Part 12

"You'd better be back by 3.30," called Miss Cheeseman after them, but they pretended not to hear, and went on sulkily down the drive. When they reached the road Sally said:

"Look here, I didn't ask you to come, so it's not my fault--and you didn't want to thrust in, so it's not your fault; and I don't see that we need walk together. I'll go in front with Tolly, and you do what you like."

The Cat nodded. She had been muttering all sorts of angry epithets about Miss Cheeseman ever since they moved out of earshot.

"I wish you had set the dog on her," she said. "Then we'd be quit of her for a bit. He looks as if he'd got sharp teeth," and she edged away. She did not like animals.

"You wouldn't mind if he was shot for doing it, I suppose?" returned Tolly's indignant mistress. (In her heart she had never quite parted with the ownership.) "Besides, she's so tough, I expect he'd die in the attempt."

Whistling to him, she set oft at a brisk pace, soon leaving her companion far behind--and for a time thoroughly enjoyed herself--but when they reached Tadiscombe Farm her troubles began. Autolycus, it seemed, had not remained uninfluenced by the spirit of insubordination at Seascape House. Pulled out by sheer force from his favourite rabbit burrow, he barked indignantly at his mistress as soon as he was released, and made straight for the pond where a family of geese were disporting themselves.

There is safety in numbers, and the geese cackled so loudly, and made such a flapping with their wings, that Autolycus, to avoid them, hastily plunged through a hedge--but only to get into further mischief. To judge from the sounds that now ensued, there was a farmyard beyond the hedge, and by the time Sally, jumping a gate and crossing a field, had arrived there, all was in confusion. Pigs ran grunting, this way and that, hens flew cackling to the shelter of the barn, the farmer's wife, trying to head off the intruder, had stumbled and fallen, and now sat on some very dirty cobbles, clasping an empty basin.

"I'm very sorry--very, very sorry," said Sally. "You see he's only a puppy."

"He's a dratted nuisance," said the woman, "that's what he is. Made me spill all these scraps I was taking to the hens, and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd killed one of them. You call him off at once, or I'll summons you."

Sally did not enjoy the next quarter of an hour--for it took her most of that time to secure Autolycus, now thoroughly ashamed and frightened--and the rest to pacify the farmer's wife, who, hunting among the hen-coops, appeared with a dead fowl, and claimed it as a victim of the raid.

"It looks more as if it hadn't had enough to eat," said Sally, who noticed it was very thin. "Perhaps it really died of sickness," but even her courage quailed before the storm this suggestion aroused. Her remark had certainly been unfortunate, and it was not till she produced 5_s._ 6_d._ from her pocket and presented it that she was allowed to go, and then only with numerous threats of what would happen if her dog was seen again within the farm precincts.

"Come on, Tolly, you brute, but I'm sure you never touched that fowl," Sally said as she went, dragging him by her handkerchief through his collar, and coming to the gate of the field, she saw Catherine Dowl leaning against it watching.

There was a malicious smile in the corners of her eyes that roused the younger girl's anger to white heat.

"Move, and let me pass, can't you?" she said roughly, and the Cat did so, laughing in her silent way, with her lip drawn back to show her gums.

They walked home as they had come, Sally stalking in front with the now subdued Autolycus, and her companion plodding behind, with sunk shoulders and face turned to the ground.

At the gates Sally paused. "Come on," she said. "We'd better arrive together, or we may be tied hand and foot to one another for the rest of the evening, by way of punishment."

The Cat sniggered. "Don't let that beast of yours bite the gardener," she said. "He'd be sure to be shot then."

"What do you mean? He isn't going to be shot--he's quite a good dog, only he's a puppy--and sometimes excitable."

Again the Cat sniggered, and Sally, stopping in the drive, said fiercely, "What do you mean? Speak out."

"Oh, I meant nothing--just I've never seen him before, except in the grounds, of course, until this afternoon ... he hasn't been exactly good, has he--to-day?"

"I don't believe he ever killed the chicken, if you mean that?"

"You paid some money for it, didn't you?"

Sally was silent for a minute, then she shrugged. "Of course, you'd believe the worst of him you could--but at any rate it's none of your business, so go and drink your cinnamon."

