Among the Boarders
Mavis and Merle, being day girls at The Moorings, have occupied so much
of our attention that we have somewhat neglected the boarders. In their
own estimation, however, they were a very important part of the
community. There were twelve of them altogether, and though, during
classes, they mixed with the rest of the school, they were rather proud
of the fact that, as far as possible, they "kept themselves to
themselves". They had all sorts of little secrets that day girls might
not share, signs and passwords and mysterious references, which gave
them great satisfaction, and were calculated to provoke envy, hatred,
malice, and all uncharitableness in the breasts of those who did not
understand the allusions, and whom they sternly refused to initiate.
Many of the boarders were the children of parents who were out in
India. Some of them had been born there, and could remember burning
skies and temples and native bazaars and elephants, and many other
un-English things. Mamie and Jessie Drew could even speak Hindustani, a
language which all the Indian-born children had talked in their infancy,
though most of them had forgotten it in a very short time after landing
in Britain. With the exception of Iva Westwood, Nesta Pitman, and Aubrey
Simpson, the boarders were all juniors, and an uncommonly lively little
crew, who sometimes led their seniors a dance, and were capable of a
considerable amount of ragging among themselves.
The two who were generally at the bottom of most of the mischief were
Winnie Osborne and Joyce Coleman, nicknamed by Iva "the firebrands".
Under Miss Pollard's gentle rule their escapades sometimes got rather
out of bounds, but they had a wholesome respect for Miss Fanny, who did
not often interfere with the management of the boarders out of school
hours, but who dealt out discipline if she happened to catch anybody
tripping.
Among the silliest of the boarders was Nita Howard, a child who was a
born gossip, and who sometimes made trouble by repeating conversations
or remarks which she had overheard, and which she had very much better
have kept to herself. Nita had no discretion. Miss Pollard often told
her her tongue was too long, and certainly on many occasions it got
herself and her chums into scrapes. One evening, just after it grew
dark, she came running into the recreation-room in a state of much
excitement.
"I've got news for you, girls?" she chirped.
"No! What?" exclaimed Mamie and Alison, her particular friends, looking
up with interest from the scrap-books that they were engaged in making.
"Well, I'll tell you then," said Nita, sitting down by the table and
lowering her voice. "The ghost has been seen again in Poplar Lane!"
"I say, shut up there, Nita," murmured Nesta, who was painting at the
same table. "Do you want those kids in umpteen fits?"
Nita beckoned her chums away from the vicinity of the smaller children
in question, so that she might continue her thrilling story in private.
"It has really!" she assured them in a whisper.
"O-o-h!" came in a horror-stricken chorus. "How do you know?"
"I've just heard Bella telling Cook. It's Bella's evening out, and she
went down the back carriage drive into Poplar Lane to take a short cut
to meet a friend, and just when she got under the shade of the trees she
saw something all in white coming towards her. She shrieked and ran
straight back to the house, and she says she daren't go out again, even
though her own cousin is waiting for her at the other end of the lane."
"Bella's rather a goose," put in Nesta, who had moved to the end of the
table so as to overhear. "I shouldn't believe a word she says."
"It's quite true though. She saw it with her own eyes."
"She certainly couldn't see it with anybody else's," retorted Nesta
scornfully. "It was probably a white cow coming down the lane."
"No, it wasn't. It was really the ghost. Bella felt a most extraordinary
feeling as if the blood was freezing in her veins. She says she never
remembers anything like it since the night a dog howled under her window
and her grandmother died. Her heart stood absolutely still for two whole
minutes."
"Bunkum! Bella hasn't had physiology lessons or she'd know that's
impossible. Why she wouldn't be alive to tell the tale!" snorted Nesta.
"How can you swallow such precious stuff, you little silly?"
"It's not stuff."
"Indeed it is."
"Then don't listen."
"I certainly shan't," and Nesta, moving her painting things along the
table, went back to her original place.
