Part 18 (1/2)
CHAPTER XII
In Quarantine
However excellent the arrangements of a school, and however happy the girls may be there, the word ”holidays” nevertheless holds a magic attraction. Miss Birks's pupils thoroughly appreciated the Dower House, but they would not have been human if they had not rejoiced openly in the immediate prospect of breaking-up day. Already preparations were being made for the general exodus; the gardener was carrying down trunks from the box-room, Miss Harding was checking the linen lists, and the girls were sorting the contents of their drawers and deciding what must be left and what taken home.
”These are going to be extra-special holidays,” triumphed Deirdre. ”You know, my sister's at school at Madame Mesurier's, near Versailles? Well, Mother and I are to have ten days in Paris, so that we can see Eileen and take her about. Won't it be absolutely ripping? I've never been abroad before, and I'm just living for it. We're to go and see all the sights. Eileen's looking forward to it as much as I am.”
”I'm going to stay with my cousins in Hamps.h.i.+re,” said Dulcie. ”They're mad on horses, so I shall get some riding. They always give me 'Vicky', the sweetest little chestnut cob. She goes like a bird, and yet she's so gentle. When we're not riding we play golf. Their links are gorgeous.”
”Where are you going, Gerda?” asked Deirdre.
”To London, to meet Mother,” replied Gerda, with a light in her eyes such as the chums had not seen since she arrived. She offered no details of further plans, but evidently the prospect satisfied her. All three girls were counting the hours till their departure. There is a dour old proverb, however, which states that ”there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip”, and for once its pessimistic philosophy was justified.
On the very morning of the breaking-up day Deirdre, who had pa.s.sed a funny, feverish night, woke up to find her face covered with a rash.
Dulcie went for Miss Birks, who, after inspecting the invalid and finding on enquiry that both Dulcie and Gerda had slight sore throats, forbade the three to leave their bedroom until they had been seen by a medical man. Very much disconcerted, they took breakfast in bed.
”It may be only nettle-rash,” said Deirdre. ”I had it once before when I'd eaten something that disagreed with me.”
”And I expect Gerda and I caught cold on the warren yesterday. No doubt it's nothing,” said Dulcie, trying to thrust away the horrible apprehensions that oppressed her.
When Dr. Jones arrived, however, and examined his patients he sounded the death-knell of their hopes. He p.r.o.nounced Deirdre to be suffering from a slight attack of German measles, and from Dulcie's and Gerda's symptoms diagnosed that they were sickening for the same complaint.
”The rash will probably be out to-morrow,” he announced. ”With care in the initial stages it should prove nothing serious, but for the present they are as well in bed.”
The three victims could hardly believe the calamity that had overtaken them. To stop in bed with measles when their boxes were packed and the last things ready to go into their hand-bags, and their trains arranged and their relations notified of the time of their arrival!
”It's--it's rotten!” exclaimed Deirdre, turning her flushed face to the wall.
”If it's German measles I believe it's your fault, Gerda!” declared Dulcie, weeping openly.
”I didn't start them!” objected poor Gerda.
”You've had them packed in your box, then!” snapped Dulcie, who was thoroughly cross and unreasonable. ”Oh, won't it make a pretty hullaballoo in the school?”
The sympathies of the moment might well be with Miss Birks. She had caused each of her remaining seventeen pupils to be examined by the doctor, and as all appeared free from symptoms was sending off seventeen telegrams to inform parents of the circ.u.mstances and ask if they wished their daughters to return home or to remain in quarantine. Without exception the replies were in favour of travelling, so the usual cabs and luggage carts drove up, and the girls, rejoicing greatly, were packed off under Miss Harding's escort by the midday train to Sidcombe Junction, where they would change for their various destinations.
In spite of strict injunctions to keep warm, Deirdre got out of bed and watched the departure from the window.
”To think that I ought to have been sitting inside that bus, and my box ought to have been on that cart!” she lamented. ”Oh, I could howl!
Mother will have got our tickets for Paris. I wonder if she'll go without me? Oh, why didn't I powder my face and say nothing about it?”
”You couldn't have hidden that ras.h.!.+ Besides, it's horribly dangerous to catch cold on the top of measles. Get back into bed, you silly! I'll tell Miss Birks if you don't! Do you want what the doctor called 'complications'? I think you're the biggest lunatic I know, standing in your night-dress by an open window!” Dulcie's remarks were sage if not complimentary, so Deirdre tore herself away from the tantalizing spectacle of the start below and dutifully returned to her pillow just in time to save herself from being found out of bed by Miss Birks, who, having said good-bye to the travellers, came upstairs to condole with the three invalids.
”I can't think how we caught it!” sighed Dulcie.
”At our performance of _Coriola.n.u.s_, I'm afraid,” said Miss Birks. ”Dr.
Jones tells me that all the little Hargreaves are down with it. He was called in to attend them yesterday. Probably they were sickening for it and gave you the infection.”
”I hope Ronnie won't have caught it!” gasped Gerda.