The Fortunes Of Philippa Part 12

"I think we had better put you to bed," said Mrs. Marshall, adding in an undertone to Miss Buller: "If she is not better by this evening, I shall certainly send for the doctor."

I was not better by the evening; my hands were burning hot, and my head felt so unusually light that I could scarcely recognize the many people who seemed to come in and out of my room. I knew that when I asked for water Miss Buller was always ready with the gla.s.s in her hand, I thought once that Cathy was sobbing quietly behind the curtain of my bed, and I am certain that Mrs. Marshall never left me all night.

"It is a decided case of nervous breakdown, due to overwork," I heard the doctor saying. "You must keep her very quiet, and I will see her again in the morning."

There were no more lessons for me that term. As soon as I was well enough to travel Aunt Agatha took me herself for a fortnight to Brighton, where the restful uneventful days and the invigorating sea-breezes soon brought back the roses to my cheeks, and gave me untroubled sleep and peaceful dreams at night. I think this episode, and something which the doctor had said, must have caused Mrs. Marshall seriously to reconsider the rules of the school and the hours of our work. She was a sensible woman, most conscientious over our well-being, and ever ready to adopt new ideas if she believed them to be better than the old ones. When I returned to school at the beginning of the next term, I found that our time-table was completely changed. The hours of work were considerably relaxed, and instead of the stupid walks up and down the high-road, we were taken almost daily rambles over the hills or in the beautiful woods by the river. Miss Percy had mysteriously disappeared, and her place was filled by a new teacher who was fond of natural history, and who encouraged us to find specimens of stones, leaves, or flowers, explaining them with so much enthusiasm that the stupidest girl could not fail to be interested. The new scheme answered well; the extra time given to outdoor recreation was not wasted, for we went back to our books with fresh zeal; and I think we really got through as much work as we had done before, if not in the actual number of pages learnt, at any rate in the amount we remembered afterwards.

CHAPTER X

A PICNIC AND AN ADVENTURE

"Beneath the trees we'll have one day Of frolicsome employment, And birds shall sing and winds shall blow To help us to enjoyment."

The changed conditions at The Hollies, added to my long Christmas holiday, had completely brought me back to my usual health and high spirits, and I soon found the ordinary work of the cla.s.s to be well within my capacities. Now that Miss Percy's continual nagging was removed I felt a different girl, and began to enjoy thoroughly my school-life once more. Miss Hope, our new mistress, was one of those bright sunny souls who seem able to bring the very best out of all those who are near them. She made few rules, trusting much to our sense of honour and good feeling, and so well did we respond to her kindness that there was soon quite a different tone in the cla.s.s, for the thought of grieving her would deter us from wrong-doing far more easily than all Miss Percy's threats of punishment. She had no favourites, but I think that Cathy and I, as being more interested than the others in the botany and natural history, which were her special subjects, came in for an extra share of her affection, and I know we both wors.h.i.+pped her with that depth of devotion which school-girls are ever ready to offer to a teacher whom they really respect and love.

As the summer came on, with the long light days, we were taken out more frequently for expeditions over the delightful Derbys.h.i.+re moors. These Sat.u.r.day-afternoon rambles were looked forward to throughout the whole week, and we would return from them with such red cheeks and hearty appet.i.tes that I think Mrs. Marshall was amply satisfied with the result of her new regulations. We all felt it a decided innovation when she proposed a picnic instead of the usual mild garden-party with which we had been accustomed to celebrate her birthday on the first of June.

"It's to be a real, genuine, grown-up kind of picnic too," said Janet.

"Not just going for a walk and taking milk and biscuits with you. There are to be five wagonettes, and we're to drive all the way to Redburn and have tea at a farm on the side of the scar."

"There's a glorious little wood there," said Cathy, "where lilies-of-the-valley grow wild. Miss Hope says she believes they'll just be in flower. It will be perfectly delightful if we find them."

"Mrs. Thompson at the farm makes the most splendid girdle-cakes," put in Millicent. "I know, because I went there once before when Mother took her Sunday-school treat, and they were absolutely delicious. You eat them hot out of the oven, with loads of honey."

"I hope it will be fine to-morrow," I said. "I suppose we shall go another day if it rains, but a thing never seems quite the same if it is put off."