Her curiosity, however, got the better of her. She had sharp ears and
she caught most of what followed, losing a few details, for Nita was
whispering and Nesta was too proud to move nearer. The other two put
their heads very close to Nita's in order to hear the interesting
particulars.
"I didn't know Poplar Lane was haunted," said Mamie.
"Yes, it is, by a woman in white. She appears quite suddenly standing
near our gate. But she hasn't been seen for a long time."
"I thought only old houses had ghosts," ventured Alison. "The Moorings
isn't so very old, is it?"
"It's quite old enough to have a ghost. There's a story about it--an
_awful_ story! Bella told it to me."
"What is it?"
"I don't know whether I ought to tell it to you."
"Oh, go on!"
"Well, a gentleman used to live here once," began Nita, in tones of
delighted importance. "His name was Mr. Morrison. Late one night--it was
exactly at midnight--he happened to look out of the window, and he saw a
white carriage with a pair of white horses drive up to the door, but it
didn't make the least sound of wheels or hoofs. And, do you know, he
died afterwards."
"Of course he died afterwards," was heard from Nesta's end of the table.
"He couldn't very well die before, could he? Perhaps it was twenty years
afterwards."
"I thought you weren't listening. No, it was quite soon afterwards.
Wasn't it horrible?"
"What's the white lady got to do with the carriage?" asked Alison. "Was
she sitting inside?"
"I'm coming to that presently. Mr. Morrison had a son called Meredith,
who did all kinds of wicked things. When his father died this son was
worse than ever, and spent both his mother's money and his own on
gambling. He used to ride away on his horse at night and not come back
till very, very late, and his mother used to go and stand in Poplar Lane
to watch for him. She told him that when she died her spirit would stand
there still. But he didn't care in the least what she said. On the night
after her funeral he rode off on his horse just as usual, and when he
came back, there was her ghost all in white, waiting by the gate for
him. He gave a fearful cry, and fell from his horse--dead!"
"O-o-o-h!" came from Mamie and Alison.
"Rubbish!" grunted Nesta from the other end of the table.
Nita felt she had scored a success. She could seldom get the girls to
pay any attention to her, but they were certainly listening now. The
four smaller ones, who were supposed not to overhear, had, of course,
had their ears wide open as little pitchers always will. Doreen had
turned quite white, Prue was clutching Elsbeth's hand, and Jessie, after
a surreptitious glance at Nesta, had crept nearer and asked under her
breath who had told Bella.
"I don't know," answered Nita, "but somebody who knew all about it. The
house was to let for a long time before Miss Pollard took it. Bella says
she'd never have come here if she'd known there was a ghost. She means
to give notice and get another place as soon as she can."
"Does it ever come indoors?" gasped Elsbeth.
"I don't think so," replied Nita, keenly enjoying herself, "but, of
course, you never can tell. When a place is haunted it's haunted, and
you must be ready for anything."
"I shan't dare to go to bed," wailed Elsbeth.
"No more shall I," moaned Jessie. "I don't believe I shall even dare to
practise in a room by myself. Suppose I saw it standing by the piano?
What _should_ I do?"
"Ask it to sit down and play you a tune," said Nesta, shutting her
paint-box. "Nita, how can you frighten them in this silly way with your
precious ghost tales? You oughtn't to talk to the servants if Bella only
tells you such whoppers. Doreen's eyes are nearly dropping out of her
head. By the by, what's become of Winnie and Joyce?"
"I haven't seen them. I thought they were practising. Do they know?"
asked Mamie.
"Not yet," replied Nita mysteriously, "but, of course, we shall have to
tell them. Oh, here they are now!"
"What's the matter?" cried the pair in question, seating themselves at
the table.
"The ghost has been seen in Poplar Lane!" exploded Jessie, before Nita
had time to get the words out herself.
A look of intelligence passed between Winnie and Joyce.
"Hold me up! When?"
"Where?"
"To-night. Just by the gate. Bella saw it herself."
"If Bella saw it herself it must have been there!" burbled Winnie.
"Or some other thingumbob very like it," piped Joyce, who seemed on the
point of adding more, only Winnie trod on her toe, so she stopped short.