The Cat did not appear to notice the gibe; only when they were parting at the front door she said, with a glance out of the corner of her slanting eyes, "You'd better be careful. If a dog takes to killing chickens, or sheep, I've always heard he can't be cured."

Sally did not trouble to reply. She had noticed the school clock said 3.25, and was determined to take Autolycus for a further run in the grounds before she went in to tidy for tea. It was a strenuous occupation, for Tolly was so thrilled over the numberless rabbit burrows along the cliff that he ran from one to the other, yapping wildly, and covering himself with the sandy mud he kicked up in clouds behind him. His mistress was quite thankful when she had restored him to the stables, and after bestowing an affectionate kiss on his black muzzle, she hastened into the house--her temper largely recovered.

"Sally Brendan, Miss Cheeseman wants you." One of the prefects caught her with this information as she was walking into her class-room for preparation at 5.30.

With a muttered exclamation of annoyance, the younger girl went to the Deputy Principal's study, and knocked.

"You wanted me?" she said briefly.

"Yes. Don't stand by the door as if you were waiting to run away, but come here. I wanted to ask you what exactly happened at Tadiscombe Farm, this afternoon."

"What happened?" said Sally, in apparent amazement--trying to collect her wits. And then bitterly, "I suppose the Cat has been telling."

"If you mean Catherine Dowl, when she went to Matron for her cinnamon, she said enough about the walk to make Matron think it desirable that I should be informed."

"Cad!" said Sally, half under her breath, but sufficiently loud for Miss Cheeseman to grasp its significance.

"Hush, Sally--and remember Catherine Dowl has not blamed you, nor do I--for anything I have heard so far. I consider that dog far too undisciplined to be allowed out alone with anyone so young as you."

"Miss Cockran doesn't think so."

"Miss Cockran is not here."

The Deputy Principal's voice, up to this time, had remained fairly sympathetic; but now it became cold and detached. Bit by bit, she gained the story of the afternoon's adventure, and finally gave her verdict.

"Miss Cockran will, of course, decide as she wishes when she returns, but in the meantime, I do not consider it safe for the dog to leave the grounds at all, nor for you to take him for walks."

"But, Miss Cheeseman, he needs exercise--or----"

"That will do, Sally. Let there be no more argument. It is one of your chief failings."

Sally went out and slammed the door. She was called back, and shut it quietly; then stood making her most hideous grimace at it, only to find Miss Castle's hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Sally, what an infant you are in some ways!" she said, and passed swiftly down the passage.

It was a galling comment--or would have been from anyone else--but the girl suspected underlying sympathy with her mood, and the heat of her anger cooled. After all, it was more the Cat than Miss Cheeseman who had played a dirty game.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND

AUTOLYCUS IS LOST

"Tolly! Tolly! Where are you, Tolly? Come here--good dog!"

It was Thursday afternoon, and Sally, unable to find Autolycus in the stables, was hunting for him up and down the gardens. Jakes, who was digging, paused and rested his hands on his spade to watch her. On his face was a wide grin.

"It ain't no use your calling of 'im, Miss," he drawled at last. "He ain't here."

"Not here? What do you mean? Tell me quick."

Sally's eyes were so tragic that Jakes's grin vanished, and he shook his head.

"It's what I said, Miss--he ain't here--must have runned away, and without his dinner too. I've never knowed him miss his dinner afore this."

"But you must know more about him than that. Tolly was so happy here, and so miserable before. I know he wouldn't run away."

The problem thus presented was too much for Jakes, who stood and scratched his head, in the intervals of shaking it.

"Dogs is queer kittle cattle," was all he volunteered. "But one thing I know, and it's this 'ere--it ain't no bit of use calling 'im: he'll come back when he wants to, and not afore."

He began to dig once more, and Sally fled towards the house, questioning anyone who she thought might be able to help her.

"Came after the dust-bins last night--greedy little beast!--that's all I know of 'im, for I drove him off, as Miss Cockran said to me--'Don't you feed him now--not extra, beyond his ordinary meals'--she says..."

Cook would have talked a great deal more, but the girl left her: there was a large household to cross-examine. Of the maids, however, only one had any information to offer, and that was that she had seen Tolly running round the house early before breakfast; but wasn't sure if it might have been yesterday or the day before.

