Part 10

"Oh, let it be," said Monica, who loathed telling tales; "she'll be so mad if you tell, and she'll be sure to declare it wasn't a crib."

"I shall tell if she comes out top."

And Monica could not persuade her otherwise.

"We shall know to-morrow," said Olive as they entered the school door.

But in less than five minutes after the words had escaped her lips, part of the truth had come to light, and it happened in this way.

Lily (who was under the impression that her neat little scheme for aiding her memory had been quite unobserved by any one except Maggie, who had benefited by it, too), already, in imagination, saw her own name at the head of the list. But she thought it would be just as well to make assurance doubly sure, by securing Monica's downfall, if it were possible, in case she should be perilously near. So, as she passed up to the desk with her paper, taking care to be the last girl who filed out, she very quietly dropped her little paper of tables, etc., on the floor of Monica's desk, in such a manner as to make it appear as if it had slipped off Monica's lap, when she rose to go out.

"Now we shall be quits!" was her amiable thought, as she went with the rest into the playground. She bound Maggie, with promises of many good things, to absolute secrecy, and returned to the classroom to await developments.

The girls had no sooner taken their places than they became aware that something was wrong! The head-mistress Miss Buckingham came in with a very stern expression on her face, and Miss Churchill seemed on the verge of tears.

"I am grieved to tell you that there is a cheat--yes, a _cheat_," and Miss Buckingham repeated the words with scornful emphasis, "amongst you girls of the Fourth Form. Miss Churchill found this paper, containing arithmetical tables and various other information, under one of the desks when you had left the classroom. I desire that girl, who has sought to secure a good place in the examination list by such despicable means to stand up in her place."

A furtive glance from Lily, who was as white as a ghost, revealed the fact that the head-mistress was looking straight at Monica, and the real culprit breathed freely, and the colour came back to her cheeks. She did not know that Olive's gaze was riveted on her, or she would not have felt so easy in her mind as she did!

"Come, stand up," repeated Miss Buckingham, and Monica began to feel uncomfortable. Why did the head-mistress look so persistently at _her_, when it was Lily Howell who was the culprit.

"Well, I am sorry she will not confess it herself," said the calm, cold voice of the head of the school; "but Monica Beauchamp is the cheat!"

"I'm _not_!"

"She _isn't_!"

The two disclaimers burst simultaneously from the lips of Monica and Olive, who were aghast at this fresh piece of trickery, and could not imagine how it had come to pass.

"Olive Franklyn, sit down. Now, Monica, what have you to say in defence of yourself?"

"I know nothing whatever about it; I would scorn such a mean trick. Miss Churchill knows I would," and Monica looked reproachfully at the little mistress, who had been a sad and silent spectator, so far.

"I cannot believe you would cheat, Monica, but----" and she paused significantly.

Meanwhile, Olive had been frantically trying to make Monica see her, but failing to do so, she asked permission to speak, and told what she had seen on Lily's desk.

But both Lily and Maggie stoutly denied having had anything of the kind in their possession, and, as no other girl seemed to have observed it, Miss Churchill was reluctantly compelled to think that Olive, in championing her friend's cause, was drawing on her imagination. The figures and words on the paper were all in printing hand, so that no one's writing was recognisable.

No more light being thrown on the matter by further questioning, Miss Buckingham left the classroom, saying: "I shall not decide upon the punishment to be given until to-morrow morning, by which time I sincerely hope that the girl, whose conscience must be accusing her, will be ready to make confession."

In her own mind, Miss Buckingham was of opinion that Monica Beauchamp was entirely innocent; and she could not but feel that suspicion strongly rested upon Lily Howell, although the latter had feigned entire ignorance of the matter; for her changing colour belied her words.

The truth was arrived at in a singular and indisputable way after all.

When correcting the arithmetic papers, late that afternoon, in the teacher's room, Miss Churchill found some most astonishing blunders in Lily Howell's calculations. For some time she was mystified, and then it dawned upon her what had happened.

