Part 18 (1/2)
The girls grinned. Miss Walters did not often give them an unexpected holiday, so such treats were appreciated when they came. Twenty-one enthusiasts donned strong boots, jerseys, and tam-o'-shanters, and started forth for a ramble on the hill-side. They had climbed through the wood, and were walking along the upper road that led to the hamlet of Five Stone Bridge, when they came face to face with a very curious little cavalcade. Two large soap boxes, knocked together, had been placed on old perambulator wheels, and in this roughly fas.h.i.+oned chariot, on a bundle of straw and an old shawl, reclined a little, thin, white-faced girl. One st.u.r.dy boy of ten was pus.h.i.+ng the queer conveyance, while a younger pulled it by a piece of rope, and the small occupant, her lap full of flowers, smiled as proudly as a queen on coronation day. Against the background of green hedgerow and red village roofs, the happy children made a charming picture; they had not noticed the approach of the school, and were laughing together in absolute unconsciousness. The sight of them at that particular moment was one of those brief glimpses into the heart of other folks' lives that only come to us on chance occasions, when by some accident we peep over the wall of human reserve into the inner circle of thought and feeling. Almost with one accord the girls stopped and smiled.
”I wish I'd brought my camera!” murmured Dulcie.
”They're too sweet for words!” agreed Prissie.
Miss Walters spoke to the children, asked their names, and ascertained that the little girl had been ill for a long time, and could not walk.
They were shy, however, and all the spontaneous gladness that had made the first snapshot view of them so charming faded away in the presence of strangers. They accepted some pieces of chocolate, and remained by the hedge bank staring with solemn eyes as the line of the school filed away. The chance meeting was no doubt an event on both sides: the children would tell their mother about the ladies who had spoken to them, and the girls, on their part, could not forget the pretty episode.
They urged Miss Walters to make some inquiries about the family, and found that little Phyllis was suffering from hip disease, and had been for a short time in the local hospital. Then an idea sprang up amongst the girls. It was impossible to say quite where it originated, for at least five girls claimed the honor of it, but it was neither more nor less than that Chilcombe School should raise a subscription and buy an adequate carriage for the small invalid.
”That terrible box must shake her to pieces, poor kid!”
”It had no springs!”
”She looked so sweet!”
”But as white as a daisy!”
”Wouldn't she be proud of a real, proper carriage?”
”Can't we write off and order one at once?”
”What would it cost?”
”Let's get up a concert or something for it.”
”Oh, yes! That would be ever such sport!”
Miss Walters, on being appealed to, was cautious--caution was one of her strong characteristics--and would not commit herself to any reply until she had consulted the doctor who attended the child, the clergyman of the parish, and the local schoolmaster. Armed with this acc.u.mulated information, she visited the mother, then gave a report of her interview.
”They're not well off, but we mustn't on any account pauperize them,”
was her verdict. ”Dr. Cranley says an invalid carriage would be a great boon to the child, but suggests that the parents should pay half the expense. They would value it far more if they did so, than if it were entirely a gift. He knows of a second-hand wicker carriage that could be had cheap. It belongs to another patient of his, and he saw it at their house only the other day. If you girls can manage to raise about 2, 10s., the parents would do the rest. He was mentioning the subject of a carriage to them a short time ago, and they said they could afford something, but not the full price. He thinks this would settle the matter to everybody's satisfaction.”
Dr. Cranley's proposal suited the girls, for 2, 10s. was a sum that seemed quite feasible to collect among themselves. They determined, however, to get as much fun out of the business as possible.
”Don't let's have a horrid subscription list!” urged Lilias. ”It's so unutterably dull just to put down your name for half a crown. I hoped we were going to give a concert.”
”What I vote,” said Gowan, ”is that each bedroom should have a show of its own, ask the others to come as audience, charge admission, and w.a.n.gle the cash that way.”
”There'd be some sport in that!” agreed Lilias.
”It's great!” declared Dulcie.
”You bet it will catch on!” purred Prissie.
Gowan's scheme undoubtedly caught on. It was so attractive that there was no resisting it. Even the occupants of the Gold bedroom, who as a rule were not too ready to receive suggestions from the Blue Grotto, could not find a single fault, and plumped solidly for a dramatic performance. Each dormitory was to give any entertainment it chose, and while the Brown room decided on n.i.g.g.e.r Minstrels, and the Green room on a general variety program, the Blue, Gold and Rose were keen on acting.
Miss Walters, who, of course, had to be consulted, not only gave a smiling permission, but seemed on the very verge of suggesting a personal attendance, then, noticing the look of polite agony which swept over the faces of the deputation, kindly backed out from such an evidently embarra.s.sing proposal, and declared that she and the mistresses would be too busy to come, and must leave the girls to manage by themselves.
”Thank goodness!” exclaimed Gowan, when they were safely out of earshot of the study door. ”I never dreamt of such an awful thing as Miss Walters offering to turn up! Why, we couldn't have had any fun at all!”