A harum-scarum schoolgirl Part 9

Diana, looking at the exeat list which hung in the hall, shook her head at sight of her own name scored through with a blue pencil.

"Just to think that removing my boots and stockings for ten short minutes should have cut me off from going to Glenbury," she philosophized. "I was only 'laving my feet', as the poets say. Nymphs always did it in cla.s.sical times. Indeed, I don't suppose they ever had boots and stockings to take off, so they could paddle as they pleased."

"They had a warmer climate in Greece," sniffed Wendy, who had a bad cold in her head as the result of her paddling; "and I suppose they were accustomed to it. If there is anything you want particularly in Glenbury, Magsie's going, and I expect she'd get it for you."

"I don't know whether she could."

"What is it you want?"

Diana hesitated, then whispered in Wendy's ear:

"Three packets of Turkish cigarettes."

"O-o-o-oh!"

Wendy's eyes were wide. Diana nodded determinedly.

"But what do you want them for?"

"That's my own business."

"You surely don't _smoke_!"--in a horrified voice.

"I don't want them for myself--I'll tell you that much."

"For whom are they, then?"

"I shan't tell you!"

"Magsie would never dare to bolt into a tobacconist's and buy cigarettes."

"I was afraid she wouldn't," said Diana sadly.

"And you'd better be careful yourself if you go to Glenbury next exeat day. Toddlekins would draw the line at cigarettes. You wouldn't like to get expelled?"

"I don't know that I'd very much care," sighed Diana.

She revenged herself for her enforced seclusion by clumping noisily about the pa.s.sages, till Miss Todd, hearing the racket, dropped a significant hint as to the necessity of compulsory felt slippers for girls who had not learnt to walk lightly. So, fearing that the Princ.i.p.al might really carry out this threat, Diana betook herself to the garden, and expended her superfluous energy on a fast and furious set of tennis.

Having lost three b.a.l.l.s, she left Vi and Peggy to look for them, and, still in a thoroughly bad temper, strolled round the corner of the house. On the front drive she saw a sight that set her running. Exactly opposite the door stood the car of her cousin, Mrs. Burritt. It was empty, but the chauffeur, at the top of the steps, was in the very act of handing two envelopes to the housemaid.

"Anything for me, Thompson?" cried Diana eagerly.

"Yes, miss. Letter for you, and one for Miss Todd," replied the man, touching his cap.

Diana seized hers from Edith, the maid, devoured its contents, and clapped her hands.

"I'll be ready in five minutes, Thompson!" she exclaimed, and fled indoors.

Half-way down the corridor she nearly ran into Miss Todd, emerging from her study with an open letter in her hand.

"Where are you going, Diana?"

"Cousin Cora's asked me for the night! She's sent the car for me. My cousin Lenox is there on leave!" panted Diana.

"So I understand from Mrs. Burritt's letter, but I certainly cannot allow you to go."

"Not go?"

Diana's face was a study.

"I had no authority from your father and mother to allow you to accept invitations."

"But I _know_ they'd let me! Oh, Miss Todd, I simply _must_!"

"That's for me to decide, Diana, not you, and I say 'no'."

Mistress and pupil looked at each other squarely. Miss Todd's mouth was set in a firm line. Evidently she considered that she was fighting a campaign against Diana, and she meant to carry this outpost. Diana had the sense to realize her defeat. She drooped her lashes over her eyes.

"May I send a note to Cousin Cora?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"You can if you wish, and I'll write to her myself, and explain that it is against our rules."

Murmuring something that sounded dangerously like "Strafe rules!" Diana darted upstairs for blotting-pad and fountain-pen. She frowned hard while she scribbled, thumped the envelope as she closed it, then ran down to give it into the personal charge of the chauffeur. She would have added some comments for his benefit, had Miss Hampson not been standing upon the doorstep.

"You're not coming, miss?" enquired Thompson civilly, but with evident astonishment.

"_No!_" grunted Diana, turning indoors and clumping down the hall past Miss Todd's study with footsteps heavy enough to justify the demand for felt slippers.

She was too angry at the moment to mind what happened, and the Princ.i.p.al, who was wise in her generation, allowed her to stamp by unchallenged.

At tea-time, at preparation, at evening recreation, and at supper Diana sat with a thunder-cloud on her face. When she went to bed it burst. She squatted in a limp heap on the floor and raged at fate.

"I'm sorry, but you're really making a most fearful fuss!" said Loveday, whose sympathy and sense of fitness were playing see-saw. "It's one of the rules of the school that we don't go away for odd holidays. We may have Friday to Monday at half-term, but even Mrs. Gifford never let anyone off in the middle of the week to stay a night. You're only served the same as everybody else. Why can't you take it sporting?"

"You don't understand!" wailed Diana, mopping her moist cheeks.

"Do get up from the floor, at any rate. It looks so weak to be huddled up like a bundle of rags. You haven't brushed your hair yet. Don't be a slacker, Diana!"

Thus morally prodded, Diana rose dejectedly, put on her bedroom slippers, and took the hair-brush which her room-mate handed. She did not like to be called a slacker, particularly by Loveday. The atmosphere was not altogether harmonious: she felt as if their thoughts were running round in circles, and had not yet met at a mutual angle of comprehension.

"Loveday doesn't understand me--she thinks me a spoilt cry-baby!" she kept repeating to herself, and the mere fact of realizing that att.i.tude in her companion prevented her from trying to explain the situation.

Hair-brush drill proceeded in dead silence, only broken by an occasional gasping sigh from Diana, which echoed through the room about as cheerfully as a funeral dirge. Loveday stared at her once or twice as if about to make a remark, but changed her mind; she dawdled about the room, opening drawers and rearranging her possessions. When at last she was ready to put out the light she paused, and turned to the other cubicle. Diana lay quietly with her nose buried in the pillow. Loveday bent over her and dropped a b.u.t.terfly kiss on the inch of cheek visible.

"Poor old sport! Was I rather a beast?" she said; then, hearing Miss Beverley's patrol step in the pa.s.sage, she dabbed the extinguisher on the candle and hopped hastily into bed.

All night long Loveday had uneasy and troubled dreams about Diana. They met and parted, and quarrelled and made it up; they did ridiculous and impossible things, such as crawling through tubes or walking on roofs; they were pursued by bulls, or they floated on rivers; yet always they were together, and Loveday, with a feeling of compunction and no sense at all of the ridiculous, was trying with a sponge to mop up Diana's overflowing rivers of tears that were running down and making pools on a clean table-cloth. She awoke with a start, feeling almost as if the sheets were damp. Stealthy sounds came from the next cubicle, and the candle was lighted there.

"What's the matter, Diana?"