"Why, little misses, you've got yourselves in a fine fix!" he said, by way of greeting. "Here we've bin a-lookin' for you for a matter of four hours; just hangin' about in the fog, we was, and shoutin' every now and then on the off chance of your hearin' us. I ne'er thought we'd find you safe and sound, I didn't. Bin up the rock, you say? Ay, them rocks is never covered. If I'd only knowed you was there! We'd a' seen you long since, if it hadn't a' bin for the fog."

He lifted Muriel in his arms, and, carrying her as easily as if she had been a baby, waded with her to the boat, returning afterwards for Patty.

"You're nigh dead beat, both on you," he said, sympathetically. "It's give you a rare fright, I'll be bound, and us too! Your teacher's half crazed after you, poor thing! She'll be main glad to see you back, she will that!"

It was indeed with a feeling of intense relief and thankfulness that Miss Lincoln welcomed the missing pair as the boat drew up on the beach at Moorcliffe. The hours of their absence had been a time of such anxiety and suspense as she had not experienced before with any of her pupils. One look at her face showed them what she had suffered on their behalf.

"Thank God you are safe!" she cried, as she took them in her arms and kissed them.

All the school had returned to The Priory, only Miss Harper remaining with Miss Lincoln; and as the last train had left, the latter made arrangements to spend the night at the hotel. The girls were cold and wet, and much in need of food and rest; so they were only too thankful to be put to bed at once, instead of starting on a railway journey. The headmistress would allow very little talk that night about what had happened, reserving what she had to say for a future occasion; and Muriel, who knew there was a painful explanation in store for her, was not sorry that it should be deferred.

"I shall be in dreadful trouble to-morrow," she said to Patty as they lay in bed, "and I deserve it, I know. I'm going to make a clean breast of everything, the Caesar translation and several other things, and then perhaps I shall feel better, and make a fresh start. I haven't said 'Thank you' to you, Patty, because I really don't know how; but you've been an absolute trump, and I shall tell Miss Lincoln so. I shan't ever forget it. Good-night!"



CHAPTER XV

Speech Day

A night's rest did much to restore the two girls after their terrible experience on the rocks. By next morning, though Muriel's foot still hurt her when she walked, they were both well enough to return to school, where, as you may imagine, they had many things to relate to their companions, who were brimming over with eagerness to hear a full and detailed account of the whole adventure. Muriel had a long interview with Miss Lincoln in the library, from which she emerged with red eyes, and, escaping from her friends, retired to her bedroom, and, drawing the curtains of her cubicle, spent the afternoon alone. She was strangely softened and subdued; she said little when Vera, Kitty, and Maud stammered out their apologies for deserting her on the shore, and appeared so preoccupied and thoughtful at tea-time, that she scarcely noticed when the others spoke to her. Patty, who guessed what was troubling her cousin, took her aside before preparation for a few minutes' private talk.

"Never mind telling about the Caesar translation, Muriel," she said. "I don't care in the least. No one believes now that it was mine, and you'd never do such a thing again, I know; so what does it matter to whom it belonged? It's quite an old story now."

"I've told Miss Harper already," said Muriel, "and all the class will know about it to-morrow. Yes, Patty, I'd rather, thank you, I would indeed."

"Then I shall go to Miss Harper," declared Patty, who wished to save her cousin the humiliation of a public confession. "You shan't do this on my account!"

To her surprise, Miss Harper took quite a different view of the matter.

"No, Patty," she said, decisively. "It is generous of you to want to spare Muriel, but it is only right that she should bear the blame of what she has done herself, instead of leaving it on another's shoulders. She is making a very big effort, and we must not spoil her sacrifice. If she clears your reputation before all the class, she will have made what reparation she can, and have taken a first step on the straight path. It is not always wise to shield people from the consequences of their own faults, however much we may wish to, and you will be doing her a greater kindness by helping her to keep certain good resolutions she has made. I hope this affair may make a crisis in Muriel's life, and that we may expect better things from her in the future. I am sure she is truly sorry for having allowed you to be misjudged. Just at first, I confess, I myself believed you to be guilty, though it was difficult to reconcile your ownership of the book with what I knew of you. Various circumstances, however, caused me to change my opinion, and I was convinced that a great injustice had been done to you, which I shall now be very glad to have the opportunity of setting right."

