CHAPTER XI
Rona receives News
Ulyth and Lizzie Lonsdale were sitting cosily in the latter's bedroom.It was Shrove Tuesday, and, with perhaps some idea of imitating theContinental habit of keeping carnival, Miss Bowes for that one dayrelaxed her rule prohibiting sweets, and allowed the school a specialindulgence. Needless to say, they availed themselves of it to thefullest extent. Some had boxes of chocolate sent them from home; othersvisited the village shop and purchased delicacies from the big bottlesdisplayed in the windows; while a favoured few managed to borrow pansfrom the kitchen and perform some cookery with the aid of friends.Lizzie had been concocting peppermint creams, and she now leant backluxuriously in a basket-chair and handed the box to Ulyth. The two girlswere friends, and often met for a chat. Ulyth sometimes wished theycould be room-mates. Though Rona was immensely improved, she was stillnot an entirely congenial companion. Her lack of education and earlytraining made it difficult for her to understand half the things Ulythwanted to talk about, and it was troublesome always to have to explain.In an equal friendship there must be give and take, and to poor RonaUlyth was constantly giving her very best, and receiving nothing inreturn. Lizzie, on the contrary, was inspiring. She played and paintedwell, was fond of reading, and was ready to help to organize any forwardmovement in the school. She and Ulyth pottered together overphotography, mounted specimens for the museum, tried new stitches inembroidery, and worked at the same patterns in chip carving. The twogirls were at about the same level of attainment in most things, for ifUlyth had greater originality, Lizzie was the more steady and plodding.It was Ulyth's failing to take things up very hotly at first, and thengrow tired of them. She was apt to have half a dozen unfinished piecesof fancywork on hand, and her locker in the carpentry-room held severalambitious attempts that had never reached fruition.
Lizzie, as she munched her peppermint creams, turned over the pages of avolume of Dryden's poems, and made an occasional note. Each form kept a"Calendar of Quotations" hung up in its classroom, the daily extractsfor which were supplied by the girls in rotation. It was Lizzie's turnto provide the gems for the following week, and she was hunting forsomething suitable.
"I wish Miss Bowes had given me Shakespeare," she said. "I could havegot heaps of bits out of my birthday-book, just suitable for the month,too. I don't know why she should have pitched on Dryden. No one's goingto be particularly cheered next week with my quotations. I've got:
"'MONDAY
"'When I consider life, 't is all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit, Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay; To-morrow's falser than the former day.'
"'TUESDAY
"'All human things are subject to decay, And when Fate summons, monarchs must obey.'"
"That's dismal, in all conscience!" put in Ulyth.
"'WEDNESDAY
"'Great wits are sure to madness near allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide.'
"That sounds quite as dismal, does it not? I wonder why Scott callsDryden 'glorious John'? I think he's rather a dismal poet. Listen tothis:
"'In dreams they fearful precipices tread, Or, shipwrecked, labour to some distant shore, Or in dark churches walk amongst the dead: They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more.'
Shall I put it down for Thursday?"
"For goodness' sake don't! You'll give us all the creeps," laughedUlyth.
"Well, it won't be a champion week."
"I'll tell you what you might do. Draw some illustrations round themottoes. That would make them more interesting."
"Oh, I dare say! I haven't time to bother."
"Nonsense, you have! I'll do some of them for you. You needn't beoriginal. It doesn't take long to copy things."
"Will you do four, then, if I do three?"
"All serene. I'll begin this evening if you'll give me the cards."
Ulyth dashed off quite a pretty little pen-and-ink sketch in ten minutesafter tea, and put the cards by in her drawer, intending to finish themduring "handicraft hour" the next day; but she completely forgot allabout them, and never remembered their existence till Saturday, when shecame across them by accident, and was much dismayed at her discovery.
"I'll have to do them somehow, or Lizzie'll never forgive me," sheruminated. "I must knock them off just as fast as I can. I could copythose little figures from the _American Gems_; they're in outline, andwill be very easy. Oh, bother! It's cataloguing day, and one's notsupposed to use the library. What atrocious luck!"
