Excerpt
CHAPTER I THE MOATED GRANGE
“Here they are!”
“Not really!”
“It is, I tell you!”
“Jubilate! You’re right, old sport! Scooterons-nous this very sec! Quick! Hurry! Stir your old bones, can’t you?”
The two girls, who had been standing in the ruined watch-tower that spanned the gateway, tore down the broken corkscrew staircase at a speed calculated to imperil their necks seriously, and reached the bottom at the identical moment that a motor char-à-banc rounded the corner and drew up in front of the entrance. Sixteen jolly faces were grinning under sixteen school hats, and at least a dozen excited voices were pouring forth a perfect babel of exclamations.
“How ripping!”
“Oh, I say!”
“This is top-hole!”
“What a chubby place!”
“I’d no idea it would be like this!”
“Oh, hold me up! This child’s knocked me over entirely!”
The opening day of a fresh term is always more or less of an event, but this particular reunion was a thrillingly important occasion, for during the Easter holidays the school had removed, and the girls were now having their first peep at their new quarters.
The vision that greeted them through the old gateway was certainly calculated to justify their ecstatic remarks. A grassy courtyard, interspersed with box-edged flower beds and flagged footpaths, led to a large, gray old Tudor house, whose mullioned diamond-paned windows, twisted chimney stacks, irregular moss-grown roof, ivied bell-tower, stone balls and carved porch offered the very utmost of the romantic and picturesque. The change from the humdrum, ordinary surroundings of their former school was supreme. Miss Beasley had promised them a pleasant surprise, and she had undoubtedly kept her word. The sixteen new arrivals grasped their handbags and small possessions, and set off up the flagged pathway with delight written large on their countenances. Raymonde Armitage and Aveline Kerby, in virtue of half an hour’s longer acquaintance with the premises, trotted alongside and did the honours.
“Yes, it’s topping! Regular old country mansion sort of a place. Might have come straight, slap-bang out of a novel! You should see the Bumble Bee! I can tell you she’s pleased with life! Buzzing about no end! Even the Wasp’s got a smile on! Fact! You needn’t look so incredulous. I’m not ragging.”
“It’s true,” confirmed Raymonde. “The Wasp’s quite jinky to-day. Actually said ‘my dear’ to me when I arrived. Of course, Mother was there, but even then it gave me spasms. Gibbie, of all people in this wide world, to call me ‘my dear’! I nearly collapsed! ‘Goodness! what next?’ I thought. ‘Wonders will never cease!’”
“Gibbie’s certainly not given to trotting out pet names, even before parents,” chirruped Morvyth Holmes. “Perhaps she’s striking out a new line, and we shall all be ‘Darling’ and ‘Sweetest’ now!”
“Don’t you alarm yourself! She couldn’t twist her tongue round them. I’d think she was pining away to an early death if she did!...