When the girls, therefore, were assembled on the following morning at nine o'clock, Miss Harper, before she dismissed the lower division, said that she wished to speak a few words to the whole class.

"You will all recollect," she began, "a distressing affair which took place last term. A translation of Caesar was found by a monitress in this room, and I had reason to believe it was the property of a member of the upper division. Though we mentioned no names at the time, suspicion attached itself strongly to one girl, who has since borne the blame of the occurrence. I am glad to be able to assure you that this girl was perfectly innocent. The real offender has confessed her fault, and now wishes to tell you how sorry she is for the unworthy part which she has played. Yes, it is on Muriel's behalf I am speaking," she continued, as the latter quietly left her seat and came, with a pale face, to stand by the teacher's side. "I think you will all appreciate the attempt she is making to atone for the wrong which she has done, and that instead of reproaching her you will allow the subject to drop, and will unite in keeping up such a high standard for the future, that the reputation of the Fourth Class may equal that of any other at The Priory. You may return to your place, Muriel, and I will trust to your school-fellows' honour to treat your confession with the consideration it deserves."

Miss Harper did not appeal to the class in vain. Though several girls congratulated Patty privately, none mentioned the matter in Muriel's hearing, or made any alteration in their behaviour to her. It was evident that the cousins were now on very different terms with one another, and Patty had so won all hearts that, with the exception of Vera, everybody was delighted at the change.

"I always knew Muriel would be nice to you in the end," said Avis. "All the girls who were nasty have come round, even Kitty Harrison and Maud Greening. Ella Johnson told me how you stopped her and Doris and May from reading in bed, and how thankful they were afterwards to you, when Beatrice Wynne was found out at the same thing, and got into such terrible trouble. The only one who holds back is Vera, and that's because she's so jealous of Muriel; but I don't believe Muriel will ever be really friends with her again: she can't forgive her for what happened on the shore at Moorcliffe. She says Vera ran away and left her to be drowned, and you stayed and saved her life. I hardly expect they'll have a bedroom together next term."

"I don't want them to quarrel on my account," said Patty. "I've nothing against Vera."

"Well, whether she likes you or not doesn't matter," said Enid. "I think you're the sweetest girl I've ever met, and I don't mind telling anybody so if they ask for my opinion. No, you needn't blush, because it's quite true, and everyone else in the school would say the same."

It was now getting very near to the end of the term, and all at The Priory were beginning to look forward to the long summer holidays. Speech Day, always a great occasion, was this year to be of more than usual importance, as the prizes were to be distributed by Sir John Carston, the Member of Parliament for the County, whose wife was also to be present.

"And of course hosts of parents and friends," said Enid, "to clap and look pleased and say pretty things about us. My mother and my eldest sister are coming, and Avis's father and mother, and Winnie's aunt, and ever so many relations of other girls. They're to stay at the Queen's Hotel, and they'll have quite a jolly time, I expect. They're allowed to invite us to afternoon tea there the day before, if they like, so I shall get Mother to ask you with me, if none of your own people will be over."

"I'm afraid my father and mother will be too busy to come," said Patty, "but I believe Muriel expects Uncle Sidney and Aunt Lucy."

"Then they are sure to ask you, so I shan't have a chance after all. What a pity! I wanted you to meet Mother and Adeline. Never mind! It doesn't matter, because—— But that's a secret."

"What's a secret?" enquired Patty.

"I shan't tell. Yes, I think I must. I really can't keep it bottled up any longer. I wrote home to ask Mother if she would invite you to come and stay with us during the holidays."

"Perhaps she won't want me."

"I'm sure she will. She hasn't had time to answer my letter yet, but I know she'll say 'Yes' at once, especially when she's seen you. Would you come, dear?"

"I'd love to," said Patty, "if they say 'Yes' at home too."

"Oh, I hope they will! We'd have the most glorious time together. You've never been in Devonshire, and our house is close to the sea. We bathe every day in summer, and swim out to a little rocky island sometimes. Then we go for picnics on the moors, and have gipsy teas in the woods. It's such fun to light a fire, and boil the kettle ourselves. And we have two little rough ponies; one belongs to the boys, but I could borrow a side-saddle for it from the Rectory, and then we could both go for a ride together."

