AVELYN AND THE LAVENDER LADYAVELYN AND THE LAVENDER LADY
"And Gideon said, 'Wherewithal shall I save Israel? I am the least in my father's house'," quoted Miss Carrington. "On the contrary, I think it's the chance of a lifetime. I believe you're the one girl to do it. It would be something worth accomplishing, wouldn't it, to unite the school?"
"Rather!"
"Is there any public occasion when you could bring forward the suggestion?"
"Yes; there's the School Council on the first Wednesday of term. Anybody is allowed to put things to the meeting, and votes are taken."
"You couldn't have a better opportunity. Talk in private to the girls first, and persuade a number of them from both sides to be ready to back you up. Then state your proposal. By the by, what are the Silverside colours?"
"Pale-blue and navy."
"And the old Hawthorn colours?"
"Navy and pink."
"If you're wise, you'll amalgamate them, and ask Miss Thompson to let you have new badges of pale-blue, pink, and navy. I believe it might just make all the difference to the state of feeling."
"Perhaps you're right. But I still feel afraid—it's a big thing to attempt, and I don't know whether I can screw up the courage. Suppose I fail? Suppose they only laugh at me, and tell me to mind my own business?"
"You won't fail! You mustn'tthinkfailure! Make up your mind beforehand that you're going to succeed, and that what you say will persuade them. Oh, Ave darling, do try! It would besuch a grand thing. There are those two great streams of girls, each running its own way. They only need a thin barrier removed to make them into one mighty river. Some common purpose should unite them. Perhaps in their heart of hearts they're all secretly longing for union. Who knows? Can't your hands lead them together? You said once you'd do anything for my sake."
"So I did—and I mean it!"
"Then take up this crusade, and be a Red Cross Knight for the School Colours!"
"For the School Colours and for you, dear Lavender Lady!" said Avelyn, kissing the soft hand in token of her vow.
Avelyn went back to school in a serious frame of mind. She knew that she had undertaken a big thing, and, though she mentally set her teeth and meant to grapple with it, she felt that her dear Lavender Lady did not—could not—realize all the difficulties that lay in her path. Miss Carrington's supreme faith in her buoyed her up, however; she would try her utmost, and if failure came—— No! the Lavender Lady had said it was fatal even to mention failure, and that she must go about her errand absolutely determined to succeed.
She began by sounding the members of her own dormitory. They received the suggestion with wonderful favour.
"The school's been slack enough at games all the winter!" commented Irma.
"Time it bucked up, certainly!" agreed Janet.
"That Hawthorners' Hockey Club was a scandal!" said Laura.
"Well, if we don't take care they'll be turning it into a tennis club for the summer," warned Avelyn.
"We'd better make some sort of a move," grunted Ethelberga.
"It's Adah that's at the bottom of all the trouble," said Laura, sitting on the floor with her arms clasped round her knees, and swaying thoughtfully to and fro. "Adah's a thorough old-fashioned Silversider, and hates the new contingent—that's the matter in a nutshell."
"Isobel and Consie and even Joyce would come round directly if Adah would only let them," agreed Irma.
"And Annie and Gladys would meet them half-way," nodded Janet.
"Adah's the most ripping tennis-player I know," ruminated Laura.
"And so's Annie. She won the trophy last year at The Hawthorns."
"The two together would make the best champions any school ever had."
"Well, look here, they've justgotto go together!"
"I've an idea—a brain wave!" said Avelyn. "The Council Meeting will be to-morrow. Well, this afternoon let us propose a tennis set, 'School versus Mistresses'. Miss Peters and Miss Broadwin are simply A1 at tennis, and everybody knows they are, so we'll insist upon Adah and Annie playing together for the school. They can't refuse when it's put like that. Whether they win or lose, it'll pave the way for what we want to bring forward to-morrow."
"Right you are, O Queen! It's a blossomy idea!"
Avelyn got up, and straightened her tie.
"I'll go down now to the dressing-room, andcatch those day girls as they come in, and have a talk with some of them."
"And I'll go and sound Miss Peters about the set this afternoon. She's in a good temper to-day, because she's had a letter from the front."
Miss Peters and Miss Broadwin, fresh and fit after the holidays, were quite disposed to accept the challenge of the girls and wield rackets on behalf of the mistresses. Universal public opinion fixed upon Adah and Annie as champions for the school, and they submitted, a little bewildered and dismayed, but bowled over by the suddenness of the suggestion. Every girl at Silverside—except three victims who had music lessons and one who had toothache—crowded round the tennis court to watch the exciting contest. Miss Peters and Miss Broadwin were formidable opponents; they had been members of their college clubs, and though slightly out of practice had not forgotten their former skill. The two prefects knew that it would need their utmost ability to fight them. With the whole school looking on, each nerved herself to do her best.
In the first game the Mistresses scored. Miss Peters's serves seemed almost invincible, and as for Miss Broadwin her arms were elastic. Adah and Annie looked at each other grimly. They had begun to take their opponents' measure, and also to estimate each other's play. In the next game they exercised extreme caution, and did not repeat certain mistakes. After an exciting rally the score this time fell to the School.
"Now for the tussle!" laughed Miss Peters, as she collected balls.
Adah could not help admiring the way Annie played that last game. She kept her nerve splendidly, and her back-hand strokes were magnificent. For an anxious moment or two the luck of the School trembled in the balance, but by a frantic effort on the part of the prefects the set was secured. The vanquished Mistresses took their defeat sportingly, and congratulated the victors.
"One of the best sets we've ever had at Silverside!" declared Miss Broadwin, pinning up a tail of hair that had strayed down her back in the heat of the combat.
"If you two go on like this you'll be invincible!" laughed Miss Peters. "You need to get a little more accustomed to each other's play, and you'd make splendid champions."
"You were both absolutely topping!" declared the school, crowding round.
Adah took her honours stolidly, but appreciated them none the less. After all, it was pleasant to be congratulated by the day girls; it made up in some slight degree for the humiliation of that afternoon when they had run away rather than witness the dramatic performance.
"We must practise together," she said to Annie; and Annie actually replied:
"I could stay half an hour every day after school, if you like."
This amnesty between the rivals, heard and reported by several listeners, surely seemed to pavethe way for tomorrow's proposals. Avelyn's mental barometer stood at "high hopes".
The Council Meeting was always held in the big schoolroom, and, by old-established rule, classes stopped at 3.30 instead of 4, so as to allow extra time for the proceedings. No mistresses were present, and the girls, within certain limits, were allowed to make any arrangements they thought fit for the ensuing term. The prefects took their places on the platform, and Adah, as head girl, acted chairman.