"And it _may_ come inside the house," volunteered Doreen with a shiver.
"What a blossomy prospect! I should think it very probably will," said
Winnie.
"Ghosts generally like houses better than lanes," echoed Joyce.
"Isn't it dreadful, though?" said Nita, who felt that neither was
sufficiently impressed, and was anxious to keep up the full horror of
the situation.
When bedtime arrived the younger children were in a state bordering on
panic. Mademoiselle could not understand why they insisted upon going
upstairs so very close together, why they shot past the dark doorways of
other dormitories, nor why Elsbeth begged her almost in tears not to
turn the light out, and to leave the door open so that they could hear
the elder girls come to bed. Mamie and Alison were in hardly better
case. They had retailed all the ghost stories they had ever heard, and
had worked themselves into a thoroughly nervous condition. At the return
of daylight, however, they were inclined to laugh at their fears and
agree with Nesta that it was silly nonsense.
"I don't think Winnie and Joyce minded in the least," ventured Alison.
"No, I couldn't quite make them out," replied Mamie. "They were so queer
over it and kept looking at each other. Didn't you notice?"
"I never thought about it," said Nita. "They're always having private
jokes. You can hardly say anything without Joyce poking Winnie or Winnie
nudging Joyce. I get sick to death of their precious secrets."
Everybody seemed ready that morning to make fun of the ghost, but when
evening came again, superstitious terrors revived in full force. Jessie
Drew spent a miserable half-hour practising with one eye on the window,
having an uneasy sensation that the spectre would probably be gliding
about the garden. She had not the strength of mind to draw down the
blind, and so shut out the chance of the vision, and in consequence made
such a peculiar rendering of her piece that Miss Fanny came in herself,
scolded her sharply, and sat down by her side to insist upon her playing
it properly.
"I didn't mind the scolding in the least," Jessie told her chums
afterwards. "I was so thankful to see anybody I'd have been glad if
she'd boxed my ears. I was so afraid she'd go away again I played wrong
notes on purpose. She said she'd never known me so stupid."
"Miss Pollard sent me to her bedroom to fetch a book," said Nita. "I
was simply shaking all over. That long passage is so dreadfully dark,
and I saw something white at the end of it. It was only Bella's apron,
though, that she'd hung over the banisters. The moonlight was coming in
through the landing window, and, it looked so like ghosts I daren't go
by, so I went down the back stairs and through the kitchen. I asked
Bella if she'd seen anything more, and she said a big bird had flown
against the window, and that's always a bad omen. Miss Pollard asked me
why I'd been so long fetching the book, but I didn't dare tell her. I
wonder what the bird was an omen of! I forgot to ask Bella."
Evening preparation went on as usual, after which most of the boarders
collected in their own recreation-room to read or paint or otherwise
amuse themselves. Iva and Aubrey were practising, but Nesta was sitting
with the juniors, of whom only Winnie and Joyce were missing. These two
seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. Joyce came back after a short
time, looking rather red and excited, but she made no remark, and taking
a book began to read.
"I can't find my post-card album anywhere," complained Nita, hunting
disconsolately round the room, "and I did so want to put in those extra
cards I got last week. I'm sure I left it on the bookcase."
"I saw it in the cloakroom on the boot-rack," volunteered Joyce.
"However could it get there?"
"I don't know, but I saw it."
"Miau! I daren't go and fetch it. I simply daren't. The cloakroom will
be quite dark. Won't somebody go with me? Alison, be a mascot!"
"No, thanks! You won't stir this child."
"I'll go," proclaimed Joyce, jumping up briskly. "I don't mind at all.
Come along Nita!"
"Oh, you saintly girl!"
The two went out of the room, Nita clutching tightly to Joyce's arm and
volunteering gasping little remarks.
[Illustration: IT CERTAINLY WAS A MOST ALARMING SPECTACLE _Page 137_]
"The others are piggy to-night!--Mother always says I'm so nervous!--I'm
really afraid of the dark, even when there are no ghosts!"
