A Popular Schoolgirl | Page 2

of the
stable-yard.
The Saxons were spending their summer holidays at a farm near the
seaside, and for the first time in four long years the whole family was

reunited. Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane had only just been
demobilized, and had hardly yet settled down to civilian life. They had
joined the rest of the party at Lynstones before returning to their native
town of Grovebury. The six weeks by the sea seemed a kind of oasis
between the anxious period of the war that was past and gone, and the
new epoch that stretched ahead in the future. To Ingred they were
halcyon days. To have her father and brothers safely back, and for the
family to be together in the midst of such beautiful scenery, was
sufficient for utter enjoyment. She did not wish her mind to venture
outside the charmed circle of the holidays. Beyond, when she thought
about it all, lay a nebulous prospect, in the center of which school
loomed large.
On this particular hot August afternoon, Ingred welcomed an excursion
in the sidecar. She had not felt inclined to walk down the white path
under the blazing sun to the glaring beach, but it was another matter to
spin along the high road till, as the fairy tales put it, her hair whistled in
the wind. Egbert was anxious to set off, so Hereward took his place on
the luggage-carrier, and, after some back-firing, the three started forth.
It was a glorious run over moorland country, with glimpses of the sea
on the one hand, and craggy tors on the other, and round them billowy
masses of heather, broken here and there by runnels of peat-stained
water. If Egbert exceeded the speed-limit, he certainly had the excuse
of a clear road before him; there were no hedges to hide advancing cars,
neither was there any possibility of whisking round a corner to find a
hay-cart blocking the way. In the course of an hour they had covered a
considerable number of miles, and found themselves whirling down the
tremendous hill that led to the seaside town of Chatcombe.
Arrived in the main street they left the motorcycle at a garage, and
strolled on to the promenade, joining the crowd of holiday-makers who
were sauntering along in the heat, or sitting on the benches watching
the children digging in the sand below. Much to Ingred's astonishment
she was suddenly hailed by her name, and, turning, found herself
greeted with enthusiasm by a schoolfellow.
"Ingred! What a surprise!"

"Avis! Who'd have thought of seeing you?"
"Are you staying here?"
"No, only over for the afternoon."
"We've rooms at Beach View over there. Come along and have some
tea with us, and your brothers too. Yes, indeed you must! Mother will
be delighted to see you all. I shan't let you say no!"
Borne away by her hospitable friend, Ingred presently found herself
sitting on a seat in the front garden of a tall boarding-house facing the
sea, and while Egbert and Hereward discussed motor-cycling with
Avis's father, the two girls enjoyed a confidential chat together.
"Only a few days now," sighed Avis, "then we've got to leave all this
and go home. How long are you staying at Lynstones, Ingred?"
"A fortnight more, but don't talk of going home. I want the holidays to
last forever!"
"So do I, but they won't. School begins on the twenty-first of
September. It will be rather sport to go to the new buildings at last,
won't it? By the by, now the war's over, and we've all got our own
again, I suppose you're going back to Rotherwood, aren't you?"
"I suppose so, when it's ready."
"But surely the Red Cross cleared out ages ago, and the whole place
has been done up? I saw the paperhangers there in June."
"Oh, yes!" Ingred's voice was a little strained.
"You'll be so glad to be living there again," continued Avis. "I always
envied you that lovely house. You must have hated lending it as a
hospital. I expect when you're back you'll be giving all sorts of
delightful parties, won't you? At least that's what the girls at school
were saying."

"It's rather early to make plans," temporized Ingred.
"Oh, of course! But Jess and Francie said you'd a gorgeous floor for
dancing. I do think a fancy-dress dance is about the best fun on earth.
The next time I get an invitation, I'm going as a Quaker maiden, in a
gray dress and the duckiest little white cap. Don't you think it would
suit me? With your dark hair you ought to be something Eastern. I can
just imagine you acting hostess in a shimmery sort of white-and-gold
costume. Do promise to wear white-and-gold!"
"All right," laughed Ingred.
"It's so delightful