The room was very full. On the front benches sat rows of round-eyed youngsters, bare-legged, in the prevailing fashion for socks, with their hair tied with broad ribbons. Behind them were excitable pig-tailed juniors, wriggling restlessly in their seats, and continually letting their whispers rise to a murmur that called down rebuke from the platform. These were as sheep ready to follow any leader, and did not understand the objects of the meeting. They had come simply because they were told to do so, and because they thought it would be fun. The larger half of the school, girls from twelve to seventeen, were in a state of indecision. It had been rumoured that Annie Broadside intended to turn the Old Hawthorners' Hockey Club into a tennis club for the summer, and there was in certain quarters a strong feeling that they ought to support her. They wondered what was going to happen. Avelyn, with Laura, Janet, Irma, Ethelberga, Pamela, and several other "backers", sat at the end underneath the clock.
Adah began the proceedings by reading a report of the school activities for the previous term. She made the very best of what she had to say, but it was felt to be a poor record. The societies and guilds had been decidedly languishing, and had achieved next to nothing. It was impossible to refer to them with any pride. There was perfunctory clapping, markedly half-hearted.
"Now we've got to decide on what we're going to do this term," continued Adah. "I suppose we shall have our usual societies—the Tennis Club, and the Cricket Club, and the Photographic Union. If anybody wants to make any suggestions, now is the time. This is an open meeting, and everyone who likes is at liberty to speak—in turn, of course. There may be some little points you'd like to bring up. Do so by all means. We prefects are perfectly willing to listen to you, and to discuss them."
Adah spoke in her usual rather patronizing fashion. Her words were succeeded by a dead hush. Everybody felt that there were not only little points, but very big points which needed to be raised, yet nobody seemed able to voice the general discontent. A whisper passed along some of the forms to the effect that day girls ought to have their rights. Adah watched the heads bent together and the moving lips.
"Speak to the chair, please!" she reminded them.
But at that they sat up silently.
Many of the audience wondered if Annie would take up the cudgels for the day girls and fight the question out upon the platform, but Annie made nosign. Was she thinking of the Old Hawthorners' League, and would she perhaps again call a rival meeting on the common, as she had done in the autumn?
"Am I to take it that you consider former arrangements satisfactory?" asked Adah, frowning at some of the babies, who were playing with a celluloid ball.
Then Avelyn stood up.
"I should like very much to discuss one or two points, if I may," she began.
"Certainly! Go on!"
"Well, first of all I think we ought all to be rather ashamed of the report. For such a big school I certainly think we ought to have far more to show for ourselves."
Several of the prefects nodded, and began to look interested.
"There are nearly a hundred girls here this term, and we may call ourselves the principal school in Harlingden. We ought to take quite a place in the county, and challenge other schools for matches. We haven't shone very much in games hitherto, have we?"
A discontented murmur replied from the benches. There was an electric thrill in the air. Avelyn took courage. At first her sentences had come hesitatingly; now that she warmed to her subject, her words flowed more easily. She had a sudden feeling that the Lavender Lady was thinking of her and inspiring her; the idea roused the utmost effort of which she was capable. She determined tospeak boldly, and not beat about the bush. If she gave offence she could not help it.
"What we want here is a spirit of union. If we all determine to stick together and back one another up at all costs, we might do great things. Don't let us have two parties. Let us forget any old squabbles, and be loyal to the school. I believe we've heaps of talent amongst us if it only gets a chance to come out. Let's remodel our societies on a new basis, and give the best places to whoever will gain the most credit for the school. Why shouldn't we try this year for the County Shield? With two such champions as Adah Gartley and Annie Broadside we ought to have a sporting chance. Just think if we could win the shield for Silverside! Then there's cricket. We can muster up strongly in that respect, too. Joyce Edwards, and Minnie Selburn, and Gladys Wilks, and Maggie Stuart would take a good deal of beating! We could get up a first-rate Eleven, and arrange some topping matches. Think how priceless it would be to go and watch them, and cheer on our own side!"
Avelyn paused for breath. She had spoken warmly, and the excitement had quite carried her away. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were shining. She had held the attention of the room with a kind of magnetism. All faces had been turned towards her, and her every word had been closely followed.
The girls now burst into a buzz of general conversation. Each wanted to discuss the matter withher neighbour. It was plain that the project was received with approval. Even the prefects were having a few private remarks among themselves. Joyce and Isobel in particular were nodding emphatically as if urging the project upon Adah. Annie whispered to Gladys, and they both spoke to Consie. All were looking expectantly towards Adah. The head girl rang the bell for silence.
"What you say is very true. Silverside ought to take its proper place in games, and I think we all agree that a special effort should be made this summer. As this is a business meeting, will you please put what you wish to suggest in the form of a proposition?"
"Certainly. I beg to propose that we form a 'Loyal School League', the object of which shall be to advance in every way the credit of Silverside. We ought to have a President and several Vice-presidents, and a Committee, with two representatives from each of the upper forms. If any very important question arises we should have a Council Meeting of the whole school, and put the matter to the vote. I also propose that, for the sake of further cementing our unity, we adopt a new badge, and have for our colours pale-blue, pink, and navy. It would be an effective combination, and would mean a good deal to most of us. We would pledge ourselves to do our utmost for the new Silverside Colours."
As Avelyn again stopped, a roar of applause rose from the room. The girls were completely carried away by her idea; the blending of thebadges seemed the one thing needed to unite the school. Though a few prejudiced "Old Silversiders", including Adah, looked rather blank, the majority, even among the boarders, were plainly in favour of the suggested change.
"Does anybody second this proposition?" asked the head girl. "We prefects want to hear the view of the school."
A dozen stood up, anxious to speak. Adah nodded to Laura Talbot. Laura had been at Silverside five years, and was a dependable character, not easily carried away by tides of emotion. Her ideas might reasonably be the gauge of average popular opinion.
"I've been thinking for a long time that we ought to do something," said Laura. "It seems to me that a 'Loyal School League' just hits the nail. I believe we'll forge ahead this term and win laurels for our new colours. I have very great pleasure in seconding this proposition."
"Then I put it to the vote. All in favour kindly hold up their hands."
Every arm in the room shot up instantly. Adah looked at the waving show of hands before her, and realized that the general feeling of the school favoured unity. She had the sense to accept the situation in a generous spirit.
"Carried unanimously!" she declared, and turning round, smiled at Annie, who smiled back. The girls cheered, ostensibly at the carrying of the resolution, but partly to see the rival leaders on such affable terms.
