18 next morning
bill hadn’t wanted to leave thunder, of course. but miss peters spoke to her firmly and gently. “now, bill—you must leave matters to us. you know that we shall do our best for the horse, and now that he has had that draught he will be all right. we’ll walk him as long as necessary. but you and darrell have done your share and you are tired out. be sensible, bill, and do as you are told.”
“yes, i will,” said bill, unexpectedly. she took miss peters’ hand in hers and held it tightly. “miss peters—i can never repay you. never. but i’ll never forget tonight and all you did.”
miss peters patted bill on the back. “that’s all right. i’m not asking for any repayment! i’m fond of thunder, too, and i knew how you felt. i’m not sending him home, bill. you shall keep him. i don’t somehow think i shall ever have to punish you again by saying you mustn’t see him.”
“you won’t,” said bill, her face gleaming in the lamplight. “i’ll be your—your very best pupil from now on, miss peters!”
“well—that will be a wonderful repayment,” said miss peters, smiling. “now do go, both of you. you look so pale and tired. you must both have breakfast in bed!”
“oh no!” protested both girls. “we couldn’t bear it.”
“all right. i can’t bear it either,” said miss peters. “you can go to bed early instead! now, good night—or rather, good morning! it’s nearly three o’clock!”
the two girls stumbled into north tower, yawning. they hardly said a word to one another, they were so tired. but they were happy, and felt as if they had been friends for years! bill slid into bed. she whispered to darrell.
“darrell! i know you’re sally’s friend, so you can’t be mine. but i’m yours for ever and ever. just you remember that! i’ll pay you back some day for all you did tonight.”
“that’s all right,” said darrell, sleepily, and was asleep almost at once.
in the morning, what a to-do! darrell and bill slept so soundly that not even the bell awoke them. when jean pulled at them they shrugged away and cuddled down again, hardly waking.
“darrell! bill! i say, what’s the matter with them both! wake up, you two, the bell’s gone ages ago. do wake up—we want to tell you something. mavis isn’t back! her bed is empty!”
the rest of the girls were talking excitedly about mavis’s non-appearance. jean was very worried. she felt that she ought to have reported the night before that mavis had not come to bed with the rest of them. she was feeling very guilty.
“i must go to miss potts at once,” she said and she rushed off. but miss potts knew all about mavis, for matron had already reported to her. miss grayling knew, too. there had been a great upset about it. mavis was now in the san. where sick girls were kept, and sister, who looked after the san., was in charge of her. the doctor had been to see her already.
jean listened to all this in amazement. “did mavis—did she go to billington?” she asked.
“oh! so you know about that too,” said miss potts, grimly. “funny sort of head-girl you are, jean, not to have reported that mavis was not in the dormitory last night. very remiss of you. there are times when you have to make a distinction between telling tales and reporting. you know that. we might have saved mavis from a serious illness if we had learnt from you that she hadn’t gone to bed.”
jean went white. “i fell asleep,” she said, miserably, “i was going to wait till the last bus came in—and if mavis didn’t come in then i was going to come and report. but i fell asleep.”
“a lame excuse,” said miss potts, who was angry with herself for not having popped her head into the third form dormy the night before, when she had heard talking. if only she had!
“can we see mavis?” asked jean.
“certainly not,” said miss potts. “she is seriously ill. she got soaked through, and then lay for some time by the roadside. she has bronchitis now—and we are hoping it won’t turn to anything worse. her throat is terribly bad, too—she can hardly whisper.”
jean went back to the third form dormy feeling guilty and alarmed. she found the third-formers gathered round darrell, listening excitedly to her tale of the night before. bill was not there. she had rushed off to the stables at once, of course.
“listen . . .” said jean. but nobody listened. they were all agape at darrell’s amazing tale. jean found herself listening, too.
“but—would you believe miss peters could be so utterly decent?” said belinda, in surprise. “she was super! how lucky that you fetched her, darrell!”
“it was a night!” said darrell. “bill and i must have walked miles and miles with thunder round the yard. i wonder how he is this morning.”
footsteps raced up the corridor to the dormy. bill burst in, her face glowing. “darrell! darrell! he’s all right. right as rain, and eating his oats as if he couldn’t have enough. the vet stayed with him till half-past seven, and miss peters stayed till now. she never went to bed again!”
“golly! she’s wonderful,” said alicia, seeing miss peters in an entirely new light. “bill, why didn’t you and darrell wake us up, too?”
“we never thought of anything like that,” said bill. “we only thought of thunder. darrell was marvellous, too. oh, i feel so happy. thunder’s all right. he’s not going to be sent home. everything’s fine. and i shall never, never forget what miss peters did last night.”
“you will!” said alicia. “you’ll sit and look out of the window and dream in class, just as you always do!”
