A Patriotic Schoolgirl

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  A Patriotic Schoolgirl

  BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 50 Old Bailey, LONDON 17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW

  BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY

  BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED 1118 Bay Street, TORONTO

  A Patriotic Schoolgirl

  BY

  ANGELA BRAZIL

  Author of "Schoolgirl Kitty" "The Luckiest Girl in the School" "Monitress Merle" &c. &c.

  _Illustrated by Balliol Salmon_

  BLACKIE & SON LIMITED LONDON AND GLASGOW

  Contents

  CHAP. Page

  I. OFF TO BOARDING-SCHOOL 9

  II. BRACKENFIELD COLLEGE 23

  III. THE TALENTS TOURNAMENT 32

  IV. EXEATS 45

  V. AUTOGRAPHS 58

  VI. TROUBLE 67

  VII. DORMITORY NO. 9 79

  VIII. A SENSATION 91

  IX. ST. ETHELBERTA'S 98

  X. THE RED CROSS HOSPITAL 106

  XI. A STOLEN MEETING 119

  XII. THE SCHOOL UNION 129

  XIII. THE SPRING TERM 140

  XIV. THE SECRET SOCIETY OF PATRIOTS 151

  XV. THE EMPRESS 163

  XVI. THE OBSERVATORY WINDOW 175

  XVII. THE DANCE OF THE NATIONS 183

  XVIII. ENCHANTED GROUND 195

  XIX. A POTATO WALK 208

  XX. PATRIOTIC GARDENING 222

  XXI. THE ROLL OF HONOUR 231

  XXII. THE MAGIC LANTERN 244

  XXIII. ON LEAVE 255

  XXIV. THE ROYAL GEORGE 264

  XXV. CHARADES 276

  Illustrations

  Facing Page

  "IF YOU WANT THE EUSTON EXPRESS, YOU'LL HAVE TO MAKE A RUN FOR IT" _Frontispiece_

  THEY WERE HUDDLED TOGETHER, WATCHING HER WITH AWESTRUCK FACES 96

  THEN SOMEHOW MARJORIE FOUND HERSELF BLURTING OUT THE ENTIRE STORY 168

  SHE STARED AT IT IN CONSTERNATION 280

  A Patriotic Schoolgirl

  CHAPTER I

  Off to Boarding-school

  "Dona, are you awake? Donakins! I say, old sport, do stir yourself andblink an eye! What a dormouse you are! D'you want shaking? Rouse up, youold bluebottle, can't you?"

  "I've been awake since five o'clock, and it's no use thumping me in theback," grunted an injured voice from the next bed. "It's too early yetto get up, and I wish you'd leave me alone."

  The huskiness and general chokiness of the tone were unmistakable.Marjorie leaned over and took a keen survey of that portion of hersister's face which was not buried in the pillow.

  "Oh! the atmosphere's damp, is it?" she remarked. "Dona, you'reostriching! For goodness' sake brace up, child, and turn off thewater-works! I thought you'd more pluck. If you're going to arrive atBrackenfield with a red nose and your eyes all bunged up, I'll disownyou, or lose you on the way. Crystal clear, I will! I'll not let youstart in a new school nicknamed 'Niobe', so there! Have a caramel?"

  Dona sat up in bed, and arrested her tears sufficiently to accept thecreature comfort offered her. As its consistency was decidedly of astick-jaw nature, the mingled sucking and sobbing which followedproduced a queer combination.

  "You sound like a seal at the Zoo," Marjorie assured her airily. "Cheeroh! I call it a stunt to be going to Brackenfield. I mean to have atop-hole time there, and no mistake!"

  "It's all very well for you!" sighed Dona dolefully. "You've been at aboarding-school before, and I haven't; and you are not shy, and youalways get on with people. You know I'm a mum mouse, and I hatestrangers. I shall just endure till the holidays come. It's no usetelling me to brace up, for there's nothing to brace about."

  In the bedroom where the two girls lay talking every preparation hadbeen made for a journey. Two new trunks, painted respectively with theinitials "M. D. A." and "D. E. A.", stood side by side with the lidsopen, filled to the brim, except for sponge-bags and a few other items,which must be put in at the last. Weeks of concentrated thought andpractical work on the part of Mother, two aunts, and a dressmaker hadpreceded the packing of those boxes, for the requirements ofBrackenfield seemed numerous, and the list of essential garmentsresembled a trousseau. There were school skirts and blouses, gymnasiumcostumes, Sunday dresses, evening wear and party frocks, to say nothingof underclothes, and such details as gloves, shoes, ties, ribbons, andhandkerchiefs, writing-cases, work-baskets, books, photos, andknick-knacks. Two hand-bags, each containing necessaries for the firstnight, stood by the trunks, and two umbrellas, with two hockey-sticks,were already strapped up with mackintoshes and winter coats.

