The Girls of Chequertrees. Marion St. John Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ said Isobel. "I was only wondering what work I could do."

      "I daresay you'll be able to find some dress-making classes, Caroline," said Pamela. "We'll go out and buy a local paper and see what's going on. But, Isobel, what are you going to do?" Pamela asked, looking across at Isobel.

      "Ah me!" sighed Isobel. "Well, if I must decide, I'll decide on dancing. I'm frightfully keen on dancing, you know. I'll attend classes for that if you like—that is, if there are such things as dancing classes in this sleepy little place.... I might do a bit of photography too. I didn't bring my camera—but perhaps I can buy a new one—it's great fun taking snapshots."

      "If there are no classes in Barrowfield there is almost sure to be a town within a few miles, where we can get what we want," Pamela said.

      Matters now being settled as far as was possible at the present moment, Pamela said she was going out to look round the village, and Isobel immediately said she would go with her as she wanted to buy some buttons for her gloves. Beryl would have liked to go with Pamela, but felt sensitive about visiting the village for the first time in Isobel's company—for more than one reason; so she said she would go and unpack her box and get her music books out, and look round the village later on. Caroline also elected to stay and unpack and put her room in order. So Pamela and Isobel started off together.

      They had been gone but five minutes when the post arrived with a registered letter addressed to Pamela.

      "Ah," said Martha knowingly, as she laid the letter in the tray on the hall-stand.

      CHAPTER VI

      MILLICENT JACKSON GIVES SOME INFORMATION

      "What a one-eyed sort of place this is," said Isobel inelegantly, as she came out of the village drapery establishment and joined Pamela, who was waiting on the green outside.

      "I was just thinking how charming the little village looks," said Pamela, "clustering round this wide stretch of green with the pond and the ducks. And look at the lanes and hills and woods rising in the background! It is picturesque."

      "Oh, it may be frightfully picturesque and all that," Isobel replied, "but picturesqueness won't provide one with black pearl buttons to sew on one's gloves. Would you believe it—not one of these impossible shops keeps such things. 'Black pearl buttons, miss. I'm sorry we haven't any in stock. Black bone—would black bone do—or a fancy button, miss?'" Isobel mimicked the voice of the 'creature' (as she called her) who served in the tiny draper's shop.

      "Well, I suppose they're not often asked for black pearl," said Pamela, as they moved on. "And wouldn't black bone do?"

      "Black bone!" said Isobel disdainfully.

      "Well, you can't expect to find Oxford Street shops down here in Barrowfield," smiled Pamela. "And it's jolly lucky there aren't such shops, or Barrowfield would be a town to-morrow. Still, is there anywhere else you'd like to try?"

      "No, I shan't bother any more to-day," Isobel sighed. "I did want them—but I'll wear my other gloves till I can get the buttons to match the two I've lost.... How people do stare at one here. Look at that old woman over there—And, oh, do look at the butcher standing on his step glaring at us! He looks as if his eyes might go off 'pop' at any moment, doesn't he?"

      Although Isobel pretended to be annoyed, she really rather enjoyed the attention she and Pamela were attracting. Naturally the village was curious about these strange young ladies who had come to stay at Miss Crabingway's house. Thomas Bagg had given his version of the arrivals last night as he chatted with the landlord of the 'Blue Boar,' and had professed to know more about the matter than he actually did. In acting thus he was not alone, for most of the village pretended to know something of the reason why Miss Emily Crabingway had suddenly gone away, and why her house was occupied by four strange young ladies. In reality nobody knew much about it at all. It speaks well for Martha and Ellen that they were not persuaded to tell more than they did; maybe they didn't know more; maybe they did, but wouldn't say. The village gossips shook their heads at the closeness of these two trusted servants concerning their mistress's affairs.... And so Pamela and Isobel attracted more than the usual attention bestowed on strangers in Barrowfield—the bolder folk (like the butcher) staring unabashed from their front doors, while the more retiring peeped through their curtains.

      Barrowfield itself was certainly very picturesque; no wonder it appealed to Pamela's artistic eye. Surrounded by tree-clad hills, the village lay jumbled about the wide green—in the centre of which was a pond with ducks on it; white-washed cottages, old houses, quaint little shops, and inns with thatched roofs, stood side by side in an irregular circle. Seen from one of the neighbouring hills you might have fancied that Barrowfield was having a game of Ring-o'-Roses around the green, while the little odd cottages dotted here and there on the hill-sides looked longingly on, like children who have not been invited to play but who might at any moment run down the slopes and join in. The square-towered church and the Manor House, both on a hill outside the magic ring, stood watching like dignified grown-up people.

      Chequertrees was one of the biggest houses in the circle around the green, and a few dozen yards beyond its gate a steep tree-lined avenue led up to the big house of the neighbourhood—the Manor House, where lived the owners of most of the land and property in Barrowfield. The Manor House was about a quarter of a mile beyond the village, and stood half-way up the avenue, at the top of which was the square-towered church. Close beside the church, but so hidden among trees as to be invisible until you were near at hand, was the snug vicarage.

      The railway station at which the girls had arrived on the previous evening was a mile and a half away on a road that led out from the opposite end of the green to where Chequertrees stood. Several lanes climbed up from the green and wound over the hills to towns and villages beyond—the nearest market town being four miles distant if you went by the lane, six miles if you followed the main road that ran past the station.

      Of course Pamela and Isobel would not have known all this on their first short walk round Barrowfield had they not fallen into conversation with the girl who served in the newsagent's, and who was only too ready to impart information to them when they went in to buy a local newspaper. She was a large-boned girl with a lot of big teeth, that showed conspicuously when she talked; she eyed curiously, and not without envy, the well-cut clothes and 'stylish' hats that the two girls were wearing.

      Pamela noticed that the girl wore a brooch made of gold-wire twisted into the name 'Millicent,' and as 'Jackson' was the name painted over the shop outside, she tacked it on, in her own mind, as Millicent's surname.

      It being still early in the day Millicent Jackson's toilet was not properly finished—that is to say, she did not appear as she would later on about tea-time, with her hair frizzed up and wearing her brown serge skirt and afternoon blouse. Her morning attire was a very unsatisfactory affair. Millicent wore all her half-soiled blouses in the mornings, and her hair was straight and untidily pinned up; she had a black apron over her skirt, and her hands, which were not pretty at the best of times, looked big and red, and they were streaked with blacking as if she had recently been cleaning a stove. Poor Millicent, she found it impossible to do the housework and appear trim and tidy in the shop at the same time. She discovered herself suddenly wishing that the young ladies had postponed their visit till the afternoon, when she would have been dressed. But there were compensations even for being 'caught untidy'; for could she not see that young Agnes Jones across the way peering out of her shop door, overcome with curiosity, and would she not dash across to Millicent as soon as the young ladies had departed, to know all about the interview! So it was with mixed feelings that Millicent kept the young ladies talking as long as she could.

      "Yes, it's a vurry ole church, and vurry interestin'," said Millicent for the third СКАЧАТЬ