'Why shouldn't I?' Pauline said grandly. 'Stupid things, anyway.'

The stage manager looked at her in surprise, as up till then he had thought her a nice child.

'Stupid or not, you're to wear it.'

He went back to the stage.

For two or three days Pauline wore her wrap; then one afternoon she deliberately left it on the stage after the last act. A few minutes later the call-boy knocked on her door.

'Mr Barnes's compliments, Miss Fossil, and will you go back for your wrap.'

'Tell him "No",' Pauline shouted. 'I'm busy.'

'Pauline,' Nana said, 'go at once when the stage manager sends for you.'

Winifred was still in the theatre, as Sylvia had invited her to high tea with the children after the matinee.

'Let me go.' She jumped up.

'Sit down, Winifred.' Nana's voice was quiet. 'Either Pauline fetches it herself, or it hangs where it is.'

'Let it hang, then.' Pauline began to take off her make-up.

After a few minutes there was another knock on the door. This time it was Mr Barnes.

'Did Pauline get my message?' he asked Nana.

Pauline pushed Nana to one side and came out into the pa.s.sage.

'I did, and I said I wouldn't fetch it, so please stop bothering.'

Mr French, who was the managing director of the Princess Theatres, Ltd, came out of the 'Mad Hatter's' dressing-room, which was next door. He stopped in surprise.

'What'sall the trouble?'

Mr Barnes looked worried, as he hated telling tales. But Nana thought a scolding would be the best thing in the world for Pauline. She told him the whole story. Mr French looked down at Pauline.

'Go and fetch your wrap at once. I don't make rules in my theatre for little girls to break.'

Pauline was excited and angry, and she completely lost her temper. She behaved as she had never behaved before. She stamped her foot.

'Get it yourselves if you want it fetched.'

There was a long pause, and in the silence Pauline began to feel frightened. Mr French was a terribly important man, and n.o.body was ever rude to him. His face expressed nothing, but she could feel he was angry. At last he looked at Mr Barnes.

'Is the under-study in the theatre?'

Nana called Winifred, who came out looking very nervous, for she had heard all that had gone on.

'You will play tomorrow,' Mr French said to her, 'Pauline will be in the theatre as your under-study.'

He went down the pa.s.sage and never gave Pauline another look.

Pauline finished taking off her make-up, and got dressed, and went home in perfect silence; her mouth was pressed together. Winifred thought it was because she was angry, but Nana knew it was not. She knew that Pauline was terrified to speak in case she should break down and cry. She certainly was not going to let the theatre see how much she cared, and of course she would not cry in the tube. As soon as she got into the house she raced up the stairs. She could not go into the bedroom, because the others might come in, so she went into the bathroom and locked the door, and lay down on the floor, just as she was, in a coat, gloves, and beret, and cried dreadfully. At first she cried because she thought she was being badly treated, and kept muttering, 'It's a shame; I didn't do anything.' 'Anyhow, Winifred's sure to be awful; they'll be sorry.' But by degrees, as she got more and more tired from crying, other thoughts drifted through her mind. Had she been rude? Had she been showing off? Inside she knew that she had, and she was ashamed, and though she was quite alone she turned red.

Although Nana closed the nursery door, the other children could not help hearing Pauline's sobs from the bathroom. Nana had told Petrova and Posy something of what had happened, and although they knew that Pauline had got so proud that she would cheek anybody, they were terribly on her side now that she was down, and although they knew Winifred could not help being told to play 'Alice', they blamed her in a sort of way. Naturally, with all this, tea Was not a very cheerful affair, and Winifred wished more than ever that she was not there, and still more that she could go as soon as she had finished eating; but she could not, as she had to wait for her mother to fetch her home. Directly tea was over, Nana sent them all down to Sylvia.

'Remember, now,' she said, 'Miss Brown hasn't heard what's happened, so none of you show her anything is wrong. You let Pauline tell her herself.'

