Part 12 (1/2)
So, with just a little grain of hope, they retraced their steps to the post office, which was also a stationer's and newsagent's. n.o.body was in the shop, but when the girls thumped on the counter a rosy-cheeked young person appeared from the back regions.
”Want to telephone without paying? It's against the post office rules,”
she snapped, as Beatrice briefly explained the circ.u.mstances.
”My mother will pay when she comes, and if you'd take my watch----”
”I can't go against post office rules! All calls must be paid for beforehand. That's our instructions.”
”But just for once----”
”What's the matter, Doris?” asked a voice, and a kindly-looking little man emerged from the back parlor, wiping his mouth hastily, and took his place behind the counter. Beatrice turned to him with eagerness, and again stated the urgency of their peculiar situation.
”Well, of course we've our instructions from the post office, and we've got to account for the calls, but in this particular case we might let you have one, and pay afterwards,” he replied. ”Oh, never mind the watch; it's all right!”
Beatrice lost no time in ringing up Number 167 Grovebury, and to her immense delight, when she got the connection, she heard her mother's voice at the instrument. A short explanation was all that was necessary.
”Stay where you are at the Waverley post office, and I will get a taxi and fetch you myself immediately,” returned Mrs. Jackson. ”It's the greatest relief to know what has become of you. I was going to ring up the police station, and describe you as 'missing!'”
The girls had to wait nearly three-quarters of an hour before the taxi made its appearance, and the welcome form of Mrs. Jackson stepped out of it. She paid what was owing for the call, thanked the postmaster for his civility, and hustled the girls into the conveyance as quickly as possible.
”I suppose girls will be girls,” she said, ”but I think you've been very silly ones to-day! Why didn't you keep with the rest of the school, as you ought to have done?”
”It sounds a most horrible greedy confession,” replied Beatrice guiltily, ”but I'm afraid it was all the fault of--buns! They just threw us late, and we missed the others. We'll never buy buns again! Never!
Never! _O peccavi!_ We have sinned!”
And she looked so humorously contrite that Mrs. Jackson, who was inclined to scold, laughed in spite of herself, and forgave the delinquents.
”On condition that such a thing doesn't happen again!” she declared.
”Trust us! We wouldn't go through such an experience again for all the buns in the world! Next time we'll cling to the College ap.r.o.n strings like--like----”
”Like adhesive sticking-plaster!” supplied Ingred gently.
”Or oysters to a mermaid's tail!” murmured Verity.
CHAPTER IX
A Hostel Frolic
”The Foursome League,” which Verity had inst.i.tuted with her room-mates at the hostel, was kept by them as a solemn compact. They stuck to one another n.o.bly, though often in the teeth of great inconvenience. It generally took three of them to urge Fil through her toilet in the mornings and drag her down to breakfast in time. She was always so terribly sleepy at seven o'clock, and so positive that she could whisk through her dressing in ten minutes, and that it was quite unnecessary to get up so soon: even when the others mercilessly pulled the bed-clothes from her, and pointed to their watches, she would dawdle instead of ”whisking,” and spend much superfluous time over manicure or dabbing on cuc.u.mber cream to improve her complexion. She was so innocent about her little vanities, and conducted them with such child-like complacency, that the girls tolerated them quite good humoredly, and even a.s.sisted sometimes. One of them generally volunteered to brush her long flaxen hair, and tie her ribbon, and half out of habit the others would tidy her cubicle, which was apt to be chaotic, and put her things away in her drawers. They did it almost automatically, for they had come to look upon Fil somewhat in the light of a big doll, the exclusive property of ”The Foursome League,” and to be treated as the mascot of the dormitory.
Mrs. Best, the hostel matron, was what the girls called ”rather an old dear.” Her gray hair was picturesque, and the knowledge that she had lost her husband and a son in the war added an element of pathetic interest to her personality. She was experienced in the ways of girls, and contrived to keep order without seeming to be constantly obtruding rules. Among her various sane practices she inst.i.tuted the plan of awarding marks for good conduct and order to each dormitory, and allowing the one which scored the highest to give an entertainment to the others during the last hour before bedtime on Thursday night.
Naturally this was a privilege to be desired. It was fun to act variety artistes before the rest of the hostel, and well worth being in time for meals, preserving silence during prep., or getting up a little earlier so as to leave cubicles in apple-pie order. The Foursome League had not yet earned distinction, chiefly owing to lapses on the part of Fil, and Nora's incorrigible love of talking in season and out of season. One week, however, after a really heroic series of efforts, they succeeded in establis.h.i.+ng a record, and sat perking themselves at dinner-time when Mrs. Best read out the score.
”We've not had you on the boards before,” said Susie Wakefield, one of the Sixth, as the girls filed from the room when the meal was over; ”we're all expecting something extra tiptop and thrillsome, so play up!”
”Hope we shan't let you down!” replied Ingred. ”Please don't expect too much, or you mayn't get it!”
Dormitory 2 held a hurried conclave before afternoon school.