CHAPTER XVII
The Sick Clown
Opal turned up at school next morning in one of her most defiant andreckless moods. She marched into the cloakroom with a jaunty "don'tcare" air, and immediately began to talk about the circus.
"I was caught neatly, wasn't I!" she proclaimed. "Never got such asurprise in my life as when you all came parading in like a flock oflambkins. Miss Pollard had rather spasms to judge from her face."
"_You'll_ get spasms later on if I'm not mistaken," said Merle.
"Oh, I can always fix up the poor old dears. They've a blind eye whereI'm concerned."
"How about that note you wrote?"
"Well, I _had_ a headache, only it got better in time for the circus.I'm a wonderful person at getting well when I make up my mind to it.Will power I suppose. There's nothing neurotic about me!"
"You're the biggest fibber I know!"
"What _are_ fibs?" asked Opal flippantly. "I only make a littlepicturesque variation sometimes instead of telling the brutal truth.It's what's called diplomacy, and finesse, and all the rest of it. In amatter of expediency I hedge the question."
"Use the plain Anglo-Saxon word 'lie' and I understand you," retortedMerle, turning disgustedly away.
Opal laughed, and some of the younger children, who had been standinglike little pitchers listening with all their ears, laughed too.
"Look here, you kids," said Merle, facing round again. "You may thinkall this is very clever and funny, but I tell you it's mostdishonourable. You've some queer notions in this school. I wouldn't giveanything for a head girl who can't speak the truth. She's not worth hersalt. Yes, I mean it. All this underhand work isn't done in decentschools, and the sooner you get that into your silly little noddles thebetter. Fibbers were 'sent to Coventry' at Whinburn High."
"Were they indeed," mocked Opal. "What an extremely superior place itmust have been. I wonder you condescend to stay at The Moorings amongsuch a set as ourselves. We're evidently not good enough for you."
Merle took no further notice but walked away, and Opal followed her,giggling, into the classroom. She thought matters would be passed overby the Principal as they had always been condoned before. Her boast thatshe could do what she liked with her godmothers had hitherto beenjustified. She had, however, gone a step too far. Miss Pollard's eyeshad at last been opened, and in the light of yesterday she suddenlybegan to remember very many sinister incidents which might easily be setdown to the head girl's influence.
"I'm afraid, my dear, we have been utterly mistaken in Opal," sheconfided to her sister, and Miss Fanny, who had also had her doubts,regretfully agreed with her.
Miss Pollard took the call-over that morning, but when she had closedthe register she paused.
"There's a matter I wish to set straight," she said impressively. "Opal,I received a note from you yesterday afternoon telling me you were inbed with a headache. Will you kindly explain how it was that we saw youat the circus?"
"My head was better, thanks, and I felt well enough to go," replied Opalperkily. She was lolling on her seat, and sharpening a pencil as shespoke.
"Sit up, and put that penknife in your pocket," commanded Miss Pollard,in a stricter tone than she had ever used before to her favourite. "Nowanswer me. Do you consider that you have been behaving in an honourablefashion? Your letter was sent with the intention to deceive me! Whathave you to say for yourself?"
Instead of doing as she was told, Opal went on sharpening her pencilrather ostentatiously. There was a sullen look on her face. She wastrying her strength against Miss Pollard's. She had won before in minorbattles, and she hoped to score in this. A faint giggle from one of hersatellites among the juniors spurred her on. She would show the girlsthat she at any rate was not afraid of the head mistress. She leanedback in her seat and yawned.
"If you ask me, I think it's a case of much ado about nothing," shereplied. "I've explained that I felt better, and I can't say any more."
This was the limit even for The Moorings. The girls looked at Opal inamazement. As for Miss Pollard she stared for a moment as if absolutelymesmerized with horror. Then, with a gasp, she recovered her presence ofmind, and, summoning all her dignity as Principal, delivered herultimatum.
"If that's the view you take of your deceit and falsehood the sooner youleave this school the better. Get up and go home at once. You can tellyour mother the reason I have sent you, and say I will call and see herthis afternoon at five o'clock. Now go immediately!"