"Why, the girl's cubic measure is all wrong. No less than three times she has put down 1278 cubic inches instead of 1728, when reckoning a cubic foot. It is curious how she came to transpose the numbers? I wonder----"

She hastened across the hall to Miss Buckingham's room, and upon looking at the "crib," she saw, with a curious sense of satisfaction (for she felt sure Monica was innocent) that underneath "Solid or Cubic Measure" the first line, was

1278 cub. in. = 1 cub. ft.

"Found out!" she murmured, and recrossing the hall, she told two of the other teachers, who were also correcting papers, what she had discovered, and bade them look at the paper, and compare it with Lily's sums.

They both agreed it was a very clear case, and when, upon examination, Monica was found to have calculated her cubic inches rightly each time, no further proof of Lily Howell's guilt was needed.

Little did that individual dream of what awaited her on the morrow, when she retired to rest that night, rather well satisfied with the success which she thought she had achieved.

The girls waited breathlessly next morning for Miss Buckingham's verdict; many had been the conversations about it, and very varied were the punishments suggested. Every one was sure that, somehow, Lily would be proved guilty, most of them thinking that she would voluntarily confess.

Monica, knowing she was quite innocent, felt no real fear, although she was not at all sure that she would escape punishment, for she was under the impression that Miss Buckingham had believed her to be the culprit.

Every one was amazed when they heard the conclusion of the matter. In a few terse words the head-mistress explained how the truth had been brought to light; and no one felt that undue punishment was being meted out to Lily Howell when she was informed that after that term she would not be allowed to return to the Osmington High School.

"Not only for the using of unfair and forbidden means in order to secure a good place in the examination list, but far more on account of the wicked intention to bring discredit and punishment upon an innocent fellow-schoolgirl."

Miss Buckingham's words were stern and uncompromising, and poor unhappy Lily Howell cowered beneath her glance.

It was an unfortunate ending to the term, and the girls who came off victorious in the examinations did not feel the same satisfaction as they would have done if nothing of the kind had occurred. Monica, of course, was first in arithmetic; Amethyst secured a similar place in English history, and although she was beaten in geography, she did not mind so very much, as the honours fell to her friend Elsa.

A few days more, and the huge pile of buildings which constituted the Osmington High School was left in the charge of caretakers, for governesses and pupils alike had scattered in every direction to enjoy the long, summer vacation.

*CHAPTER XIV.*

*"SUNDAY AGAIN ALREADY!"*

"Oh, isn't it simply glorious?"

"How beautiful the sea looks!"

Sundry exclamations such as these escaped the lips of most of the passengers in the heavily laden train bound for Sandyshore, as it emerged from a tunnel with a shrill whistle, and rounded the last corner prior to slowing down. A beautiful panorama stretched out before them; in the foreground lay the quaint old town, beyond that an expanse of deep, blue sea, and in the distance the white, rocky peaks of some promontory seemed almost dazzling in the brilliance of an August sun.

Two out of three young people in a reserved second-class compartment were in ecstasies of delight; and the third was contemplating a month at Sandyshore, with very different feelings from those she had expressed a couple of months ago. For Monica had obtained her wish, and she would have Olive as her companion and friend during all that holiday month.

It had not been quite easy to gain Mrs. Franklyn's consent to let Olive accompany the Beauchamp party; especially after the trouble about the novel-reading, but eventually she had consented, upon both Monica and Olive promising her faithfully not to cause her distress in that way again. And when Mrs. Beauchamp insisted upon Elsa going with them too, she and the doctor very gladly availed themselves of the kindness and generosity which would enable their twin-daughters to have such a thorough holiday and change, free of expense.

Monica had, at first, demurred a little over having Elsa, saying "two's company, and three's none," but her grandmother was firm. For one thing, Mrs. Beauchamp thought it would be just as well to have Elsa, on account of her trustworthiness, and the old lady was a trifle afraid of Olive getting into mischief without her more sensible sister being near by. Also she had a desire to know more of the gentle-mannered girl, and quite looked forward to enjoying her bright young society, when the other two girls were bent on following their own devices. So Monica had, perforce, to fall in with her grandmother's wishes, and when it was known that Mr. Drury was acting as locum-tenens of the quaint old church of St. Mary, Sandyshore, everything seemed to fit in splendidly.

