For the Sake of the School

For the Sake of the School, by
Angela Brazil

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Title: For the Sake of the School
Author: Angela Brazil

Release Date: March 3, 2007 [eBook #20730]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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For the Sake of the School
* * * * *
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 16/18 William IV Street, Charing Cross,
LONDON, W.C.2 17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED 103/5 Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED TORONTO
[Illustration: "I felt I must speak to you"
Page 234
Frontispiece]
* * * * *
FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL
by
Angela Brazil
Author of "The School on the Loch" "The School at the Turrets", &c.
With Frontispiece

Blackie & Son Limited London and Glasgow Printed in Great Britain
by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow

TO THE SCHOOLGIRL READERS WHO HAVE SENT ME SUCH
NICE LETTERS
Contents
CHAP. Page
I. THE WOODLANDS 11
II. A FRIEND FROM THE BUSH 24
III. ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE 36
IV. A BLACKBERRY FORAY 51
V. ON SUFFERANCE 66
VI. QUITS 76
VII. THE CUCKOO'S PROGRESS 87
VIII. THE "STUNT" 104
IX. A JANUARY PICNIC 117
X. TRESPASSERS BEWARE! 130
XI. RONA RECEIVES NEWS 142
XII. SENTRY DUTY 156
XIII. UNDER CANVAS 170
XIV. SUSANNAH MAUDE 183
XV. A POINT OF HONOUR 194
XVI. AMATEUR CONJURING 208

XVII. A STORM-CLOUD 221
XVIII. LIGHT 233
XIX. A SURPRISE 249

FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
The Woodlands
"Are they never going to turn up?"
"It's almost four now!"
"They'll be left till the six-thirty!"
"Oh, don't alarm yourself! The valley train always waits for the
express."
"It's coming in now!"
"Oh, good, so it is!"
"Late by twenty minutes exactly!"
"Stand back there!" yelled a porter, setting down a box with a slam, and
motioning the excited, fluttering group of girls to a position of greater
safety than the extreme edge of the platform. "Llangarmon Junction!
Change for Glanafon and Graigwen!"
Snorting and puffing, as if in agitated apology for the tardiness of its
arrival, the train came steaming into the station, the drag of its brakes
adding yet another item of noise to the prevailing babel. Intending
passengers clutched bags and baskets; fathers of families gave a last
eye to the luggage; mothers grasped children firmly by the hand; a

distracted youth, seeking vainly for his portmanteau, upset a stack of
bicycles with a crash; while above all the din and turmoil rose the
strident, rasping voice of a book-stall boy, crying his selection of
papers with ear-splitting zeal.
From the windows of the in-coming express waved seventeen agitated
pocket-handkerchiefs, and the signal was answered by a
counter-display of cambric from the twenty girls hustled back by an
inspector in the direction of the weighing-machine.
"There's Helen!"
"And Ruth, surely!"
"Oh! where's Marjorie?"
"There! Can't you see her, with Doris?"
"That's Mamie, waving to me!"
"What's become of Kathleen?"
One moment more, and the neat school hats of the new-comers had
swelled the group of similar school hats already collected on the
platform; ecstatic greetings were exchanged, urgent questions asked
and hasty answers given, and items of choice information poured forth
with the utmost volubility of which the English tongue is capable.
Urged by brief directions from a mistress in charge, the chattering crew
surged towards a siding, and made for a particular corridor carriage
marked "Reserved". Here handbags, umbrellas, wraps, and
lunch-baskets were hastily stowed away in the racks, and, Miss
Moseley having assured herself that not a single lamb of her flock was
left behind, the grinning porter slammed the doors, the green flag
waved, and the local train, long overdue, started with a jerk for the
Craigwen Valley.
Past the grey old castle that looked seawards over the estuary, past the
little white town of Llangarmon, with its ancient walls and fortified

gates, past the quay where the fishing smacks were lying idly at anchor
and a pleasure-steamer was unloading its human cargo, past the long
stretch of sandy common, where the white tents of the Territorials
evoked an outcry of interest, then up alongside the broad tidal river
towards where the mountains, faint and