"We want a president, and I propose Adah!" shouted Ethelberga.
"And the rest of the prefects as vice-presidents!" amended Janet.
"Hear, hear!" came from the audience.
"And I," said Pamela, jumping up suddenly, "beg to propose that Avelyn, who suggested the whole idea of the League, shall be elected secretary."
"Rather!"
"Good biz!"
"Ave, by all means!"
"Oh, no, please! I don't want to grab any office for myself!" protested Avelyn.
"Nonsense! Brace up, child, for you'll have to do it!" urged Laura. "Why, you've brought about the whole business. Besides, you belong to both parties, so you'll bind us together as nobody else could."
"The missing link, in fact!" hinnied Irma, trying to be funny.
The meeting passed the remaining resolutions in good order, then broke up in a whirl of excited talk. A deputation of prefects visited Miss Thompson's study, and gave her a digest of the afternoon's proceedings. She listened approvingly.
"I'll order the new badges at once, and see about hiring a larger cricket field," she commented.
The Principal did not judge it discreet to say more to the girls, but over cocoa that evening with the mistresses she voiced her satisfaction.
"I knew they'd come round in time if we let them alone. You can't force these things. I suppose it was only natural that the old school and the new should find some difficulty in mingling. Girls are queer creatures, and often very prejudiced. It won't have done them any harm to see what a poor record they made in games when they were striving for rival factions. I consider it an excellent object lesson. I expect they'll all try their best now, and practise away hard at cricket and tennis."
"I hoped it marked a new era when I saw Adah and Annie win that set at tennis," nodded Miss Peters.
"They're both excellent girls in their way, and should do great things for the school, if they'll only pull together," agreed Miss Hopkins.
Avelyn spent her half-hour of leisure that evening in writing to Miss Carrington.
"Darling Lavender Lady,"I have actuallydone it! Or rather,youhave done it, for it was entirely your idea. I can scarcely believe it is true, but the League is an accomplished fact, and the new colours, and all your dear jinky suggestions. I don't know how I had the cheek to stand on my legs and make the proposal before the whole school, but I thought of my promise to you, and I did it somehow. I hardly remember what I said. The girls are tremendously keen on the League; they say it's a topping notion. Can you believe it, darling?they've made me secretary. Little me! I shall have to write the letters to other schools, challenging them to matches! I shall use the lovely new blotter you gave me."Good-bye, and thank you a hundred thousand times for everything you are to me!"With love from"Your devotedAvelyn."
"Darling Lavender Lady,
"I have actuallydone it! Or rather,youhave done it, for it was entirely your idea. I can scarcely believe it is true, but the League is an accomplished fact, and the new colours, and all your dear jinky suggestions. I don't know how I had the cheek to stand on my legs and make the proposal before the whole school, but I thought of my promise to you, and I did it somehow. I hardly remember what I said. The girls are tremendously keen on the League; they say it's a topping notion. Can you believe it, darling?they've made me secretary. Little me! I shall have to write the letters to other schools, challenging them to matches! I shall use the lovely new blotter you gave me.
"Good-bye, and thank you a hundred thousand times for everything you are to me!
"With love from"Your devotedAvelyn."
Having once made up their minds to concentrate their united energies on establishing a record at games, the girls at Silverside set to work in dead earnest. They organized definite and systematic practice both at cricket and tennis, and tried to bring their play to a higher standard. They found much help in this respect from Miss Peters and Miss Leslie, who had come as new mistresses in September, and were keen on tennis and cricket. During the winter there had been no opportunity for them to display their talents, but now they proved invaluable as coaches. Both had been in large schools and thoroughly understood what was required. They encouraged the girls to arrange matches.
"It's worth it even if you're beaten," said Miss Leslie. "You see other people's play and learn to make a good fight. You can often pick up most valuable hints from your opponents. Some of the best tips I ever had I got from a girl who invariably beat me."
It was quite a novel state of affairs at Silversidefor day pupils to stay after four o'clock and join the boarders in tennis court or cricket field, but after the first week the latter got used to the invasion of their privileges, and decided that the improvement in the general play was ample compensation. The new badges soon arrived, and everybody decided that the combination of pink, pale-blue, and navy was highly satisfactory. The Loyal School League seemed likely to forge ahead. Avelyn made a capital secretary; she was prompt and business-like, and, though she did not push herself forward unduly, she was always ready with helpful suggestions. At one of the committee meetings she started the idea of the Romp Day. It was the Lavender Lady who really thought of it—she inspired all Avelyn's best schemes. They had talked it over and planned it out in the little garden at Lyngates, where roses were now blooming instead of the wallflowers and aubrietia.
"I'm glad the League's prospering," she had said. "It's splendid how you're all working together now and coaching each other. It's a pity, though, if all this new spirit of helpfulness spends itself entirely on the school. It ought to find a wider outlet. You're having jolly times in the playing fields this term. Can't you pass on some of the fun to others who never get a chance to play games for themselves? I mean the little cripple children. There's a branch of the 'Poor Brave Things' Society in Harlingden. If Miss Thompson would let you give them an afternoon's outing they'd have the time of their lives. Could youpossibly suggest it, do you think? I really believe it's the sort of thing Silverside would enjoy."
The League and Miss Thompson justified the Lavender Lady's good opinion of them. They took up the idea with enthusiasm, and decided to organize a "Romp Day" for the crippled children. They communicated with the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" Society, with the result that invitations were sent out to thirty little invalids to come to a picnic party in the garden at Silverside and be entertained. A special half-holiday was given for the occasion, and all the school was asked to unite in making the affair a success. Miss Thompson wished the day girls to stay to tea that afternoon, but catering was a difficulty. It was utterly impossible for her to provide a meal for a hundred and thirty children. The Food Controller rationed the school according to the number of its boarders. The Principal was inventive, however, and hit on an excellent solution of the problem. She asked each day girl to bring enough tea, sugar, milk, buns, and cake for her own consumption and for half the allowance for one guest, and in this way provided ample for everybody, without anyone being asked to give more than a very small contribution of food.
"Before the war I should have been horrified at the idea of inviting you to come to a party and bring your own provisions," said Miss Thompson. "In these days of semi-famine, however, we have to do many new and strange things. It's wonderful what we can get used to when we try."
The girls themselves thought it was immense fun each to bring a little basket to make the feast.
"It's like an American tea," said Gladys Wilks. "I'm going to make some scones myself. We've got a quarter of a pound of sultanas hoarded up. We've been saving them for some great occasion; Mother said they'd do for my birthday cake, so I know she'll let me use them for this instead. I've got a topping recipe, if they only turn out as it says."