As it happened, the Drurys preceded their friends by a couple of days. So Amethyst was at the station to meet the girls when they arrived. She had never been to Sandyshore before, and was captivated with the dear little old-fashioned town, as all its summer visitors were. Her merry tongue rattled away about all its charms and wonders while Barnes counted up the huge dress-baskets, trunks, and other articles of luggage belonging to the party, and engaged a couple of cabs to convey them to their destination.

At length, all was satisfactorily accomplished, and, with arrangements for an early meeting, Amethyst saw them drive off into the town, and then ran home to the quaint, rambling old vicarage, next to the church, which the Drurys were occupying.

Meanwhile, after a few minutes' drive through the narrow-streeted town, and up a very steep hill, "Mrs. Beauchamp and party" (according to the "Sandyshore Visitors' List") arrived at "Rocklands," a large house, standing in its own grounds, overlooking the entire bay.

Mrs. Beauchamp always engaged rooms at that particular house, owing to the magnificent view which she could enjoy, simply by sitting comfortably ensconced in one or other of the bay windows; for, in one direction, Rocklands overlooked the pier, to and from which pleasure steamers were continually passing; and when one tired of these, the sands, thickly sprinkled with bathing machines and private tents, amused and interested the onlooker with their varied phases of holiday life.

Comfort being of more importance than expense to Mrs. Beauchamp, she had made every arrangement for convenience during their month's stay at Rocklands by engaging a whole suite of rooms. Thus Elsa and Olive were charmed to find themselves the proud possessors of a delightful bedroom, while Monica occupied the one next to theirs. Seldom were their doors shut; it was such a new experience for Monica to have young companions to live with. Then the dining-room in which they had all their meals was entirely at the girls' disposal, between times, when they could do just as they pleased, and "need not be so much on their best behaviour," as Monica termed it, as in the drawing-room. But the weather was so delightful, and so seldom did it rain, that the trio were not often to be found indoors except in the evenings.

The next morning, the whole party were early on the small strip of shore, which extended for fully half a mile round the bay, and on which the visitors made themselves thoroughly at home. The short season was at its height, and at first sight there seemed no chance of securing a comfortable position; but as they walked along the Shore Road, looking down upon the gay throng of holiday-makers, Elsa descried a well-known figure, and saw Amethyst frantically signalling to them.

"There seems room there, Mrs. Beauchamp," she suggested, "where the Drurys are. Shall we go down?"

And in a few minutes, after mutual greetings, Mrs. Beauchamp was comfortably settled in her deck chair, while the girls, spreading a rug on the sand, threw themselves down upon it in careless attitudes.

That first morning was but a sample of most of those which followed.

Mrs. Beauchamp read, or chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Drury, while the young people enjoyed themselves in every way. A tent, next to the one used by the Drurys, was hired, and the girls had great fun over bathing. Mrs. Beauchamp wished Monica to learn to swim, so an old bathing-machine proprietor, one of the chief features of Sandyshore, used to give her and Olive a lesson every morning. Elsa was too timid to really enjoy more of the sea than could be had where the water was comparatively shallow, and Amethyst and she were quite content to look on at the more daring exploits of the other two girls.

Such fun and merriment did they all have that first week at Sandyshore, that it did not seem possible that they _could_ enjoy themselves more, although Amethyst's one cry was: "Won't it be just too perfectly lovely when Marcus comes?"

Marcus Drury, Amethyst's brother and senior by four or five years, had only recently gone up to Cambridge upon leaving Trent College. He had been spending a few weeks of the Long Vacation with another undergraduate at the latter's home in Scotland, but now he was expected to arrive at Sandyshore any day, and his devoted and admiring little sister was on the tiptoe of excitement about his coming. Of course, he was well known to the Franklyn girls, with whose brothers he had been friendly since the Drurys had lived at Osmington, but Monica felt a good deal of interest in the young fellow of whom she had heard so much.