This made things much better. They played 'Rummy' with Sylvia, and so that she should not suspect anything, were more cheerful than even they would have been ordinarily.

As soon as the other three had gone downstairs, Nana knocked on the bathroom door, and told Pauline to let her in. Pauline lay where she was for a few minutes, too tired and too miserable and too ashamed to come out; then she turned the key. Nana put her arm round her.

'Come along,' she said, 'you'll feel better after a bath and something to eat. When you are in your dressing-gown you can go down and tell Miss Brown all about it.'

She treated Pauline just as if she were six instead of twelve, helping her off with her clothes, and even washing bits of her, then she put her in the armchair by the fire and gave her a large bowl of bread and milk.

'You eat all that, dear, and stop fretting. Pride has to come before a fall, and that's the law of nature; you've got your fall, and now you've got to be brave and get up again. What's one matinee, anyhow, and if you think right, you'll be glad in a way that poor Winifred gets a chance one after noon. She's been very good, knitting quietly.' Nana gave her a kiss. 'I'm fetching the other two up, so when that bread and milk's gone you can have a chance to tell Miss Brown what's happened.'

Naturally Sylvia had supposed something was wrong when Pauline had not come down with the others, and when she saw her swollen face, she knew it. Pauline sat on the fire-stool, and told exactly what had happened. It was a very truthful account. Sylvia heard her without a word, then, when she had finished, she thanked her for telling her, and said she was sorry, of course, but very glad for Winifred. This question of Winifred coming first from Nana, and then from Sylvia, made Pauline feel better; if she had to be punished, it was nice that it gave Winifred a chance.

At the matinee the next day she took a bit of sewing to do, and sat quietly in a corner working. She wished Winifred luck before she went on, and when she heard the 'Mad Hatter' congratulating her in the pa.s.sage outside, she managed to smile, and tell her she was glad, though inside she was not really, as of course she hoped n.o.body was as good as 'Alice' as herself. Just as the last act started, Mr Barnes came to the door and called her. He was nice; he told her Mr French wanted to see her, and that though Winifred was very good, they'd all missed her, and would be glad to see her back tomorrow.

Mr French had a large office, where Pauline had never been before. He was sitting writing at a desk. He told Pauline to sit. Instead she came over to the desk and said politely that she was sorry she had been rude and disobedient yesterday, and that she would not be again. He said that was quite all right; she had done very nicely as 'Alice', and that doing nicely in a part always went to an actress's head to begin with. It was a good thing to get that sort of thing over at twelve, instead of waiting till she was grown-up. He then said that Winifred had done very nicely as 'Alice' too, and that she might take note of it, because it was an object lesson she might remember always. That n.o.body was irreplaceable. Pauline looked puzzled, as she did not know the word, so he explained that it meant that you could always get somebody else to act any part - that the play was the thing. 'Alice' was just as much 'Alice', whether Winifred was acting her or Pauline; Lewis Carroll's words were what mattered. Then he told her to run along; but just as she got to the door, he said that he was having a party of children guests round to see the play tomorrow, and she was not to hurry away, as he should bring them to call afterwards.

That night Pauline told Petrova and Posy about Mr French. Petrova said she thought it was true, and that though she did not think Winifred would be half as good as Pauline was as 'Alice', people who had not seen the play before probably thought her perfect. Posy said that she did not think it was a bit true.

'When I dance,' she said, 'n.o.body else will do instead of me; they'll come to see me, and if I'm not there, they'll just go home.'

Pauline and Petrova snubbed her, of course, for though it was only a very Posyish way of talking, she could not be allowed to say things like that.

Pauline went to sleep feeling terribly glad the day was over and she would be 'Alice' again tomorrow, and, down inside, rather surprised to find how right Mr French was. It really would not matter terribly if she was ill, and Winifred played for the rest of the run. She pushed the thought back, but she knew it was true.

