Chapter XIV: The Easter Holidays

"WELL?" It was Monday morning. The scene was the day-scholar's dressing-room at Helmsford College, and the speaker was Agnes Hosking. She had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of Ann Reed and Violet Wyndham, for the past half hour, to ascertain if her purse had been found, and now addressed them in a tone of inquiry.

"Well, we have brought you no news of your purse, Agnes, I'm sorry to say," Ann replied; "you couldn't have left it in our house, because we've searched for it everywhere, and it's not to be found. I'm afraid you lost it in the street."

"That I am sure I did not," Agnes declared, decidedly. She was rather a nice-looking girl, as a rule; but sometimes her countenance was marred by an unpleasant expression, and it was now.

"You must have done so," Violet said, a trifle impatiently; "I remember seeing you put it in your muff—"

"Of course you did, I saw you watching me," Agnes interrupted; "but I believe the purse dropped out when I took my muff up from the bed."

"I don't 'think it could have done so," said Ann gravely; "and I don't think you should say so," she added, regarding Agnes with a look of distinct disapproval in her grey eyes.

"Why not?" queried Agnes.

"Because, if you left the purse in our house, what do you imagine has become of it?" Ann asked, anxiously. Then, as Agnes made no response, she continued: "Father is coming to see Miss Orchardson about it by-and-by, I believe he is going to suggest having some bills printed— giving a description of the purse and offering a reward for it—and placarded about the town. He thinks there might be a chance of your getting it again that way."

"Yes, unless it has been stolen—" Agnes was beginning when the expression of Ann's face, an expression of intense indignation, caused her to stop suddenly in some confusion.

"Agnes, you cannot realise what you are saying," Violet said sternly, "who would steal your purse?"

"Oh, I suppose some people would consider it worth stealing!" Agnes returned, with a disagreeable laugh and a toss of her head. "But, there, perhaps after all I've lost it—though I don't believe I have. It's very vexatious anyway, whether it's lost or stolen."

"Yes, it most certainly is," Violet answered; "but there's no one to blame, unless it is yourself for not having been more careful of such a valuable object." There was a scornful intonation in Violet's voice as she spoke.

Two or three day-scholars, who had been listening to the conversation, now drew nearer, and began to ask questions. Agnes immediately turned her attention to them, and told them of her loss, whilst Ann and Violet took off their hats and jackets and hung them on their accustomed pegs against the dressing-room wall. There was an unwonted look of severity on Ann's face, and Violet's brown eyes were sparkling with anger.

Later in the day Dr. Reed called and had an interview with Miss Orchardson, as a result of which the next morning the hoardings of the town were decorated with bills which read as follows:—

"Lost, on Saturday, March 16th, between No. 8 Laureston Square and Helmsford College, a tortoise-shell purse with gold clasp and rims, and lined with red morocco leather, containing money—amount known. Whoever will return the same to Miss Orchardson, Helmsford College, will be handsomely rewarded."

"If the purse has fallen into honest hands it will be returned," Ann remarked, as she paused with Violet to read the bill, "if otherwise, I suppose Agnes will always believe that she left it at our house. Do you imagine that she thinks one of the servants has it?" she asked anxiously.

"I don't know, I'm sure," Violet answered; "I'm almost afraid she does."

"Our servants are such honest, respectable girls, too!" Ann cried, really distressed. "I cannot think how Agnes can be so persistent in declaring she did not lose the purse in the street; I consider, to say the least of it, that it is very inconsiderate of her, for she must see that she puts us all in a very awkward position."

"She only thinks of herself," said Violet, in a troubled tone; "I wish we had not asked her to tea. It was my doing, but—"

She broke off and heaved a regretful sigh, whilst Ann said quickly:—

"Never mind; you did it for the best, out of the kindness of your heart. You felt she had no friends in the place, and you were sorry for her. Don't blame yourself; you could not possibly foresee that anything disagreeable would happen."

Violet turned her head aside that her companion might not observe her guilty flush, and her eyes filled with tears. It was like Ann to think better of her than she deserved, she told herself, for Ann was quick to credit others with good intentions. What would Ann say, she wondered, if she knew what had influenced her really to procure an invitation for Agnes Hosking to spend an afternoon at No. 8 Laureston Square? Would she despise her? Violet feared that she would.

Several days passed, and no one returned the purse. Agnes was sorry, for she was most desirous to regain possession of it, especially as she was to visit her grandmother at Easter, and would probably be blamed for having lost it; but, at the same time, she felt rather triumphant, for if it had been proved that she had dropped the purse out-of-doors, everyone would have been in the position to say 'I told you so,' and that would have made her look very small, for she had been so positive in stating that it had not been in her muff when she had left No. 8 Laureston Square.

The more she turned the matter over in her mind the more certain she became that the purse had been stolen from the doctor's house—from Ann's room; but her suspicion, which she had fixed on someone, did not rest upon one of the servants, as Ann imagined. For a while she kept her suspicion to herself, nor daring to put it into words; but there came a day, towards the end of the term, when she whispered it, in confidence, to a couple of her class-mates.

The two she had chosen to make her confidantes were not ill-natured girls; but they proved unable to keep a secret, and repeated what she had said to them to several others, and very soon it was known by the majority of the pupils at Helmsford College that Violet Wyndham was suspected by Agnes Hosking of having stolen the missing tortoise-shell purse. It was not said openly, however, and the term ended, and the school broke up for the Easter holidays without either Ann or Violet guessing the suspicion which had been so unscrupulously attached to the latter.