Impatient at such vagueness, the girl went up to Miss Castle's room, but she was out; while Miss Rogers, when tracked to the playing-fields, proffered no help beyond a little sympathy and the belief that Tolly was such a sensible fellow he would be sure to take care of himself.

"You don't think Miss Cheeseman has had him shot, do you?"

Miss Rogers began to laugh; then stopped, at the earnestness in the girl's eyes.

"No, Sally, I'm sure she hasn't.... What makes you think that?"

"Well, she doesn't like him, and now Miss Cockran's away, and----"

"Oh Sally! Sally! Do you think she'd give such a stab in the back as that--especially when she's very fond of Miss Cockran?"

Sally, with hands clenched to keep back her wretchedness, shook her head. "No, I suppose not ... it was only an idea."

"Well, put it out of your head for a start. I've seen Miss Cheeseman feeding him with biscuits when no one was looking.... Now I must attend to the games, but I'll be sure and make inquiries, so don't lose heart. He'll probably come barking back to-night."

Dejected, but a little relieved that Tolly was at any rate not the victim of a plot, Sally wandered once more towards the school, and crossing the quadrangle, ran into Frisky Harrison, who greeted her with a shout:

"I say, do come and play squash--I've a new ball."

Sally shook her head. "I can't," she said, and was hurrying away when the other caught her by the arm.

"What's the matter--another row?" she asked sympathetically. "Old Cheeserings is the limit. Matron reported me to her to-day for cheek, and here I am--'gated'--no chance of practising for the Form match on Saturday, and----"

"I'm very sorry," said Sally, pulling at her arm to free herself, "but I can't stop--Tolly's lost."

Frisky whistled--then ran after her. "Where? ... How? Can't I help?"

"I'm going to look in the grounds--it's where he generally played, when he was allowed loose--out beyond the gardens, along the cliffs. Why ... he may have ... fallen over, even----"

Horror dawned in her eyes at the thought, but Frisky smote her on the back, "Not he, you ass. Don't go and get the jumps--he was much too cute--but look here, I'll come and help you, and we'll regularly beat the bounds."

"I ... I thought you were 'gated.'"

Frisky dropped an eyelid. "From the playing-fields and shore, my child; but the garden was never mentioned. You run along, and I'll join you there in a jiffy, as soon as I've collected a coat."

They beat the bounds between them until it was nearly tea-time, and the evening shadows were beginning to roll up over the sky. Then at last, Frisky, looking round with a shiver, declared it was no use to hunt any more; but, even as she spoke, Sally, who was bending down by a gorse-bush, cried out:

"Come here quick! I'm sure I heard him bark."

The other ran over, and they knelt side by side, listening.

"There!" said Sally. "There! It's very faint, but oh, can't you hear it?"

"Sorry--but I can't."

Frisky gave another shiver. "Come on, old girl, do," she said coaxingly. "It's rotten bad luck, but I expect he's only gone into the town."

She stopped, for Sally was already running towards the house, and she saw her pause and speak to Jakes, who, spade in hand, had been watching them over the hedge.

Jakes shook his head several times. He was evidently not in an obliging mood; but finally he shifted his spade on to his shoulder, and came striding across.

"It's like this here, Miss," he was saying, as he approached. "It's a regular laby-rinth of burrows--that's what it is--down under this here field. If I was to dig at the mouth of every burrow that's fallen in, you might pay me wages for a month for doing it, and there'd be nothing to show for it at the end, I reckon, but rheumatism in my back."

He laughed at his own wit, and Sally broke in impatiently:

"I'm not asking you to dig at every burrow, but only at the one by the gorse-bush--I heard him bark just now."

"Did you, Miss?"

Jakes looked inquiringly at Frisky, and kneeling down, put his ear to the ground.

"I reckon I don't hear nothing," he grumbled, rising at last.

"See here, Missie, what's the good of my digging?"

"Please dig--you said you would. You promised. I heard him."

Silently, and without enthusiasm, Jakes fell to his task--Sally watching him intently--Frisky with backward glances at the school, where lights were beginning to show in the class-room windows.

"We've missed tea, and they're going to start preparation," she whispered. "Do come, Sally--we'll get in an awful row if we're late." But her companion did not even hear her.