The rest of the boarders went on with their various occupations, but in
a few moments they were interrupted by the sudden opening of the door,
and Nita burst in with a white face.
"Girls! Oh, I say! I've seen the ghost! It's in the cloakroom! Oh, it's
too awful! I'm ready to faint. Don't go, Nesta, don't!"
"Of course I'm going," said Nesta. "We've had enough of this nonsense,
and it's time it was put a stop to. Come along, everybody. We'll take a
look at this ghost."
She valiantly led the way, and the juniors followed more timorously,
Elsbeth and Doreen, in the rear, giving squeals of terror, across the
hall and past the dusky corner where the croquet-box was kept, then down
the steps to the cloakroom door. They peeped in fearfully. At the sight
they saw most of them backed with shrieks. The room was in complete
darkness, but at the far side stood a figure which seemed to be shrouded
in white, its face and uplifted hands shining with a brilliant light
that gave it a most unearthly and uncanny appearance. It certainly was a
most alarming spectacle, and enough to strike horror into any breast.
Alison and Nita were almost in hysterics, and the rest would have run
away if Nesta had not stopped them.
"Don't be a set of sillies," she commanded. "I'll soon show you who it
is."
She dived into the cloakroom, and, after a sharp scuffle, came back
hauling a kicking, struggling, protesting spectre that could evidently
use both arms and legs in a particularly human fashion.
"Winnie!" exclaimed the girls, as, in the light of the hall, Nesta
pulled off the sheet and disclosed the well-known blue-serge dress and
short lank hair of the champion ragger of the school.
Everybody burst out laughing, even Nita and Elsbeth.
"You absolute blighter!"
"How priceless!"
"Win, you're the limit!"
"How did you manage to make your face and hands shine? They looked too
awful."
"I wet them and rubbed them with matches. Look! If I hold up my hand in
the dark it's all steaming and glowing with phosphorus yet."
"What a beastly trick."
"You did give us spasms."
"Come along and tell us about it."
"Where's Joyce?"
Joyce had been close by, enjoying the fun, and now joined with her chum
in relating the story of their rag.
"Of course we were the ghosts all the time," began Winnie. "Last night
Joyce and I went to the side door. It was lovely moonlight, and we dared
each other to run down the back drive. We'd got as far as the gate when
we heard somebody behind us. It was Bella, so we dodged out into the
road and a few yards up Poplar Lane. We thought Bella was going the
other way. She stood still a minute and waited, then she turned and came
straight towards us. I thought if she saw us she'd report us to Miss
Fanny, so I whispered to Joyce, 'Get behind me and I'll act ghost!' and
then I held my dress high above my head with both hands, and began to
bow myself up and down and moan."
"Bella yelled," explained Joyce, taking up the tale. "She ran back up
the drive as fast as she could, and rushed round to the kitchen door. We
were going to tell you about it, but when we got in you were full of
Bella's story of having seen the ghost in Poplar Lane. So we thought we
might as well have some fun out of the thing, and play a rag on you."
"It was ever so difficult, though," continued Winnie. "We couldn't do it
anywhere else except in the cloakroom, and we didn't know how to get you
there. It was Joyce's idea to take Nita's post-card album away. Oh, how
she and Alison screamed! I haven't got over it yet."
Winnie was still hinnying and dabbing her eyes with a rather
phosphorousy pocket handkerchief.
"Look here, now," said Nesta, "we've had enough of this. You mustn't try
any tricks on the maids."
"Oh, just on Bella! It would be such a stunt to stand in the housemaid's
cupboard and let her find me when she goes upstairs."
"No!" decreed Nesta. "It's dangerous to frighten people. Bella may
have a weak heart, and in any case she'd be certain to drop her jug of
drinking-water. I'm a senior and you juniors have got to do what I say.
No, Winnie! It's no use pulling faces and nudging Joyce. I mean it. I'm
no tell-tale, but if I find either of you trying on this rag again I
shall just march straight off and fetch Miss Fanny. So you know what to
expect. There!"