CHAPTER IX

What Miss Kaye Thought of It

Tuesday passed just as usual, and no casual observer would have noticed that anything was amiss with the members of the third class. Elsie Thompson had evidently been frightened into silence by Hazel's threat, no one else mentioned the subject, and beyond the fact that Nina looked pale, and Linda rather distressed, the matter seemed likely to sink into oblivion. At about a quarter to four, however, when Miss Arkwright was in the very middle of explaining the difference between a nominative of address and a nominative in apposition, the door opened suddenly, and Miss Kaye made her appearance. She so seldom came into a class during the afternoon that the hearts of three of her pupils began to thump, their guilty consciences telling them beforehand that her errand must surely concern them and no others. Nor were they mistaken. After apologizing to Miss Arkwright for interrupting the lesson, Miss Kaye turned towards the girls with that stern look in her eyes which they knew and dreaded to meet.

"Hazel Prestbury, Linda Marshall, and Nina Forster," she said in a voice that though quiet was full of emotion, "I am deeply grieved to find that you have been deceiving me. Elsie Thompson told me yesterday that she had seen you run through the gate and down the road towards Aberglyn. I asked you if this were so, and you all three denied it. Knowing that Elsie is not always very truthful I believed your word in preference to hers. This afternoon I happened to meet Miss Newman, a lady who lives near Valley Lane, and she told me that she noticed some of my girls coming out of Mrs. Price's shop yesterday at about ten minutes to five, and hurrying back towards Heathercliffe. I am more pained than I can tell you, not only to think that you should have broken the rules, but that you should have stooped to utter such deliberate falsehoods. You allowed me to accuse Elsie of the very fault you were committing yourselves, and meanly left her to bear the blame. I am thoroughly ashamed of you, and hope you are equally ashamed of yourselves. Go at once to your bedrooms. Your tea will be sent to you later. I feel that, until you have fully realized what you have done, you are not fit to mingle with the rest of the class. You will, of course, take no part in our fifth-of-November party to-morrow."

Poor Linda! She left the room feeling as if her trouble were almost greater than she could bear. It was impossible now to explain that she had only gone as far as the gate. Miss Kaye would probably not believe her, and in any case would think that she was trying to shirk her part of the blame, and cast it on Hazel and Nina. She was beginning to experience the truth of the old proverb that you cannot touch pitch and keep your hands clean; she had never intended to do anything in the least dishonourable, but having taken a first step it had been very difficult to act in such a sudden emergency. Friendship had seemed to demand that she should not betray her companions, though their conduct certainly did not justify any great consideration on their behalf.

"If I'd only never left the house," she thought, "or if I had told Miss Kaye I had gone into the garden! But then she would have known the others must have been there too. Oh, it's all a horrid puzzle, and I'm simply miserable! I shan't see Guy Fawkes to-morrow, and I hate everybody and everything, and I wish I were at home."

She went to bed in tears, which increased when Miss Coleman brought her her tea, and, after collecting Sylvia's nightclothes, informed her that her roommate, together with Connie Camden and Jessie Ellis, were to sleep in a large bedroom generally called "The Hospital", and no one would be allowed even to come in and speak to her. The prospect of sleeping alone without Sylvia made her feel wretched, and it was not till then that she began to realize how much her friend was to her, and what a terrible loss it would be if they were separated.

"Perhaps Miss Kaye won't let us have a bedroom together again," she said to herself. "I wonder whom she'll put me with! Suppose she sent one of the big girls to sleep here, Bessie Cunningham, or Marjorie Moreton. How hateful it would be! There'd never be any fun or talks in bed in the mornings. Or perhaps I shall be just alone, as I was before Sylvia came. I didn't care then, but I mind it dreadfully now I'm so accustomed to her."

In the meantime Sylvia was feeling as dejected as Linda at the course which events had taken. She knew her friend was not so much to blame as the others, and it was terrible to find her mixed up in such an unpleasant business.

"Hazel often tells stories," she reflected, "and I never thought much of Nina. But I'm sure Linda wouldn't do such a thing. There must be some mistake. If I could only see her, and get her to explain it all."

That, however, was impossible. She was strictly forbidden to go into her bedroom, and neither Miss Coleman nor Miss Arkwright would give any news of the three banished offenders.

It was a very dismal evening in the playroom for the remaining members of the third class. It cast quite a gloom over their spirits. Connie Camden did not tease and play tricks as usual, and Jessie Ellis had to retire to a corner occasionally and wipe her eyes.

"You shouldn't have let them go," said Marian to Sylvia. "You were there and heard their plans."

"How could I stop them?" cried Sylvia indignantly. "I said I wouldn't go myself. Hazel is more than a year older than I am, and she never listens to anything I say. She was as rude as she could be, and persuaded the others to go with her. Did you want me to go telling tales to Miss Arkwright?"

"No, but you might have said more. I don't believe they would have gone if I had been there. I should have thought of so many reasons to stop them. It was a great pity I was at my practising," said Marian, who was always wise after an event.