"Guess they'll be jolly nice. Bags me one if the cripples don't want them all!" declared Maggie. "You shall have a piece of my sandwich-cake instead."
"Look here," interrupted Gertrude; "this business isn't to be all tea and buns. We've got to give these kiddies a real good time. Suggestions, please! Don't all speak at once!"
"We're going to sing to them."
"And the Juniors are to do a dance."
"How about some gym display?"
"Um—tolerable! But my idea is that they won't want to sit and watch us perform the whole time. There ought to be something specially for themselves. Stop a minute! I've a brain wave! Don't speak to me! My mind's working."
The girls grinned expectantly, while Gertrude stood with finger uplifted for silence.
"Got it!" she proclaimed at last. "We'll have a Surprise Tree."
"What's that?"
"Well, you can't exactly have a Christmas treeat this time of year, but we'll rig up something very like it. You know that little monkey-puzzler near the summer-house? We'll decorate it with streamers of paper and ornaments, and hang presents on with coloured ribbons. There must be one for each crippled child, or two if possible. Every girl in this school has got to bring a present."
Once the idea of providing suitable entertainment for their invalid guests was mooted, many suggestions were forthcoming. Vivian Roy, who was the lucky owner of a Shetland pony and a tiny basket cart, offered to bring these to school and take relays of children for drives round the garden. Sybil Beaumont undertook to lend a very superior gramophone; the mother of one of the Juniors promised to send oranges. Violet Parker told her aunt, the Mayoress, about the party, and that kind-hearted lady arranged to allow the use of her carriage for the afternoon, to carry some of the children from their homes to the school and back. As means of conveyance were a real difficulty, several other parents followed her example and sent governess cars or hired cabs. It was a form of help for which the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" was particularly grateful.
"You've no idea what trouble it is for their friends to bring them," she explained. "Unless they possess, or can borrow, some kind of invalid carriage it's an impossibility. Also many of them can't spare the time to do it. In the days of petrol plenty we used to have an annual outing for thechildren, and people lent their cars, but of course that is all stopped now."
On the afternoon in question the numerous hostesses were waiting about in the garden long before their visitors were due. Each day girl had duly brought her basket, the contents of which were to be pooled for general consumption. The gramophone had been placed on a table outside, and the Shetland pony and cart were in readiness near the door.
"I expect there's been a terrific amount of washing and dressing and hair-curling going on," laughed Annie. "I hope the children will survive your scones, Gladys!"
"Don't be insulting! My scones are delicious! I've tasted them, so I know."
"You greedy thing!"
"Certainly not. I couldn't bring them without seeing whether they were fit to eat."
"I heroically didn't touch even a crumb of mine!"
"More goose you!"
"Don't spar," interrupted Gertrude. "Here comes the first contingent!"
It was the Mayoress's carriage, and it had brought six guests—such pathetic little people! Some of them had crutches, and could manage to walk, but others had to be wheeled up the drive in a Bath chair, which was waiting on purpose. A special corner of the garden, with couches and cosy seats, had been arranged for them, and each child as it arrived was taken there, two special hostesses being told off to look after it for the afternoon andmake it happy. Avelyn, together with Laura, found herself in charge of a mite of a girl who looked about eight, but declared she was nearly thirteen.
"It's the first time I've been out for ten weeks, miss," she said shyly. "I lie on my back most days."
"What do you do? Can you read?" asked Avelyn.
"Yes, when I get any books. Our District Visitor lends me some."
"Have you ever been to school?"
"Not since I was nine. It was at school I fell and hurt my back. It's been bad ever since."
The little visitors were evidently prepared to enjoy every moment of their party. They were given tea almost immediately, and did full justice to the various cakes and buns which the girls had brought for them. They listened smiling while the gramophone blared forth selections, and clapped their hands when the Juniors danced for their amusement. Those who could bear the jolting went for short drives in Vivian's pony carriage, but most of them were obliged to sit very still. One little fellow—the cheeriest of all—lay flat on a rug, with a cushion under his head.
As it would have been impossible to move all the children from one place to another, their special corner had been arranged round the Surprise Tree. The little monkey-puzzler presented a very gay appearance, for it had been decorated with Christmas-tree ornaments, coloured balls, and glass birds,crackers, oranges, and bags of sweets. Underneath were piled sixty interesting-looking parcels tied up with ribbons. Mabel Collinson, one of the Juniors, dressed as a fairy and attended by two Brownies, suddenly made her appearance among the bushes, and going up to the tree, began to strip its branches and hand sweets and crackers and oranges to the expectant children. The parcels came next. There were two apiece for them; and so well had the girls responded to the appeal for presents that gasps of astonishment and delight followed the unwrapping of the packages. "Oh's" and "Ah's" resounded on all sides.
"It's too lovely, miss!" beamed Avelyn's little protégée, hugging a story-book in one arm and a work-basket in the other.
Her neighbour was rejoicing over a writing-case and a drawing-slate, and the tiny girl on the couch was kissing a doll. It was a pretty sight to see the poor little helpless creatures happy for one afternoon—pretty, but so pathetic that the tears swam in Miss Thompson's eyes. The contrast between these crippled children and her own sturdy girls seemed so acute.
"Please, m'm," volunteered one little boy, "Lizzie over there says she can say a piece of poetry if you'd like to hear her."
"By all means. We shall be only too pleased," returned Miss Thompson, going across to the small reciter and asking her to begin.
Lizzie was a diminutive, white-faced specimen of ten, with a crooked spine and big bright eyes.There was a large soul in the little body, and it showed when she began to speak. Her piece was a patriotic one, and she said it well. The Silverside girls who were near enough to hear her applauded heartily, and those who were too far off to catch a word clapped too, out of sympathy. Finding that everyone was interested, Miss Thompson asked some of the other children to recite. Most of them were too bashful, but one or two consented, and shyly murmured a few verses. None, however, had the fire and spirit of Lizzie, who was quite the star of the company. She departed, beaming with pride at having distinguished herself, and clasping a poetry book which Miss Peters had hurriedly fetched from her bedroom and presented to her.
"It was the nicest party we've ever had at the school," said Laura, watching as the last of the little guests was lifted into a Bath chair to be wheeled home. "There was no mistake about their enjoying themselves at any rate."
"They've had the time of their lives, bless 'em!" agreed Janet.
