Part 42 (1/2)
I have an aunt who lives there, Aunt Amelia Crawford; and she generally allows me--that is, when father cannot have me--to bring one of my school-friends with me to stay in her lovely house. I had a letter from her only yesterday, asking me which girl I would like to bring with me this year. I thought of Olive--Olive is such fun; but I'd just as soon have you--that is, if you would like to come.”
Alas for poor Sibyl! She was not proof against such a tempting bait.
”As far as you are concerned,” continued f.a.n.n.y, who saw that she was making way with Sibyl, and breaking down, as she expressed it, her silly little defences, ”you would gain far more prestige in being Aunt Amelia's guest than if you belonged to twenty Speciality Clubs. Aunt Amelia is good to the girls who come to stay with her as my friends. And I'd help you, Sib; I'd make the best of your dresses. We'd go to the theatre, and the pantomime, and all kinds of jolly things. We'd have a rattling fine time.”
”Do you really mean it?” said Sibyl.
”Yes--that is, if you will give me your solemn word that you will refer no more to that silly matter about Betty Vivian. Betty Vivian had no right to that packet. It belonged to my father, and I have got it back for him. Don't think of it any more, Sibyl, and you shall be my guest this Christmas. But if you prefer to make a fuss, and drag me into an unpleasant position, and get yourself, in all probability, expelled from the school, then you must do as you please.”
”But if I were expelled, you'd be expelled too,” said Sibyl.
f.a.n.n.y laughed. ”I think not,” she said. ”I think, without any undue pride, that my position in the school is sufficiently strong to prevent such a catastrophe. No; you would be cutting off your nose to spite your face--that is all you would be doing with this nice little scheme of yours. Give it up, Sibyl, and you shall come to Brighton.”
”It is dull at home at Christmas,” said Sibyl. ”We are so dreadfully poor, and father has such a lot to do; and there are always those half-starved, smelly sort of people coming to the house--the sort that want coal-tickets, you know, and grocery-tickets; and--and--we have to help to give great big Christmas dinners. We are all day long getting up entertainments for those dull sort of people. I often think they are not a bit grateful, and after being at a school like this I really feel quite squeamish about them.”
f.a.n.n.y laughed. She saw, or believed she saw, that her cause was won.
”You'll have nothing to make you squeamish at Aunt Amelia's,” she said.
”And now I must say good-night. Sorry about the Specialities; but, after the little exhibition you have just made of yourself, I agree with the other girls that you are not fit to be a member. Now, ta-ta for the present.”
CHAPTER XIX
”IT'S d.i.c.kIE!”
f.a.n.n.y went straight to her own room. ”What a nasty time I have lived through!” she thought as she was about to enter. Then she opened the door and started back.
The whole room had undergone a metamorphosis. There was a shaded light in one corner, and the door between f.a.n.n.y's room and Betty's was thrown open. A grave, kind-looking nurse was seated by a table, on which was a shaded lamp; and on seeing f.a.n.n.y enter she held up her hand with a warning gesture. The next minute she had beckoned the girl out on the landing.
”What is the meaning of this?” asked f.a.n.n.y. ”What are you doing in my room?”
”The doctor wished the door to be opened and the room to be given up to me,” replied the nurse. ”My name is Sister Helen, and I am looking after dear little Miss Vivian. We couldn't find you to tell you about the necessary alterations, which were made in a hurry. Ah, I mustn't leave my patient! I hear her calling out again. She is terribly troubled about something she has lost. Do you hear her?”
”I won't give it up! I won't give it up!” called poor Betty's voice.
”I was asked to tell you,” said Sister Helen, ”to go straight to Miss Symes, who has arranged another room for you to sleep in--that is, if you _are_ Miss Crawford.”
”Yes, that is my name. Have my things been removed?”
”I suppose so, but I don't know. I am going back to my patient.”
The nurse re-entered the room, closing the door on f.a.n.n.y, who stood by herself in the corridor. She heard Betty's voice, and Betty's voice sounded so high and piercing and full of pain that her first feeling was one of intense thankfulness that she had been moved from close proximity to the girl. The next minute she was speeding down the corridor in the direction of Miss Symes's room. Half-way there she met St. Cecilia coming to meet her.
”Ah, f.a.n.n.y, dear,” said Miss Symes, ”I thought your little meeting would have been over by now. Do you greatly mind sharing my room with me to-night? I cannot get another ready for you in time. Dr. Ashley wishes the nurse who is looking after Betty to have your room for the present.
There was no time to tell you, dear; but I have collected the few things I think you will want till the morning. To-morrow we will arrange another room for you. In the meantime I hope you will put up with me. I have had a bed put into a corner of my room and a screen around it, so you will be quite comfortable.”
”Thank you,” said f.a.n.n.y. She wondered what further unpleasantness was about to happen to her on that inauspicious night.
”You would like to go to bed, dear, wouldn't you?” said Miss Symes.
”Yes, thank you.”
”Well, you shall do so. I cannot go for a couple of hours, as Mrs. Haddo wants me to sit up with her until the specialist arrives from London.”