She was sitting on a form in the gymnasium, in a decidedly pessimistic frame of mind, eating a piece of hard oatcake.
"In these days of rations4 there's never even a scrap5 of margarine to spare, let alone butter!" groused6 Audrey, who was also in a mood to mop up sympathy. "I bring biscuits every morning, but they're not what biscuits used to be."
"Nothing is."
"What's wrong with the school, though?" asked Lorraine, with somewhat of the irritation7 of a nurse when her pet fledgeling is unduly8 criticized. "It seems to be jogging along all right, as far as I can see."
"There you've hit the nail on the head exactly. It's jogging, and I hate things to jog. I like them to go with a swing. The Lent term's always as dull as ditch water."
[155]"We have our societies——" began Lorraine, but Vivien interrupted her impatiently.
"Oh, yes! Those precious societies! I know! Every one was keen at first, and then they slacked. They always do! Don't talk to me! I'm blue!"
"Are we down-hearted? No!" jodelled Patsie, throwing up her last bit of biscuit, and trying to catch it in her mouth like a terrier. "I say, Vivien, you silly cockchafer, why don't you buck9 up? If the school's dull, then for goodness' sake do something to make it more lively, instead of sitting and looking like a dying duck in a thunderstorm. What the Muses10 do you want?"
"Something to happen."
"What? An elopement? A fire? A burglary? Tell me the sort of sensation you're craving11 for, and we'll try to accommodate you. I'm going to start a Sensation Bureau. Excitements guaranteed. Terms cash, or monthly instalments. You pay your money, and you take your choice. Address: Miss Sullivan, The Gables. Cheques and postal12 orders must be crossed."
The girls sniggered, for Patsie was at what they were wont13 to call her "Patsiest". At school she supplied the place of public entertainer. Her favourite rôle was that of the jester, with cap and bells.
"I really have got a brain-wave, though," she rattled14 on. "I agree with Viv. Things at present are just about as dull and unromantic as they could possibly be. Girls don't have any fun as they had in the Middle Ages, or even in Jane [156]Austen's times. My great-grandmother ran away from school to Gretna Green, but it's never done now. Well, the next best thing to real adventures is making them up. That's where my Sensation Bureau comes in. Here's Vivien pining for romance. Well, I'm prepared to give it to her hot and strong. I'm going to write her a letter every day from 'Jack16', and post it inside the hollow tree in the garden. She can get and post hers there too, if she likes. Will you trade letters, Viv.? It'll be a stunt17!"
"If you'll write the first," agreed Vivien, brightening up.
"Of course your 'Jack' will write first to his little 'Forget-me-not'!" laughed Patsie.
Patsie was gifted with a most lively imagination, and some talent for writing. Her tastes ran on the lines of cheap novelettes. She evolved a supposititious hero for Vivien, and began a series of epistles couched in exceedingly ardent18 terms. All the most extravagant19 nonsense that she could invent was scribbled20 in the letters, which, addressed simply to "Forget-me-not", were posted inside the hollow of an old ash-tree at the bottom of the school garden. Vivien shared the effusions with her friends, and they had tremendous fun over them in a corner of the cloak-room. They helped her to concoct21 replies. The imaginary romance afforded them extreme entertainment. It was as exciting as writing a novel. They worked it through all sorts of interesting stages—hope, despair, and lovers' quarrels—till it culminated22 in a suggested elopement. Patsie [157]really outdid herself sometimes in the brilliancy of her composition. "Jack" had developed a floweriness of style and a knack23 of describing his bold adventures that raised him to the rank of a cinema hero. The girls used to wait for his letters with as keen an anticipation24 as for the next number of a serial25. Vivien, the fortunate recipient26 of them, was envied. Several other enthusiasts27 suggested opening a correspondence, but Patsie was adamant28.
"The Sensation Bureau's got enough in this line on its hands. I'll provide something else for you, if you like—a shipwreck29, or an air-raid, or a railway accident—but until those two are safely 'eloped', I can't take on any more love affairs. Oh, yes! you can put down your names if you like. I've a nice little matter in my mind for Audrey, later in the term—no, I shan't tell it you now, not if you beg all day!"