Opal, still with the sullen and defiant look on her face, rose slowlyand gave a glance of triumph round the room, which, however, met with noresponse. Then she walked jauntily out and slammed the door after her.
What happened at her own home nobody ever knew. Miss Pollard called andhad a long talk with Mrs. Earnshaw, the result of which was that Opalwas sent away for a few weeks to stay with an aunt, and arrangementswere made at once to place her at a boarding-school after Easter. Injustice to her it must be chronicled that she apologized to hergodmothers, and said she was really sorry, but they were wise enough notto try the risky experiment of letting her return to The Moorings. Shewas too old for so small a school, and needed strict discipline, and thepressure of a high moral standard among girls of her own age. AtBrackenfield College she would not find her "fiblets", as she calledthem, applauded or tolerated, and she would have to be straight andhonest if she wanted to win golden opinions. In spite of her many lapsesfrom the code of honour, there were elements of good in Opal, and underthe influence of straightforward girls such as Dona Anderson and AilsaDonald, who were at present leading spirits at Brackenfield, she waslikely to make a fresh start and retrieve her past.
The Moorings, freed from the shadow of her bad example, seemed adifferent school. Iva Westwood was appointed head girl, and filled theoffice conscientiously. The juniors, who took their colour from theirelders, soon dropped certain unpleasant practices, and were square intheir work. Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny also, feeling they had been tooslack and trustful, kept a tighter hand over things, so that cheatingand shirking were no longer possible as of yore. In respect offavouritism they had learnt their lesson, and became strictly impartial.
"It hardly pays to be a boarder nowadays," mourned Aubrey Simpson."We're all treated so exactly alike."
"And a good business too," snapped Edith Carey. "I always said it wastime we had a turn. I like things to be fair all round, without anybodygetting special privileges. The school's been nicer this last fortnightthan it has ever since I came here. I used to detest Miss Fanny, but I'mbeginning almost to like her now."
"Though she _is_ making a horrible crusade about punctuality," groanedMaude, who, as usual, was late for everything. "Just fancy! She actuallymade me go to drawing-class without my pencils because I couldn't findthem."
"Poor old sport! Buck up! Buy a pencil with a ring at the end and cableit on to you so that you won't lose it. You could wear it round yourneck like a baby's comforter."
"It wouldn't be much use at drawing when I want an 'H.B.', a 'B', and a'B.B.'," grumbled Maude, who had small sense of humour and rarely saw ajoke.
But we must return to the day after the circus. The unfortunate clownhad been carried after his accident straight to the Cottage Hospital,where his injuries were attended to by Dr. Tremayne. He was badly hurt,and, though there was a possibility of his recovery, it would be months,if ever, before he could resume his profession. The manager and theringmaster, and several other people from the show, came to the hospitalto inquire about him, but the circus was due at another town, and theywere obliged to move on at once. So that very evening the vans werepacked, and the great rumbling cavalcade, with all its horses, andponies, and elephants, and camels, jolted along the High Street, andturned up the north road in the direction of Warebury.
The piece of wreckage whom they left behind them lay very still andquiet in the clean, white bed, at the Cottage Hospital, and made no morejokes. His leg was in splints and his head was bandaged, and his rightarm was h
eld in a sling. Dr. Tremayne, going to see him for the thirdtime on the following day, took Mavis and Merle, in the hope thatvisitors might distract his thoughts. They went rather shyly into theward. It was strange to see "the funny man" lying flat on his pillow,with hollow, sleepless eyes, and lines of pain round his poor mouth.They offered him the flowers they had brought, and began to talk aboutthe circus. He brightened up a little at that. Evidently he was proud ofhis reputation as a gymnast.
"It was the rope that failed. It wasn't my fault," he said. "I've donethat trick thousands of times, and never missed before. And I'd do itagain."
"You must make haste and get well then," said the sister-in-chargekindly. "When we get your splints off you shall give us a specialperformance in the ward if you like. We'll ask these young ladies tocome and see it, won't we?"
