A Popular Schoolgirl | Page 3

that the war's over, and we can begin to have parties
again, like we used to do. Beatrice Jackson told me she should never
forget that Carnival dance she went to at Rotherwood five years ago,
and all the lanterns and fairy lamps. Some of the other girls talk about it
yet. Hullo, that's the gong! Come indoors, and we'll have tea."
Ingred was very quiet as she went back in the sidecar that evening,
though Hereward, sitting on the luggage-carrier, was in high spirits,
and fired off jokes at her the whole time. The fact was she was thinking
deeply. Certain problems, which she had hitherto cast carelessly away,
now obtruded themselves so definitely that they must at last be faced.
The process, albeit necessary, was not altogether a pleasant one.
To understand Ingred's perplexities we must give a brief account of the
fortunes of her family up to the time this story begins. Mr. Saxon was
an architect, who had made a good connection in the town of
Grovebury. Here he had designed and built for himself a very beautiful
house, and had liberally entertained his own and his children's friends.
When war broke out, he had been amongst the first to volunteer for his
country's service, and, as a further act of patriotism, he and his wife had
decided to offer the use of "Rotherwood" for a Red Cross Hospital. The
three boys were then at school, Egbert and Athelstane at Winchester,
and Hereward at a preparatory school; so, storing the furniture, Mrs.
Saxon moved into rooms with Quenrede and Ingred, who were
attending the girls' college in Grovebury as day boarders. For the whole
period of the war this arrangement had continued; Rotherwood was

given over to the wounded soldiers, and Mrs. Saxon herself worked as
one of their most devoted nurses.
In course of time Egbert and Athelstane had also joined the army, and
with three of her menkind at the front, their mother had been more than
ever glad to fill up at the hospital the hours when her girls were absent
from her at school. Then came the Armistice, and the blessed
knowledge that, though not yet home again, the dear ones were no
longer in danger. By April the Red Cross had finished its work in
Grovebury; the remaining patients regretfully departed, the wards were
dismantled of their beds, and Rotherwood was handed back to its
rightful owners.
Naturally it needed much renovation and decorating before it was again
fit for a private residence, and paperers and painters had been busy
there for many weeks. They had only just removed the ladders by the
middle of July.
It was nearly August before Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane were
finally demobilized, and they had gone straight to Lynstones to join the
rest of the family at the farmhouse rooms. What was to happen after the
delirious joy of the holiday was over, Ingred did not know. She had
several times mentioned to her mother the prospect of their return to
Rotherwood, but Mrs. Saxon had always evaded the subject, saying:
"Wait till Daddy comes back!" and the welcoming of their three heroes
had seemed a matter of such paramount importance that in comparison
with it even the question of their beloved Rotherwood might stand
aside.
The Saxons were a particularly united family, tremendously proud of
one another, and interested in each other's doings. Their name bespoke
their old English origin, which (except in the case of Ingred) was
further vouched for by their blue eyes, fair skins, and flaxen hair.
Egbert and Athelstane were strapping young fellows of six feet, and
thirteen-year-old Hereward was taller already than Ingred. Quenrede,
immensely proud of her quaint Saxon name, and not at all pleased that
the family generally shortened it to Queenie, had just left school, and
had turned up her long fair pigtail, put on a grown-up and rather

condescending manner, powdered the tip of her classic little nose, and
was extremely particular about the cut of her skirts and the fit of her
suède shoes. It was a grievance to Quenrede that, as she expressed it,
she had "missed the war." She had longed to go out to France and drive
an ambulance, or to whirl over English roads on a motorcycle, buying
up hay for the Government, or to assist in training horses, or to help in
some other patriotic job of an equally interesting and exciting character.
"It's too bad that just when I'm old enough all the jolly things are closed
to women!" she groused. "If Mother had only let me leave school a
year ago, I'd at least have had three months' fun. Life's going to be very
slow now. There's nothing sporty to do at all!"
Ingred, the youngest but one,