The Nicest Girl in the School Part 10

"Don't be stupid, Patty; we've argued that point so often."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YOU'LL ALL THREE HAVE TO PROMISE NEVER TO LIGHT THE GAS AGAIN AFTER MISS ROWE'S TURNED IT OUT"]

"Very well," said Patty, briefly, pretending to walk away.

A despairing wail from the girls, however, brought her back.

"Don't go! Won't you take anything else?" entreated Doris.

"Not a single thing," said Patty, firmly.

"How mean you are!"

"There's the tea bell," said Patty. "You'd better decide quickly, because I can't wait."

"Suppose we promise only to read books out of the library," began Ella, "and light the gas sometimes?"

"Good-night!" replied Patty, turning this time as if she really meant to go.

"We'll promise! We'll promise!" cried the three shivering figures on the roof.

"Everything?"

"Yes, if you like."

"On your honour?"

"On our honour."

"Never again?"

"Never."

"It's a bargain, then. Now you may all come down."

Patty reared the ladder against the wall, and held it steady while her companions descended. She felt in good spirits, for she had enjoyed the fun of keeping them imprisoned, and had been able by guile to extort a promise which her strongest protests had hitherto failed to gain from them.

"They don't know I hid the ladder," she said to herself as they all hurried in to tea, "and I don't mean to tell them. It's a grand victory for me. I shall hold them strictly to their word, and now at last we shall have a little peace in No. 7, and I shan't have to lie awake every night listening in fear and trembling for Miss Rowe."

CHAPTER VIII

A Great Disappointment

As December pa.s.sed by, and the term drew to a close, Patty's impatience began almost to get the better of her. No thirteen weeks had ever appeared so long. She felt as if she had been away from home for years, and she yearned for a sight of all the loved faces. Letters, though very well in their way, were unsatisfactory things, especially the children's, which contained little news for the amount of paper covered, and consisted mostly of wishes for her return, with a whole page of crosses meant to represent kisses at the end. Now at last, however, she could count the remainder of the term by days instead of weeks, and her fancy was busy painting in rainbow colours a picture of her arrival, first at the station, where perhaps her father would meet her, and then at the dear, well-known door, where her mother would be waiting to clasp her in the warmest hug, and all the younger ones would be watching eagerly to welcome her back again. It was such an enthralling prospect that Patty's eyes shone whenever she thought about it, and she sometimes executed a little dance of delight in the privacy of her cubicle, to let off some of the effervescence of her spirits.

"Only four days more!" she said to herself one night. "I suppose I shall manage to get through them somehow! I wonder if it seems as long to Mother and the others! I've never looked forward to anything so much in my life. It makes me wild with joy to think it's so near."

Poor Patty! In the midst of her pleasant antic.i.p.ations a bitter disappointment was in store for her. It seemed hard indeed that all her cherished plans must suddenly and ruthlessly be destroyed; but it takes a mingled warp and woof of joy and sorrow to weave the patterns of our lives, and a piece of dark background is sometimes needed to bring the brighter parts into full relief. The very next morning a letter arrived from Mrs. Hirst, containing such bad news that Patty had to read it twice over before she entirely grasped the full meaning of its tidings.

Three of the younger children were ill with scarlet fever, Rowley seriously so, and Robin and Kitty quite poorly enough to cause a certain amount of anxiety. The small patients had been carefully isolated, and so far the other children were well; but they were of course liable to develop the complaint, and needed careful watching. In the circ.u.mstances it was quite impossible for Patty to come home. She must not venture within danger of infection, for even if she did not take scarlet fever herself, it would not be right to allow her to go back to school after the holidays from a house where there had been sickness.

"Uncle Sidney and Aunt Lucy have very kindly invited you to Thorncroft,"

wrote Mrs. Hirst, "so you will return with Muriel, and will, I hope, have a pleasant holiday there. It is hard for us all to miss our Christmas together, but you must be a brave girl, darling, and look forward to seeing us at Easter instead. I cannot even write to you often, because I am nursing our invalids, and Father has to disinfect my letters carefully in the surgery before he considers it safe to forward them. Milly, however, shall write you a postcard every day, to say how we are, and you will be constantly in my thoughts, though I may not be able to do more than send you a brief message."

To Patty it seemed as if the sun had suddenly gone out. That she must forego all her home joys and spend the holidays with Muriel was indeed a great hardship.

"Muriel won't want me, I know," she sobbed, "and it won't seem like Christmas at all to have to spend it at Thorncroft. Oh, how I wish I could have gone home first, before the children were taken ill, and then I could have helped to nurse them! Easter is months and months off. I don't know how I'm going to live till I see them all again."

After one storm of grief, however, Patty, like a sensible girl, dried her eyes, and tried to put on a bright face and make the best of things as they were. It seemed no use bemoaning her misery, and spoiling all her friends' happiness by dwelling on her troubles, so she managed to interest herself in Enid's packing, and to sympathize with Jean's choice of Christmas presents, though it was hard to listen to the others' glad plans when her own had suffered such shipwreck. It is a great accomplishment to be able to smile outside when we are crying inside, and I don't believe Patty could have done it if she had not been so accustomed to forget her own side of a question, and engross herself in other people's affairs. As it was, her power of self-mastery helped her to be brave and cheery in spite of her disappointment; but it was not an easy task, and it cost her best efforts to smother her grief, and keep up to anything like her usual level of good spirits. It is sometimes more difficult to practise the little self-denials and do the unlauded acts of courage than to make one supreme sacrifice while the world applauds; so I think Patty deserved to be called a heroine for her small victory, which n.o.body noticed, just as much as if it had been a great one. She had, at any rate, one compensation to console her. Jean Bannerman also lived at Waverton, and would travel home with Muriel and herself, and she hoped it might be possible to see something of Jean during the holidays. The breaking-up day arrived at last, and Patty, after a warm good-bye to Enid, Winnie, and Avis, was put with her two companions under the guardianship of Miss Rowe, who escorted them to the junction, and saw them safely into the northern express. Even though she was not going to her own home, Patty felt rather cheered at leaving The Priory and starting upon a journey; and the prospect of Christmas and its attendant festivities was an enlivening one.