  For both the girls this morning would make a new and very importantchapter in the story of their lives. Marjorie had, indeed, already beenat boarding-school, but it was a comparatively small establishment, notto be named in the same breath with a place so important asBrackenfield, and giving only a foretaste of those experiences which sheexpected to encounter in a wider circle. She had been tolerably popularat Hilton House, but she had made several mistakes which she wasdetermined not to repeat, and meant to be careful as to the firstimpressions which she produced upon her new schoolfellows. Marjorie, atfifteen and a half, was a somewhat problematical character. In herchildhood she had been aptly described as "a little madam", and it wasowing to the very turbulent effect of her presence in the family thatshe had been packed off early to school, "to find her level among othergirls, and leave a little peace at home", as Aunt Vera expressed it."Finding one's level" is generally rather a stormy process; so, afterfour years of give-and-take at Hilton House, Marjorie was, on the whole,not at all sorry to leave, and transfer her energies to another sphere.She meant well, but she was always cock-sure that she was right, andthough this line of action may serve with weaker characters, it isliable to cause friction when practised upon equals or elders whoseviews are also self-opinionated. As regards looks, Marjorie could score.Her clear-cut features, fresh complexion, and frank, grey eyes weredecidedly prepossessing, and her pigtail had been the longest andthickest and glossiest in the whole crocodile of Hilton House. She wasclever, if she chose to work, though apt to argue with her teachers; andkeen at games, if she could win, but showed an unsporting tendency tolose her temper if the odds were against her. Such was Marjorie--crude,impetuous, and full of overflowing spirits, with many good qualities andcertain disagreeable traits, eager to loose anchor and sail away fromthe harbour of home and the narrow waters of Hilton House into the big,untried sea of Brackenfield College.

  Two sisters surely never presented a greater contrast than the Andersongirls. Dona,
at thirteen, was a shy, retiring, amiable little person,with an unashamed weakness for golliwogs and Teddy bears, specimens ofwhich, in various sizes, decorated the mantelpiece of her bedroom. Shewas accustomed to give way, under plaintive protest, to Marjorie'smasterful disposition, and, as a rule, played second fiddle with a goodgrace. She was not at all clever or imaginative, but very affectionate,and had been the pet of the family at home. She was a neat, prettylittle thing, with big blue eyes and arched eyebrows and silky curls,exactly like a Sir Joshua Reynolds portrait, and she had a pathetic wayof saying, "Oh, Marjorie!" when snubbed by her elder sister. Accordingto Aunt Vera, if Marjorie needed to "find her level", Dona required tobe "well shaken up". She was dreamy and unobservant, slow in her ways,and not much interested in any special subject. Marjorie's cherishedambitions were unknown to Dona, who liked to plod along in an easyfashion, without taking very much trouble. Her daily governess had foundit difficult to rouse any enthusiasm in her for her work. She franklyhated lessons.

  It was a subject of congratulation to Mrs. Anderson that the two girlswould not be in the same house at Brackenfield. She considered thatDona's character had no chance for development under the shadow ofMarjorie's overbearing ways, and that among companions of her own ageshe might perhaps find a few congenial friends who would help her torealize that she had entered her teens, and would interest her ingirlish matters. Poor Dona by no means shared her mother's satisfactionat the arrangements for her future. She would have preferred to be withMarjorie, and was appalled at the idea of being obliged to face ahouseful of strangers. She met with little sympathy from her own familyin this respect.

  "Do you all the good in the world, old sport!" preached Peter, anauthority of eleven, with three years of preparatory-school experiencebehind him. "I felt a bit queer myself, you know, when I first went toThe Grange, but one soon gets over that. You'll shake down."

  "I don't want to shake down," bleated Dona. "It's a shame I should haveto go at all! You can't any of you understand how I feel. You're allbeasts!"

  "They'll allow you a bucket to weep into for the first day or two, poorold Bunting!" said Larry consolingly. "It won't be so much kindness ontheir part as a desire to save the carpets--salt water takes the colourout of things so. But I fancy they'll limit you to a week's wailing, andif you don't turn off the tap after that, they'll send for a doctor,who'll prescribe Turkey rhubarb and senna mixed with quinine. It's astock school prescription for shirking; harmless, you know, butparticularly nasty; you'd have the taste in your mouth for days. Oh,cheer up, for goodness' sake! Look here: if I'm really sent to the campat Denley, I'll come and look you up, and take you out to tea somewhere.How would that suit your ladyship?"

  "Would you really? Will you promise?"

  "Honest Injun, I will!"

  "Then I don't mind quite so much as I did, though I still hate thethought of school," conceded Dona.