The ghost of a smile flickered round his lips for a moment.
"I can't say 'no harm done this time'," he whispered.
It was the first attempt he had made at a joke. Sister said visitorshad done him good, and though she sent Mavis and Merle away then, sheasked them to come again. So every day they ran into the hospital for afew minutes on their way to school, and again at lunch-time and aftertea. They never stopped long enough to tire the patient, but theybrought him flowers or newspapers or some little thing from the outsideworld to help to cheer him up. They chatted to him and asked him whattowns he knew, and he told them he had travelled over most of Englandand Scotland with the circus, and had even been to America.
"I've seen a-many beautiful places! But there's none to beat Devon in myopinion."
"That's what we always say," cried Mavis. "Devonshire is the loveliestcounty in England, and Chagmouth is the most beautiful little place inall Devonshire."
"Chagmouth! Do you know Chagmouth?" asked the clown quickly.
"We motor over every Saturday with our uncle when he goes to takesurgery. Do _you_ know it?"
"I used to when I was a boy. I haven't seen it now though for a matterof fourteen year or so. I dare say it's changed."
"I don't believe it has much. People say it's just the same as it alwayswas. You must make haste and get well, and we'll ask Uncle to take youthere for a drive when you're able to get out of hospital."
"Ah--when?" echoed the clown, closing his eyes.
He was restless, and seemed in much pain. Dr. Tremayne came in laterand examined him, and gave him morphia. Sister's report the next morningwas unfavourable. His temperature was very high, and his pulse wasfluttering.
"I'm sorry I shan't be about to-day," said Dr. Tremayne. "I'm obliged togo over to Halford to perform some eye operations at the hospital. Idon't suppose I shall be back till nine o'clock. I'll leave thehypodermic syringe and if he needs it give him another dose of morphia.We've done the best we can, but it's an anxious case all the same."
Mavis and Merle were detained after tea that day, and could not go roundto the hospital until about six o'clock. Sister greeted them withrelief.
"I've kept expecting you, and was going to send you a message if youdidn't come," she said. "He keeps asking for you all the time. He's gonedownhill rapidly to-day, poor fellow. He's sinking fast, and I don'tbelieve he'll ever see the night through. He's wandering a little in hishead, and he says you two know Chagmouth, and he wants to speak to you.I'll tell him you've come."
Very gently the girls entered the ward where the patient was lying. Thesigns of a great approaching change were on him. The hands that littlemore than a week ago had grasped the trapeze so strongly now lay whiteand frail on the counterpane. His face was shrunken, and his eyes heldthe far-away look of one who is beginning to sight things beyond ourearthly plane of vision. He smiled feebly at Mavis and Merle, and triedto raise his head. Sister lifted him a little and propped him up with anextra pillow.
"You know Chagmouth?" he whispered.
"Yes! Yes!" Mavis was stooping down beside his bed.
"Is Mrs. Jarvis still living there--the nurse?"
"Yes, we sometimes see her. She's postwoman now."
"Could you fetch her here? To-night?"
"We'll try!"
"Tell her it's Jerry as wants her--her boy Jerry! She'll understand!"
"We'll bring her somehow, don't you worry," said Merle.
"I'm slipping west, and I'd like a word with her afore I go. You've beenso kind--I thought I might ask you to do that for me."
His breath came in gasps. His face was drawn with a spasm of pain.
Sister took the girls quietly aside.
"If there's anything you can do for him, you'd better do it," she said."I don't think he'll last the night."
Mavis and Merle saw for themselves that if mother and son were to meetagain on earth they must fetch Mrs. Jarvis quickly. How could they gether to Durracombe in the shortest possible time? Outside the hospitaldoor they held a whispered consultation. Uncle David and the littleDeemster car were fifteen miles away, at Halford. They must find someother means of conveyance. They went, therefore, to the Swan Hotel,where motors were to be hired, and explained the urgency of theirerrand. The manageress shook her head.
