. They were to run a handicap,
and awaited particulars with much eagerness.
"Miss Russell seems to set as severe tasks as the wicked stepmother in
the fairy tales," said Mr. Cross. "She decrees that you are each to be
given a small box of peas and beans and buttons mixed together, and that
you are to sort them before you start to run the race. Will you please
all kneel on the grass with your boxes in front of you. Are you ready?
One--two--three--off!"
It was a question of deftness of fingers. Effie Hargreaves justified the
old proverb, "More haste, less speed", by upsetting her box; and
Marjorie Butler got her piles mixed in her agitation. Cicely finished
first, and was halfway across the lawn before Nora Proctor overtook her.
It was a keen struggle between these two. All the others were some
distance behind, for Lindsay was not so fleet of foot, and Beryl Austen
slipped and fell on the dry grass.
"It's Nora! No, it's Cicely!" cried the girls. "Well done, Cicely! Go
on, Nora! She's gaining! No, she isn't! Why, it's Cicely after all!" as
the latter reached the winning-post a couple of yards in advance of her
opponent.
"Well run!" said the Rector. "You got over the course like young
greyhounds. If you learn lessons at the same speed, you will turn out
prodigies. Why is Miss Russell shaking her head? She says there is no
danger of that. Really, I feel quite relieved to hear it. I was
beginning to be almost afraid of you. I believe you are expected to pick
up the beans before we continue our proceedings."
The programme was arranged so as to be as varied as possible. There were
a round at clock-golf, a skipping tournament, an egg-and-spoon race, and
an archery contest.
"It's jumping next," said Lindsay, as Miss Frazer and Miss Humphreys
came forward, carrying a rope; "the first-form girls are to begin. I
particularly want to see Monica."
Monica had taken her place modestly at the very end of the line, so that
at each trial she was the last to compete. Her movements were very light
and graceful, and the girls watched her with approval. One by one, as
the rope was raised higher, the competitors began to thin, till at
length their number was reduced to three--Kathleen Crawford, Bertha
Marston, and Monica.
All looked eagerly to see the next attempt. Kathleen just managed to
scramble over, Bertha failed utterly, but Monica took the jump with
absolute ease.
"This will be the final test, I expect," said Miss Russell, when the two
successful ones returned to the starting-point.
"I don't think they can do that!" murmured Lindsay, gazing with awe at
what was to her the impossible height required.
It was too much for Kathleen. She ran, balked, and made another vain
effort, to give it up.
"Now, Monica!"
The name was on everybody's lips.
Monica appeared to be perfectly cool, far less excited, indeed, than the
spectators.
"Rest a moment, my dear, if you are out of breath," suggested Miss
Russell.
"No, thank you. It would hardly seem fair to Kathleen. I'll try now."
"Took it like a bird!" cried the Rector, clapping his hands, as the rope
was once more successfully cleared.
The girls raised a storm of cheering, to show partly their admiration
for the skilful deed, partly their appreciation of Monica herself.
"She is a great favourite in the school," Miss Russell explained to Mr.
Cross.
"I am delighted to see her mixing with other young people," he replied;
"she has a dull time, poor child, as a rule, and has felt the
disappointment about her uncle's property more than she cares to
confess. Mrs. Courtenay's illness is very distressing. My wife was
speaking to the doctor yesterday: he considers Sir William Garrett ought
to be sent for at once; in a few weeks it may prove too late."
"You have known the family a long time?" asked Miss Russell.
"Since Monica's birth. I was as well acquainted with old Sir Giles as he
would allow anyone to be. I used to call and see him sometimes, and
discuss botany, the only subject in which he showed any interest. He
lived so penuriously that his income must have accumulated for many
years. He rarely spoke of business matters, but on one occasion he
requested me to sign my name as witness to some document, the contents
of which he did not tell me.
"He referred, however, to Monica as if she were to benefit substantially
under his will, and asked me if I considered it harmful for a girl to be
left an heiress. I assured him it would not be so in her case; both her
disposition and upbringing were such that money could not spoil her.
"'A season of adversity is often the best preparation for prosperity,'
he replied.
"I have remembered his words ever since.
"He sent for me on his deathbed, and I have sometimes wondered if there
were any secret he wished to confide to me. Most unfortunately I was
visiting a sick parishioner several miles away, and did not get the
message in time. When I arrived at the Manor he was past speech. He
tried to scrawl a few lines on a piece of paper, but the writing was
quite undecipherable. If he regretted any earthly act, it was too late
then to alter it; he was going to settle his great account."
While the Rector and the headmistress were talking, tea had been carried
into the garden, and the girls now busied themselves in attending on the
guests.