After a minute's indecision, Frisky turned and ran back to the house: but instead of joining her Form at work she threw her coat on to a peg in the cloakroom, and knocked at Miss Castle's door.

Miss Castle was at work, obviously correcting preparation, for she had a pile of note-books heaped before her, and a red pencil in her hand.

"Well, Frisky," she said. "What is it?"

(Everyone except Miss Cheeseman called the girl by her nickname, instead of "Felicia," as she had been christened.)

"Oh, Miss Castle, I'm so worried about Sally Brendan. She has lost Tolly, and she thinks he's down a rabbit burrow, and is making Jakes dig for him, and I know she'll be late for prep.: and there'll be an awful row, and I can't get her away."

Miss Castle rose with a sigh. Since Miss Cockran went home she had had to answer a great many appeals for help, and it was not always easy.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Out on the cliff ... and oh, you won't be angry with her, will you? And it's not 'telling' my coming to you like this, is it? You see, if Cheese--I mean Miss Cheeseman found her, I know there would be a row."

"I understand," said the other briefly, picking up a small electric torch off the mantelpiece--and then she added with a smile:

"But what about you--you are late for preparation, aren't you? And have you had any tea?"

"No--you see while it was light we thought it best to go on looking, and then, I didn't like to leave Sally and----"

"Quite so. Well, you can tell the prefect in charge you were doing some work for me. Perhaps I'd better write a note."

"Yes, please. Most of them would think I was making it up. Thanks awfully, Miss Castle, and what work shall I do?"

Miss Castle, as soon as she finished the note, went to the cupboard, took out a plate with a cake on it, and cut some slices. "You'd better eat those," she said, "as quickly as you can," and snatching up her coat, disappeared.

By the time she reached the cliff there was a huge earth mound near the gorse-bush, and Jakes had struck work.

"It ain't a bit of good, Miss, and I wasn't paid to excavate--not by Miss Cockran I wasn't, even if it's her own dog."

"There's another way of getting him," said the girl, "and that's through the Portholes."

"What do you mean, Sally?"

It was Miss Castle, and Sally turned to her joyfully. "Oh, Miss Castle, I'm so glad you've come. It's Tolly--he's gone down a rabbit burrow, and the earth must have fallen in, and--I know what's happened--all these burrows lead to the cave where the Portholes are, and he must be there...."

"I don't believe he's there, Miss, that I don't," said Jakes, and spat on the ground to mark his certainty.

"How do you know, Sally? What makes you say it?"

"I heard him--not a regular bark--but faint, with a whine. He must be starving and cold."

"Just himagination!" said Jakes; "that's what it is.... She's got a notion he's there, and so she heard him, but I never heard him ... nor the other young lady."

"Where was it you heard him, Sally?"

Miss Castle went down on her knees as Jakes had done, and listened, while the girl watched her anxiously. At last she rose to her feet, with a sigh and shake of her head.

"I don't hear him," she said. "Perhaps you made a mistake."

"It were one of them sea-gulls--that's what it were--I be sure."

Sally withered Jakes with a glance. "It was Tolly," she said positively. "Do you think I wouldn't know? But we can easily see--there are the Portholes."

"Sally, we can't climb in at the Portholes--there's no way."

"But, Miss Castle, there is--I saw yards and yards of rope in the shed, the other day, and we can lower it over the cliff here...."

"And me climb down, I suppose, for that there dratted little dog, what ain't there--and should never 'ave been at all, to judge by his appearance."

Jakes was at last completely exasperated. "I'm not asking you to climb down," said Sally coldly, "only to lower me--I'm not afraid."

The gardener was about to retort angrily when Miss Castle put up a warning hand.

"We couldn't allow that, my dear," she said quietly, putting her arm round the girl's shoulder. "It would be risking your life, and that is more valuable than Tolly's."

"Riskin'? Throwin' it away, Miss! ... look here----"

Jakes went close to the edge of the cliff, and dug with his toe at a projecting clump of grass and sea pinks. With a very slight effort he dislodged it, and several inches fell away, tumbling down on to the rocks below.

"That might be you, Miss," he said, and there was a pause.

Sally shivered and looked at Miss Castle. "I can't leave him there," she said; "I can't."

"We are not sure he is there," said Miss Castle gently. "He may be in Parchester. I'll ring up the police, and have him put on the Town Crier's list--but you must come indoors now."