Twice during the term the books of the school library were called in forpurposes of review by the librarian, and on those days nobody wasallowed to borrow any of the volumes. It was most unfortunate for Ulyththat this special Saturday should be the one devoted by the monitressesto the purpose. She had failed Lizzie so often before in their jointprojects that she did not wish to encounter fresh reproaches. Somehowthree illustrations had to be provided, and that within the space ofabout half an hour. Ulyth was fairly clever at drawing, but she was notcapable of producing the pictures out of her head. She must obtain acopy, and that quickly.
"Helen Cooper's librarian this month," she thought. "I wonder if she'sfinished checking the catalogue yet? I saw her walking down the streamfive minutes ago with Mabel Hoyle. Why shouldn't I have the _AmericanGems_ for half an hour? It wouldn't do any harm. It really is the merestred tape that we mayn't use the books. I shall just take French leaveand borrow it."
Ulyth went at once to the library. Helen had evidently been at workthere, for the list lay open, with a sheet of paper near, recording thecondition of some of the copies. A glue-pot and some rolls oftransparent gummed edging showed that Helen had been busy mendingbattered covers and torn pages. She probably meant to finish them aftertea. The book of American gems was in its usual place on the shelf. Thetemptation was irresistible. Ulyth did not notice, as she was taking itdown, that someone with a smooth head of sleek fair hair was peepinground the corner of the door, and that a pair of not too friendly blueeyes were watching the deed. If flying footsteps whisked along thecorridor and out into the garden, she was blissfully unconscious of thefact. She took the volume to her own form-room and settled herself ather desk with her drawing materials, cardboard, pencil, india-rubber,fine pen, and a bottle of Indian ink. The little figures were exactlywhat she wanted, quite simple in outline, but most effective, and not atall difficult. They would certainly improve Lizzie's calendar for theweek, and relieve the sombre character of the Dryden quotations. Sheworked away very rapidly, sketching them lightly in pencil, intending tofinish them in ink afterwards. She grew quite interested, especiallywhen she reached the pen part. That little face with its laughing mouthand aureole of hair was really very pretty; she had copied it withouthaving to use the india-rubber once.
"Ulyth Stanton, what are you doing with that book?" said a voice frombehind her desk.
Beside her stood Helen Cooper and Stephanie Radford, the former hugelyindignant, the latter with a non-committal expression. Ulyth started soviolently that the bottle of Indian ink overturned and spread itself outin three streams.
"Oh Jemima!" shrieked Ulyth in consternation.
"Now you've done it!" exclaimed Helen angrily. "Ink all over the page.What a disgraceful mess! For goodness' sake stop; you're making itworse. Give it to me."
Ulyth, who was frantically mopping up the black streams with her pockethandkerchief, surrendered the book to the outraged librarian. Nemesishad indeed descended upon her guilty head.
"You knew perfectly well that you weren't allowed to take it to-day,"scolded Helen. "You sneaked into the library and got it while I wasout."
"Someone else has been sneaking too," thought Ulyth, with a glance atStephanie's face. "I fancy I know who turned informer." Then aloud shesaid: "I'm fearfully sorry. I'll buy a new copy of the book."
"I don't believe you can; it's one Mrs. Arnold gave to the school, andis published in America. I'll try sponging it with salt
s of lemon, butI'm afraid nothing will take out the stain. I thought better of you,Ulyth Stanton. One doesn't expect such things from V B. You'll borrow nomore books till the end of the month. Do you understand?"
Ulyth responded with what meekness she could muster. She admitted thatthe monitress had reason for wrath, and that she had really no excuseworthy of urging in extenuation of her crime. It was hard to be debarredthe use of the library for more than a fortnight, but, Helen, she knew,would enforce that discipline rigidly. The unfortunate motto-cards hadcome in for the bulk of the ink, and were completely spoilt. Ulythcarried the ruins to Lizzie's bedroom and pleaded _peccavi_.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped. I've done my three cards withpictures of flowers, and the rest of the calendar will have to beplain," said Lizzie. "You were rather an idiot, Ulyth."
