LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD.
Punishment has many degrees, and the sense of humiliation which
Ermengarde felt, when that morning she had been left prisoner in Miss
Nelson's sitting-room, was nothing indeed to the agony which she
endured when, supposed to be free and pardoned, she walked with her
governess to the hay-field.
Every moment she expected to hear Susy's piercing yells following her.
Susy was a child with little or no self-control. She hated dark rooms;
her imagination was unhealthy, and fostered in her home life in the
worst possible way. Ermengarde knew that she could hear Miss Nelson's
conversation, and every moment she expected her voice to arise within
the cupboard in protest.
When no sound came, however, a dreadful idea took possession of poor
Ermie's brain. The cupboard was not large; suppose Susy had been
suffocated. This terror became so insupportable that several times the
miserable child was on the point of confessing all. What kept her
back from doing this was the thought of Basil. While the ghost of a
chance remained she must avert the possibility of Basil looking down
on her. For Basil to despise her would have been the bitterest cup
which life at present could hold out to poor Ermengarde.
Miss Nelson and her pupil reached the hay-field, and then ensued a
scamper, a rush. Marjorie, Eric, Basil, Lucy, all crowded round their
sister. They were unfeignedly delighted to have her with them, and
Ermie could not but reflect how happy she would now be but for Susy.
"We are going to have such a time," said Marjorie. "After tea we are
going to build a hayrick, quite in a new way. It's to be hollow
inside, like a room, and pointed at the top, with a hole to let the
air in, and--why, what's the matter, Ermie? You look as white as
anything. We thought you'd be so fresh, for you have done nothing all
day. Now, I am tired, if you like. Oh, haven't I run?"
Marjorie stopped talking to mop her heated forehead.
"But it was glorious fun," she began, the next minute. "I thought Eric
would have capsized the boat, he laughed so. Only Basil was a bit
mopy. He's not half himself when you're away, Ermie, Now, hadn't you
better sit down? You do look white."
Ermengarde glanced round her. At that moment she and Marjorie were a
few feet away from the others. Basil was trotting meekly up and down
with a small sister aloft on each broad shoulder. Eric was sending all
the small fry whom he could reach into screams at his superabundant
wit and spirits. Miss Nelson went over to help nurse to get the tea
ready. For a brief moment the two sisters were alone.
In an instant Marjorie would be called. She was never long left to
herself in any group. Ermie had not a second to lose. She clasped
Marjorie's hand convulsively.
"Maggie, I want you to help me."
"Of course I will, Ermie. What is it? Coming, Eric! What's the matter,
Ermie?"
"Oh, do get those children away for a minute."
"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!" shouted several voices, headed by Eric's.
"Coming, Eric. Keep back, all of you. I'm talking to Ermie for a
minute. Now, Ermie, quick. What is it?"
"I want to go back to the house, without any one noticing. Help me to
go back at once."
"How can I help you! How queer you look."
"O Maggie, it's so important! Don't question me. Only help me."
"Poor Ermie, you do look in a state!"
"And no one must know. Maggie, I did think you'd be clever enough to
find an excuse for me. I trusted to you. Don't fail me, Maggie."
"Let me think," said Marjorie. "You'll come back again?"
"Yes, I won't be gone any time."
"I'll fly across to nurse. Stay where you are--I'll be with you again
in a minute."
Marjorie ran across the hay-field, stooped down by old nurse's side,
had a short and eager colloquy, and returned to Ermengarde.
"Ermie, nurse wants those rusks which baby always has with his tea.
She says you'll find the box in the nursery cupboard. Will you fetch
them in a hurry? Baby is so hungry."
"Oh, what nonsense!" said Basil, who had now come up. "The idea of
sending Ermie! Where's the nursemaid?"
"Alice went to the house with another message. You had better go,
Ermengarde; nurse is in a hurry."
"I don't mind going a bit," said Ermengarde. She looked ready to fly.
Her lips were trembling.
"You look as tired as anything now, Ermie," said Basil. "I'll go, if
it comes to that. Where are those wretched rusks to be found, Maggie?"
"You can't go, Basil. You are to light the fire for the gypsy tea."
"It's lighting."
"Well, it's going out again. I know it is; or the kettle is sure to
boil over, or something. Do be on the spot, and let Ermie make herself
useful for once in a way."
Ermengarde ran off; the tension of her feelings would permit of no
further delay. She heard Basil scolding Marjorie as she hurried across
the hay-field. Ermengarde had never run so fast in her life. What
should she find when she got back to that sitting-room. Would Susy be
dead? If so----But her terrified thoughts would take her no further.
She was not a particularly active little girl, and her quick running
soon deprived her of breath. Oh, what a distance lay between that
hay-field and the house! At last the lawn was gained, then the gravel
sweep, then the side-door. She could only totter upstairs, and by the
time she reached Miss Nelson's room she was really almost fainting.
She managed to stagger across to the cupboard, unlocked it, and then
sank down in a chair. Susy instantly made her appearance; she was not
dead, but she was extremely red in the face and very angry.
"You did serve me a trick, Miss Ermie! Oh, my word, I didn't think as
you'd treat me as bad as that! Why, I might have been--I thought I was
to be suffocated, miss."
"Never mind now," said Ermengarde. "I'm ever so sorry; I----" Her
voice faltered. In her relief and thankfulness at finding Susy alive
and well, she went up to the little girl and kissed her. Then she
burst into tears.
"Miss Ermie!"
If Susan Collins was fond of anyone, it was Ermengarde.
"Don't you take on, miss," she said affectionately.
Ermie's tears touched her so much that she felt she would have endured
another half-hour of the cupboard to help her.
"Don't cry, please, Miss Ermie," said Susy. "I know you couldn't help
yourself. I didn't want you to have a scolding; no, that I didn't; so
it's all right, miss; I'm none the worse. I was a bit choky in the
cupboard, but I'm as well as ever now."
Ermengarde soon dried her tears.
"I must go back to the hay-field at once," she said, "I'll leave you
now, Susy. Don't be long here. Run downstairs while there's no one
about. Good-by, Susy. I'm glad you are not hurt."
Ermengarde nodded to Susan Collins, and with a light heart left the
room. She went to the nursery, secured the baby's rusks, and returned
to the hay-field.
During the rest of that evening no one seemed happier, or laughed more
often than Ermengarde. She thought herself safe, and it never occurred
to her as possible that the doings of that day could ever be known.