Sally went quietly. It seemed as if her determination had suddenly collapsed. When she reached Miss Castle's room, she ate a slice of cake and drank some hot milk mechanically, and even smiled when her companion read her a comic piece out of one of the Juniors' essays. It was obvious, however, that her mind was far away.

"Thank you," she said at last, "thank you very much--I'll go and do some prep, now; may I say I was excused for the first bit?"

"Certainly, I've sent one note already for Frisky, so I may as well send another, I suppose, for you. But look here, child--I want you to try and not worry."

Sally's face was quite blank of expression. "I won't go out and hunt again to-night, if you're afraid of that," she said wearily. "But I can't promise not to think of Tolly."

"No, of course not--but don't imagine he's dead ... he may run in at any minute. I'll go out and call him again, the last thing."

"He's not dead at present," said Sally, "I know that--but I don't think it's any use your calling him. Thanks awfully for thinking of it."

She went out quietly, and shut the door.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD

PORTHOLES

The night that Autolycus was lost, Sally endured the uneasy sleep of a sick-room nurse, with spells of utter weariness and oblivion, broken by a return to real life, when visions of the puppy in various stages of exhaustion floated before her eyes. "Just himagination," she muttered, in scornful imitation of Jakes, and was glad that the school bell's noisy jangle at last allowed her to get up and dress. She was not hungry, and the sight of the plates at breakfast, heaped with large slabs of bread and butter, filled her with nausea, so that she longed to slip away to her classroom and pretend to be busy with her work.

It was an effort not to be rude in response to Frisky's well-meant efforts at consolation.

"Please don't talk of Tolly," she said at last, with a break in her voice, "I ... can't stand it."

Frisky said "Sorry," gruffly, and relapsed into silence.

It was at this minute Sally overheard a piece of conversation that gripped her attention and held it fast. Decima Pillditch was talking to Violet Tremson across the table, some places up towards the Senior end.

"So, of course, I told her that Doris Forbes was leaving this term ... (it is all right, she hasn't come down yet, so she won't hear), and that, as she was both head of the school and games captain, it was simply up to us to do something handsome in the way of a present. I must say Cheeserings seemed to take that in all right--clucked approvingly, and all that; and then I rubbed it in that several of us ought to go into Parchester in consequence, and choose the thing."

"I wonder she didn't offer to do it herself," interposed Cathy Manners. "A dictionary, for instance, or some moral little tale, or Dryden's works, or----"

"Shut up," said Decima. "It's too early in the day to be funny. Anyhow, Cheeserings pursed up her lips, and blinked, and said: 'Which of you?' And I said--you and I, Violet and Cathy perhaps, if we held her by the hand, to be sure she behaves as becomes a Seascaper, and Edith Seymour, and other prefects--most of our crowd who play games, in fact."

"Well, and did she feel she could trust the prefects?"

"Not she, bless her! ... not alone, in a town like Parchester," said Decima bitterly. "Why, we might run away, or go to the Pictures and bring back scarlet fever."

"Then I suppose the whole thing is off. Rotten, I call it!"

"No, it isn't all off. Do give me time to finish. I said 'alone.' She suddenly had a brain wave that Mademoiselle was taking Pat Dolby to the dentist this afternoon, and said we might all go with her, and while Pat writhes in the chair, we can be let off the chain to look at shops."

There were a few seconds' silence.

"I call it humiliating," said one of the prefects; "it's like holding Nanna's hand. I vote we refuse."

"Isn't that cutting off our noses to spite our faces?" asked Violet Tremson quickly. "We do want the present and it is the only way of choosing it."

"It's caving in to Cheeserings, though."

"Well, she can't help being like she is, or she would probably be different," said Violet, "and, after all, Miss Cockran's mother's better, so she may be back any day. Don't let's be idiots."

She had lowered her voice to be audible only at her end of the table, but Sally had caught enough of the conversation for her purpose, and her mind was already at work constructing a plan. By the time she reached her Form, part of her cloud of depression had already lifted; but she was careful to conceal this from Miss Castle when, hanging about in the passage by her class-room door, at the middle of the morning interval, she was able to speak to her for a few minutes.

"Miss Castle ... I ... I suppose you heard nothing last night?"