She could just manage to breathe, but she reached the bedroom, and groped her way to the crib where the little boy lay whimpering with fright. He was only two years old, and luckily not very heavy, so she took him in her arms and crawled down the stairs in the same way as she had gone up, so as to get the purer air close to the floor. The people nearly went wild with excitement as they saw her stumble out at the door carrying the baby; and its mother was ready to worship her. The Brigade was such a long time in arriving that the flames had gained a complete hold before it came, and the attics were flaring like a bonfire. If Aldred had not seized the opportunity, and gone the very moment she did, the child would have been burnt to death! I believe it made a stir in Seaforth at the time. The newspapers wanted to print her portrait, but her father wouldn't allow it. He said 'his daughter had no wish for notoriety, and did not desire any public recognition of an act she had only been too happy to perform. She would be grateful if people would kindly take no further notice of it.' Now, you see why I think so well of Aldred! She's as brave as anyone in the _Book of Golden Deeds_, and yet so modest about what she has done that she's content to let it be quite forgotten."

"How did you hear, then?"

"I happened to mention in a letter to a cousin that we had a new girl at The Grange, called Aldred Laurence; and Cousin Marion wrote back, sending me a newspaper cutting that she had kept describing the fire, and saying she was sure that was the name of the 'little heroine' whom everybody at Seaforth had been talking about when she stayed there in June. She knew her home was at Watersham, and could tell me that she was dark and pretty, for she had sat next to her at a concert, one afternoon, on the pier. To make quite sure, I asked Aldred if she lived at Watersham, and if she had been at Seaforth in June; so when she answered 'Yes' to both questions, I was certain that Cousin Marion must be right."

"Aldred was brave!"

"Yes, and she showed such particularly nice, delicate feeling afterwards. It's a privilege to have such a girl at the school! Although she mayn't want us to say anything about it, she can't help our honouring her for it. I shall always feel quite different towards her for the sake of this."

In the shelter of the book cupboard Aldred had overheard every word.

Mabel's account almost took her breath away. It was all a mistake. She had certainly never been in a fire, or risen to any such pitch of heroism. She remembered the circ.u.mstances, which had occurred just before her visit to Seaforth, and she had been struck at the time with the fact that the author of the deed bore the same surname as herself.

The latter's name was, however, spelt with a W instead of a U, and the two families were not related, nor even acquainted. Aldred had not, indeed, been aware that the Lawrences lived at Watersham.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALDRED OVERHEARS A SURPRISING STORY]

So this was the explanation of Mabel's violent attachment! She had been attracted, not by Aldred's real personality, but by qualities which she believed her to possess. What would she think, when she learnt that Aldred was not the girl she imagined? Suppose she were to drop the friendship as suddenly as she had taken it up? She might possibly prefer to have her bedroom to herself once more, and would feel no further interest in one who had not done anything particularly worthy of admiration. Aldred turned quite cold at the idea. If such a catastrophe occurred, all her popularity in the school would be lost. She was shrewd enough to realize that it depended entirely upon Mabel's goodwill, and that her position really resembled that of a Court favourite. It would be worse, far worse, to have to fall again into comparative obscurity than if she had never been thus made much of. Her pride could not tolerate the thought of being once more a nonent.i.ty in her cla.s.s. To be held in high repute by her companions was the salt of life to her.

She knew perfectly well that she ought to walk out of the cupboard, confess to Mabel and the others that she had been listening to their talk, and explain the exact state of the case. It was the only straightforward course to take, and would prevent any further misconceptions. And yet, she hesitated. A swift and strong temptation had a.s.sailed her. After all, why need she tell? No one was aware that she had overheard this conversation, and n.o.body had so far made the slightest reference to her fict.i.tious deed. She would act as if she were quite unconscious that they credited her with it, and it would be time enough to disclaim it when it was alluded to in unmistakable terms. The longer she could keep Mabel's friendship the stronger it would be likely to prove; and if the rest of the cla.s.s had grown accustomed to treating her opinions with deference, they would probably continue to accord her a certain amount of consideration, from sheer force of habit.

She could not deliberately give up all that she had gained; it was too great a sacrifice to be expected from anybody! On some future occasion, when she had had sufficient opportunity to win their approbation on her own merits, she could casually enlighten the girls, and set the mistake right. She was confident that when they knew her better they could not fail to value her for herself alone, and this exploit would sink into insignificance. Besides, it was surely Mabel's fault, for jumping at once to a conclusion without making adequate enquiries. She could not help all the absurd things people might set down to her account, and it was not her business to go about the world correcting them.

The girls had left the cla.s.sroom and run downstairs. She could now emerge from the cupboard quite un.o.bserved, and no one but herself would be any the wiser for what had happened. For the present, at any rate, she would temporize; she would let matters remain as they were, and be guided by future contingencies. There was really no deception about it, because she fully intended to tell some time, when it was more convenient.