"Oh, it would be delightful!" said Patty, her eyes shining at the prospect. "But I don't think you ought to have told me yet, when I haven't really been invited."

"It doesn't matter, because I'm sure you will be. I've told Mother so much about you. Oh, I wish the term would end quickly, and the holidays would begin!"

The prize-giving was held in the gymnasium, which was the only room at The Priory capable of accommodating all the classes and the various friends invited to attend. The walls were hung with flags, and beautiful vases of flowers were placed on the window sills to give an air of festivity to the scene. Patty felt there was something very inspiriting in the fact that she was a member of such a large community. She was only one amongst many, it is true, but units make numbers, and, as Miss Lincoln often reminded the girls, each had her own place to fill, and must try to do her best for the sake of the whole school.

"I'm afraid I shan't win any credit for the Upper Fourth," thought Patty. "I haven't a chance of a single prize, I know. Winnie's sure to get the first English, and Enid the second, and either Beatrice or Maggie will take the French, and perhaps the mathematics too. My exam. papers weren't very good; I'm sure I shall be quite halfway down the class. Well, never mind! As long as I haven't failed in anything, I don't much care. Father and Mother will be satisfied, because they'll know I've done as well as I could."

Although she did not expect to receive a prize, Patty nevertheless took her seat in the gymnasium on the important afternoon in question with as great interest as any other girl in the class. The platform was decorated with palms and large ferns in pots; there was a table in the middle of it, upon which were laid a number of books; and there were chairs for Miss Lincoln, Sir John and Lady Carston, and a few others of the more distinguished visitors. The proceedings, which were to consist of both concert and prize-giving combined, opened with a short speech from Miss Lincoln, welcoming the guests, and explaining briefly the principal aims which she strove to carry out in her plan of education at The Priory. A part-song followed from eight of the best girls in the singing class, among whom was Avis, who had a remarkably sweet voice, and whose high notes were as clear as a bell. Phyllis Chambers and Marjory Gregson acted a dialogue in German, some of the most advanced French scholars gave a scene from Les Femmes Savantes, and Enid recited the famous soliloquy from Hamlet, which was much applauded. With one or two more songs and piano pieces, and a solo on the violin from a girl in the lowest class, the programme for the concert was completed; and Sir John Carston then rose to address the school. He was an amusing speaker, and made all smile by assuring them he felt more nervous at facing an audience of so many young ladies than he would have been in Parliament, or at a meeting of his constituents; and that he hoped none of them were criticising his words from a literary standpoint, and comparing them with the passages from Moliere and Shakespeare which had just been so admirably rendered.

"Everybody will tell you," he proceeded, "that your schooldays are the best time of your life. When I was a boy, I always thought that the best part of my schooldays was the breaking-up day! I don't know whether the teachers will agree with me, but I expect you girls will, and perhaps even Miss Lincoln may be secretly looking forward to to-morrow, though she won't reveal her feelings! I'm afraid from this you'll guess that I must have been a dunce at school myself. I frankly confess I never gained a prize in my life, but for that reason I shall appreciate all the more my privilege of distributing these beautiful books; and you will feel you have my true sympathy when I wish you a happy holiday and a long one."

Everyone laughed as Sir John sat down; the girls hoped he would have said a little more, but the time was limited, and Miss Lincoln was waiting to read out the examination lists. The awards in the Upper Fourth fell very much as Patty had expected: Winnie was first and Enid second in English, Beatrice Wynne was easily top in French, but, to everyone's surprise, Ella Johnson was head in mathematics. When all the prizes had been given, and the fortunate owners had returned to their places, Lady Carston stood up, and announced that she should like to say a few words.

"By Miss Lincoln's permission," she began, "I am going to offer an extra prize; the conditions for gaining it are to be quite different from those for which you have already competed. I wish to present it to whichever girl shall be judged by her companions to have been the most kind, the most thoughtful and generous, and to have passed the most unselfish life amongst you during the whole of the school year. The voting is to be by ballot. Each of you will be given a small piece of paper, on which I shall ask you to write the name of the one whom you consider the fittest to receive my prize. Do not add your own signature, and please do not tell anyone afterwards for whom you decided; let it be a point of honour with you to keep that matter a secret. The papers must be folded, and will then be collected by some of your teachers, who have kindly promised to count the votes. Let me mention again: I do not ask you to choose your favourite friend, or the most popular girl in your class, but the one who, you really think, has made the greatest effort towards living at the highest possible level, and whose conduct you can most honestly admire as the truest and best."