  The Andersons generally described themselves as "a large and ramblingfamily, guaranteed sound, and quiet in harness, but capable of takingfences if required". Nora, the eldest, had been married a year ago,Bevis was in the Navy, Leonard was serving "somewhere in France"; Larry,who had just left school, had been called up, and was going intotraining, and after Marjorie and Dona followed Peter, Cyril, and Joan.Marjorie and Dona always declared that if they could have been consultedin the matter of precedence, they would not have chosen to arrive in theexact centre of a big family. Nora, as eldest, and Joan, as youngest,occupied definite and recognized positions, but middle girls rarelyreceive as much attention. Dona, indeed, had claimed a certain share ofpetting, but Marjorie considered herself badly treated by the Fates.

  "I wish I were the only one!" she assured the others. "Think how I'd beappreciated then!"

  "We'll swop you with pleasure, madam, if you wish," returned Larryironically. "I should suggest an advertisement such as this: 'Wantedsituation as only daughter in eligible family, eight brothers andsisters given in exchange. A month's approval.' No! Better not put thatin, or they'd send you packing back at the end of the first week."

  "Brothers are beasts!" pouted Marjorie, throwing a cushion at Larry toexpress her indignation. "What I'd like would be for Mother to take meaway for a year, or let me study Art, or Music, or something, just withher. Mamie Page's mother went with her to Paris, and they'd a gorgeoustime. That's my ambition."

  "And mine's just to be allowed to stop at home," added Dona plaintively.

  Neither Marjorie's nor Dona's wishes, however, were considered athead-quarters. The powers that be had decided that they were to beeducated at Brackenfield College, their boxes were ready packed, andtheir train was to leave at nine o'clock by railway time. Mother sawthem off at the station.

  "I wish I could have taken you," she said rather anxiously. "But I thinkyou'll manage the journey all right. You're both together, andMarjorie's a big girl now, and used to travelling. You've only to crossthe platform at Rosebury to get the London train, and a teacher is tomeet you at Euston. You'll know her by the Brackenfield badge, and besure you don't speak to anyone else. Call out of the window for a porterwhen you reach Rosebury. You've plenty of time to change. Well,good-bye, chicks! Be good girls. Don't forget to send me that telegramfrom Euston. Write as soon as you can. Don't lean against the door ofthe carriage. You're just off now! Good-bye! Good-bye!"

  As the train steamed out of the station, Dona sank into her place withthe air of a martyr starting for the stake, and mopped her eyes with heralready damp pocket-handkerchief. Marjorie, case-hardened after manysimilar partings, settled herself in the next seat, and, pulling out anillustrated paper from her bag, began to read. The train was very full,and the girls had with difficulty found room. Soldiers on leave werereturning to the front, and filled the corridor. Dona and Marjorie werecrammed in between a stout woman, who nursed a basket containing amewing kitten, and a wizened little man with an irritating cough.Opposite sat three Tommies, and an elderly lady with a long thin noseand prominent teeth, who entered into conversation with the soldiers,and proffered them much good advice, with an epitome of her ideas on theconduct of the war. The distance from Silverwood to Rosebury was onlythirty miles, and the train was due to arrive at the junction withtwenty-five minutes to spare for the London express. On all ordinaryoccasions it jogged along in a commonplace fashion, and turned up up totime. To-day, however, it behaved with unusual eccentricity, and,instead of passing the signals at Meriton, it slowed up and whistled,and finally stood still upon the bridge.

  "Must be something blocking the line," observed one of the Tommies,looking out of the window.

  "I do hope it's not an accident. The Company is so terribly understaffedat present, and the signal-men work far too long hours, and are ready todrop with fatigue at their posts," began the thin lady nervously. "I'vealways had a horror of railway accidents. I wish I'd taken an insuranceticket before I started. Can you see anything on the line, my good man?Is there any danger?"

  The Tommy drew in his head and smiled. It was a particularlygood-looking head, with twinkling brown eyes, and a very humorous smile.

  "Not so long as the train is standing still," he replied. "I thinkthey'll get us back to the front this time. We'll probably have to waittill something passes us. It's just a matter of patience."

  His words were justified, for in about ten minutes an express roaredby, after which event their train once more started, and jogged along toRosebury.

  "We're horribly late!" whispered Marjorie to Dona, consulting her watch."I hope to goodness there'll be no more stops. It's running the thingvery fine, I can tell you. I'm glad we've only to cross the platform.I'll get a porter as fast as I can."

  But, when they reached Rosebury, the stout woman and the basket with thekitten got in the way, and the elderly lady jammed up the door with herhold-all, so that, by the time Dona and Marjorie managed to getthemselves and their belongings out of the carriage, the very fewporters available had already been commandeered by other people. Thegirls ran to the van at the back of the t
rain, where the guard wasturning out the luggage. Their boxes were on the platform amid a pile ofsuit-cases, bags, and portmanteaux; their extreme newness made themeasily recognizable, even without the conspicuous initials.