"Fine? Of course it will be fine!" said Janet. "The sky is as clear as it can be, and the moon is new, and the little soldier is standing at his door in the barometer in my bedroom, and the cattle are grazing uphill, and the pimpernel is out by the gate, and Miss Buller's hair is in curl, and the midges are biting horribly, so if you can prophesy rain after that, Miss Philippa, you don't know the English climate, that's all I can say."

"I never prophesy till I know," I replied, laughing. "But I think after such a list of good omens the weather could hardly, for shame, disappoint us, though I can't give the English climate much of a character, after all."

Janet was right, for the first of June proved to be a glorious day, bright and clear, with a cloudless sky, and a fresh wind blowing down from the moors. Punctually at half-past one the wagonettes drove up to the door, and with much excitement we packed ourselves into them, Cathy and I, after a scramble with Janet, securing the coveted seats next to our dear Miss Hope. It was an eight-mile drive through the most charming scenery. The white limestone road first followed the river bank amid beautiful woods, green with all the wealth of early summer foliage and literally carpeted with bluebells, while on the far side of the river rose steep cliffs covered from base to summit with oak-trees, the pinky brown of their opening leaves making a rich contrast to the dark pines which interspersed them here and there. Leaving the woods behind us we wound slowly up the steep slope, between rough stone walls or banks of gra.s.s and furze, the great bare rolling hills stretched out before us, where the sheep were cropping the short sweet gra.s.s that grew between the clumps of sedge and rushes, and the larks were singing loudly and joyfully as they rose from their nests among the heather. Redburn proved to be a quaint little old-world gray-stone village, set in a dip amongst the moors, where it might receive some slight shelter from the bitter north wind which blew from the hills in winter-time. We rattled through its steep cobbled streets, making a brief pause at the church, where some ancient stone coffins and carved choir stalls were to be seen, and then on again, over the mountain-side, till we finally drew up in the farmyard of Ingledew Grange, where Mrs. Thompson, the farmer's wife, in a clean print dress and snowy ap.r.o.n, was waiting to receive us with many smiles and words of welcome.

"I'm fain glad it's turned out a fine day for ye, that I am," she said.

"Ye'll be nigh clemmed after your drive, I take it, and more than ready for your teas. I won't be above a few minutes in mas.h.i.+n' the pots, but if ye care to take a turn round the garden whilst the cakes is a-gettin'

out of the oven ye can go where ye like."

We certainly agreed with her that the fresh moorland air had given a keen edge to our appet.i.tes, and she hastened to finish her preparations, while we prowled about the sweet old garden, where the little June roses hung white over the rustic porch, and the peac.o.c.ks on the lawn below were spreading their glorious tails to the suns.h.i.+ne.

We had tea at long tables in a great farm-kitchen, the high roof of which had black oak rafters arched like those of a church, while the flagged floor was strewn with the finest white sand. Everything was as neat and clean as constant scrubbing and scouring could make it; the oak furniture shone with polis.h.i.+ng, on a fine old dresser was spread out a goodly array of blue willow-pattern china, while the brightest of copper sauce-pans and pewter pots adorned the plain, whitewashed walls.

Millicent had certainly not overstated the quality of the cakes, nor the freshness of the large brown eggs, nor the sweetness of the honey with its delicious flavour of moorland heather, nor the dark barley bread, nor the rich cream which Mrs. Marshall poured into our tea-cups with a lavish hand. It was a real old-fas.h.i.+oned farmhouse tea, and we did justice to it with such ample country appet.i.tes, that I think even Mrs.

Thompson was satisfied that we had enjoyed ourselves. We dispersed afterwards in little groups for a ramble round the fields, and in the pretty shady wood which lay at the foot of the dell.

"Lilies-of-the-valley?" said Mrs. Thompson, in response to our eager enquiries. "Ay, there's a many of them down in yon clough. We call 'em 'snow-bobs' about here. Ye can pluck till ye're tired if ye've a mind."

