Yes, it was Miss Gibbs, crouching down near 122 the table with Miss Hoyle, the lady journalist, close to her, both looking very determined, and ready to tackle any number of gipsy thieves. The astonishment was mutual.
“What are you doing here, girls?” asked Miss Gibbs sharply, the schoolmistress in her rising to the surface.
“Only trying to guard the larder!” faltered Raymonde.
“That’s just what we’re doing,” explained Miss Hoyle.
At that moment the matron put in an appearance. She also had been on the qui vive in defence of her stores, and hearing voices, was sure she had trapped the thieves. She had already passed on the alarm, and in a few moments, acting on a preconcerted signal, Mr. Cox and several of the farm hands burst upon the scene, ready to knock down and secure intruders. Explanations naturally followed. It seemed that nearly everyone in the camp had private and separately arranged watch parties, each unconscious of the others’ vigilance, and that all had mistaken their neighbours for burglars. No one quite knew at first whether to be annoyed or amused, but in the end humour won, and a general laugh ensued. As nobody felt disposed to spend the whole night on sentry duty, the matter was settled by Miss Corley and Miss Hoyle proposing to bring their beds and sleep in the marquee for the future.
“I wake easily, so I should hear the very faintest footstep, I’m sure,” said Miss Hoyle. “I’m going to keep a revolver under my pillow, too, and I hope you’ll spread that information all over the gardens, 123 and add that I’m accustomed to use it, and would as soon shoot a man as look at him.”
Whether through fear of Miss Hoyle’s bloodthirsty intentions, or with a shrewd suspicion that Mr. Cox was on the watch, the marauders did not repeat their midnight visit, and left the camp in peace. Miss Hoyle seemed almost disappointed. Being a journalist, she had perhaps hoped to make copy of the adventure, and write a sparkling column for her newspaper. The Grange girls decided that it was not the revolver, but the dread of Miss Gibbs which had scared away the gipsies.
“They’ve seen her in the fields, you know, and I should think one look would be enough,” said Morvyth. “She has a ‘Come here, my good man, and let me argue the matter out with you’ expression on her face this last day or two that should daunt the most foolhardy. If she caught a burglar she’d certainly sit him down and rub social reform and political economy into him before she let him go!”