“i shan’t,” said bill, earnestly. “don’t tease me, alicia. i feel a bit queer though i feel so happy. now i know that miss peters is fond of thunder—and he loves her, too, fancy that!—i shall feel quite different about everything. i might even let her ride him.”
jean at last got a word in. “listen to me now!” she said, and she told the third-formers about mavis. they listened in horrified silence. darrell burst out at once.
“gracious! so miss peters didn’t only save thunder last night—she saved mavis, too. but i say—fancy mavis trying to walk home all those miles in the dark by herself. she’s afraid of the dark, too.”
the girls were happy about bill and thunder, but upset about mavis. they stood about in the dormy, talking, forgetting all about breakfast. somebody came running up the corridor. it was lucy of the fourth form.
“i say! what are you all thinking of? aren’t you coming to breakfast? the bell’s gone long ago. mam’zelle is absolutely furious!”
“oh dear! come on, everyone,” said jean. “i feel all in a whirl.”
the news about thunder and about mavis spread all through the school, and was the talk in every class from the bottom form to the top. darrell and bill had to tell the tale over and over again.
it was sunday so there were no classes. in the school chapel, where the service was held, a prayer was said for mavis. all the girls joined in it, for although few of them liked mavis they were all sorry for her. the news went round that she was worse. her parents had been sent for! oh dear, thought jean, it was all her fault!
by the next morning, however, mavis had taken a turn for the better. thunder, too, was perfectly all right. bill was thrilled. it seemed impossible that a horse in such pain as thunder had been should be quite recovered the day after. how wonderful people like doctors and vets were!
the girls settled down to their classes on monday, glad that mavis was better. jean especially was thankful. perhaps she would soon be back in school. the whole matter would have blown over. mavis would be given a talking to by miss grayling, but no punishment because she had punished herself enough. everything would be all right.
miss peters had had a good rest on the sunday, and was taking the third form as usual on monday. when she came into the classroom, she had a surprise.
“hurrah for miss peters!” cried darrell’s voice, and to the amazement of the forms on each side of the third form room, three hearty cheers rang out for miss peters. she couldn’t help being pleased. she smiled pleasantly all round.
“thank you,” she said. “that was nice of you. now—open your books at page forty-three. alicia, come up to the blackboard, please.”
darrell looked with interest at bill several times that morning. bill didn’t gaze out of the window once. she paid great attention to every word that miss peters said. she answered intelligently, and when it was her turn to come up to the blackboard, she did extremely well.
“very good, bill,” said miss peters, and a gasp went round the class. miss peters hadn’t called her wilhelmina as she always did. she had called her bill. bill grinned as she went back to her place. she looked a different person.
darrell admired her as she watched her in class after class. bill had made up her mind to do a thing and she meant to do it. she would do it, too! darrell thought that it was quite possible for bill to rise near the top of the class once she had made up her mind to do it.
“i suppose that’s what daddy would call strength of character,” thought darrell. “he’s always saying that strength of character is one of the greatest things anyone can have because then they have courage and pluck and determination, no matter what difficulties come. bill’s got it. i bet she won’t dream, or gaze out of the window again, or not bother with her work. she’s going to repay miss peters for saturday night!”
miss peters knew that bill meant to repay her for that, too. she trusted bill now. they understood one another, which really wasn’t very surprising, because they were very much alike. miss peters was mannish, and bill was boyish. they both loved life out-of-doors and adored horses. they had disliked one another very much indeed—but now they were going to be firm friends. that would be nice for bill.
“darrell! are you day-dreaming?” said miss peters’ voice. “you don’t seem to have written down anything at all!”
darrell jumped and went red. gracious! here she was admiring bill for being able to stop dreaming in class—and she, darrell, had fallen into the same fault herself! she pulled herself together and began to write.
that afternoon miss hibbert was going to take the first rehearsal of the play in the art-room. this was often used for dramatic work because it had a small platform. zerelda was very much looking forward to the afternoon. she sat in her place, murmuring some lines from “romeo and juliet” below her breath. miss peters saw her lips moving and thought she was whispering to gwen.
“zerelda!” she said, sharply. “what are you saying to gwendoline?”
“nothing, miss peters,” said zerelda, surprised.
“well, what were you saying to yourself then?” demanded miss peters. “stand up when you answer me, zerelda.”
zerelda stood up. she looked at miss peters and recited dramatically what she had been murmuring to herself.
“wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day;
it was the nightingale and not . . .”
a volley of laughter from everyone in the class drowned her voice. miss peters rapped sharply on her desk.
“zerelda! i hope you don’t really mean to be rude. that’s enough! we are doing geography, not shakespeare. sit down and get on!”