Petrova went to sleep puzzling over what Posy had just said. She did not believe it was conceitedness when Posy said things like that, but it certainly was when Pauline said them. Why?

Posy went to sleep murmuring, 'Two cha.s.ses, pas de chat, pirouette, two cha.s.ses...'

CHAPTER XII.

August EXCEPT for two broadcast performances of 'Alice in Wonderland', Pauline made no more money until June, but the broadcasting bought back the rest of Petrova's necklace, and besides what went to the post office, and to the Academy, it gave Sylvia two pounds for the housekeeping, and got enough stuff in a sale to make them all Spring coats in light tweed with tweed hats to match. for two broadcast performances of 'Alice in Wonderland', Pauline made no more money until June, but the broadcasting bought back the rest of Petrova's necklace, and besides what went to the post office, and to the Academy, it gave Sylvia two pounds for the housekeeping, and got enough stuff in a sale to make them all Spring coats in light tweed with tweed hats to match.

In June she was engaged as a child in the first act of a grownup play. It was dull work, as she was the youngest of three children, none of whom had much to say, and since she was only in one act, she never saw the whole play, and never knew what it was about. The leading lady was a famous film-star, and she seemed to like Pauline, for on the first night she gave her a magnificent doll and a signed photograph. The children hardly ever went to a film, as they had no money to spend, and Sylvia thought very few of them suitable, so Pauline was not interested in the fact that she was a film star, and none of them played with dolls; but this one was so handsome that they put her on the mantelpiece as an ornament, and called her the Queen of Sheba. She stayed on the mantelpiece about three weeks, and then Nana said, Queen or no Queen she collected dust, and sent her to the Great Ormond Street Hospital. The card that came with the doll, Pauline gave to Clara, who said she was as pleased as if it were a bag of gold, for Clara went a lot to the pictures, and the star in Pauline's play was her favourite actress.

Pauline only earned two pounds ten shillings a week in this play, of which Sylvia put one pound in the post office, and five shillings went to the Academy; and in spite of all Pauline's persuasions, she only took fifteen shillings for the house, so that still left ten shillings for clothes. With it, after Pauline's necklace was redeemed, Nana managed to get them all new outfits for the Academy, as well as making them two cotton frocks each with knickers to match, and giving Pauline sixpence a week pocket money and the other two threepence. Pauline was glad the money was useful, but she was not sorry when the play came off, as, after being 'Alice', it was poor fun. During the run of the play she only attended one dancing cla.s.s a day, and none at all on the two matinee days; for, as the play was running in term time, she was not allowed by the London County Council to miss any lessons.

Petrova was now in her last year as a non-working pupil; she would be twelve in the August of next year, and so old enough for a licence in the Autumn. She now, besides five hours' lessons a day and two walks, had to practise dancing exercises for two half-hours at home with Theo, and had five hours of dancing lessons during the ordinary week, two hours' dancing cla.s.s on Sat.u.r.day mornings, and had to come back after tea on Sat.u.r.day afternoons for an hour's elocution and another hour's dancing. She had been allowed to drop singing cla.s.ses, as it was obvious she never would be any use at it. The more dancing she learnt the more it bored her. With so much training, naturally she became proficient - in fact, she became technically one of the most proficient pupils in her cla.s.s. She did the exercises neatly, and remembered the routine of a set dance; her points got strong, and she got well up on them; her knees were splendidly straight - in fact, there was nothing wrong with her work, except that it bored her, and she looked as if it did.

Probably n.o.body but Mr Simpson ever knew just how bored she was. Nana had long stopped attending cla.s.ses, and instead sat in the refectory and talked to the housekeeper. Neither Pauline nor Posy worked with her, and if they had, would have been far too intent on their own work to notice Petrova's. Sylvia never asked if they liked their work; they all looked well; and when she saw them, or took them to the Academy, they never discussed dancing with her, as she knew nothing about it. At lessons Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith never discussed anything but lessons, except over their beavers, when they talked about things they had read in the papers, and about plays.