She had a kind welcome from her uncle and aunt, and her cousin Horace, who had returned from school the day before, also seemed pleased to see her. Patty always liked Horace much better than Muriel. He was far kinder to her, and would often ask her to help him with his photography, or to arrange his cases of beetles, b.u.t.terflies, and moths, entertaining her the while with accounts of his adventures at school, some of which were of such a thrilling description that she suspected they were made up for her benefit. Muriel, who preferred to keep her brother to herself, was jealous of this intimacy; she did not want to include Patty in their family life, and though she did not dare to say so to her parents, she secretly resented her cousin's presence. The two girls were necessarily thrown much in each other's company, and so overbearing did Muriel prove sometimes, that it needed all Patty's self-restraint to prevent a quarrel. It was not pleasant to be ordered about, told to fetch and carry, and receive no thanks for her pains; and particularly disagreeable to be given to understand that she was an unwelcome visitor, who ought to consider herself very fortunate to have been asked at all. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Pearson had any idea how unkind Muriel was to Patty in private; they were proud of their pretty little daughter, and fondly liked to think she was everything they could desire: their love made them blind to small indications of character, and so long as they saw no glaring fault they thought all was well. Muriel from her babyhood had been accustomed to expect her own way in everything. Her father, mother, and brother had made a pet of her, and spoilt her so entirely that she had grown up a very selfish girl, and even the influence of school life, wholesome though it was, had not been able so far to undo the ill effects of her home training. The first few days at Thorncroft were naturally occupied with preparations for Christmas.

Patty was very anxious to send some little gifts home to the children, and spent much time and thought planning how she could most advantageously lay out the few shillings of pocket money which she possessed. It was a difficult matter when there were so many presents required, and one which demanded serious consideration. In lack of any other confidant, she talked it over with Muriel.

"There's the tray-cloth for Mother, which I worked at school," she said.

"That's quite finished, and it looks very nice, only a little crushed.

Aunt Lucy says Emma shall iron it out for me. I wish I could think of something for Father. Can you suggest anything?"

Muriel shook her head.

"I can't," she replied. "I'm in the same difficulty nearly every year.

There seems nothing you can give to a gentleman that he really cares for. I've made shaving cloths, and cigarette cases, and match-box holders, and heaps of other things for Father, and he always says 'Thank you!' and puts them away in his drawer, and never uses them. He must have a whole pile of my presents somewhere."

"I thought of a blotter," said Patty, "but I know it would only be left lying about in the surgery. Father has a stylo. pen, and hardly ever needs blotting-paper. The little ones give him useful things--boxes of matches, and railway guides, and cakes of soap."

"Cakes of soap!" laughed Muriel.

"Yes, why not? They can't think of anything else to buy. But I wanted something nicer. I wish someone would publish a book on how to make Christmas presents for one's father."

"They might suggest things, but they couldn't guarantee his using them when they were made."

"It's much easier for the children," said Patty, "because I know exactly what they'd like."

"That's no trouble, then," yawned Muriel. "We shall be going into town to-morrow. You'll have plenty of choice at Archer's."

"Too much, I'm afraid," said Patty. "I shall want to buy all I see."

"Well, if I were you, I should get them each a shilling toy, and then one wouldn't be better than another," said Muriel carelessly, rising and putting an end to a conversation of which she was growing tired. "I'm thankful to say my presents are all arranged."

It was easy enough, Patty thought, for Muriel to suggest shilling toys in such an airy manner, but quite an impossibility to provide them for seven brothers and sisters when her small green purse only contained a half-crown and a new sixpence. Her gifts would have to be very modest ones, and it would take much ingenuity to make her money last out. Emma, her aunt's maid, came to the rescue by hunting out a large bag of coloured wools and helping her to make a ball for the baby. This Patty knew would delight him, and would leave her a little extra to spend upon the others. On the day before Christmas Eve, Mrs. Pearson took Muriel and Patty to town with her, and after visiting several places, the carriage finally drew up at Archer's, a large general store where toys and all kinds of fancy articles were sold. The shop was so crowded that it was quite difficult to obtain attention from the overworked a.s.sistants, and Mrs. Pearson was obliged to wait some time before making her purchases. It had been a busy morning for her; she was not strong, and by the time she had bought what she needed, she was thoroughly tired.

"You children must be quick, if there is anything you want," she said, consulting her watch. "I particularly wish to be home by half-past twelve, so I can only allow you ten minutes for your shopping. Where shall we go first?"

"To the book department," said Muriel promptly. "You know I haven't spent the present Aunt Ida sent me yet, and I want to choose something nice."

"Wouldn't it do another day, dear?" suggested her mother.