"Did you tell him about our society?" asked Betty.
"No, of course not."
"Well, I didn"t mean betraying the secret, exactly, only I think you might have mentioned that there are several of us who want to do things for the soldiers. And there was a beautiful snapshot that Patricia took of us all--you might have put that in."
"But I hadn"t got it with me."
"You needn"t have been in such a hurry to send off the letter. You could have waited till you"d seen us."
"How could I post it from school? It was by sheer luck I slipped it into the pillar-box at Whitecliffe. I got my chance to write that letter, and I had to take it at once or leave it."
"Perhaps our turns may come another time," suggested Patricia consolingly.
Though it was Marjorie who had done the actual writing, the whole of the S.S.O.P. felt responsible for the letter, and considered that they had adopted the lonely soldier. In imagination they pictured Private Hargreaves sitting disconsolately in a dug-out, gazing with wistful eyes while his comrades read and re-read their home letters, then an orderly entering and presenting him with Marjorie"s doc.u.ment, his incredulity, surprise, and delight at finding it actually addressed to himself, and the eagerness with which he would tear open the envelope. Opinions differed as to what would happen when he had read it. Sylvia inclined to think that tears would steal down his rugged cheek. Betty was certain that, however bad he might have been formerly, he would at once turn over a new leaf and begin to reform. Patricia suggested that he would write on the envelope that he wished it to be buried with him. Schemes for sending him pressed violets, poems, and photographs floated on the horizon of the society. He should not feel lonely any more if the S.S.O.P. could help it. They decided that each would contribute twopence a week towards buying him cigarettes. They went about the school quite jauntily in the consciousness of their secret. The rival secret society, noticing their elation, openly jeered, but that no doubt was envy.
A fortnight pa.s.sed by, and the girls were beginning to forget about it a little. The snow had melted, and hockey practice was uppermost in their minds, for the match between St. Githa"s and St. Elgiva"s would soon be due, and they were anxious for the credit of their own hostel. Just at present the playing-fields loomed larger than the trenches. St. Elgiva"s team was not yet decided, and each hoped in her innermost heart that she might be chosen among the favoured eleven. Marjorie had lately improved very much at hockey, and had won words of approval from Stella Pearson, the games captain, together with helpful criticism. It was well known that Stella did not waste trouble on unpromising subjects, so it was highly encouraging to Marjorie to find her play noticed. Golden visions of winning goals for her hostel swam before her dazzled eyes. She dreamt one night that she was captain of the team. She almost quarrelled with Chrissie because the latter, who was a slack player, did not share her enthusiasm.
One Monday morning Marjorie woke up with a curious sense of impending trouble. She occasionally had a fit of the blues on Mondays. Sunday was a quiet day at Brackenfield, and in the evening the girls wrote their home letters. The effect was often an intense longing for the holidays.
On this particular Monday she tried to shake off the wretched dismal feeling, but did not succeed. It lasted throughout breakfast in spite of Chrissie"s humorous rallyings.
"You"re as glum as an owl!" remarked her chum at last.
"I can"t help it. I feel as if something horrible is going to happen."
Marjorie"s premonition turned out to be justified, for, as she was leaving the dining-hall after breakfast, Miss Norton tapped her on the shoulder, and told her to report herself at once to Mrs. Morrison.
Wondering for what particular transgression she was to be called to account, Marjorie obeyed, and presented herself at the study. The Princ.i.p.al was seated at her desk writing. She allowed her pupil to stand and wait while she finished making her list for the housekeeper and blotted it. Then, taking an envelope from one of her pigeonholes, she turned to the expectant girl.
"Marjorie Anderson," she began sternly, "this letter, addressed to you, arrived this morning. Miss Norton very properly brought it to me, and I have opened and read it. Will you kindly explain its contents?"
The rule at Brackenfield, as at most schools, was that pupils might only receive letters addressed by their parents or guardians, and that any other correspondence directed to them was opened and perused by the head mistress. Letters from brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends were of course allowed if forwarded under cover by a parent, but must not be sent separately to the school by the writer.
Marjorie, in some amazement, opened the letter which Mrs. Morrison gave her. It was written on Y.M.C.A. paper in an ill-educated hand, and ran thus:--
"DEAR MISS,
"This comes hoping you are as well as it leaves me at present. I was very glad to get your letter, and hear you are thinking about me. I like your photo, and when I get back to blighty should like to keep company with you if you are agreeable to same. Before I joined up I was in the engine-room at my works, and getting my 2 a week. I am very glad to have some one to write to me. Well, no more at present from
"Yours truly "JIM HARGREAVES."
Marjorie flushed scarlet. Without doubt the letter was a reply from the lonely soldier. It came as a tremendous shock. Somehow it had never occurred to her that he would write back. To herself and the other members of the S.S.O.P. he had been a mere picturesque abstraction, a romantic figure, as remote as fiction, whose loneliness had appealed to their sentimental instincts. They had judged all soldiers by the experience of their own brothers and cousins, and had a vague idea that the army consisted mostly of public-school boys. To find that her protege was an uneducated working man, who had entirely misconstrued the nature of her interest in him, and evidently imagined that she had written him a love-letter, made poor Marjorie turn hot and cold. She was essentially a thorough little lady, and was horror-stricken at the false position in which her impulsive act had placed her.
Mrs. Morrison watched her face narrowly, and drew her own conclusion from the tell-tale blushes.
"Do I understand that this letter is in reply to one written by you?"
she asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Morrison," gasped Marjorie, turning suddenly white.
The Princ.i.p.al drew a long breath, as if trying to retain her self-command. Her grey eyes flashed ominously, and her hands trembled.