"YOU KNOW CHAGMOUTH?" HE WHISPERED _Page 232_]
"Mr. Johnson's out himself with the four-seater, and Bates has gone tothe station with the little car to meet a lady and take her to Rushton.There's only the old Ford left, and no one to drive it."
"A Ford! May I look at it?" said Merle eagerly.
"You can if you like."
The car was standing in the yard, rather a shabby specimen, but inworkable order. Merle examined it carefully.
"It's exactly like Daddy's at home," she said. "I've often driven that.Will you let me try this?"
"Oh, I don't know whether I dare!" gasped the manageress.
But Merle got inside the car and showed such a working knowledge of itsvarious levers and begged so hard to be allowed to take it out that atlast Mrs. Johnson relented.
"If it weren't a matter of life and death, as you might say, I wouldn'tlet you for a minute. It seems almost like murder to trust you twoalone, and those hills and all. Still you do seem to know how to drive.Be very careful of the brakes, and don't go tearing along too fast. Ishan't know a moment's peace till I see you safe back again. LittleGeorge will give you a start. He knows how to do that, though he can'tdrive yet."
George, a small boy of twelve, turned the starting-handle, and soon theengine was humming. Merle took off the brake, put in the low gear, waveda good-bye to Mrs. Johnson, and with Mavis by her side steeredsuccessfully through the gate-posts of the garage yard into the HighStreet. The girls devoutly hoped that neither Aunt Nellie nor Jessopwould be looking out of the windows as they crossed the bridge. Therisky ride must be ventured, but they preferred to spare the feelings ofthose at home.
To Merle it was a gorgeous opportunity. She was not in the least afraidand perfectly confident that she could manage the car. She had alwayswanted to go for a drive entirely on her own. Mavis, rather nervous butready to stick to her sister through all perils, kept an anxious eye onthe road, in case a motor-lorry should suddenly whisk round a corner, ora flock of sheep emerge from a field.
"May Providence sweep all nails and bits of broken glass out of ourpath. I don't know what we should do if we got a puncture," shemurmured.
"Run on the rim," returned Merle. "As long as the old car can keep goingI'll make her go. She's really doing very decently considering she'srather a ramshackle concern. I'll get some pace out of her, you'll see,when the road's clear ahead. I wonder if the speedometer is working?"
"Oh, do be careful!" implored Mavis. "There's something coming now.Sound your hooter! It's one of those wretched furniture vans, and theynever leave proper room."
"I'm glad we haven't to pass the circus at any rate," said Merle,squeezing the bulb of the hooter, and lurching dangerously as she didso, but regaining the left side of the road before they met the van.
Mavis was thankful when they were out of the deep Devonshire lanes andup on the comparatively safe l
evel of the moors, where there were nohigh hedges to conceal approaching vehicles, and the road could be seenstretching like a long ribbon in front of them.
"Shan't find any police trap here," chuckled Merle, increasing the speedtill the rattling old car seemed to be flying. "That speedometer isn'tworking, but I dare say we're going at thirty miles an hour. I believeshe'd do forty."
"Merle, _don't_" squealed Mavis. "For goodness sake slow down or you'llbe upsetting the whole business into the ditch."
The hooting of a motor-cycle that wanted to pass them stopped Merle inher mad career, and reminded her that she was occupying the middle ofthe road. She steered to the left, and proceeded more soberly.
"We must be half-way there already," she triumphed. "We've simplybounded along like a house on fire. Who says I can't drive? I shall tellDaddy about this. It'll be a score for me, won't it."
"I hope we shan't meet a policeman anywhere who'll ask for yourlicence."
"Don't care if I do. I just shan't stop, however much he waves hiswhite gloves at me. He can take the number of the car, and prosecute meafterwards if he likes. I'd rather enjoy going before the bench ofmagistrates. I'd tell the reason, and say the end justified the means."
"You'll make an end of us if you go bumping so fast over this lumpyroad. The holes are enough to upset a tank. What a sharp wind there isup here! I wish we'd got our thick coats."