Thus Aldred drugged her conscience, and allowed herself deliberately to take the first step in a course which she knew in her heart was dishonourable and unworthy, and which she was afterwards most bitterly to regret.

CHAPTER III

The Model Cottage

In her supposed character of a modest and retiring heroine, Aldred rapidly secured the favour she wanted in the school. Since the afternoon when Mabel had confided to Phbe and Dora the story of the rescue, the whole cla.s.s had waxed enthusiastic. Though n.o.body openly mentioned the subject, she could feel a marked difference in the general att.i.tude towards her; she was no longer only Mabel's friend, but somebody on her own account. That this new esteem was not truly her due caused her an occasional pang, but she would put the thought hurriedly away, consoling herself by reflecting that the girls were beginning to discover her good qualities, and to appreciate her as she deserved.

Her intimacy with Mabel increased daily. The latter seemed hardly able to make enough of her. The two were always together, and Mabel, who possessed many luxuries that do not usually fall to the lot of the average schoolgirl, was ready to share everything with her room-mate.

Aldred found it decidedly pleasant to be, not only encouraged, but actually begged to help herself to an unlimited quant.i.ty of the most delicious scent, to use dainty notepaper, or a delicate pair of scissors; to be lent a most superior tennis racket, and allowed to borrow any of the delightful volumes that filled the bookcase in the bedroom. To do her justice, she was really grateful for all this kindness, and absolutely adored Mabel. Had she loved her less, she might, perhaps, have been more willing to hazard the loss of her affection; but the thought of the blank which such a calamity would entail made her keep silence, in spite of the reproachful accusations of her better self.

"It's such a delight to me to have found a real friend!" said Mabel one day. "I've told Mother about you, and she wrote that she was so glad. I think I must read you a little sc.r.a.p of her letter. She says: 'Your description of Aldred Laurence pleased me very much--she seems just the kind of high-minded girl with whom I should wish you to be a.s.sociated; and though I stipulated for you to have a bedroom to yourself, I do not object to your sharing it with her, if you like. Our friends naturally exercise a great influence over our characters, so I am glad you have made such a good choice. I am sure that, knowing our home standards, I can rely upon your judgment, and that you would not allow yourself to be intimate with anyone who is not thoroughly worthy of your confidence.'

You needn't turn so red!" continued Mabel, who misunderstood the cause of Aldred's blushes. "Of course, Mother is extremely particular, but she seems quite satisfied. I hope she'll see you some day, and then she'll love you on her own account."

"Suppose she didn't?" hazarded Aldred.

"She couldn't help it. Mother and I have just the same tastes; we admire courage and spirit, and people who do things in the world. Nearly all Mother's friends are interesting in some way. Mr. Joyce is an explorer, and Mr. Hall has done grand temperance work; Miss Abercombie is an artist, and Miss Verney is helping to run a settlement in the slums.

Mother says it does her good to know them, and spurs her on to try to do more herself."

"What does she do?"

"Oh, heaps! No one could live a busier life than Mother. She's president of ever so many societies and guilds! She looks after poor girls, and finds employment for them, and sends them to the country when they need holidays. Then, in our own village there are the Orphanage and the Cottage Hospital to visit, and the district nurse and the deaconess to help, and clothing clubs and local charities to manage. She opens bazaars, and gives the prizes at schools, and acts as judge at flower shows. When Father was in Parliament it was really dreadful; Mother could hardly get through her enormously long list. But he lost his seat at the last election, and she has had a little easier time since then."

"But need she do it, if she doesn't like it?" objected Aldred.

There was a puzzled look on Mabel's face as she answered: "You, of all people, to ask such a question! Of course, she feels bound to give what help she can. She says her social influence is her one talent, and she must use it wherever a good cause needs a champion. She would be terribly missed, if she stopped supporting those various societies. It's what I'm to take up myself when I leave school. You, I expect, will go in for some splendid work, like Florence Nightingale, or Sister Dora. I have a presentiment that your name will be handed down to fame."

The idea of devoting her life to such self-sacrifice absolutely staggered Aldred. She did not attempt, however, to shatter Mabel's dreams for her future, but only gave an ambiguous reply. When her friend was in this exalted mood, she evidently did not like to be checked, and the least hint that her high ideals were not shared would make a little rift within the lute, and destroy her confidence.