"Do you understand that you have not only broken one of our princ.i.p.al rules, but have transgressed against the spirit of the school? Every pupil here is at least supposed to be a gentlewoman, and that a Brackenfielder could so demean herself as to enter into a vulgar correspondence with an unknown soldier fills me with disgust and contempt. I cannot keep such a girl in the school. You will go for the present to the isolation room, and remain there until I can make arrangements to send you home."
[Ill.u.s.tration: THEN SOMEHOW MARJORIE FOUND HERSELF BLURTING OUT THE ENTIRE STORY _page 172_]
Mrs. Morrison spoke quietly, but very firmly. She pointed to the door, and Marjorie, without a word, withdrew. She had been given no chance to explain matters or defend herself. By acknowledging that she had written to Private Hargreaves Mrs. Morrison considered that she had pleaded guilty, and had condemned her without further hearing. As if walking in a bad dream, Marjorie crossed the quadrangle, and went down the path to the Isolation Hospital. This was a small bungalow in a remote part of the grounds. It was kept always in readiness in case any girl should develop an infectious complaint. Marjorie had been there for a few days last term with a cold which Miss Norton suspected might be influenza. She had enjoyed herself then. How different it was now to go there in utter disgrace and under threat of expulsion! She sat down in one of the cosy wicker chairs and buried her face in her hands. To be expelled, to leave Brackenfield and all its interests, and to go home with a stigma attached to her name! Her imagination painted all it would mean--her father"s displeasure, her mother"s annoyance, the surprise of friends at home to see her back before mid-term, the entire humiliation of everybody knowing that she had been sent away from school.
"I shall never be able to hold up my head again," she thought. "And it will spoil Dona"s career here too. They won"t be able to send Joan to Brackenfield either; she"ll have to go to some other school. Oh, why was I such an absolute lunatic? I might have known the Empress would take it this way!"
Sister Johnstone, one of the school nurses, now came bustling in. She glanced at Marjorie, but made no remark, and set to work to light the fire and dust the room. Presently, however, she came and laid her hand on the girl"s shoulder.
"I don"t quite understand yet what it"s all about, Marjorie," she said kindly; "but my advice is, if you"ve done anything wrong, make a clean breast of it and perhaps Mrs. Morrison may forgive you."
"She"s expelled me!" groaned Marjorie.
"That"s bad. Aren"t there any extenuating circ.u.mstances?"
But Marjorie, utterly crushed and miserable, only shook her head.
The Princ.i.p.al was sincerely concerned and grieved by the occurrence. It is always a blot on a school to be obliged to expel a pupil. She talked the matter over carefully with some of the teachers. Marjorie"s record at Brackenfield had unfortunately been already marred by several incidents which prejudiced her in the eyes of the mistresses. They had been done innocently and in sheer thoughtlessness, but they gave a wrong impression of her character. Miss Norton related that when she first met Marjorie at Euston station she had found her speaking to a soldier, with whom she had acknowledged that she had no acquaintance, and that she had brought a novel to her dormitory in defiance of rules. Mrs. Morrison remembered only too plainly that it was Marjorie who had asked the aviator for his autograph on the beach at Whitecliffe, and had started the ill-timed episode of s...o...b..lling the soldiers. Judging by these signposts she considered her tendencies to be "fast".
"I can"t have the atmosphere of the school spoilt," said Mrs. Morrison.
"Such an att.i.tude is only too catching. Best to check it before it spreads further."
"But I have always found Marjorie such a nice girl," urged Miss Duckworth. "From my personal experience of her I could not have believed her capable of unladylike conduct. She has always seemed to me very unsophisticated and childish--certainly not "fast". Can there possibly be any explanation of the matter?"
"I fear not--the case seems only too plain," sighed Mrs. Morrison. "I am very loath to expel any girl, but----"
"May I speak to her before you take any active steps?" begged Miss Duckworth. "I have a feeling that the matter may possibly admit of being cleared up. It"s worth trying."
No princ.i.p.al is ever anxious for the unpleasant task of writing to a parent to request her to remove her daughter. Mrs. Morrison had nerved herself to the unwelcome duty, but she was quite willing to defer it until Miss Duckworth had inst.i.tuted enquiries. She had an excellent opinion of her mistress"s sound common sense.
Marjorie spent a wretched day in the isolation ward. Sister Johnstone plied her with magazines, but she had not the heart to read them, and sat looking listlessly out of the window at the belt of laurels that separated the field from the kitchen garden. She wondered when she was to leave Brackenfield, if her mother would come to fetch her, or if she would have to travel home by herself. It was after tea-time that Miss Duckworth entered.
"I"ve come to relieve Sister for a little while," she announced, seating herself by the fire.
Sister Johnstone took the hint, and, saying she would be very glad to go out for half an hour, went away, leaving Miss Duckworth and Marjorie alone in the bungalow.
"Come to the fire, Marjorie," said the mistress. "It"s damp and chilly this afternoon, and you look cold sitting by the window."
Marjorie obeyed almost mechanically. She knelt on the rug and spread out her hands to the blaze. She had reached a point of misery when she hardly cared what happened next to her. Two big tears splashed into the fender. Miss Duckworth suddenly put an arm round her.
"I"m sorry you"re in trouble, Marjorie. Can"t you tell me why you did such a thing? It"s so unlike you that I don"t understand."
Then somehow Marjorie found herself blurting out the entire story to her form mistress. How she had found the soldier"s address at her aunt"s, and had written to him in a spirit of sheer patriotism.
Incidentally, and in reply to questioning, the aims and objects of the S.S.O.P. were divulged.