"Well, why didn't Gwennie say it all?" demanded Sylvia. "She was there."

"Gwennie is much younger, and isn't expected to tell people what they ought to do. It's quite enough for her to do as she's told herself."

"I'm only four months older than Gwennie, so I don't see why you should throw the blame on me as if it were my fault that they went," said Sylvia. "You'll be scolding Jessie next."

"No, I shan't. She's so stupid no one takes any notice of her. You're different and ought to make people care," said Marian, getting her book and beginning to read, while Sylvia, doubtful whether the last remark was intended for a compliment or a reproof, took out her writing case and consoled herself by beginning a long letter home.

It seemed very peculiar and gloomy not to be allowed to go to bed in her own room; she and Connie and Jessie undressed with many grumbles in the Hospital, and hoped they would not be compelled to stay there for the rest of the term.

"They ought to have sent the others here instead of us," said Connie. "We're being punished for something we haven't done."

"Yes, but the others would have been together, and that's what Miss Kaye doesn't want," replied Sylvia. "They're each of them quite alone, and I'm sure they must be having a wretched time. I wonder if they will be in school to-morrow!"

Evidently Miss Kaye did not consider them yet fit to take their places among the others, for they did not appear at breakfast, nor afterwards in the classroom. The headmistress had been greatly distressed by the whole affair, which showed such a sad lack of the moral courage and high standard she had tried to impress upon all her girls that she could not but feel a sense of failure. She decided that it was better to leave them for some little time to themselves, that they might have leisure to consider what they had done, and she did not mean to let them return to their places until after the fireworks were over, knowing that to prevent them from seeing the bonfire was the greatest punishment she could inflict.

Nina Forster in any case would not have been able to be present. The run down the wet garden and road in her house shoes, which she had not afterwards changed, had brought on a feverish cold and sore throat, and she was tossing about in bed with a splitting head, too poorly to think of anything but her aches and pains.

The day dragged slowly along. Lessons seemed very strange in a class of only five, and even Marian missed the others. The girls went out into the courtyard at four o'clock to look at the great bonfire which the gardener had been busy piling up, inspected the tub of newly washed potatoes which the cook had placed outside the back-kitchen door, and tried to cajole some pieces of toffee from Cook.

"I gave it all to Miss Kaye," she assured them, "and it's locked up in the dining-room cupboard. It's not a single piece you'll get till to-night, so don't come bothering me. Parkin, did you say? It's safe in the storeroom, and it will stay there till seven o'clock."

In spite of a slight mist it promised to be a fine evening, and the children looked anxiously up at the sky, hoping it would be clear enough to show off the rockets to advantage. The fireworks were to begin after six o'clock, at which hour Mr. Cameron was expected to arrive, and with the gardener's aid to set a light to the bonfire.

"It's no fun in the least without Linda," thought Sylvia, wandering round to the front of the house to see if she could catch a glimpse of her friend at the window. "She'll be so unhappy all alone! I wonder if----." And she ran back to the side door as quickly as she could, for a new idea had suddenly struck her.

"Mercy," she cried, meeting the monitress in the passage, "there's something I want to do if I dare. Do you think Miss Kaye would be very angry with me?"

"I can't tell you till I know what it is," said Mercy, smiling. "What do you wish to ask her?"

"Linda will be so miserable by herself this evening. Do you think Miss Kaye would let me stay with her? You see, it wasn't her fault half as much as the others', because she didn't really go with them."

"How do you know she didn't?" asked Mercy.

"Because she came back at once and said she had only been to the gate. She and I sat in the classroom talking till teatime."

"My dear child, if you knew this you ought to have told Miss Kaye about it before!"

"Ought I? I didn't dare. She looked so angry. I thought perhaps Linda had told her."

"I don't believe she did. At any rate I think we ought to make sure. If you like I'll go with you to Miss Kaye now; she's in her study."

"Oh, if you only would!" cried Sylvia, clasping Mercy in one of her affectionate hugs; "I shouldn't mind a scrap if you were there, but I'm frightened out of my wits to go alone."

Sylvia clutched Mercy's arm very tightly as they tapped at the door of the study, and entered in response to Miss Kaye's 'Come in!' She was thankful the elder girl was there to explain her errand, as she felt so shy herself, she was sure she would not have known how to begin.

"You are quite certain, Sylvia, that Linda did not accompany the others to Mrs. Price's shop?" asked Miss Kaye, when Mercy had finished her account.

"Quite, Miss Kaye," replied Sylvia. "She never said she would. Hazel tried very hard to persuade her, and she promised to go with them just as far as the gate. She couldn't have gone farther, because she was back in a few minutes. I know she came in the moment Marian Woodhouse stopped practising, and Marian always has the piano till exactly a quarter to five. Then she was with me all the rest of the time until tea."