The girls were sitting near the stove in the gymnasium before afternoon school, and munching30 some home-made chocolate concocted31 with cocoa and condensed milk. Like most war substitutes, it was not so good as the real thing, but it was certainly much better than nothing. The talk, with several side-issues concerning eatables, drifted back again to the all-engrossing "Jack". Vivien, as the heroine of the romance, assumed an attitude of interesting importance. She affected32 much knowledge of his doings.
"You've never yet told us exactly what he's like," said Nellie.
"Well, of course it's difficult to describe him. [158]He's tall, you know, with flashing eyes and little crisp curls."
"Has he a moustache?"
"N—n—o, not exactly a moustache." (Vivien's imagination was not nearly so ready as Patsie's.) "He's rather like Antonio in that piece they had at the cinema last week. He flings money about liberally, and he's always jumping into a motor and driving off very fast."
"Where does he get his petrol?" asked Lorraine.
"Oh, it's supplied by the Government. He has a simply enormous salary and private means as well. We shall be rolling, you know. I'm looking forward to having you all staying with me when we settle down."
"He has several houses," said Vivien thoughtfully, checking them off on her fingers. "A town one, of course, in the West End, a hunting-box near Warwick, and a place in Wales. I believe there's an estate in Ireland as well."
"Shall you hunt? Oh, Viv.!"
"Of course I shall. 'Jack' simply adores hunting. We're going to talk over my mount to-morrow, if the dear boy's able to turn up."
In the excitement of these prospective35 plans Vivien involuntarily raised her voice. The previous conversation had been in subdued36 tones, but her last remark must have been audible over half the gymnasium. Nellie nudged her so violently that [159]her piece of chocolate fell to the floor. In turning to recover it she noticed the cause of the sudden interruption. Miss Janet was within a few yards of them turning over some music by the piano.
Vivien's complexion37 assumed a dull beetroot shade. She wondered whether Miss Janet had overheard. It was impossible to go up to her and explain that they were only pretending. The mistress's face was inscrutable. She did not even glance in their direction, but picked out two or three songs from the pile and walked away into the house. The little circle broke up. Miss Janet's vicinity seemed to have put the stopper on romance. She was certainly not a sentimental38 person.
On the following day there was a fog—one of those white sea-fogs which sometimes enveloped39 Porthkeverne, when everything was veiled in soft mist, and even the very furniture was clammy. Vivien, whose throat was delicate, came to school with a Shetland shawl across her mouth. She sat and coughed in the gymnasium during recreation, and fingered a letter in her pocket. It was quite a fat letter, and addressed to "Jack Stanley, Esq".
"If it weren't so damp I'd run down the garden and post this," she said to Lorraine. "I expect there'll be one waiting for me in the tree, but I promised Mother I wouldn't do anything silly, and I suppose it would be silly to run down the wet garden in my thin shoes and without my coat."
"It would be absolutely cracked, with that cough. I'll go. Give me your letter."
It was part of the procedure of the romance that [160]the correspondence must be deposited inside the hollow tree, or else, on wet days, it would certainly have been far simpler to hand over the notes in school. Vivien had once hinted this, but Patsie stuck firmly to her plans, and, as she was the originator of the whole scheme, she had the right to make the arrangements.
"'Jack's' letters will be found in the garden, and nowhere else," she decreed.
So Lorraine, who was sufficiently40 interested to want to hear the next instalment supplied by Patsie's fertile imagination, ran out into the fog and among the dripping bushes down the path that edged the lawn. The pillar-box was moist and earwiggy; she wetted and soiled her sleeve by reaching down into it. At the bottom, in company with a fat spider and several woodlice, lay a letter addressed in a bold hand to "My Forget-me-not". She exchanged it for Vivien's epistle and scudded41 off through the damp mist back to the gymnasium. If any eyes were watching as she passed the study window and came in by the side door, it was much too foggy for her to see clearly. As she handed the letter to her waiting cousin she noticed that the envelope was not gummed down securely.
"Hallo, 'Jack's' been in a hurry with this," she commented. "It isn't properly stuck."
"Perhaps it's the damp that's melted the gum," said Vivien, pulling out the contents impatiently.