There was much to tell the Lavender Lady when Friday came round again. Lately she had grown to be the centre of all Avelyn's actions. She was always so ready to take a sympathetic interest in things, and Daphne—Daphne, who of yore was the recipient of innumerable confidences—had somehow been growing self-absorbed. She would sit and stitch with a far-away look in her eyes, whileAvelyn poured out school news, and her occasional comments showed that she was not really listening.
"She's getting so horribly grown-up!" complained her injured sister. "She's not the same girl she used to be. I feel as if she had drifted miles away in the last few months. Quite suddenly she seems ten years older than David and Tony and me. I don't like it!"
"You must let Daphne have her innings," said Mrs. Watson. "You'll have your own some day. She can't remain a child always. I think on the whole she's very good to you younger ones. It's only natural she should begin to like the society of older people now. Her life is just opening out. You mustn't expect her to give up her whole time to yourself and the boys. Do be nice about it, Ave! Be proud that you've got such a pretty sister, and glad for her to enjoy herself."
That was certainly a different way of looking at it. Avelyn felt self-reproachful. She remembered that she had not troubled to listen when Daphne consulted her as to whether a pink or a mauve voile blouse would look best with her new costume; just at the moment school affairs had seemed so much more interesting than her sister's clothes.
"I suppose I'm a selfish beast!" she said to herself. "The next time Daphne's going out to tea anywhere I'll sit in her bedroom while she dresses and hold hairpins for her, or anything else she wants. The worst of it is, though, she doesn'talways want me! Just at present I believe she'd any time rather have Jimmy!"
Jimmy was Daphne's little fox terrier. That is to say, he was hers temporarily, for he really belonged to Captain Harper. She had mentioned one day that she would like a small dog of her very own, and the young officer had looked thoughtful. The next week he had turned up, accompanied by Jimmy.
"I wish you'd accept him!" he said. "He's my dog, but I can't keep him at the Camp. I've had him boarded out in Starbury since I've been stationed here, and yesterday I went over and fetched him."
"I'll have him as a loan and take care of him till you want him again," agreed Daphne, "but I won't take him right away from you. It wouldn't be fair."
"Yes, it would, if I wanted to give him. He's the best little chap out. You'll find him a kind of epitome of the Catechism combined with all the cardinal virtues. Jimmy, make your bow!"
The little fox terrier, which sat up and saluted at its master's word of command, seemed a sharp and intelligent specimen of the canine race, and when it snuggled its nose in Daphne's hand it completely conquered her heart.
"Won't he want to run back to his master?" she asked.
"No, he has his orders and understands perfectly. I've explained the situation to him, and you'll find he won't attempt to leave you. He'sprepared to carry a stick or an umbrella, mount guard over coats, bark at tramps, worry rats, or demolish burglars."
Jimmy's subsequent behaviour certainly justified the character Captain Harper had given him. Having been solemnly made over by his master, he seemed to realize his responsibilities, and attached himself to Daphne with all the strength of his doggy nature. His manners were excellent. He would lie curled up on the rug at meal-times, and did not beg until he had received express permission, only winking an occasional pathetic eye in the direction of the table.
"I'm sure he understands every single word I say to him," said Daphne, who idolized her new possession. "I don't know how I should get along without him now."
"What will you do if you have to give him back?" asked Avelyn.
"It hasn't come to giving him back yet," evaded Daphne.
But on the very Saturday after the Surprise Tree party the question cropped up. Captain Harper had come over to Walden to fulfil a promise of making a fresh door for one of the chicken coops. He had taken possession of the carpentry room in the cottage, and was working away at the joiner's bench. Daphne held the wire steady, and Avelyn—with a strong sense that she was not wanted—handed the nails. Jimmy lay at his ease upon the shavings and yawned. His attitude of complete comfort attracted attention.
"If you're really sent back to Starbury next month you'll have to take him with you," commented Daphne.
"I never take back a present I've once given," answered the Captain firmly. "We've argued that out before."
"But for Jimmy's sake? He loves you far the best still. I'm only a makeshift."
"I assure you he doesn't."
"Then how can we tell his preference?"
"Let him decide for himself. You stand over there and I'll stand here, and we'll both call him at once and see which he runs to."
Poor Jimmy, a much-perplexed and agitated dog, rose from his bed of shavings and remained in the middle of the floor, whimpering and looking with indecision towards the master who had brought him up from puppyhood, and the sweet young mistress who had won his heart. Then he made a rush towards the former, and, seizing him by the trouser, hauled him across the room in the direction of Daphne.
"Jimmy has solved the matter!" said Captain Harper. "He wants us both to own him!"
And at that point Avelyn felt that her presence grew so veryde trop, that she murmured some excuse about finishing her lessons, and made her exit from the cottage, leaving her sister and Captain Harper to settle the disputed question of ownership in their own fashion.
"I suppose this is growing up," ruminated Avelyn, as she crossed the yard and went into theorchard. "Daphne seems to enjoy it, and I'll give her her innings by all manner of means. How funny it would be to have a brother-in-law! It'll come to that some day if I'm not mistaken. No, thanks! I don't want to grow up just yet myself. Perhaps I'll change my mind later on, but at the present time I'd ever so much rather be a schoolgirl!"
In her love-making with the Lavender Lady Avelyn had, truth to tell, rather neglected Pamela. Their friendship had always been more or less of a spasmodic character. They often met on the road on Monday mornings, and travelled in the same compartment of the train, and they would return from Harlingden together on Friday afternoons. Generally they talked the ordinary schoolgirl chatter about Silverside doings. Pamela rarely mentioned her own concerns. Very occasionally she would make some reference to past adventures in America, but about her present home she was extremely reserved. She seemed to shut up and freeze at once at the slightest allusion to Moss Cottage.
Though she had accepted several invitations to Walden, she had never asked Avelyn to tea for a return visit. There was an air of mystery about her that increased rather than diminished with their further acquaintance. To Avelyn she always seemed like a disinherited princess. She was sure that Pamela brooded over the fact that the Lyngatesestate should have been hers. Her uncle's name was never mentioned between them.
Since the evening when he had tried to cut down the barrier over the brook at Walden, the Watsons had seen little of Mr. Hockheimer. He had not again attempted to interfere with their property. He seemed to spend a good deal of his time in London, but made flying visits every week to the Hall. People in the neighbourhood gave him the cold shoulder. Though he was generous in subscribing to local charities, he was certainly not popular. The general feeling was one of mistrust. Nothing certain had ever been brought against him, but the fact of his German nationality remained. It was whispered that but for influence in high quarters he would have been interned.