"I know. I'd have asked Helen for the book if she'd been anywhere near,and I meant to tell her afterwards that I'd taken it."
"Didn't you explain that to her?"
"No. It didn't come well when she'd just caught me."
"You let her think the worst of you."
"It couldn't be helped. I'm sure Stephanie hunted her up and told her."
"Stephanie doesn't like you."
"No, because I champion Rona, and Stephanie can't bear her."
"There's nothing so much wrong with the poor old Cuckoo now; she'swonderfully inoffensive."
"Yes, but she's not aristocratic. Stephie rubs that in to hercontinually. She calls her 'a daughter of the people'."
"Stephanie Radford can be uncommonly snobbish sometimes."
Stephanie from the very first had resented Rona's presence at TheWoodlands, and since the practical joke which the latter had played uponher she had disliked her heartily. She lost no opportunity of showingher contempt, and of trying to make Rona seem of small account. Sherevived an ancient tradition of the school which made it a breach ofetiquette for girls to go into other form-rooms than their own, thusbanishing Rona from V B, where she had often been brought in by Ulyth orgood-natured Addie to share the fun that went on. If obliged to takeRona's hand in figure-dancing, she would only give the extreme tips ofher fingers, and if forced on any occasion to sit next to her, she woulddraw away her skirts as if she feared contamination.
"The Woodlands isn't what it used to be," she would assure a selectcircle of listeners. "When my eldest sister was here there were theCourtenays and the Derringtons and the Vernons and quite a number ofgirls of really good family. Miss Bowes would never have dreamt then oftaking a girl she knew nothing about; she was so particular whom shereceived."
"The poor old Cuckoo has her points," volunteered Addie. "I'm afraidmost of us aren't 'county'!"
"All schools are more mixed than they used to be," admitted Stephaniecandidly; "but I'd draw the line at specimens straight from thebackwoods."
Few of the girls really liked Stephanie, nevertheless her opinionscarried weight. A school-mate who dresses well, talks continually ofhighborn friends, and "gives herself airs" can nearly always command acertain following among the more unthinking of her comrades, and suchgirls as Beth Broadway, Alice and Merle Denham, and Mary Acton wereeasily impressed by Stephanie's attitude of superiority, and ready tofollow her lead on a question of caste. It gave them a kind of reflectedcredit to belong to Stephanie's circle, and they liked to pridethemselves upon their exclusiveness.
Though Rona was many thousand miles away from her home, she evidentlydid not forget her New Zealand friends, and looked out anxiously for thethin foreign letters which arrived from time to time. She never showedthem to anybody, and spoke little of old associations, but a word wouldslip out here and there to reveal that she cared more than she wouldgive her schoolfellows to suppose. One afternoon, shortly before the NewZealand mail was expected, Rona was working in her portion of thegarden, when Mary Acton brought her a message.
"Some visitors to see you. They're waiting in the practising-room,"announced Mary.
"Visitors to see me!" exclaimed Rona, throwing down her rake. "Whoevercan they be?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Mary stolidly. "They asked for MissMitchell, so I suppose that's you. There isn't anyone else in the schoolnamed Mitchell."
"It must be me!"
Rona's eyes were wide with excitement. Visitors for herself! It was suchan utter surprise. For one moment a wild idea flashed across her mind.Her face suddenly hardened.
"What are they like? Do you know them?" she gasped.
"Not from Adam, or rather Eve. They're just two very ordinary-lookingfemales."
Much agitated, Rona flew into the house to wash her hands, slip off hergardening-apron, and change her shoes. When this very hasty toilet wascompleted, she walked to the practising-room and entered nervously. Twoladies were sitting near the piano, with their backs to the window. Theywere not fashionably dressed, but perhaps they were cold, for both woretheir large coat collars turned up. Their felt hats had wide floppybrims. One carried a guide to North Wales, and the other held an openmotor-map in her hand, as if she had been studying the route.