Petrova had a thin, pale face with high cheekbones, very different from Pauline's pink-and-white oval and Posy's round, dimpled look; she was naturally more serious than the others, and so, being bored for eight hours in each week did not show on her, as it would on them. It was Sundays that saved her. After morning church she went straight to the garage, put on her jeans, and though only emergency work was really done on Sundays, the foreman always had something ready for her. Very dirty and happy, she would work until they had to dash home for lunch. Afterwards, occasionally, they came back until tea-time; then they washed and popped across the road to Lyons; but usually they went on expeditions in the car.

Those expeditions were their secret; Petrova never even told the other two about them. The best of them were to civil flying-grounds, where they watched the planes take off and alight, and often went up themselves. Sometimes they saw some motor-car or dirt-track races; but Petrova liked the flying Sundays best. Although, of course, she was years too young to fly, in bed, and at her very few odd moments, she studied for a ground licence, and although she had never touched a joy-stick, she knew that when she did, an aeroplane would obey her, just as certainly as Posy knew that her feet and body would obey her.

Posy lived for nothing but her dancing cla.s.ses. She was exceedingly stupid at her lessons; she tried to work, but she could only say and understand things with her feet. Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith seemed to grasp this, although never, in the years they had coached, had they taught anyone quite like her before. In the Autumn term, just before she was nine, Madame saw Sylvia, and it was decided that Posy should come to the Academy for half of each day, during which time she should work at languages for the lessons she was missing. She still taught Posy dancing entirely herself; but she sent her to Madame Moulin for French, and herself taught her Spanish, and Russian - not that Posy ever learnt to speak any of the languages, but she was taught them all.

Each term that Posy had been at the Academy she had measured her feet to see if she could wear the little shoes her mother had given her; but she had tiny feet, and they were always too big; but that Autumn they fitted. She was very proud of them, not because they were really any better than anybody else's ballet-shoes, but because they had been given her by her mother, and she was the only one with a mother, so it seemed rather grand. She would not wear them for any ordinary lesson; but if Madame said, as she did just now and again, 'Beautiful, my child! Do it once more because it pleases me,' then Posy would at once run to the bench in the corner, and open her shoe bag, and put on her mother's shoes. The result was that she wore them so little that her feet outgrew them while they were still good. For a long time after they pinched her, Posy refused to own to it, because she did not want them thrown, or given, away. Madame came to her rescue, guessing how she would feel. She said she would like the shoes as a souvenir, and she had a little case made for them with a gla.s.s front and hung it on the wall.

Posy was a great pet with everybody in the school. Pauline and Petrova told her it was because she was Madame's pupil, for they did not want her to get proud; but they knew it was not really - it was because everybody liked her. She was a sort of secret about the place; they all knew she must be going to dance very well, or she would not be Madame's special pupil, but since 'The Blue Bird' no one had ever seen her work. All the rest of the students appeared in various performances for charity, but she never did. Sometimes they would say to her in the refectory, 'Dance, Posy'. But all she would do was to give one of her funny imitations of this teacher or that pupil. It made them roll about laughing, but they never saw what she could really do.

That Christmas Mr French engaged Pauline for 'Alice' again. This year she always wore her wrap, and it was as well she did, for Winifred was not the under-study, as she was dancing as a jewel in the pantomime of 'Aladdin', and the child who did under-study her hurt her foot. She managed to come to the theatre and get past the doorkeeper, and as she sat all the evening, n.o.body saw that she could not walk properly; but it would have been very awkward if Pauline had been told to stay off.