Whether Mr. Hockheimer was or was not aware of the rumours that were being circulated in his disfavour it was impossible to tell. He never came to church, seldom appeared in the village. He was more strict than ever against trespassing in his woods, though other landlords in the district had been lax in that respect since the beginning of the war. The Watsons disliked him so much that they avoided him whenever possible; if they saw him walking along the village street they would dive down a side lane or run up into the churchyard. They thoroughly pitied Pamela for being dependent upon him.
Since the memorable morning when she had climbed over the palings into the garden, and had hidden inside the stable, Avelyn had never visitedMoss Cottage. She was sure that she had then almost surprised some secret. Pamela, indeed, had been on the very verge of telling her. Her friend's confidential mood had passed, however, and a wall of reserve had taken its place.
One Saturday Avelyn, taking out her home work, made the horrible discovery that she had left her history in her locker at school. To go to Miss Thompson's class with an unprepared lesson meant trouble. The only way out of the difficulty was to walk over and borrow from Pamela, who, though in a lower form, used the same textbook for history.
This time she did not venture to climb over the palings, but knocked at the door in orthodox fashion. It was opened by Pamela herself, who beamed a welcome.
"Come in! I'm all alone. Mother's gone to the station. I was just getting horribly tired of being by myself. It's perfectly lovely to see you! My history? Yes, you shall have it, certainly. I've learnt my lesson. But come in and have a chat. I was sitting in the garden. Shall we go out there?"
Avelyn much preferred the garden to the rather dark little sitting-room. The girls went to a shady corner under a tree, where Pamela had spread a rug and cushions. They settled themselves down leisurely and began to talk.
"What's this you've got here?" asked Avelyn presently, taking up a Prayer Book that was lying on the rug, opened at the last page. "Are youstudying the Table of Articles? You surely don't have to learn that in your Scripture lesson? We did the 'Book of Common Prayer' last term, but we didn't take the Articles."
"I'm not looking at those," said Pamela. "I'm looking at the Table of Kindred and Affinity. I want to find out whom a man may marry and whom he mayn't. He mustn't marry his wife's daughter's daughter, or his brother's son's wife, or his mother's brother's wife, but may he marry his deceased wife's deceased brother's wife?"
"Goodness, child, I'm sure I don't know! Why do you ask?"
Pamela shut the Prayer Book with a bang.
"It's Uncle!" she said vehemently. "He's behaving in such an extraordinary way! Oh, Ave! Do you know, I believe he's trying to make up to Mother! Don't look so incredulous! I mean it! I must tell somebody, or I shall burst! I've kept it all in long enough. Too long! Ave, did the boys ever tell you about that letter they found inside the Latin dictionary? I can see by your face that they did. Well, I brought it home and laid it on the table, and, before Mother had time to look at it, it disappeared. Uncle had been here, and Iknowhe took it! He must certainly have done so."
"He did! I can tell you that," returned Avelyn, and she confided to her friend what her brothers had witnessed in the wood, how Mr. Hockheimer had been on the point of burning the paper when Spring-heeled Jack had appeared and run away with it. Pamela listened with intense eagerness.
"That explains so much!" she gasped. "I don't know what was in the letter, but I imagine it may have been my grandfather's will. If it was, and he left the estate to Daddy, no wonder Uncle Fritz tried to burn it. He didn't quite succeed, and this bogy-spectre-highwayman, or whatever he is, has scooted off with it. Uncle knows it's still in existence, and that any day it might be produced, and he might be turned out of the Hall. He's trying to guard against that, and he's playing a very deep game. He thinks that if he were to marry Mother, as he married poor Aunt Dora, he'd secure the estate to himself a second time."
"Does your Mother like him?"
"Not really. I believe she's frightened of him. He makes her do anything he tells her. You don't know how dreadfully worried I am about it. If I had him for a stepfather I should run away. I'd rather join the gipsies than live with him. Oh, if we could only get on the track of that paper! Has nothing more been heard of Spring-heeled Jack?"
"Nothing at all since the autumn. He appeared just for a short time, and then vanished again."
"And no one ever knew who he was?"
"Not a soul."
Pamela gave a long sigh.
"He has the secret—whatever it is. Who knows whether I'll ever find it. Ave," here Pamela lowered her voice, "I've got a secret too! I've been longing and yearning to tell it to you—a dozen times I've had it on the tip of my tongue, and then I've felt afraid and stopped. I kept waiting, hoping to findout more, but I can't find out by myself. I want help."
"What do you mean?"
"Come, and I'll show you. We have the place to ourselves to-day. Uncle is in town. I saw him going to the station this morning, so he's not likely to burst in and interrupt us."
Pamela rose and led the way down the garden to the stable where Avelyn had surprised her before. It was locked, but she took a key from a hiding-place under a stone, and undid the padlock. She motioned her friend to go up the ladder, and followed her. The room above was a bare loft. It was not quite empty, however, for in the corner stood a small table, with an object on it that looked like the receiver of a telephone.
"Come here!" said Pamela.
She took up the instrument and placed it on her friend's head. It had a band which fitted across the forehead, and a receiver for each ear. A cord connected it with the wall.
"Do you hear anything?" asked Pamela.
"Yes, a sort of humming."
Pamela smiled significantly, and put back the instrument on the table.
"What is it?" breathed Avelyn, rather awed.
"Wireless messages. Uncle spends hours here."
"Do you mean to say this is a wireless station?"
Pamela nodded.
"But they're not allowed."
"I know that perfectly well."
"If it were found out he could be arrested."
"He deserves to be. Sometimes I wish he were."
"Does your mother know?"
"No, I'm sure she doesn't. She never comes to the stable, and if she did she wouldn't climb the ladder. Sometimes Uncle is very keen about the messages. He makes me stay here, with the receiver on my head, listening for them, while he sits in the cottage talking to Mother, and drinking brandy which he brings in a flask. When I hear that humming noise I have to go and tell him, and he flies down to the stable."
"Can you understand the messages?"
"No. It's something like ordinary telegraphy, I suppose, and I don't know the code. I wish I did."
"I can't imagine how this wireless apparatus hasn't been discovered!"
"It's so well hidden. The poles go right up among the boughs of the tree."
"I don't think you ought to keep this secret any longer, Pam."
"No more do I, but I've never dared to tell it to a soul before. Uncle would kill me if he knew I'd brought you in here to-day. What must I do?"
Avelyn hesitated.
"I'd like to ask somebody. Could you come home with me this afternoon? Can you leave the house?"
