A Popular Schoolgirl | Page 4

and fifteen on her last birthday, was the
only dark member of the fair Saxon family. At present she was not
nearly so good-looking as pretty Quenrede; her mouth was a trifle
heavy and her cheeks lacked color; but her eyes had depths that were
not seen in her sister's, and her thick brown hair fell far below her waist.
She would gladly have exchanged it for the lint-white locks of
Hereward.
"Queenie was always chosen for a fairy at school plays," she grumbled,
"and they never would have me, though her dresses would have come
in for me so beautifully. I don't see why some fairies shouldn't have
dark hair! And it was just as bad when we acted The Merchant of
Venice. Miss Carter gave 'Portia' to Francie Hall, and made me take
'Jessica,' and Francie was a perfect stick, and spoilt the whole thing!
Next time, I declare I'll bargain to wear a golden wig, and see what
happens."
Ingred had been educated at Grovebury College since the morning
when, a fat little person of five, she had taken her place in the
Kindergarten. She and Quenrede had always been favorites in the
school. In pre-war days they had been allowed to give delightful parties
at Rotherwood to their form-mates, and though that had not been
possible during the last five years, everybody knew that their beautiful
home had been lent to the Red Cross, and admired their patriotism in
thus giving it for the service of the nation. From Avis's remarks that

afternoon it was evident that the girls at the college expected the
Saxons to return immediately to Rotherwood, and were looking
forward to being invited to entertainments there during the coming
autumn and winter. Ingred had contrived to parry her friend's interested
questions, but she felt the time had come when she must be prepared to
give some definite answer to those who inquired about their future
plans. She managed to catch her mother alone next morning for a quiet
chat.
"Mumsie, dear," she began. "I've been wanting to ask you this--are we
going back to Rotherwood after the holidays?"
Mrs. Saxon folded up her sewing, put her thimble and scissors away in
her work-basket, and leaned her elbow on the arm of the garden seat as
if prepared for conversation.
"And I've been wanting to talk to you about this, Ingred. Shall you be
very disappointed when I tell you 'No'?"
"Oh, Muvvie!" Ingred's tone was agonized.
"It can't be helped, little woman! It can't indeed! I think you're old
enough now to understand if I explain. You know this war has hit a
great many people very hard. There has been a sort of general financial
see-saw; some have made large fortunes, but others have lost them. We
come in the latter list. When your father went out to France, he had to
leave his profession to take care of itself, and other architects have
stepped in and gained the commissions that used to come to his office.
It may take him a long while to pull his connection together again, and
the time of waiting will be one of much anxiety for him. Then, most of
our investments, which used to pay such good dividends, are worth
hardly anything now, and only bring us in a pittance compared with
former years. Instead of being rich people, we shall have to be very
careful indeed to make ends meet. To return to Rotherwood is utterly
out of the question, and with the price of everything doubled and
trebled, and our income in the inverse ratio, it is impossible to keep up
so big an establishment nowadays."

"Where are we going to live, then?" asked Ingred in a strangled voice.
"At the bungalow that Daddy built on the moors. Fortunately the tenant
was leaving, and we had not let it to any one else. In present
circumstances it will suit us very well. Athelstane is to be entered in the
medical school at Birkshaw; he can ride over every day on the
motor-bicycle. We had hoped to send him to study in London, but that's
only one of the many plans that have 'gane agley'."
"Are Hereward and I to go in to Grovebury every day?"
"Hereward can manage it all right, but I shall arrange for you to be a
weekly boarder at the new hostel. You can come home from Friday to
Monday. Now, don't cry about it, childie!" as a big tear splashed down
Ingred's dress. "After all, we've much to be thankful for. If we had lost
Father, or Egbert, or Athelstane out in France we might indeed grieve.
So long as we have each other we've got the best thing in life, and we
must all cling together as a