When 'Alice in Wonderland' finished, Pauline could not get any more work. She worried about this terribly because they were so poor. The last of Gum's money was almost gone, and when it had quite gone, there would be only the boarders to live on, except what Pauline earned and, by the coming Autumn, Petrova. No one ever exactly said so, but none of them really believed Petrova would earn much. Petrova believed it least of all. Pauline went to Miss Jay about work. She told her, as a secret, how important it was she should get some, and Miss Jay promised to see what she could do; but, as it happened, it was a season with no work for a child. Some of the Academy children went away on tour dancing; but if Pauline went on tour it would not help anybody, and the only acting parts which turned up were for boys, and there were plenty of boy students to take those. Nana and Pauline had a good many anxious talks; Pauline had begun to feel the responsibility of being the eldest, and she, and the other children, had a feeling Sylvia must not be bothered, for what with the house, and the boarders, and making accounts meet, she had enough troubles.

It was rather a miserable summer. They had all grown a lot since the year before, and nothing seemed to fit, and there was no money for any more clothes; then Doctor Jakes had jaundice, and she and Doctor Smith went away for her to convalesce. They paid their rent just the same while they were gone, but they did not want any meals, and there was profit on meals. Then, of course, there were lessons. Sylvia had to take those again, and by now they really seemed to know just as much as she did, and they felt they were wasting time, and she knew they felt it. Pauline was terrified lest, if she got an engagement while the doctors were away, the London County Council would not renew her licence, because she was sure that they would not call Sylvia 'an approved teacher', as it said on the rules she had to be. By the time the term came to an end they were thankful, the children even more for Sylvia than for themselves; they hated to see her worried face staring at the work they had done, while she wondered if it was right or not.

On Petrova's birthday Mr Simpson took a holiday from the garage, and invited everybody in the house to a picnic. The doctors were still away, and so was Theo, and Clara was having her holiday; but the children, Sylvia, Nana, and Cook, were delighted to accept. His car was not big enough to take them all, so he borrowed a second one from the garage, and they drove to a wood outside Westerham in Kent. Mrs Simpson had bought all the lunch, so that Cook had a real holiday too. It was a terrific meal from Fortnum and Mason's, and after they had eaten, they all felt too fat to do anything for a bit. They lay on the pine needles, and looked at the sun coming through the trees, and felt absolutely contented. Even Sylvia forgot to worry, it was so hot, and the pine-needles smelt so good. Presently Posy got up and took off her frock and sandals, and gave a dance for each of them; she danced Cook making a cake, and Sylvia teaching lessons, and Nana ironing, and Mr Simpson mending a car, and Mrs Simpson going to church, and Pauline as a leading lady, and Petrova watching an aeroplane while she got dressed. She made them all laugh till the tears ran down their cheeks and they begged her to stop because laughing made them hot. Cook said she had not enjoyed anything so much since she saw Charlie in 'The Gold Rush', and Nana that it was a pity she was bent on being a dancer, as she could keep them all if she went on 'the halls'; but Mr Simpson, though he could not stop laughing, said she was a cruel little devil, and far too observant for her years.

After Posy's dances, Pauline signalled to her, and to Petrova, to come behind a tree out of earshot of the grownups, because they had not done their vowing, and it was Petrova's birthday.

'I've an idea,' she said. 'Do you think that we could add to our vows? Something to vow and try and earn money to help Garnie?'

After arguing a bit, they decided it would not do any harm, so Pauline raised her right arm, and said in a suitably churchy voice: 'We three Fossils vow to try and put our name into history books, because it's our very own, and n.o.body can say it's because of our Grandfathers, and we vow to try and earn money for Garnie until Gum comes home, Amen.'

Petrova and Posy both made faces at her, but they raised their right arms and said 'We vow'. Then Petrova burst out: 'Why did you say Amen? If you say it, we've got to too, like in church, and then it spoils the "We vow".'

'I don't know why I said it.' Pauline looked puzzled. 'It sort of came. We do need money so much, it seemed like a prayer almost.'

Posy turned a pirouette.

'If it's a prayer, we ought to be kneeling down.'

Pauline felt a bit embarra.s.sed.

'I'm sorry; I won't say it next time.'

'You can. We don't mind, do we, Posy?' Petrova ran off. 'Come on, let's play hide-and-seek until tea.'