"I'd lock the door and put the key under a stone, where Mother would find it if she gets back first. Ave, I'm just about desperate! I'd do anything to end the life I'm living now. There's treachery of some sort going on, I believe, and I'm being woundup in it without my knowledge and against my will. My father gave his life for his country. Is his daughter to help to betray it? Never! Never in this world! I'd suffer torture first. Oh, I wish I were braver! Sometimes I'm a terrible coward, and I feel so horribly afraid of Uncle Fritz. You don't know how he frightens me. My nerves are all on edge."
"Come home with me, dear," said Avelyn soothingly. "If you'll let me ask Mother, I believe she'd know what we ought to do."
Pamela was very much upset, and seemed almost hysterical. Her hands trembled, and she wiped tell-tale drops from her eyes. She climbed down the ladder, padlocked the stable door again, went into the house for her hat and the history book, locked the front door, hid the key in the rockery, and pronounced herself ready to start.
Avelyn was glad to have persuaded her so easily. Her own mind was in a whirl. To have found a wireless telegraphy installation in the old stable was indeed a discovery which would very seriously implicate Mr. Hockheimer. The responsibility of the knowledge was too great to be borne only by two schoolgirls; it must be shared by some older and wiser person.
The friends walked silently along the road. At the corner by the oak wood they met David and Anthony. At sight of them the boys came running forward in much excitement.
"We've just seen Spring-heeled Jack again!" they cried.
This was indeed a piece of news. Spring-heeled Jack, who had vanished from the neighbourhood since the autumn! For the moment it even threw wireless telegraphy into the shade.
"Where? When?" exclaimed the girls eagerly.
"Just a minute ago. We were up the bank there after a butterfly, and he came bounding past and jumped into the wood."
"Which way did he go?"
Anthony pointed a stumpy finger to indicate the direction. Pamela set her teeth.
"I'm going after him," she announced.
The Watsons stared at her amazed. Spring-heeled Jack had been the terror of the village, and Pamela was not altogether conspicuous for courage.
"I must find him! I must!" she continued. "It's the only chance of getting that lost paper!" And climbing over the palings she scrambled into the wood among the bracken.
The Watsons were not a family to desert a chum. David and Anthony were after her in half a second, and Avelyn followed as quickly as her feminine skirts allowed. Her heart was beating violently. Whether the object of their search was human or spectral he was equally a cause for alarm. They could hear sounds higher up the wood. Pamela was running fast and so were the boys.
There was a sudden, unearthly yell, and a dark, masked figure came bounding towards them in a series of wild leaps. Man, monkey, or bogy, it jumped with incredible speed. The boys set up a shout and dashed towards it, but it gave anenormous leap and sprang past them. It would have got clean away but for a tangled bramble bush that broke its course. The next moment it was sprawling among the bracken. The boys rushed upon it, and while David pinned it down Anthony tore off the black mask. To their utter amazement it revealed the well-known features of their friend, Captain Harper.
At the sight of their blank faces he burst out laughing.
"The game's up at last!" he hinnied. "I saw it was you kids, and I couldn't resist giving you a scare. I don't know that I meant to let you find me out, though. If I hadn't tumbled I'd have got off. What have I been masquerading like this for?" He suddenly looked grave. "That's a little business of my own. I wanted to find out something, and I thought I'd raise a rumour that might keep the woods clear of ordinary trespassers. How did I do it? Easy enough, some theatrical togs I had by me, and springs on my heels."
"We've seen you before in this rig-out," volunteered Anthony.
"When?"
"When you pounced on Mr. Hockheimer and stopped him burning a letter."
"We were there watching," echoed David.
"Oh, have you got the paper still? It was mine!" cried Pamela breathlessly.
It was Captain Harper's turn to be astonished.
"Yours! What had it to do with you?" he asked sharply.
Pamela and Avelyn explained between them. He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it as he listened.
"This is quite another development," he commented. "Part of the paper was burnt. I couldn't understand the drift of it."
"Have you got it still?" besought Pamela.
"No, I gave it to my superior officer. But if it is of such importance as you say I could get it examined on your behalf. I'll speak to my Colonel about it. It's worth investigating."
"Pam!" said Avelyn impulsively, bending her head and whispering in her friend's ear, "do you know, I believe it would be the best thing in the world to tell Captain Harper what you've told me this afternoon. He'd know better even than Mother what you ought to do."
"You tell him—I daren't," faltered Pamela.
If Captain Harper had been astonished before, he was doubly amazed now.
"Great Scott! It's the very thing I've been on the scent of for this six months!" he ejaculated. "We guessed there was a wireless somewhere over here, but never could locate it. And to think I owe it to you kids! Pamela, you're a true loyal little Englishwoman! I think you'll find you'll pretty soon be rid of that precious uncle of yours."
"What must I do about it?" asked Pamela, who was half crying.
Captain Harper did not at once reply. He seemed cogitating. Then his face cleared.
"Nothing at present," he replied. "I pledgeyou all on your word of honour to mention this business to nobody. We'll leave the wireless where it is, and get the messages if possible—that's our game! Pamela, could you manage to learn the Morse code if I taught you?"
"I'd try."
"I'll undertake you'd soon learn it. Then what you've got to do is to listen at the receiver and report to us. I can tell you, you may be working an uncommonly important little bit of business. Don't cry, child! The fellow is only your uncle by marriage. He's no blood relation of yours. Think of your father! You're doing your duty by your country as every true-born Britisher ought."
Pamela went back to Moss Cottage with new courage. The secret, which had almost overwhelmed her when she had tried to bear it alone, assumed a different aspect now she shared it with her friends. Captain Harper had taken the full responsibility of the affair, and as one of His Majesty's officers she knew he could be trusted. She placed herself entirely in his hands, and followed his directions implicitly. To keep watch without arousing her uncle's suspicions was to be her present rôle. Under cover of going to tea with the Watsons, she met Captain Harper at Walden, and learnt from him the Morse code. Once she had mastered that, she was able to write down some of the wireless messages. To her they were absolutely unintelligible, for they were in cipher, but she made a faithful record of what she heard through the receiver, and sent it by David or Anthony to the young officer.
For the moment Captain Harper acknowledged himself baffled.
"We have the keys to a number of ciphers, but there's one here we don't understand. It's solely for this reason we're allowing this wireless apparatus at Moss Cottage to remain where it is.Pamela must use all her ingenuity to discover the key to the cipher. She's the only person who has the opportunity of doing so. If we were to arrest Mr. Hockheimer at once we might or might not find treasonable papers upon him. It is doubtful if we should learn his secret."
