Part 6 (2/2)

”Didn't fancy you'd go stark staring mad as fast as all that,” chuckled Diana. ”It didn't take you very long to push that door down.”

”If we see any symptoms of insanity cropping out in you, we'll know the reason,” added Wendy smartly.

”And you see it's been very good for you to know what it feels like to be left behind,” rubbed in Diana. ”You never told us about that gipsy trail dodge. t.i.t for tat's my motto.”

”I think you're the two horridest girls in the school! I sha'n't speak to you again. You may consider yourselves funny, but no one else does,”

said Sadie witheringly, as she flounced away to hang on to Geraldine's arm, and pour her woes into the head girl's not too willing ear.

It was a good hour's walk from the cromlechs to Birk Water, the lake where they intended to pick the rushes. The path was the merest track, and the tramp through the heather and over rough and rugged stones well justified the thick footgear upon which Miss Todd had insisted. Birk Water was a lovely little mountain tarn lying under the shadow of Fox Fell, a smooth, gra.s.sy eminence down which hurried a noisy stream. They found a sheltered place in the suns.h.i.+ne on the bank, and sat down to eat their lunch. Hard-boiled eggs and cheese sandwiches tasted delicious in the open air, and for a special treat there was an apple apiece. In normal times the supply of apples was liberal, but this year the crop had failed, and they were rare dainties.

”I sympathize with Eve,” said Wendy, munching blissfully. ”It must have been a very great temptation, especially with 'knowledge' thrown in.

Just think of being able to eat an apple that would teach you all your dates and French verbs.”

”There weren't any dates then, unless they counted the geological periods; and the Tower of Babel came later, so the French language wasn't invented,” objected Tattie.

”Oh! don't be so literal-minded. I never meant that Eve sat at a desk and wrote exercises. I'm only telling you I like apples.”

”Well, so do I, and yours is a bigger one than mine.”

”It won't be long, don't you worry yourself. It's getting 'small by degrees and beautifully less'.”

The slopes of the hill were slightly marshy, and grew a crop of remarkably tall and fine rushes. They were much easier to gather than those on the borders of the lake. The girls had brought knives, and, when lunch had vanished to the last crumb, they dispersed up the hill-side to reap their rush harvest.

”If they're not all wanted for the church, I vote we ask Miss Todd to let us put some down on the schoolroom floor,” said Diana, hacking away cheerfully. ”I'd just admire to know what they feel like under one's feet. It would take one back about five centuries.”

”Spiffing! We'll ask her! Get as many as you can carry, and tell the others. They'd be far more interesting than linoleum. Think of being able to swish one's toes about in them. I hope the church won't want too many.”

”It oughtn't to claim more than its t.i.the. I suppose it's ent.i.tled to a tenth of every harvest, if we stick strictly to the old customs,” smiled Loveday, whose arms were already filled with a sheaf of green and orange.

On the open side of the fell the wind blew strongly, and it was a struggle to toil upwards. The school tacked instead towards the sheltered bank of the stream, and with one accord broke into Scotch songs. Geraldine, in a full contralto, was singing ”Green grow the rashes, O”. Betty Blane's chirpy voice proclaimed ”I'm ower young to marry yet”,--a self-evident proposition, as she was only thirteen.

Stuart and Loveday were crooning ”Flowers of the Forest” as a kind of soprano dirge, which was drowned by a chorus of juniors roaring ”Auld Lang Syne”.

”We twa hae paidled i' the burn Frae mornin' sun till dine”,

chanted Diana after them. ”And that's just what I want to do. I've never had a chance yet to 'paidle' in a British burn.”

”You won't to-day, then,” said Geraldine, who chanced to overhear, and stopped her singing to interpolate a remark. ”Shoes and stockings aren't allowed off, except in the summer term.”

”Green grow the rashes, O!

Green grow the rashes, O!

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent Were spent among the la.s.sies, O!”

Diana stood frowning as Geraldine pa.s.sed along, carolling at the pitch of her voice.

”What nonsense!” she growled. ”Who made such a silly old rule? I'm not going to keep it.”

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