Easter was late that year, towards the end of April, and the weather during the holidays was mild and sunny. Violet now saw something of the neighbourhood surrounding Barford, for Mrs. Reed took her and Ann for several trips to various places of interest in the district; and one day they spent with the Garret girls at old Mrs. Garret's beautiful home, which was situated in the midst of some of the most romantic scenery in Yorkshire.

Cicely and Clara Garret were quiet, rather delicate girls, with the pale complexions and languid ways of Indian-born children. They had heard the story which had been whispered at school against Violet Wyndham, but neither of them put the least credence in it; they had discussed the advisability of speaking to Ann upon the subject, but had decided not to do so, hoping the matter would blow over by another term. Both of them liked Violet greatly, perhaps because she was so different from themselves, so full of life and high spirits, and, from the fact of knowing the report which had been spread about her, they made so much of her and treated her so very kindly when she visited them with Mrs. Reed and Ann that she could not but be flattered by their behaviour.

Violet's letters to her own people, at this period, were full of contentment. It did indeed seem to her that her lines had fallen in pleasant places. Yes, she was very, very happy. And then, there dawned a day when an unexpected joy come to her, and she sought Mrs. Reed and Ann and imparted to them the wonderful news that the opportunity for which her father had been working and waiting so long had come at last; he had obtained a post with a really good salary as editor of an important newspaper.

"I've had a letter from father himself," Violet told them, half crying, half laughing in her excitement; "and mother has written, too. She is so delighted, and she says I shall hear from Ruth to-morrow. Oh, Mrs. Reed, oh, Ann, I can hardly believe it is true! It's the first piece of really good luck that has come our way!"

"Oh, my dear, don't speak like that," expostulated Mrs. Reed, "don't call it luck; I don't like that word at all; for there's One above who orders our lives for us, and now He is going to allow your father to reap the fruit of his years of labour, don't put it down to luck. I thank God for your father's success, and you will not forget to thank Him, too, will you, my dear?"

"No," Violet answered, in a low, serious voice, impressed by the tender gravity of Mrs. Reed's look and tone; "oh, I am thankful, very thankful!"

"So am I, and I am so very, very glad," Ann said; and she put her arms around Violet's neck and kissed her, and Violet returned the caress warmly, feeling herself to be the happiest girl in the world.

The next morning brought a long letter from Ruth, who spoke of her father with her usual loving pride. She had always been sure that some day his great abilities would be recognised, she wrote, and already he was looking younger and brighter than she had ever known him. "We shall be much better off, now, dear Vi," Violet read, "but, of course, we shall not be rich people, and there are several debts owing which it will take father some time to clear off, so we must continue to live quietly. At first, when father accepted this new appointment, mother talked of moving into a larger house and keeping a second servant, but father pointed out to her that that would not be wise, at any rate at present, because the boys will be growing more expensive every year, and we ought not to live up to our income if we can help it—we haven't been able to help it so far. So we are going to remain on here—I am sure it will be for the best, though mother is a little disappointed—and father says we ought to be very comfortable now we shall have more money to make things nice."

"There is a talk of our all going away for a holiday, in August, whilst the house is being repapered and repainted throughout, that would be a great treat for us all, wouldn't it? And then you would be with us, and we would go to some pretty place by the sea where we could all have a good time together. Oh, I think it's a splendid idea! And oh, dear Vi, I do indeed think things are going to be easier for us at home now. I used to feel, sometimes, that God had forgotten us—that He didn't care how hard father worked or how he tried to get on. I hope it wasn't very wicked of me, for I know we always had a lot to be thankful for, but father used to earn so little for all he did—he'll still have to work very hard, of course, but as he says 'Remuneration sweetens Labour' and he won't be working with the feeling that he isn't properly paid."

Violet experienced a slight sensation of disappointment on reading her elder sister's letter, for she had allowed her imagination to run away with her and had pictured a general exodus from the little Streatham home to a larger, grander abode. It had seemed to her, because her father had obtained a really good appointment, that his fortune was made; but now she began to realise that this was far from being the case. However, her disappointment did not last long, and by-and-by it was quite lost in the pleasure the anticipation of joining her family by the sea-side in the August holidays gave her.

"Agnes Hosking will be sure to hear the good news about father," she remarked to Ann, "she won't be able to sneer at him again. Ours is not such a bad little house at Streatham after all," she allowed, "I daresay it can be made rather nice; but, you see, we never used to have any money to spend on it. Things will be different now."

"Oh, yes," acquiesced Ann, "of course they will."

It touched Violet to see how thoroughly the Reeds entered into her joy, and her sense of gratitude towards them deepened. What good friends they were to her, and how she had grown to love them—the kindly doctor with his big generous heart; Mrs. Reed with her sound common sense and wide sympathies; and Ann—Prosperity's child, as Mrs. Wyndham had named her—who never forgot those less favoured with this world's goods than herself, and made allowances for everyone's shortcomings with that saving grace of charity which thinketh no evil.

Thus, in almost unalloyed happiness, the Easter holidays slipped by for Violet Wyndham, and in the first week of May she returned, with Ann Reed, to Helmsford College to take up her school-life again, utterly unconscious of the cloud of suspicion which already overshadowed her, and with no presentiment of trouble to come.