To David and Anthony the affair was of the supremest interest. They envied Pamela her unique chance of serving her country. They were glad enough to be employed as carriers, and would take the notes from her when they met her in the morning, and, according to arrangement, convey them to Captain Harper. Sometimes they took them direct to the Camp, after they returned from school, and sometimes they handed them to an orderly who would be strolling about near the station. As for Pamela, she lived from day to day in a ferment of expectation, waiting and watching for her opportunity. And one evening she found it. Mr. Hockheimer had come, as was his custom, to Moss Cottage, and had set his niece to listen for messages while he took his ease in the house. For an hour or more Pamela had sat with the receiver to her ears, but had heard nothing. At last came the familiar humming. She jotted down the letters, put the paper safely in her pocket, and ran up the garden to warn her uncle. That night he had been drinking more heavily than usual. He lurched in his walk as he approached the stable, and it was with difficulty that he climbed the ladder. Pamela followed him nervously. His hands shook as he fitted on the receiver, but he nevertheless took downthe message. Then he paused, and seemed to be calculating something out on the paper. She crept a little nearer. He was too muddled to realize her approach. She peeped over his shoulder unnoticed. In his half-drunken condition he was working out the cipher and writing it down. She copied it word by word. It was in German.
"U-boot auf Aermelmeere heute Abend. Zeigen Licht auf Berry Head."
"U-boot auf Aermelmeere heute Abend. Zeigen Licht auf Berry Head."
Pamela backed away cautiously towards the ladder. Just as she reached it her uncle turned round and called to her.
"Give me a hand, Pam! Don't feel—very well to-night," he stammered thickly. "Got to go out, too. Must go home and get the car. Little store of petrol they don't know about! And I shan't tell them either!" (He hinnied at his own joke.) "Give me your hand."
He leaned heavily on his niece, and she helped him down the ladder. She watched him as he stumbled along the narrow path in the darkness. He called to her, but she did not follow him to the cottage. Instead, she went to the palings and scrambled over into the high road. She surmised that she had surprised a most important secret, one which she felt must be communicated at once to head-quarters. It was absolutely necessary that Captain Harper should know of this. By warning him in time she might prevent some great disaster. She must get to the Camp as quickly as possible. It was late, long past eleven o'clock (Mr. Hockheimerhad had no compunction in keeping his niece out of bed to mind his business), and the night was moonless. Pamela shuddered as she thought of the long, lonely walk before her. Could she find the Camp in the dark? A sudden inspiration struck her. She would hurry to the Watsons instead and ask one of the boys to go on a bicycle. She ran almost all the way along the familiar road to Walden. She found the house shut up and the family gone to bed, but she made a rat-tat with the knocker that soon roused them.
"What is it?" cried David out of the window.
"It's I—Pamela! I've brought news!" she gasped.
The Watsons were downstairs directly. They listened breathlessly to the story she had to tell. David and Anthony hurried to the outhouse for their bicycles, and set off at once for the Camp to find Captain Harper. Who could say how much might depend on their speed?
Pamela watched them go with a feeling of intense relief. Her part of the business was finished; she had now set the machinery in motion that would accomplish the rest. The reaction after the intense strain was so great that she burst into tears.
"I must go home!" she sobbed. "Mother will think I am lost!"
"Daphne and I will go with you. I can't let you walk back alone at this time of night," said Mrs. Watson kindly. "If you'll take my advice, dear, you'll tell your mother everything now. She ought to know."
Pamela's friends escorted her to the door of MossCottage and left her there. What explanation she gave to her mother they never knew. They feared there was great unpleasantness in store for the Reynolds, for Mr. Hockheimer was sure to be arrested, and the fact that it must be through his niece's instrumentality only seemed to make matters worse. David and Anthony returned with the news that they had roused Captain Harper at the Camp, and that after reading the message he had ridden off immediately upon his motor bicycle. They went to bed wondering what would be happening while they slept.
The boys looked out for Pamela next morning on the road to the station, but she was not there. The train for once went without her. They spent an agitated day at school and hurried back from Netherton that afternoon at topmost speed. They found Captain Harper in the garden at Walden. He looked very grave.
"Do you know what that message was you brought me?" he asked. "Translated into English it meant, 'U-boat in Channel to-night. Show light on Berry Head.' I hear a certain important vessel had an extremely narrow escape last night. The wireless apparatus at Moss Cottage has been taken down already. The police went up there this morning."
"And Mr. Hockheimer?"
Captain Harper knocked the end off his cigarette before he answered.
"Mr. Hockheimer has gone to settle his great account. He and his car were found in the river at Chadwick this morning. The road turns at avery sharp angle there on to the bridge, and it is thought that in the darkness he missed his way and went over the bank. There is not a shadow of doubt that he was going to give signals to the enemy. We had long suspected him as a spy, and part of my business down here had been to watch him. In the circumstances this has been the most merciful thing that could have happened. For the sake of the Reynolds we are hushing the matter up. There is no need for it to be bruited about the neighbourhood. Your family are the only people who have any knowledge of the affair. I can trust you to keep it from going further."
"On our honour!" the boys assured him.
The "sad fatality at Chadwick Bridge" made a sensation in the local newspapers. An inquest was held on Mr. Hockheimer, and a verdict of "Death from misadventure" returned. Though many people in the neighbourhood may have had their suspicions as to the nature of his errand on that dark night, no evidence of an incriminating nature was brought before the coroner. He was buried at Lyngates in the Reynolds's family vault, where his wife had been carried two years before. He had left no will, and the question of who was to inherit the Lyngates property might be a matter for Chancery to settle. By the advice of the old solicitor who had managed the estate for many years, Mrs. Reynolds and Pamela took temporary possession of the Hall until a claim could be set up on their behalf. At the time of Squire Reynolds's death it had been the current gossip of thevillage that some later will than the one proved must be in existence. If such a will had been made, however, it had never been found. The only possible clue seemed to be the letter that David and Anthony had found inside the Latin dictionary, which had fallen into the hands of Mr. Hockheimer, and had been so strangely rescued from destruction by Captain Harper when masquerading as Spring-heeled Jack. The latter reported that at the time he had examined the half-burnt sheet, anticipating that it might contain treasonable correspondence, but had been unable to make sense of it. In accordance with instructions he had handed it over to his Colonel, and he supposed it would now be filed in the Secret Service Department. Red tape might prevent repossession of the original, but he was using his influence to obtain a copy. After considerable delay a reply came from the War Office to the effect that the paper in question appeared to have been partially burnt, but that the remaining fragment ran as follows:—