Tea was a gorgeous affair, with a birthday cake with twelve candles. Petrova was very pleased, as she had not had any proper presents, because neither Pauline nor Posy had any money, and Nana none to spare, and Sylvia had sold all her jewellery, and though she gave her a book, it was only one of her own, and an old book does not make a very good birthday present.

Nothing had come by the post either, which was disappointing, as both the doctors and Theo usually gave them birthday presents. So a pink-and-white birthday cake with her name on it, and candles, was a great comfort. Mrs Simpson told her to cut it, and showed her a mark which was where she was to make the cut. When the slice came out something was shining in it, and there was a golden half-sovereign. None of the children had ever seen a gold ten shillings before, and they thought it the best present any of them had ever had, though, as Pauline said, it would be a dreadful thing spending it; but Mr Simpson said, if she took it to a bank, she would get more than ten shillings for it, so it was worth the sacrifice of parting with it. At the end of tea, Cook handed Petrova her birthday present, which was a box of crackers; they were the really good kind with daylight fireworks in them as well as a cap, and pulling them and lighting the fireworks made a wonderful end to the picnic. The last firework was a little ball which, when a match was put to it, unwound until it was a large twisted snake. It looked so handsome that they made it a stand of two bricks, and put it on the top as a monument to mark where they had spent Petrova's birthday.

When they got home there were two letters for Petrova and one for Sylvia. In Petrova's were ten shillings from the two doctors and five shillings from Theo, and in Sylvia's was a letter from Miss Jay. A management were putting on 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' in September, and Pauline was to go and see them about the part of Pease-blossom, and Petrova was to be seen for the ballet of fairies.

In bed that night, Pauline said: 'Do you think adding the bit about making money to our vow had anything to do with the letter Garnie got?'

'I don't see how it could have,' Petrova pointed out. 'It came by the afternoon post, and was written before we vowed.'

Posy sat up and hugged her knees.

'It might have all the same; you never can tell what's magic'

CHAPTER XIII.

The Clothes Problem Again AN August audition for two people put a strain on the wardrobe that it certainly could not stand. There was Pauline's black-velvet frock, but the weather was hot, and it would not look right at all. Nana thought clean cotton frocks would do, but the children doubted it; they admitted they did not know what was worn in August, but they did not think cotton would ever be right. August audition for two people put a strain on the wardrobe that it certainly could not stand. There was Pauline's black-velvet frock, but the weather was hot, and it would not look right at all. Nana thought clean cotton frocks would do, but the children doubted it; they admitted they did not know what was worn in August, but they did not think cotton would ever be right.

'Very well, then,' Nana said. 'You must go in your practice-dresses; they're clean, and done up for next term.'

Pauline looked at Petrova.

'Practice-dresses never are worn, are they, Petrova?'

'Not unless we are told to put them on and go as a troupe,' Petrova agreed, 'which we never would do in holiday time.'

Nana sounded cross, as she always did when she was worried.

'Well, what will you wear, then? I can't make clothes out of the air.'

Petrova put her arms round her neck.

'Nana, darling, could my birthday money make us organdie frocks like we used to have?'

'What, those white dresses with the frills?'

Petrova nodded.

Nana looked thoughtful.

'How much money have you got?'

Petrova fetched her purse and laid out two postal orders - one for five shillings, and the other for ten - and the Simp sons' gold half-sovereign. She reminded Nana that the gold was worth more than ten shillings.

Nana got a pencil and paper and made calculations.

'We could get a nice organdie for two and eleven. Four and a half yards those dresses take - that's nine yards.' She pa.s.sed the paper to Petrova. 'You're good at figures: how much is nine yards at two and eleven?'

Petrova worked it out in her head; it came to one pound six and threepence. They all looked at the money. Allowing for the extra on the ten shillings, they had enough. Pauline and Petrova heaved sighs of relief; but Nana shook her head.