"Miss Newman certainly said she saw two girls, both with light hair," said Miss Kaye; "I supposed the third must have escaped her notice. I am glad to find Linda is not quite so naughty as I thought. I will go to her at once and see if she is able to explain what happened afterwards."

"And please, Miss Kaye----" said Sylvia eagerly, as the mistress rose.

"Well, my dear?"

"Would you let me stay with her to-night instead of going to the bonfire?"

"We'll see," replied Miss Kaye; and without committing herself any further she went upstairs.

Sylvia looked at Miss Kaye many times during tea, trying to read the answer in her face, but the latter did not glance in her direction, and seemed fully occupied in a conversation with Mademoiselle. When the meal was over, however, she called to her to remain after the other girls had left the room.

"I have seen Linda," she said, "and find her thoroughly sorry for any part she has played which has not been perfectly honourable and straighforward. I am sure she will be more careful in future to avoid even the shadow of an untruth. As I think she was trying to shield Nina and Hazel I have decided not to punish her any more, and she is once again free. Did you say that you would be willing to give up your share of the fun outside and spend the evening with her?"

"Yes, oh yes!" exclaimed Sylvia.

"And miss the fireworks?"

"I don't mind."

"You are a good little friend, but it is not necessary. Linda may come to the bonfire, and you shall have the pleasure of running upstairs at once and telling her so yourself."

You may be sure that Sylvia flew like an arrow to her bedroom to announce the delightful news, and that it did not take Linda long to put on her outdoor clothes and join the crowd which was already assembling in the courtyard.

Mr. Cameron had just arrived. He was a tall, jolly, rather elderly gentleman, with a grey moustache and an endless stock of jokes, which he fired off like crackers among the girls. They all knew him well, as he often came to Heathercliffe House. His daughter Doris had been educated there, and though she was now nineteen, she was fond of her old school, and had accompanied her father this evening to watch the fireworks.

"Out of my way!" shouted Mr. Cameron; "make room for the principal figure, the leading actor on the stage, we may call him, and if you don't admire him, it's your own bad taste!"

He was staggering from the house as he spoke, carrying in his arms a huge guy, stuffed with straw, whose comical red face, dangling arms, and helpless legs roused shouts of laughter all round.

"There," said Mr. Cameron, seating him on a convenient barrel in the midst of the bonfire, "anyone can change places with him who likes; he mayn't look clever, but at any rate I can guarantee he'll get a warm reception before he even takes the trouble to open his mouth. Now then, stand back, children; we're going to begin."

The gardener had brought out a large torch, which he applied to some loose shavings, and in a few minutes a grand blaze was flaring up, catching the boxes, hampers, and brushwood of which the pile was composed. Mr. Cameron fastened a match to the end of a pole, and, lighting it, approached within a few feet of the guy.

"Now look," he said; "watch very carefully, and you'll see him roll his eyes."

He applied the match to the mask where two small pin-wheels had been fitted in front of the empty sockets. They went off immediately, and gave exactly the appearance of two horrible, flaming eyes whirling round and round in the big head. The younger children screamed and clung delightedly to the elder ones, and even Miss Kaye was quite startled at the effect.

"Now he's going to talk," declared Mr. Cameron; "he's like the girl in the fairy tale who dropped diamonds and pearls whenever she opened her lips."

He held his lighted pole to the guy's mouth, where a Roman candle was hidden inside, and out came balls of red and blue and green, shooting into the air one after another with great brilliance. By this time the flames had reached his arms and legs, which, being stuffed with squibs and crackers, exploded with much noise, and the luckless conspirator disappeared with a crash into the midst of the burning barrels, to the accompaniment of a storm of clapping and a lusty cheer. When the blaze had somewhat subsided, the tub of potatoes was carried out, and each girl was allowed to place one in the hot ashes, together with several chestnuts, which could be roasting while they ate the toffee and parkin.

"You wouldn't think of eating sweet things just before you had potatoes at any other time," said Linda, "but everything tastes so delicious when it's from the bonfire."

Mr. Cameron was getting ready to let off the more important fireworks, which had been kept till the end, and the girls arranged themselves in a half-circle to look at the golden rain, the Catherine wheels, and the rockets which were to finish the festivities. He had prepared a surprise for them by writing "Heathercliffe House" in gunpowder on the ground, which, when it was set alight, stood out in letters of flame, and had a fine effect. "I always said Heathercliffe House ought to set the world on fire," he laughed, "and we've done it to-night."

As Linda stood watching the last rocket tearing across the sky, she put her arm round Sylvia's shoulder. "I shouldn't have been here at all this evening except for you," she whispered. "It was lovely of you to go to Miss Kaye. She was so nice about it when I said I was sorry. I don't think I shall ever be frightened of her again."

"Three cheers for Miss Kaye!" called Mr. Cameron. "Those who feel they have had a jolly time may join me, and those who don't had better go to bed. Hip! Hip! Hooray!"

And among all the laughing, clapping girls there were none who responded more heartily than Linda and Sylvia.