Now that she had secured what she considered her rightful place at Birkwood, Aldred was thoroughly happy in her new life. The Grange was a very up-to-date school, and Miss Drummond was an exceedingly enterprising and go-ahead princ.i.p.al, who kept in touch with all the latest educational methods, and was ever ready to give some fresh system a trial. This term she was devoting herself to an experiment which found great favour among her pupils. It was one of her pet theories that every woman, whether rich or poor, ought to have a thoroughly practical acquaintance with all the details of housekeeping, and she was determined to put this into operation. She had had a small cottage built in one corner of the grounds, and cla.s.ses were held there regularly for cookery and still-room lore. The girls were taught to mix puddings, bake bread, make light pastry, and concoct many old-world salves and cordials. Miss Drummond would wax both enthusiastic and didactic when she aired her views on the subject.

"We can very well emulate our great grandmothers in this respect," she would say, "and thus make a happy combination of ancient and modern.

Because you are studying French and algebra is no reason at all why you should not also know how to fry an omelette or boil a potato. A cultivated brain ought surely to be able to grasp domestic economy better than an untrained one, and an educated woman who is really helpful is worth more than an ignorant one. Even if you are never called upon to do things yourselves at home, you ought at least to know how they should be done, so that you need not set your maids unreasonable tasks, and expect impossibilities in the way of service. I think, also, that a great future for many of our English girls lies in the Colonies, where domestic help is often at a premium, and the most delicately nurtured lady must sometimes set to work, and be her own cook and laundress. If you profit by the cla.s.ses you attend at the cottage, you will have an invaluable accomplishment, and one which may in some emergency prove more useful than anything else you have learnt."

Miss Drummond believed in putting all knowledge to the test of practice, so she inst.i.tuted the plan of sending the girls in relays of three to the cottage every Sat.u.r.day, and letting them undertake the entire work of the little establishment. Everything must be done by their own hands: the stove lighted--after the flues had first been intelligently cleaned--the rooms swept, dusted, and tidied; the midday dinner prepared, dished up, and cleared away; the crockery washed, and the kitchen left in apple-pie order. Miss Drummond herself and one of the other teachers were permanent guests at dinner; and the three housekeepers were each allowed to ask one friend to afternoon tea, so that there should be visitors to appreciate the various viands prepared.

The girls welcomed the experiment with the utmost enthusiasm. The cottage was to them a veritable doll's house, and they were supremely delighted at the prospect of directing the internal arrangements. As three were told off weekly for "domestic duty" there was just time during the term for each of the thirty-nine to have one trial, and "Cottage Sat.u.r.day" became an event to which they looked forward with the greatest eagerness.

Instead of giving the upper forms the entire precedence, Miss Drummond sandwiched elder and younger girls in alternate weeks, so that several members of the Fourth Form secured an early chance. Aldred's turn happened to come the first week in October. To her great satisfaction, Mabel was bracketed with her for the same day, and Dora Maxwell completed the trio.

"It will be such fun!" declared Mabel. "We shall have to get our own breakfast. I hope we shan't make any idiotic mistakes."

"Grind the bacon, and fry the coffee?" laughed Aldred.

"Well, hardly so bad as that. But we shan't have anybody to ask. Miss Drummond says we're to be absolutely and entirely by ourselves."

"I wish we could do something rather out of the common," said Aldred; "something that n.o.body else has thought of yet! It would be such fun to surprise Miss Drummond!"

"Suppose we were to make some jam?" suggested Dora. "There are heaps of blackberries growing round the playing-field and the paddock. We could pick them this afternoon, and hide the basket."

"How about the sugar? There wouldn't be enough in the stores that are given out."

"We shall have to let Miss Reade into the secret, and ask her to buy it for us. We can pay for it out of our pocket-money."

"All right. I know there's a preserving-pan and plenty of jam pots at the cottage. It would be such a triumph, when Miss Drummond came to look round in the evening, if we could show her a row of jars neatly labelled 'Blackberry'."

"We'll do it, then. Let us get the basket and go to the paddock now."

There was no lack of fruit on the brambles, and the hedgerows yielded such a prolific harvest that in an hour the girls had picked all they required. They concealed their spoils carefully in a cupboard under the stairs, where hockey sticks, tennis rackets, and other possessions were generally kept. Miss Reade was sympathetic when they took her into their confidence, and promised readily to get them the sugar.

"Cook will bring it across and smuggle it into the scullery," she said.

"I think Miss Drummond will be quite pleased to find you have tried something on your own initiative. By the by, I suppose you know how to make jam?"

"I do," replied Aldred. "I've often watched my aunt make it at home, and helped her, too. I remember exactly."

"Would you like a recipe?"

"I really don't think we need it, thanks."

"Well, I wish you all success," said Miss Reade "It is not my turn to have a meal at the cottage to-morrow, but perhaps the blackberry jam will appear at The Grange afterwards, and we shall taste it sometime at tea."

By half-past seven next morning the three housewives were ready, and attired in the regulation costume for the day's work. Each wore a holland overall with sleeves, and had her hair tightly plaited, to keep it out of the way.