"Miss Mitchell? How d'you do?" said the taller of the two as Ronaentered. "I dare say you'll be surprised to see us, and you won't knowwho we are. I'm Mrs. Grant, and this is my cousin, Miss Smith. We livein New Zealand, and know some of your friends there. We're visitingEngland at present, and as we found ourselves motoring through NorthWales, we thought we would call and see you."
"It's very good of you," faltered Rona. "Which friends of mine do youknow?"
"The Higsons. They sent you all kinds of messages."
"Oh! How are they? Do tell me about them!"
Rona's cheeks were flushed and her lips quivering.
"Pamela has grown, of course. Connie and Minnie have had measles. Billyhad a fall from his horse and sprained his ankle badly, but he's allright again now."
"And Jake?"
"Spends most of his time with the Johnson girls."
"Who are they? I never heard of them."
"They came after you left."
"To which farm?"
"Oh, not very far away, I believe!"
"I wonder Pamela didn't tell me all that in her letter. Which farm canit possibly be? Surely not Heathlands?"
"I believe that was the name."
"Then have the Marstons gone?"
"Yes, to the North Island."
"Oh! I'm very sorry. Why didn't they write to me? Did you hear any othernews, please?"
"Pamela told me something about your home."
A shadow crossed Rona's face.
"Is it--is it Mrs. Barker?" she asked nervously.
"Yes, it's about her."
"What has she been doing?"
"Getting married again."
"Oh! Oh! Who would have her?"
"Your father."
"No!" shrieked Rona, her eyes ablaze. "It can't be! That dreadful,drinking woman! Oh, I can't--I won't believe it!"
"She's your stepmother now, whether you like it or not."
"Daddy! Daddy! It can't be! How could you? You knew she drank!"
"He's drinking himself--like a fish."
"No! My daddy?"
Rona, a moment ago furious, had turned white as a ghost. She put out atrembling hand and clutched the piano blindly; then, with a pitiful,broken cry, she fell, half-fainting, half-sobbing, on to the floor. Atthat moment Ulyth, with her music-case, entered the room.
"What's the matter? Rona! Rona, dear! Are you ill? Who arethese--people?"
She might well ask, for the behaviour of the two strangers was mostunprecedented. They were leaning on each other's shoulders and roaringwith laughter. One of them suddenly threw up her hat, and turned downher collar, revealing the familiar features of Stephanie Radford.
"Done you brown!" she exploded. "Paid you back in your own coin for yourprecious Eau de Venus sell! I'm even with you now, Rona Mitchell! Comealong, Beth." And the pair disappeared, guffawing.
Rona picked herself up shakily, and subsided on to a chair, w
ith herface in her hands.
"It's not true then?" she quavered.
"What isn't true?"
"They told me Dad had married Mrs. Barker, and that he was--drinking!"
"Stephanie told you that?"
"Yes. Oh, I'm queer still!"
"Rona, darling, of course it's nothing but a black, wicked lie. Don'tcry so. There isn't a word of truth about it. They were only raggingyou. Oh, don't take it so hard! I'll settle with Stephanie for this."
Half an hour afterwards a very grim, determined Ulyth, supported byLizzie Lonsdale, sought out the masqueraders and spoke her mind.
"She ragged me, so why shouldn't I turn the tables on her? It's nothingto make such a hullabaloo about!" yapped Stephanie.
"But it is. The trick she played on you was only fun after all. Yourswas the cruellest thing you could think of to hurt and wound her. Youmay pride yourself on your family, Stephanie Radford, but I'm sure thevery commonest person would have had nicer feelings than to do this. Ican never think the same of you and Beth again."
"Oh, of course you take up the cudgels for your precious Cuckoo!"snapped Stephanie. "Don't make such an absurd fuss. I shall do what Ilike, without you setting yourself up to lecture me. So there! If youdon't like it, you may lump it."
"Not a very aristocratic form of expression for a scion of the Radfordsof Stoke Radford!" commented Lizzie, as she and Ulyth stalked away.