A Pair of Schoolgirls - Angela Brazil (nonfiction book recommendations txt) 📗

her good news.

It was really a very great event for Dorothy to go from home. Every detail of her preparations and packing was interesting to her. It was delightful to be able to take out the new nightdress-case, and the best brush and comb, which had been lying for so long a time in her bottom drawer, waiting for an occasion such as this; to put fresh notepaper in her writing-case, and to replenish the sewing materials in her blue silk "housewife". There were great debates over her clothing, for she was still growing at such express speed that any garments which had been put away were hopelessly short, particularly the white dress that was to do duty for evening wear.

"I believe it has shrunk!" she exclaimed ruefully.

"No; it's you who have shot up so fast. I wish the clothes grew with you! I must try if I can lengthen it."

Miss Sherbourne had clever fingers, and she contrived to make the necessary alterations so skilfully that nobody would have detected them; and Dorothy declared that, far from being spoilt, the dress was improved.

"I've bought you some new hair ribbons, and you can wear your chain of green Venetian beads," said Aunt Barbara. "Where are your Prayer Book and hymn-book? And your stockings? Bring them here with the other things; we'll pack in my bedroom."

The College broke up for the holidays on the Wednesday before Easter. Alison did not appear at school all that week, so Dorothy supposed that the uncle must have arrived, and that they had gone from home.

"Alison doesn't know I'm having a jaunt too," she thought. "We shall be able to compare notes when we meet again."

On the longed-for Thursday Dorothy, feeling very important and grown-up, met Dr. and Mrs. Longton at the station, and found herself "off and away". The trains were crowded and late, but she enjoyed the journey nevertheless. She had seen so little of the world that it was a delight to her to watch the landscape from the carriage windows; and the bustle of the busy station where they changed amused her, however it might distract Dr. Longton, who was anxious about the luggage. Their destination was Ringborough, a beautiful spot in Clevedale much celebrated for its bracing air and its splendid mountain views. The hydropathic establishment where they were to stay was situated on a pine-clad hillside, and its extensive grounds sloped to a turbulent northern river that swirled along, brown with peat from the moors.

Dr. Longton, who was an enthusiastic angler, and had come armed with a variety of fishing tackle, looked at the condition of the water with a critical eye as he passed.

"Well, when I can't fish I can golf," he remarked. "The links here are among the best in the kingdom. Dorothy, do you feel inclined to act caddy?"

"I'd rather carry your baskets of fish," laughed Dorothy.

"You little impudence! Do you mean to hint that my catches will prove such a light weight? Just wait and see. I'll make you earn your salt, young lady. Perhaps you'll be staggering under a creel like a Newhaven fishwife before you return. Here we are at last. Now, I hope they've really kept the rooms I asked for. I stipulated for a south aspect."

The hydropathic, it appeared, was very full, and the doctor, greatly to his dissatisfaction, was not able to have the particular accommodation for which he had written.

"We must put up with what we can get, I suppose," he grunted. "At this season everybody swarms out of town for a breath of mountain air and a try at the trout."

Dorothy, at any rate, was not disposed to grumble at the little bedroom which fell to her share, though it was on the top story. She liked going up and down in the lift, and her window looked directly out on to the woods at the back. There was a delicious smell of pines in the air, and when she leaned out she could catch a glimpse, round the corner, of a piece of brown river. In the highest spirits she unpacked and changed her dress, and Mrs. Longton came to take her downstairs.

The ways of a hydropathic were unknown to Dorothy; it seemed new and strange to her to enter the large public drawing-room, full of people waiting for the dinner gong to sound. She looked round with keen interest at the other visitors. A large party of gentlemen stood near the piano, discussing fishing prospects; some golfers, collected round the fire, were comparing notes and relating experiences; a few of the ladies were busy with fancy work, and some were reading. Standing by the bookcase, turning over the volumes, was a familiar little figure with a round, rosy face.

"By all that's marvellous, it's Alison!" gasped Dorothy.

The recognition between the two girls was a mutual astonishment. Alison rushed to welcome her friend in great excitement.

"Dorothy, is it really you? Oh, how delightful! Mother, Dorothy's actually staying here! Uncle David, this is my very greatest friend! Oh, what a perfectly lovely surprise! When did you come? We've been here since Monday."

Mrs. Clarke greeted Dorothy coldly, but the pleasant-faced, brown-bearded gentleman addressed as Uncle David smiled as he shook hands.

"So this is your school chum, Birdie? Well, it's a piece of luck for you that she's turned up here. There'll be high jinks now, I expect."

"Rather!" declared Alison, with a beaming look. "It's the one thing that will make the holiday complete."

Though Mrs. Clarke might not share her daughter's enthusiasm at the meeting, she found it impossible to prevent the intimacy between the two girls. She made a struggle at first to keep them apart, but Alison had been spoilt too long not to know how to wheedle her mother and get her own way.

"I can't be rude to Dorothy," she pleaded. "It will seem so extraordinary if I mayn't speak to her."