"Come along, Phil!" cried Cathy; and we started down the path between the springing corn, running for pure joy of the fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne, and s.n.a.t.c.hing as we pa.s.sed at the lacy flowers of the wild cornel which hung over the hedgerow like ma.s.ses of snow. A broad brook flowed through the little glade, and on either side, under the shade of the overhanging trees, grew the lilies-of-the-valley in such sweet profusion that the whole air seemed full of their delicious perfume. We ran here and there half wild with delight, burying our noses in the fragrant blossoms, and picking until our hands were full.

"Aren't they glorious?" said I.

"Simply perfect!" said Cathy.

"I want to sniff them all up!" said Janet, who with a few other girls had followed us.

"The fourth cla.s.s are coming down the hill," said Ernestine. "They'll have to be quick, or they won't find any left."

"There are plenty on the other side of the water," I said, "if we could only manage to get over. I should like to pick a particularly nice bunch for Mrs. Marshall"; and I looked doubtfully at the trunk of a tree which had been laid across the brook to serve as a rough kind of bridge.

There had been some attempt at a handrail, for a long pole swung from two ropes tied to the trees on either side, but it was of such a very shaky and insecure description that it would be barely sufficient to steady one's self by in the crossing.

"It doesn't look at all safe," declared Janet. "You won't catch me trying such a perilous path for all the flowers in the world."

"I think I shall venture," I said, "the lilies look so much finer over there. Only mind you don't shake the pole while I'm crossing; it's unsteady enough as it is."

The round tree-trunk did not make a very firm foothold, and the swinging handrail felt the most insecure of supports when I started on to the bridge. I went along with great caution, one step at a time, trying to balance myself steadily and not to think of the rus.h.i.+ng water below.

"Very good! Very good indeed!" called Cathy from the bank.

"Don't hurry. Keep steady. You're half-way over!" cried Janet.

"It looks easy enough, I shall come too," exclaimed Ernestine. She seized the handrail as if to follow me, but the sudden touch on the shaking pole was too much for my frail balance--the rail swayed violently and swung away out of my clutching grasp, my foot slipped, and with a shriek of terror I found myself flung into the stream below.

Luckily it was neither deep nor dangerous, but even half a yard of water is quite enough to get very wet in, and I was a moist and draggled object by the time I had struggled back to dry land.

"It's all your fault, Ernestine!" I cried wrathfully as I regained the bank. "I told you not to shake the handrail, and you knew it would upset me!"

"You're the meanest thing in the world, Ernestine Salt!" declared Cathy, her cheeks crimson with indignation as she tried to wring the water from my dripping skirts. "Don't speak to me; I never intend to be friends with you again."

"You did it on purpose," began Janet. "I know you did. You're always playing sneaking tricks on Philippa when you think no one will find you out."

"You needn't think you're going to stay here with us," said Blanche Greenwood, hotly. "Because we don't want you. We didn't ask you to come, and you may go away and walk by yourself."

"I've no wish to stay with you, I'm sure," replied Ernestine with equal temper. "I would rather have your room than your company. I've picked all the lilies I want, so you're welcome to any that are left, so far as I'm concerned, if that's why you wish to get rid of me."

And with this parting shot, she took her flowers and walked slowly away in the opposite direction to that in which we had come, by a small path that led from the wood up on to the moor beyond.

"You're terribly wet, Phil; your boots are simply squelching with water.

I don't know what Mrs. Marshall will say!" said Cathy, as she hurried me back to the farm as fast as possible, to be dried.

Somewhat to my relief, neither Mrs. Marshall nor any of the teachers was there. Like ourselves they were all trying to make the best of the fine afternoon out-of-doors.

"Deary me! Who'd have thought of you falling into that bit of a brook?"

said Mrs. Thompson, aghast, as I walked into the kitchen in my moist skirts. "We must get you out of those wet things, honey. I've some clothes of my Lizzie's as would fit you while your own is at the fire."

Lizzie's skirt was decidedly too short for me, and Lizzie's boots were equally large and roomy; her stockings, moreover, were of thick, home-knitted worsted, very hot and uncomfortable; but I was grateful for anything in the circ.u.mstances, and would, I believe, have worn a pair of sabots if they had been offered to me.

"We shall just have time for a walk, Cathy, after all," I said. "It can't be very late yet, and we don't start home until six o'clock. Let us go up that path through the glen that led on to the moors."