A Popular Schoolgirl, Angela Brazil [big screen ebook reader txt] 📗

was a glorious run over moorland country, with glimpses of the sea on the one hand, and craggy tors on the other, and round them billowy masses of heather, broken here and there by runnels of peat-stained water. If Egbert exceeded the speed-limit, he certainly had the excuse of a clear road before him; there were no hedges to hide advancing cars, neither was there any possibility of whisking round a corner to find a hay-cart blocking the way. In the course of an hour they had covered a considerable number of miles, and found themselves whirling down the tremendous hill that led to the seaside town of Chatcombe.

Arrived in the main street they left the motorcycle at a garage, and strolled on to the promenade, joining the crowd of holidaymakers who were sauntering along in the heat, or sitting on the benches watching the children digging in the sand below. Much to Ingred’s astonishment she was suddenly hailed by her name, and, turning, found herself greeted with enthusiasm by a schoolfellow.

“Ingred! What a surprise!”

“Avis! Who’d have thought of seeing you?”

“Are you staying here?”

“No, only over for the afternoon.”

“We’ve rooms at Beach View over there. Come along and have some tea with us, and your brothers too. Yes, indeed you must! Mother will be delighted to see you all. I shan’t let you say no!”

Borne away by her hospitable friend, Ingred presently found herself sitting on a seat in the front garden of a tall boardinghouse facing the sea, and while Egbert and Hereward discussed motorcycling with Avis’s father, the two girls enjoyed a confidential chat together.

“Only a few days now,” sighed Avis, “then we’ve got to leave all this and go home. How long are you staying at Lynstones, Ingred?”

“A fortnight more, but don’t talk of going home. I want the holidays to last forever!”

“So do I, but they won’t. School begins on the twenty-first of September. It will be rather sport to go to the new buildings at last, won’t it? By the by, now the war’s over, and we’ve all got our own again, I suppose you’re going back to Rotherwood, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so, when it’s ready.”

“But surely the Red Cross cleared out ages ago, and the whole place has been done up? I saw the paperhangers there in June.”

“Oh, yes!” Ingred’s voice was a little strained.

“You’ll be so glad to be living there again,” continued Avis. “I always envied you that lovely house. You must have hated lending it as a hospital. I expect when you’re back you’ll be giving all sorts of delightful parties, won’t you? At least that’s what the girls at school were saying.”

“It’s rather early to make plans,” temporized Ingred.

“Oh, of course! But Jess and Francie said you’d a gorgeous floor for dancing. I do think a fancy-dress dance is about the best fun on earth. The next time I get an invitation, I’m going as a Quaker maiden, in a gray dress and the duckiest little white cap. Don’t you think it would suit me? With your dark hair you ought to be something Eastern. I can just imagine you acting hostess in a shimmery sort of white-and-gold costume. Do promise to wear white-and-gold!”

“All right,” laughed Ingred.

“It’s so delightful that the war’s over, and we can begin to have parties again, like we used to do. Beatrice Jackson told me she should never forget that Carnival dance she went to at Rotherwood five years ago, and all the lanterns and fairy lamps. Some of the other girls talk about it yet. Hullo, that’s the gong! Come indoors, and we’ll have tea.”

Ingred was very quiet as she went back in the sidecar that evening, though Hereward, sitting on the luggage-carrier, was in high spirits, and fired off jokes at her the whole time. The fact was she was thinking deeply. Certain problems, which she had hitherto cast carelessly away, now obtruded themselves so definitely that they must at last be faced. The process, albeit necessary, was not altogether a pleasant one.

To understand Ingred’s perplexities we must give a brief account of the fortunes of her family up to the time this story begins. Mr. Saxon was an architect, who had made a good connection in the town of Grovebury. Here he had designed and built for himself a very beautiful house, and had liberally entertained his own and his children’s friends. When war broke out, he had been amongst the first to volunteer for his country’s service, and, as a further act of patriotism, he and his wife had decided to offer the use of “Rotherwood” for a Red Cross Hospital. The three boys were then at school, Egbert and Athelstane at Winchester, and Hereward at a preparatory school; so, storing the furniture, Mrs. Saxon moved into rooms with Quenrede and Ingred, who were attending the girls’ college in Grovebury as day boarders. For the whole period of the war this arrangement had continued; Rotherwood was given over to the wounded soldiers, and Mrs. Saxon herself worked as one of their most devoted nurses.

In course of time Egbert and Athelstane had also joined the army, and with three of her menkind at the front, their mother had been more than ever glad to fill up at the hospital the hours when her girls were absent from her at school. Then came the Armistice, and the blessed knowledge that, though not yet home again, the dear ones were no longer in danger. By April the Red Cross had finished its work in Grovebury; the remaining patients regretfully departed, the wards were dismantled of their beds, and Rotherwood was handed back to its rightful owners.

Naturally it needed much renovation and decorating before it was again fit for a private residence, and paperers and painters had been busy there for many weeks. They had only just removed the ladders by the middle of July.

It was nearly August before Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane were finally demobilized, and they had gone straight to Lynstones to join the rest of