  "What are we to do?" cried Marjorie. "We'll miss the London train! Iknow we shall! Here, Dona, let's take them ourselves!"

  She seized one of the boxes by the handle, and tried to drag it alongthe platform, but its weight was prohibitive. After a couple of yardsshe stopped exhausted.

  "Better leave your luggage and let it follow you," said a voice at herelbow. "If you want the Euston express, you'll have to make a run forit."

  Marjorie turned round quickly. The speaker was the young Tommy who hadleaned out of the carriage window when the line was blocked. His darkeyes were still twinkling.

  "The train's over there, and they're shutting the doors," he urged."Here, I'll take this for you, if you like. Best hurry up!"

  He had his heavy kit-bag to carry, but he shouldered the girls' pile ofwraps, umbrellas, and hockey-sticks, in addition to his own burden, andset off post-haste along the platform, while Marjorie and Dona, muchencumbered with their bags and a few odd parcels, followed in his wake.It was a difficult progress, for everybody seemed to get into their way,and just as they neared the express the guard waved his green flag.

  "Stand back! Stand back!" shouted an official, as the girls made a lastwild spurt, the whistle sounded, the guard jumped into the van, and,with a loud clanging of coupling-chains, the train started. They hadmissed it by exactly five seconds.

  "Hard luck!" said the Tommy, depositing the wraps upon the platform."You'll have to wait two hours for the next. You'll get your luggage, atany rate. Oh, it's all right!" as Marjorie murmured thanks, "I'm onlysorry you've missed it," and he hailed a companion and was gone.

  "It was awfully kind of him," commented Dona, still panting from herrun.

  "Kind! He's a gentleman--there was no mistaking that!" replied Marjorie.

  The two girls had now to face the very unpleasant fact that they hadmissed the connection, and that the teacher who was to meet them atEuston would look for them in vain. They wondered whether she would waitfor the next train, and, if she did not, how they were going to getacross London to the Great Western railway station. Marjorie felt verydoubtful as to whether her experience of travelling would be equal tothe emergency. She hid her fears, however, from Dona, whose countenancewas quite sufficiently woebegone already.

  "We'll get chocolates out of the automatic machine, and buy something toread at the bookstall," she suggested. "Two hours won't last for ever!"

  Dona cheered up a little at the sight of magazines, and picked out aperiodical with a soldier upon the cover. Marjorie, whose taste inliterature inclined to the sensational, reviewed the books, and choseone with a startling picture depicting a phantom in the act ofdisturbing a dinner-party. She was too agitated to read more than a fewpages of it, but she thought it seemed interesting. The two hours wereover at last, and the girls and their luggage were safely installed inthe London train by a porter. It was a long journey to Euston. Aftertheir early start and the excitement at Rosebury both felt tired, andeven Marjorie looked decidedly sober when they reached theirdestination. Each was wearing the brown-white-and-blue Brackenfieldbadge, which had been forwarded to them from the school, and by whichthe mistress was to identify them. As they left the carriage, theyglanced anxiously at the coat of each lady who passed them on theplatform, to descry a similar rosette. All in vain. Everybody was in ahurry, and nobody sported the Brackenfield colours.

  "We shall have to get a taxi and manage as best we can," sighedMarjorie. "I wish the porters weren't so stupid! I can't make themlisten to me. The taxis will all be taken up if we're not quick! Oh, Isay, there's that Tommy again! I wonder if he'd hail us one. I declareI'll ask him."

  "Hail you a taxi? With pleasure!" replied the young soldier, as Marjorieimpulsively stopped him and urged her request. "Have you got yourluggage this time?"

  "Yes, yes, it's all here, and we've found a porter, only he's so slow,and----"

  "Are you Marjorie and Dona Anderson?" interrupted a sharp voice. "I'vebeen looking for you everywhere. Who is this you're speaking to? _Youdon't know?_ Then come along with me immediately. No, certainly not!I'll get a taxi myself. Where is your luggage?"

  The speaker was tall and fair, with light-grey eyes and pince-nez. Shewore the unmistakable Brackenfield badge, so her words carriedauthority. She bustled the girls off in a tremendous hurry, and theirgood Samaritan of a soldier melted away amongst the crowd.

  "I've been waiting hours for you. How did you miss your train?" askedthe mistress. "Why didn't you go and stand under the clock, as you weretold in the Head Mistress's letter? And don't you know that you must_never_ address strangers?"

  "She's angry with you for speaking to the Tommy," whispered Dona toMarjorie, as the pair followed their new guardian.

  "I can't help it. He would have got us a taxi, and now they're all gone,and we must put up with a four-wheeler. I couldn't see any clock, and nowonder we missed her in such a crowd. I think she's hateful, and I'm notgoing to like her a scrap."

  "No more am I," returned Dona.