"I think the competitors must need refreshment more than we do," said
Mrs. Cross, as Cicely handed her the cream.
"They are not forgotten," said Miss Russell, "but they are only too
pleased to make themselves useful first."
Certainly the girls could not complain of being neglected; both cakes
and strawberries were waiting for them on a separate table, where Miss
Frazer was presiding.
When tea was over, the prizes were brought out, and the Rector, with a
few appropriate remarks, began to distribute the awards. Cicely went up
proudly to receive a pencil-case, and Nora Proctor, who had won the
egg-and-spoon race, was presented with a box of chocolates.
"First prize for high jump, Monica Courtenay," announced Mr. Cross.
Everyone looked round for Monica, but she was nowhere to be found.
"She was here just before tea," said Miss Humphreys.
"I saw their maid come and speak to her during the archery competition,"
said Beryl Austen. "She went away immediately."
"She was obliged to go to her mother, no doubt, and did not wish to
interrupt the shooting by saying good-bye," commented Miss Russell. "We
must keep her prize for her."
"She won't get the clapping, though," lamented Lindsay.
"I think Monica will be rather glad to avoid that," said Mildred Roper.
"She's so shy and retiring, she doesn't like to be made a public
character."
The day following the sports was hopelessly wet. Lindsay and Cicely were
awakened in the morning by the drip, drip of the rain on the ivy
outside, and the splashing of water as it fell from the spout into the
butt underneath. It was an absolutely drenching downpour, coming from a
leaden sky that showed no prospect of clearing.
The weather had been so glorious during their stay at the Manor that
they felt aggrieved at the change. It was particularly annoying, because
Irene's uncle and aunt had invited all the girls to walk over to
Linforth that afternoon, promising to show them the church, and to
regale them with cherries afterwards in the Vicarage orchard.
"Wet at seven, fine at eleven!" said the sanguine Cicely.
"Not to-day, I'm afraid," replied Lindsay. "The glass was dropping last
night. It's set in for a deluge."
The whole school seemed slightly depressed in spirits in consequence of
the rain. No doubt it was a reaction from the excitement of the
afternoon before. All their favourite occupations lay outside, and it
was so long since they had been weather-bound that they seemed scarcely
able to amuse themselves in the house. Everybody lounged about idly
during afternoon recreation, looking dismally out of the windows at the
lawns, where the markings of the tennis courts were being rapidly washed
away.
"It's no use staring at the puddles," said Lindsay. "We can't possibly
go to Linforth. It's just a piece of abominably bad luck. Everything's
horrid!"
Lessons had not been a success that morning. Perhaps Miss Frazer also
felt the influence of the gloomy day. Her pupils, at any rate, had been
unusually stupid and inattentive; Lindsay, in particular, had merited a
sharp scolding, and was dejected in consequence.
"We must do something," said Cicely. "I vote we hunt up the rest of our
class, and go upstairs and have a really good game of hide-and-seek."
As anything seemed better than sitting still, the other girls agreed
readily to come and play.
"Two can hide and four can look," said Marjorie. "Only, we'll keep on
this landing."
The old Manor offered a splendid field for the purpose; it was so full
of cupboards and crannies and odd nooks that it was quite hard to find
anybody. The dull day improved the fun, for twilight reigned in most of
the passages, and rendered many hairbreadth escapes possible. Nora
actually had her hand on Beryl's foot without discovering the fact;
Effie crept inside a suit of armour, and baffled pursuit for ever so
long; and Marjorie was almost given up, but at length was discovered
crouching in a dark angle which the others had passed several times
without noticing her.
It was now the turn of Lindsay and Cicely to hide. They were determined
to choose a specially good place, and debated the point until the latter
grew impatient.
"Do be quick!" she exclaimed. "They'll soon have finished counting a
hundred."
"I can't make up my mind whether it's better behind the tapestry or
under the ottoman," deliberated Lindsay.
"Cuckoo!" cried Beryl's voice.
"They're coming! We've no time for either. We must get into the old
box-settle."
It was the only possible retreat near at hand. Already they could hear
the girls' footsteps creaking along the oaken boards of the picture
gallery; in another moment they would have turned into the passage, and
reached the top of the stairs. Without more ado both hiders scrambled
inside the settle, and pulled down the lid over their heads.
It was a very tight fit indeed for two, and most uncomfortable.
"Could you let me have an inch more room?" begged Cicely in an agonized
whisper.
"I'll try," returned Lindsay.
It was difficult to stir in such narrow quarters. To move at all, she
was obliged to make a vigorous heave towards her end of the chest. The
effect was as unexpected as extraordinary. Lo and behold! the entire
bottom of the settle seemed to give way, and without any warning the two
girls were precipitated into some unknown place below.