Chapter XXI: The Hope-Scott Shield

“To-day’s the first day of the holidays!”

That was Gretta’s waking thought, as she lay in her bed at home, on the morning of the Cliff School prize-giving. To this important function she had been specially invited by Miss Slater, who had written suggesting that, if the doctor’s health permitted of it, she should take the opportunity of seeing her old friends again. The letter had been received and answered more than a week ago, but the doctor had not been apprised of its contents. He was making such good progress, thought Gretta, that it would be a pity to worry him with a request for the money necessary for her ticket, and, besides, suppose he should have a relapse while she was away! Also, she knew that if once she were to be received back into the arms of her friends at the Cliff School, it would be terribly difficult to settle down once more to the duties of home; the battle would have to be fought and won all over again, and probably would prove harder than ever.

“So I’m glad I didn’t go,” she remarked to herself in the intervals of dressing. “And, besides, _Margot’s_ coming for the holidays!”

This certainly was enough to be happy about, and there were other things, too. Gretta’s worries--all, of course, but the insuperable one--were smoothing themselves out in a wonderful way. To begin with, Mr. Courtney had proved a veritable friend in need to the doctor, and incidentally an immense comfort to the little nurse. His constant visits and the influence of his cheery personality had proved to be the very tonic needed by the invalid, who was now surely, if very slowly, regaining his health and spirits.

“So dad’s to be ‘down’ to-day, and Margot and Sybil are coming home, too,” thought Gretta in delight. “Oh, it’ll be the most lovely day!” She descended to the dining-room, noticed a letter lying beside her plate; refrained from casting more than a glance in its direction until her father’s tray was carried upstairs; then, on her return to the breakfast-table, tore open the envelope, and for several minutes was deep in its contents.

Five minutes later a madly excited girl, with eyes bright and shining, cheeks pink, and lips parted, burst breathless into the doctor’s room.

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Why, what’s the matter?” Her father looked surprised, to say the least of it, at this unexpected appearance of his usually staid nurse.

“Dad! Oh, but I _can’t_ tell you. It _can’t_ be true!”

“But what is it?” The doctor began to feel vaguely anxious. “If it’s the letter that you’re waving, let me see!”

“Oh, dad!” Gretta held fast to the envelope, unable just yet to give it up even for a moment. “It’s from Miss Slater. How _could_ I deserve it, really? But she says--she says----”

“Out with it,” said the doctor in a professional voice.

“It’s the Hope-Scott Shield, and it’s to be given to-day”--Gretta spoke in gasps--“and so Miss Slater wrote to me first, because----”

“Well?” inquired the doctor patiently, while his bacon grew colder every minute on his plate.

“Because they’re giving it to _me_!” choked Gretta, and rushed out of the doctor’s room like a whirlwind, just in time to prevent herself from committing the unpardonable offence of bursting into tears by her patient’s side.

“Well, well, well!” said the doctor. He picked up the letter that had dropped to the floor beside him, and was forced to polish his glasses several times very carefully before he could read its contents.

Mrs. Hope-Scott had heard, Miss Slater wrote, how Gretta had cheerfully agreed to give up her life at school in favour of her little sister, and go back to duties at home. She would like, therefore, to offer her the shield, in recognition of what she herself considered to be an act of bravery, shown in everyday surroundings, perhaps, but none the less courageous for that. “You will try to live up to the words on the shield, I know,” wrote the head mistress; “though written of Britomart, the maiden-knight, I should wish them to prove true of all the girls who have been at the Cliff School.”

“But I can’t believe it yet, dad,” said Gretta later on, when, seated beside the invalid in the drawing-room, she awaited with sparkling eyes the coming of the travellers. “What _will_ they say? The girls at school _can’t_ think I deserved it! Hark!” as the peal of the front-door bell sounded through the house. “I believe they’ve come.”

But the visitor proved to be Mr. Courtney, in a state of excitement so great about something or other that he scarcely seemed to take in Gretta’s wonderful piece of information. “I’ve news,” he announced, entering the room as he spoke, and addressing the doctor; “and news that you will be uncommonly glad to hear.”

“News! More news!” Gretta held her breath. Could it be from Auntie Tib?

“A cable came to me half an hour ago.” Mr. Courtney spoke eagerly. “They landed last week, and----”

“Well?” inquired the doctor excitedly.

“Their affairs are settled, and _well_ settled, apparently. The bad news was a scare. Particulars, of course, I don’t know yet, but the main point is that they will suffer no financial difficulty whatever.”

“Oh!” breathed Gretta; this seemed almost too good to be true. “Does it mean----”

“It means a great deal, Gretta,” said the visitor, turning to her kindly. “Freedom from anxiety for Mrs. Fleming, and--a great deal more besides. Also, it means----”

“Yes?” said the girl wonderingly, surprised at his tone.

“The cable is in code, of course,” Mr. Courtney spoke to the doctor, “but one thing Mrs. Fleming has made very clear, in spite of that. She wishes Gretta, without fail, to return next term to the Cliff School.”

“Oh, dad!” Gretta was on her knees beside her father’s chair. “Oh, _dad_!”

“Your aunt is one of the kindest of women, Gretta,” said her father huskily.

“But, dad, I won’t go. I mean, I couldn’t leave you for anything with Ann again. I’d rather fifty times over stay and look after you till you’re properly well. I’ll write to auntie----”

“Listen here for a minute, Gretta,” said her father; the girl raised her eyes to his at the tone of his voice.

“This message from your aunt is just the best thing that could have happened for all of us,” continued the doctor; “and, if it will make your mind easier, I’ll tell you something I never expected to be able to tell you at all.” He paused for a minute before he continued. “Dr. Moore thinks that a voyage is advisable for my health, and Mr. Courtney offered to get me a berth as ship-doctor on the boat by which he sails to Australia. I should have had no hesitation in accepting his offer but for the fact that I had nowhere to send _you_, my dear, during my absence. Now it seems that the way is cleared, for the _Tarrawonga_ leaves in five weeks’ time, so I shall just have time to see the three of you back to school before I start. There are scores of arrangements to be made, of course, but to put your mind at rest at once, I think it wise to mention the plan in outline.” The doctor sat up energetically in his chair as he spoke, and sniffed the air as though he were already drinking in the ocean breezes.

Gretta gave a cry of delight. “Oh, dad,” she said, “could anything ever have been thought of so lovely for all of us? _And_”--she gave a long sigh--“there’s the shield as well!”

“I don’t wonder you’re talking about it,” said a cheery voice; and Margot came in at the door with Sybil beside her. “Gretta, _why_ we didn’t guess you’d get it I _can’t_ imagine. You should have heard the girls clap! It’s the most ripping, _ripping_ thing that could have happened.”

“And I’ve broken a front tooth at hockey,” said the shrill voice of Sybil. “Miss Read said I was brave. I didn’t cry a bit--not even when it bled. I just went on playing. Oh, well, if no one wants to look at it, I’ll just go down and show it to Ann!”

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