"I don't forbid you to speak to her, only there is no need for you to spend your whole time together. I don't wish you to be on such familiar terms," replied Mrs. Clarke.

"Nonsense, Cecily!" put in Uncle David, interfering on behalf of his niece. "You're quite absurd over Birdie. The poor child must have some young friends; you can't expect her to be content with us middle-aged people. I like this Dorothy What's-her-name. She has a bright, taking little face. It can't possibly do Birdie any harm to associate with her. You can't bring up the girl in cotton wool. You coddle her enough on the subject of health, so at least let her enjoy herself in other ways. I'm going fishing to-morrow with Dr. Longton—he's a bluff old Yorkshireman, but he's capital company, and he's a member of the North Riding Anglers' Club. He's promised to give me some hints."

With her uncle's influence on her side, Alison felt an official seal had been placed on her friendship; and as Mrs. Longton was pleased for Dorothy to have found a companion, the two girls were much together. Ringborough Hydropathic was a favourite resort for Coleminster people, and two other girls from the College happened to be staying there with their families—Hope Lawson and Gabrielle Helm, who was in the Lower Fifth. Hope did not look particularly pleased to meet her classmates; she gave them each a cool little nod, and took no further notice of them. She was much occupied with her own set of friends, and did not seem disposed to trouble herself with her schoolfellows; nor were they anxious to push themselves under her notice. Gabrielle Helm, on the contrary, claimed acquaintance with Dorothy and Alison, and introduced her brothers, Percy and Eric, who attended the Coleminster Boys' College. The young people were keen on golf, and from them Dorothy received her first lessons on the links, laughing very much over her mistakes and false strokes, and enjoying every moment of the time. She had never spent such holidays, or dreamed that they were even possible; and the days did not seem half or a quarter long enough for all the delightful things there were to do in them.

"It was good of you to bring me," she said sometimes to Mrs. Longton.

"It's a pleasure to see your bright face, my dear," replied her kind chaperon. "You're so rosy, your aunt will hardly know you when you return."

"Dorothy is growing quite pretty," said Gabrielle Helm to Alison. "I used to think her rather a scrawny-looking girl, but she's suddenly developed into almost a beauty. Percy said last night he thought her ripping, and he's a fearful old 'hard-to-please'."

"Yes," said Alison contemplatively, "Dorothy has changed. Of course, her eyes were always lovely, but her face has filled out lately, and she does her hair more becomingly. That's made a difference. And that blue dress suits her. I think she's prettier now than Hope Lawson."

"Hope wouldn't allow that."

"Rather not!" laughed Alison.

Dorothy was indeed having "the time of her life", and very great happiness is often an aid to good looks. Though she found Mrs. Clarke rather chilly and distant, she liked Alison's Uncle David immensely. Sometimes the two girls would accompany him and the doctor on a fishing expedition, or a walk through the pine woods, where he proved the pleasantest and most humorous of companions; or, better still, they would catch him in the half-hour before dinner, decoy him into one of the small sitting-rooms generally empty at that time in the evening, and then cajole him into telling some of his experiences in the jungle. To Dorothy these Indian stories were thrilling; she was never tired of hearing about tigers and elephants, ruined temples, fakirs, coolies, and midnight adventures.

"Of course, Uncle David draws the long bow considerably," laughed Alison. "He expects one to take ten per cent discount off all his traveller's yarns. But they're very fascinating, even if they're not true! He likes you, because you're a good listener. Dorothy, what shall we do without you when the holiday's over?"

"Don't speak of it! I'm living in the present from hour to hour," declared Dorothy.

CHAPTER XII

The Subterranean Cavern

The Ringborough Hydropathic was not only celebrated for fishing and golf—the neighbourhood itself held many attractions. The mountains round, grim stony ridges, contained curiosities of nature such as are only found in a limestone district. There were wonderful subterranean caverns, full of stalactites and stalagmites; underground lakes and rivers, and mysterious "potholes" leading no one knew whither.

"We ought to make an excursion to Lingham Cave," said Percy Helm one day. "It's one of the local sights, and it seems a pity to miss it. Couldn't we arrange to go altogether in a big party? To-morrow would be a good opportunity."

When to-morrow came, none of the elders seemed disposed to fall in with Percy's plans. Dr. Longton and Mr. Clarke were bent on fishing, Mrs. Longton was tired and preferred to stay in the garden, and Mr. and Mrs. Helm wished to play golf. Mrs. Clarke would not hear of Alison's going on such an expedition.

"I've been before to Lingham," she said, "and I know from experience how damp and cold it is inside the cave. You were coughing last night, Birdie, and I don't want to risk your catching a bad cold. You must be content to do something quiet to-day."

Dorothy easily obtained Mrs. Longton's consent, so she and the three young Helms took packets of lunch and started to walk over the fells to Lingham, a distance of about four miles. The weather was still cold, and the crests of some of the highest hills were tipped with snow. The keen, bracing air felt like a tonic. The four strode along briskly over the short moorland grass, admiring the rugged gorge whence the river flowed first between two sheer walls of limestone,