Jack's correspondence, though addressed to her, was common property. Several heads bent42 over [161]the closely-written sheet, eager for what might be termed "the next episode" of the romance. The letter was dated "The Grand Hotel" and began:
"My Own Darlingest Forget-me-not,
"It is twenty-four hours since I last wrote to you, and the time has seemed an eternity43. How I manage to live without your presence I cannot imagine. Life apart from you is a blank wilderness44. I wander by the sad sea waves, and were it not for the fond hope of meeting you again I should cast myself into them and perish. Forget-me-not, my ownest own, I can stand this misery45 no longer. Surely the clouds that have separated us may now be blown apart, and again I can bask46 in the sunshine of your smile? If you can forgive me, meet me alone at twilight47 in the old familiar spot on the beach, that hallowed place where we first gazed into each other's eyes and vowed48 fidelity49. I have a plan to propose, but I dare not write it: I must tell it to you in words and beg for your favour on my knees. I shall be there, awaiting your approach with burning anxiety, and longing50 to clasp you in these fond arms.
"With all the love in the wide world,
"Jack."
"He's worse than ever this time," said Audrey.
"Got it badly," agreed Nellie.
"I wonder what his plan is," grinned Claire. [162]"I say, Patsie, what's 'Jack' going to do next?"
"Wait and see," remarked Patsie calmly. "I'm not going to give away his secrets beforehand. It will all unfold itself in due time."
"History essays, please!" said Claudia, who was working monitress for the week, and whose duty it was to collect the exercise-books and give them to Miss Kingsley. "Don't be all day about it, I'm in a hurry!"
"Here's mine," answered Lorraine. "And do you mind giving this note to Morland? It's a list of pieces by that new Russian composer, Vladi—something—ski. Rosemary sent it for him."
"Right you are!" said Claudia. "He's mad on Russian music just at present."
The bell rang at that moment and the girls trooped upstairs to their class-room. They had taken their seats, and Miss Turner was just in the act of opening her Latin book when Miss Janet came bustling53 in. Miss Janet's moods varied54. This morning the corners of her mouth were tucked in and her eyes were inscrutable. The form instantly set her mental register at "stormy".
"Stand up, girls!" she commanded briskly. "Move from your desks and form into line over there, facing me!"
Exceedingly astonished, the form obeyed.
"Now each of you turn up your feet so as to show me the soles of your shoes, right first, then left. Thank you! Lorraine, whose shoes are damp, will go downstairs and change into her gymnasium shoes: the rest may take their seats."
[163]Very much mystified the girls returned to their desks. Miss Janet departed, and Lorraine ran down to effect the required change. She could not understand Miss Janet's fussy55 solicitude56 for her health. She did not remember that the form had ever been examined thus for damp feet. She could only conclude that Miss Janet, who was apt to take sudden whims57, had been studying a treatise58 on hygiene59. At eleven o'clock she had a further surprise. Miss Paget brought her a message telling her to report herself to Miss Kingsley in the study. Wondering what was the matter, she answered the summons at once. She found Miss Kingsley and Miss Janet sitting together at the table with trouble writ15 large on their faces. The mental atmosphere of the room cut her like a knife, it was so unmistakably hostile.
"Lorraine," began Miss Kingsley sternly, "I've sent for you to ask you a straight question, and I expect a straight answer. Did you to-day bring to school a letter addressed to—er—a member of the opposite sex?"
"Yes, Miss Kingsley."
She wondered how the head mistress had got to know about it. Had Claudia been so careless as to leave it inside her exercise-book?
Miss Kingsley's glance was hypnotic in its intensity61. The corners of Miss Janet's mouth twitched62 nervously63.
"I'm glad you are candid64 enough to confess [164]it, though I have ample proof against you. You, Lorraine! You, whom I chose as head girl, and leader for the rest of the school! I've never been so bitterly disappointed in anybody!"
"You might at least have the grace to look ashamed of yourself!" added Miss Janet.
Lorraine was staggered, but not ashamed. She could not see that the occasion warranted such sweeping66 condemnation67.
"It was a very harmless letter——" she began in self-justification.
"Harmless!" blazed Miss Kingsley. "If this is your idea of correspondence, I'm disgusted with you. I call it most unmaidenly!"
"I don't know what modern girls are coming to!" echoed Miss Janet. "In my young days they held very different standards."