Therefore, one morning, some ten days after their arrival at Sandyshore, when Amethyst came flying along the Shore Road to meet them with the words, "Marcus has come, and you'll never guess who is with him!" all three girls were quite as mystified as she wished them to be.

"No one I know," said Monica, with decision.

"No, you don't; but the others do." And Amethyst bubbled over with excitement. "Do be quick and guess: I can't keep it much longer."

"Not Dick?" hazarded Elsa, more to please her friend than because she expected to be right.

"No, not Dick," said Amethyst merrily. "Try again."

"Roger, then," said Olive.

"Yes, yes, yes! Isn't it splendid? He wanted to surprise you, and he's got a week's holiday from St. Adrian's, and Marcus met him in the Strand, or somewhere, and persuaded him to pack up and come down here with him."

"Oh, how lovely!" cried the twins simultaneously; "do let us see him. Where is he?"

"There," and Amethyst triumphantly pointed out a couple of young fellows not very far away, who had evidently been enjoying, from a distance, the surprise the news had caused.

Monica, feeling somewhat out of it, followed the others rather more slowly, and thus secured a good look at the newcomers while they were engaged in greeting Olive and Elsa.

There was no doubt as to which was which: the elder, of medium height, slightly built, dark, with brown eyes, was a Franklyn all over; while his companion, a tall, broad-shouldered youth, with merry blue eyes and curly hair, although he was not in the least like his sister, bore an unmistakable resemblance to Mr. Drury.

Raising his panama hat, round which his college colours were twisted, he came forward with outstretched hand, and Monica thought she had never liked any one so well, at first sight, as this debonair undergraduate. She had previously somewhat sneered at Amethyst's praises of her paragon brother, but she could understand her feelings now that she had met Marcus Drury.

She almost forgot his companion, until a quiet, manly voice, so different from the other's boyish tones, said, "How do you do, Miss Beauchamp? I am very glad to meet my sister's friend." And she found herself shaking hands with Olive's eldest brother.

A very short time sufficed to put them all at their ease, and then, as the tide was fast going out, they went in different directions for their bathe. But an hour later found the young people all together again, and the girls were charmed with the proposal that they should go for a row, there being just an hour left before dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Drury, who had undertaken to keep Mrs. Beauchamp company until their return, watched the boatful with interest, until Roger's and Marcus' even strokes had rowed it so far as to be scarcely more than a speck.

"Dear boy," murmured Mrs. Drury, as she took up the knitting she had neglected; and her husband smiled as he said, quizzically: "Do you mean Roger?"

"I meant Marcus, of course," replied his wife, with a smile, "but Roger is a dear boy, too. I only wish----"

"What do you wish, Nora?" queried her husband, in a lower tone, as he tilted his black straw hat over his eyes, to protect them from the glare of the midday sun.

"Why, the same as I know you wish, Herbert," was the reply, "that in choosing the medical profession Roger had been actuated by the one desire to follow in the steps of the Good Physician."

"Yes, I would that he had, but I fear it was not so. But, Nora, motives and hearts, too, can be changed. Why should not Roger Franklyn go back to St. Adrian's 'transformed'?"

"Ah! why not?" And little Mrs. Drury's eyes grew earnest, as she looked out at the tiny black speck dancing on the ocean in the distance, and she prayed that God would answer that other mother's prayers, and give to Roger a new purpose, a new ideal in life.

The days flew swiftly by, what with picnics, tennis, bathing, boating, and many other amusements and enjoyments, and Sunday dawned.

Monica and Olive, it must be confessed, did not appreciate that one day in the week as much as they should, inasmuch as they were compelled, of necessity, to forego during its sacred hours all the secular amusements with which they filled up every moment of the week, from Monday morning until Saturday evening. They awoke that brilliant August morning to the unwelcome remembrance that it was "Sunday again already!"

