For the School Colours Part 12

"Doesn't want to publish it yet, I suppose," opined Minnie Selburn.

"Do you think she'll be leaving at Christmas?"

"One can never tell."

"Has Tommiekins said anything?"

"Not a word."

One Thursday afternoon an event happened. Irma, looking out at the fifth-form window, watched a masculine form walk up the drive and ring the front-door bell. She instantly identified him with the stranger whom she had seen in the study with Miss Hopkins.

"I knew him again in a moment," she a.s.sured the others. "I never forget faces, and his was unmistakable."

The flutter among the boarders was immense. It was known that Miss Hopkins was in the study interviewing the gentleman. Little Daisy Garratt had been in the first-form room reworking a returned sum, when the maid had entered and announced: "Mr. Judson is in the study, please, m'm," and Miss Hopkins had risen immediately from her desk, and told Daisy she might go, an opportunity of which that round-eyed junior had instantly availed herself.

So his name was Judson! It was not highly romantic, indeed it suggested gold paint; but after all, what's in a name? Everybody decided at once that he had brought the engagement ring, and that Miss Hopkins, blushing and conscious, would wear it upon the third finger of her left hand at tea-time. They began to search about for suitable speeches of congratulation. Several daring spirits, heedless of conduct marks, hung about the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Judson as he said good-bye. There was compet.i.tion for front places at the windows that overlooked the steps. Twenty interested pairs of eyes watched his coat-tails disappear down the drive. There was much speculation as to why he had not stayed longer, and what he was carrying inside his little black bag. When Miss Hopkins came in to tea an electric wave of excitement surged round the room, then broke in disappointment. Her left hand was ringless. She seated herself in the most matter-of-fact manner, and began to eat bread and b.u.t.ter and talk about the last air raid in London.

Before preparation it had all leaked out. Mr. Judson was traveller for a large firm of scholastic publishers, and on both occasions he had called to interview Miss Hopkins about some new arithmetic books. She had decided that they were suitable, and had ordered copies for the fifth and sixth forms. That was the whole of the business. In the minds of the boarders Cupid flew out of the window with a bang. He left blank desolation behind.

"Were there only arithmetic books inside that little black bag?" asked Mona disgustedly.

"It's too sickening when I'd nearly finished my pin-cushion cover!"

broke out Minnie Selburn.

"Mine was to be a nightdress case!" lamented Alice Webster.

The inmates of the Cowslip Room, as originators of the whole romance, felt particularly flat. In disconsolate spirits they went to bed. It was not nice to be told by Adah Gartley that they were silly geese, whose heads were filled with a pack of sentimental rubbish. Their injured feelings seethed, rallied, and finally bubbled up.

"There's something disagreeable about Adah!" remarked Janet tartly.

"It isn't only Adah, it's Joyce and Consie," corrected Laura.

"They deserve something for their nastiness!" ventured Ethelberga.

"Something strong!" agreed Avelyn.

Irma, half undressed, paused in the act of pulling off her stockings, and made the important suggestion:

"I say, let's play a trick on the prefects!"

"What a blossomy idea!"

"They richly deserve it!"

"It would be just top-hole!"

"What could we do?"

"Ah, that's just the question, my good child!" said Laura, putting a thoughtful finger to her forehead. "There's an art in ragging. It ought to be done delicately. We don't want clumsy tricks, such as apple-pie beds. As for b.o.o.by traps, they're vulgar and dangerous; I wouldn't soil my fingers with making one. It must be something that will annoy them, but not harm them or anybody else. I haven't got a brain wave yet, but perhaps ideas may come."

"Suppose we go and reconnoitre," proposed Avelyn.

"A very jinky notion. We might get an idea on the spot."

The four prefects slept in the Violet Room at the end of the pa.s.sage.

They were allowed to sit up later than the rest of the school, and at this moment were downstairs finishing some preparation. It was an easy matter, therefore, to visit their quarters. Laura, Irma, Janet, Ethelberga, and Avelyn made a dash down the pa.s.sage, turned up the gas, and began an inspection. The Violet Room was quite the prettiest of the dormitories; it was also the largest, and had a round table and four easy chairs with comfortable cushions. The table was spread with a white cloth, on which were set forth four cups and saucers, a tin of cocoa, a small basin of sugar, and a plate of biscuits. The prefects were working overtime for an examination, and were allowed this special indulgence to refresh their tired brains before they went to bed. They boiled a tin kettle on a gas ring, and brought it upstairs with them.

They considered their nightly cocoa party one of their greatest privileges.

"Looks jolly comfortable!" sniffed Avelyn, regarding the preparations with envy.

"It's well to be a prefect!" agreed Janet.

"Shall we eat the biscuits?" suggested Irma.

"Certainly not!" replied Ethelberga.

Laura had taken up the cocoa tin, and was plunged in thought.

"I've got it!" she announced suddenly. "I don't mean the tin, but an idea. Wait half a second for me!"

She dashed back to the Cowslip Room, and was away several minutes. When she returned, her face beamed triumph.

"They won't enjoy their cocoa to-night!" she chuckled. "I've mixed two teaspoonfuls of Gregory's powder with it! It will be a nice little surprise for them, won't it?"

"Sophonisba! I should rather think so! I say, let's turn down the gas and scoot. We shall have Miss Kennedy coming along in a minute."

The prefects came upstairs at ten o'clock, carrying their kettle. They retired into their dormitory and shut the door. Two scouts from the Cowslip Room, arrayed in dressing-gowns and bedroom slippers, presently tiptoed down the pa.s.sage, and listened outside. The door was thick, and denied them the full benefit of the conversation, but they caught such words as "cheek", "disgusting", and "abominable", so retreated satisfied. They expected a storm next morning, but, rather to their surprise, the prefects took no notice of the matter. Adah had decided that it would be undignified to make a fuss.

"It will fall flat if we say nothing!" she urged.

"We'll just jolly well lock up our cocoa tin in future, though!"

announced Consie indignantly.

CHAPTER VIII

Spring-heeled Jack

If David Watson had not been notoriously careless and forgetful, the events which will be narrated in this chapter might never have happened.

He was a bright boy, and well on in his form, but he had occasional lapses of memory. In one of these he left his Latin dictionary in the train. Now, if you are on the cla.s.sical side of a large school, it is not only a difficult but an impossible matter to get along without a Latin dictionary of your own. To attempt to prepare your work by borrowing your neighbour's book is like essaying to live on charity.

David realized this point immediately, and, instead of proceeding home as usual by the 4.45 train, he turned into the town instead. There was a second-hand book-stall in the market, which he thought might be worth a visit. It had been recommended to him by one of the other boys, who guaranteed the cheapness of its goods. Anthony, who stuck to David like a Jonathan, went to help him to look.

"I've just eighteen pence in my pocket," admitted David. "But I may get one at that. It needn't be a particularly spanky one. Miller got a ripping atlas last week for one and two. He showed it to me. It only had Norway and Sweden lost out, and a few of the maps blotted."

"I can lend you threepence," said Tony, "and you could leave your watch or your penknife or something, I suppose."