There was a rustle of astonishment among the girls at the conclusion of Lady Carston's speech. No such prize had been offered before at The Priory, and the novelty of the idea rather appealed to them. Half-sheets of notepaper were handed round by Miss Hall and Miss Rowe, and Miss Lincoln announced that five minutes would be allowed for consideration, at the end of which time the votes must be recorded. As each girl sat with her pencil in her hand, the thoughts of all turned to Patty. Everybody remembered some helpful little act which she had done, some kind thing which she had said, or an occasion when she had given up her own way to please someone else. It was not only in the Upper Fourth that she was appreciated, but among those who had met her at games, during walks, or in recreation, where, without any conscious effort on her part, her influence had had its effect on the girls, who somehow felt the better for having known her. As Enid said afterwards in strictest confidence to Avis:

"Patty isn't the least scrap of a prig. She never preaches or finds fault with one, and she's just as jolly as ever she can be; and yet she always makes one feel ashamed if one isn't doing what's absolutely straight. I've never seen her play a nasty, mean trick, nor heard her say anything horrid or unkind since she came; and if Lady Carston wanted to find out the nicest girl in the school, she couldn't fix on anybody better than Patty."

By the end of the five minutes all the papers were folded and passed back to Miss Rowe, who retired with Miss Hall to count them, while the singing class filled in the time with another part-song. There was much excitement when the two teachers returned, and handed the result to Miss Lincoln and to Lady Carston. The latter rose at once.

"I am glad to be able to tell you," she announced, "that the decision has been almost unanimous. With the exception of only three votes, every girl has recorded the same name. To Patty Hirst, therefore, I award this prize, feeling sure that I do so at the wish of the whole school. Come here, my dear," she continued, as the surprised and blushing Patty was led to the platform by Miss Rowe. "You must accept this copy of Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies; it is a book that I think you will like some day, when you are older, even if you cannot quite understand it now. Those who go through life with a pleasant smile and a kind word make many friends, and are always welcome visitors. Sympathy and helpfulness may be very everyday virtues, but they are worth cultivating just as much as French and mathematics, and I am sure all your companions will join with me in saying, 'Well done!'"

As Patty walked back to her seat, Lady Carston's words were answered by a perfect storm of clapping from the girls, who were delighted to have an opportunity of showing their approval; and I think no prize could have been offered which would have given more general satisfaction. As for Patty, she could still hardly realize why she had been singled out for so much notice. It was pleasant to hear her friends' congratulations, but what she valued most of all was the squeeze of the hand which Muriel gave her, with the whispered words: "I'm so glad, Patty; I can't tell you how glad!" To fulfil her promise to Uncle Sidney had been the aim of her strivings, but to have won her cousin's affection as well was more than she had ever dared to hope for.

"You needn't look so bashful!" said Enid. "You're our pattern girl at The Priory, and I don't mind telling you so. There's not the slightest fear of spoiling you, and making you vain, so it won't do you any harm for once to hear our true opinion of you."

"Oh, don't! Please don't!" cried Patty. "The prize shouldn't have been given to me. You ought each to have had one as well, you ought indeed! It's quite ridiculous to make such an absurd fuss over me, and I can't imagine why you should."

But I think most of my readers will agree that Patty deserved it.

Printed by Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow, Scotland.



* * * * *



By ANGELA BRAZIL

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A Patriotic Schoolgirl.

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For the School Colours.

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The Luckiest Girl in the School.

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The Jolliest Term on Record.

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The Girls of St. Cyprian's: A Tale of School Life.

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The Youngest Girl in the Fifth: A School Story.

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The New Girl at St. Chad's: A Story of School Life.

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The Nicest Girl in the School.

The Third Class at Miss Kaye's: A School Story.

The Fortunes of Philippa: A School Story.

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THE END