But Elsa, whose happiest hours were spent in God's house, with a tender little smile hovering round her lips, drew up the blinds, and looked out upon the calm blue sea, and lifted her heart in thanksgiving to her Heavenly Father for making such a beautiful world. Even Olive's ceaseless chatter, as they dressed, did not disturb her; and when her sister had gone into Monica's room, as she invariably did, Elsa gently shut the door, and taking her little Bible, she knelt by the open window and prayed long and earnestly. She did not know how to pray properly, she only knew how to talk to her dearest Friend, and she was accustomed to tell Him everything, and ask with the simplicity and directness of a little child for what she needed.

That morning, after praying for help and strength for herself, to enable her to be a faithful follower of her Master, she remembered her darling mother (whom it had been a very real sorrow to leave) and all those at home; and then her heart seemed overwhelmed with the thought of those about her, who, as yet, did not know and serve her Saviour. "Oh! Lord," she prayed, "do speak to-day, _somehow_, to Monica and Olive. I can't bear to think of them going on living without Thee. And kind Mrs. Beauchamp wants something to satisfy her. O Lord, she wants _Thee_! and Roger needs Thee, too. Lord, show Thyself to them all to-day, and show them they will never be happy until they have come to Thee."

Thus, in all earnestness, but with childish simplicity, Elsa poured out her heart unto the Lord, and "the Lord hearkened and heard."

The dear old-fashioned church, taxed to its utmost to provide accommodation for the throngs of fashionably attired people who poured ceaselessly up the aisles, as the five-minute bell gave warning that service would soon commence, was eventually crammed with a huge congregation, made up of many types. Perhaps it would be safe to say that the majority of the people assembled within the sacred edifice had gone there because "it was the proper thing to do"; they neither expected nor desired any spiritual help.

Among this class were several of our acquaintances. In one pew, a prominent one, because the verger had an eye to a substantial sum for the offertory from such an imposing looking personage as Mrs. Beauchamp, in her trailing gown of black satin, and a Parisian bonnet, were seated the two Franklyn girls, Monica and her grandmother; Elsa being next to the old lady.

At a little distance, and at right angles to them, at the end of the vicarage pew in the south transept, Marcus' tall form towered above those in the vicinity, and made his neighbour, Roger Franklyn, look quite insignificant; also Mrs. Drury and Amethyst. It is to be feared that some of the occupants of the two pews were a trifle disposed to look at each other, at first; but a glance from her mother subdued Amethyst, and she soon forgot the others in paying attention to the service.

Marcus, who had a tenor voice, which promised to be of unusual quality, sang all the chants and hymns; but Roger, a slightly cynical expression disfiguring his clear-cut features, took no part in the service. With arms folded, and head erect, he stood looking straight before him, his eyes wandering, occasionally, to the pew in which his sisters sat; but he did not look at them so much as at their friend.

Monica, her softly rounded cheeks already tanned by exposure to sun and sea, was looking really handsome that morning. Her hair, arranged in a new and becoming fashion, was tied back with a large cream bow, which matched her flop hat and daintily made dress. The only scrap of colour about her was a couple of dark crimson roses, tucked carelessly into her waistband; and altogether she made a very pretty picture, standing, as she did, erect and tall, between the twins, who wore simple delaine frocks of a pale greenish hue.

Mr. Drury conducted the service, and a young clergyman, apparently a curate, read the lessons. Elsa, with a sinking heart, saw the latter ascend the pulpit stairs; for it must be confessed she had hoped her favourite, Mr. Drury, would be the preacher. But she need not have feared; God had given Leslie Herschel a message to deliver to the congregation assembled at St. Mary's Church that August Sunday morning, and as the young man looked down upon the throbbing mass of never-dying souls, his heart went up to God that many there that morning might be led to make the one great choice.

*CHAPTER XV.*

*"OH, MONICA, DON'T!"*

"My text you will find in the First Book of Chronicles, the twenty-ninth chapter and the fifth verse. 'Who then is willing to consecrate his service this day unto the Lord'?"

The young preacher, for he had been barely two years in orders, read the verse once, and yet again, feelingly, and as if he would impress every word of it upon his hearers, and then he closed his Bible, and began his sermon.