"It will be my duty," continued Miss Kingsley grimly, "to inform your mother of this disgraceful correspondence."
"She knows?"
"Yes, she saw me write the letter."
"Did she read it?"
"No, she didn't ask to."
"Is she aware what you wrote in it?"
"I expect so."
"Lorraine, I can't believe you! I know Mrs. Forrester too well to imagine that she would allow you to carry on such a clandestine69 correspondence as this."
[165]"But Mother likes Morland," persisted Lorraine, "and I had to write to him, to send him Rosemary's list of pieces. She asked me to let him have them soon."
"Morland?" she said inquiringly. "The letter is addressed to an individual named 'Jack'."
Then a great light broke across Lorraine. In her relief she almost laughed. Her suppressed chuckle71 was fortunately taken for a subdued sob72.
"Oh, Miss Kingsley!" she cried. "Did you get the letter out of the hollow tree?"
The head mistress nodded gravely.
"Then it's all a mistake—it wasn't—written to anybody real. It was only a little bit of fun we had among ourselves. Pa—I mean one of us—made up 'Jack' and wrote his letters, and another of us answered them. It was only nonsense!"
"Did you write this?" asked Miss Janet grimly, handing a sheet of note-paper across the table.
It was in Vivien's handwriting, which bore a strong resemblance to Lorraine's own, and it was couched in terms strong enough certainly to rouse a flutter in the breast of a careful schoolmistress. It mourned Jack's absence, referred to turtle doves, Cupid's arrows, and other tender things, thanked him for handsome presents, and looked forward rapturously to the next meeting with him. It ended with fondest love, and was signed: "Your little Forget-me-not".
"No, I didn't write it," answered Lorraine.
"Then who did?"
[166]Lorraine hesitated.
"As it was only a joke, will you please excuse my not answering? It doesn't seem quite fair to give anybody else away. The whole form were in it, really."
Miss Kingsley fixed73 her with a glance which Lorraine afterwards described as that of a lion-tamer. Then she summed up:
"As you all seem to have been equally foolish, I'll let the matter stand at that. But I wish to say that I've never in my life read more perfectly74 idiotic75, senseless, worthless drivel than is contained in these silly letters, and if that's your idea of amusement, I'm sorry for you! I should have thought that you, Lorraine, would have been above such nonsense, and would have used your influence to interest the girls in something more sensible. These letters must be stopped at once. I distinctly forbid anything more of the sort, and you may tell the others so. Do you understand?"
Miss Kingsley, as she spoke, tore 'Jack's' latest effusion into shreds76, and threw the bits into the waste-paper basket.
A very dejected and indignant Sixth Form listened to Lorraine's account of the interview.
"Miss Janet must have fished some of the letters out of that tree, and read them and put them back!"
"And she thought it was you, because you'd got your feet wet."
"Sporting of her to examine our shoes! It's like Sherlock Holmes!"
[167]"Sporting! I call it disgusting!"
"Is poor darling 'Jack' never to write again to his little 'Forget-me-not'?" demanded Vivien, with a note of tragedy in her voice.
"We'd better drown him, or kill him at the front, or let him die suddenly of pneumonia78!" said Patsie sadly. "Then you can look decently sorry for a while. It really is too bad, just when I was working up so nicely for the elopement! He was buying a new car on purpose. Never mind! I'll write a novel some day, when I've left school, and I'll put all the letters in—every scrap of them. And when it's published, I'll send a copy of it to Miss Janet!"
"Oh!" thrilled the excited circle.
"She'll say then: 'The dear girl! I always said she was clever, and would turn out a famous authoress!' People generally say afterwards that they 'always said'."
"Oh, Patsie! It will be so delightful79! Do begin it soon!"
"Not till I leave school, and that's a whole term and a half off, with the Easter holidays thrown in. You'll have to wait!"
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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groused
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| v.抱怨，发牢骚( grouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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irritation
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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muses
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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postal
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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writ
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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extravagant
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scribbled
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concoct
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culminated
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knack
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anticipation
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serial
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recipient
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enthusiasts
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adamant
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shipwreck
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munching
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concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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enquired
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prospective
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subdued
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complexion
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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enveloped
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sufficiently
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scudded
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bent
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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wilderness
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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fidelity
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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solicitude
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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