"You ought to have brought a wrap!" Merle's voice was self-reproachful."Turn up the collar of your jersey. Oh, I'm all right, thanks. It's hotwork to drive, I can tell you. There's Gundry Tor. We really _are_getting on. We shall soon be at Chagmouth now."
What Mavis was dreading most was the tremendous hill that ran down theravine into the little town. It was a very steep gradient, and wasmarked with a danger signal. She hoped the brakes of the rickety old carwould be equal to their duty. The road was unfenced, and had severalawkward bends, where an unskilled motorist, losing control, might dashover the edge, and down into the woods. How she longed for Dr.Tremayne's firm steady hand on the driving-wheel! It is always far moreanxious work to sit and watch a novice than to do a thing yourself.Merle, in her girlish confidence, felt no alarm. She was ready toventure anything in the way of a descent.
Fortunately for the safety of the sisters, her powers had no need to betested. While they were still on the level road at the top of the hillthey saw, walking briskly along in front of them, a little stumpy figurein a navy-blue uniform, and with a leather bag slung over her back.
"Mrs. Jarvis, by all that's wonderful," exclaimed Mavis, in much relief.
The postwoman was coming back from collecting letters at a pillar-box ina neighbouring village. It was the merest luck that they had overtakenher at that particular spot. Merle stopped the car, and the girlsexplained their errand.
"You must come with us at once," said Mavis. "Never mind the letters. Wecan hand them in at the post-office at Durracombe instead. It will beall right."
Poor Mrs. Jarvis did not need any urging. As soon as her clouded brainunderstood who wanted her, she was ready to throw her post-bag to thewinds. She jumped into the back part of the car and took her seat,trembling with excitement and eagerness.
"Jerry! My own boy Jerry!" she kept repeating. "Bless him! The littletable's all spread out in the kitchen ready for his tea. I knew he'dcome back to me some day. Bless his heart."
Merle with much difficulty managed to restart the old Ford, and to turnit with its bonnet in the direction of Durracombe; then they set offagain at a rather reckless pace. Every minute seemed of importance now,and Mavis did not remonstrate though they bumped over holes, tore roundcorners, or flew across the moor at thirty miles an hour. Perhaps hernerves were getting used to it. She gave a sigh of satisfaction,however, when at last they came in sight of their destination, andmotored back across the bridge into the High Street. Merle drovestraight to the hospital, where the girls took Mrs. Jarvis inside andasked for Sister.
"Will you come into the ward, please," said the nurse who returned withthe message. "You've brought her just in time!"
Mavis and Merle stood aside to give precedence to Mrs. Jarvis. They hadwarned the poor mother that it was no lad of thirteen whom she mustexpect to see, that long years had passed away, and had changed himpossibly past recognition. There was little resemblance between theround cheeks she used to kiss, and the sunken face on the pillow. Butmother hearts cannot forget, even though the brains may be blurred. Sheknew him instantly as she stepped to his bed-side.
"Jerry! My own boy, Jerry! Come back at last!"
Then Nurse put a screen round the bed, and mother and son were leftalone, for there are some scenes too sacred for even the kindest friendsto witness.
Mavis and Merle returned an hour later to inquire, having taken back thecar, delivered the post-bag to the authorities, and reassured AuntNellie of their whereabouts. They met Sister in the corridor of thehospital. They looked at her in mute interrogation, and she shook herhead.
"I knew it was hopeless this afternoon, but it's been quicker than Ithought. He didn't suffer much, and he was so glad to have his motherwith him. Will you please tell Dr. Tremayne."
Very softly the girls went out of the hospital door. It was dark, andbright stars were shining overhead, but there was still a faint streakof red where the sun had set. They looked at it for a moment or twowithout speaking, then:
"It will rise over there," gulped Mavis, pointing eastward, and Merleunderstood her meaning.
All the jokes and tricks of the funny man were over now, and his poorhurt body was lying quiet and still, but he himself had "gone west", andthough the tea-table was spread in vain in the little cottage,somewhere, in the light of the eternal dawn, mother and son would meetand know one another again.