"It was worth the scolding," she declared afterwards, when Miss Frazer had administered a due homily on the danger of practical jokes. "I only wish I could have seen their faces when the rat plumped on to them. They needn't talk of screaming at nothing, and if they ever begin to tease us about anything again—well, we'll just say 'Rats!'"
CHAPTER IV
Haversleigh
There never was such a glorious place as the Manor. Upon that point the whole school perfectly agreed. The garden was as fascinating as the house, and proved an absolute dream of delight, with its smooth bowling-green, its winding paths, its charming little arbours overgrown with creepers, its clipped yew hedges, and its unexpected flights of steps. It might have been designed as a kind of terrestrial paradise for girls. The big lawns afforded space for so many tennis courts that there was no need for the younger ones to hover about, waiting enviously until their elders had finished before they could get a chance of a game; and there was plenty of room left for croquet and clock golf. The shrubbery and the plantation were ideal spots for hide-and-seek (almost too good, Lindsay said, because it was so very difficult to find anybody); while the various rustic seats scattered under the trees made sewing and reading a luxury on hot days, when no one felt inclined for violent exercise. A stone-flagged terrace ran the entire length of the front of the Manor, proving an invaluable playground when the grass was too wet for games in the garden; and a roomy summer-house stood near the bowling-green, so big that it was capable of sheltering all the school during a thunder shower.
Beyond the avenue, and at the farther side of the shrubbery, was a maze. Marvellous little narrow, twisting paths, with high hedges of clipped box, wound round and round in an utterly bewildering manner, most of them either ending blindly or turning back to the original entrance, and only one of the number leading to the arbour in the centre. For a long time the girls amused themselves with trying to discover the proper clue. Cicely, like Hansel, dropped pebbles to show which paths she had already traced; Lindsay essayed to cut the Gordian knot by creeping through the hedge; and it was only after many and repeated trials that they were at last able to solve the puzzle.
In the midst of one of the lawns grew a grand old yew tree, the lower branches of which were easy to climb. It was a favourite haunt of the younger girls, each having her special seat, and here they might often be seen perched like birds, and certainly chattering enough to suggest a flock of magpies. A stalwart oak close by supported a swing that was far more romantic than the swing in the playground at Winterburn Lodge, because a strong push would send the happy occupant high up among the green leaves, and give her a flying peep into a missel-thrush's nest on the topmost bough, where four gaping yellow mouths were clamouring for food. In a corner, down a flight of steps, there was a pond where grew marsh marigolds, and irises, and forget-me-nots, and other water-loving plants. A pair of ducks lived here in a wooden hutch, and would come waddling up to be fed with bread, which the girls saved from breakfast for them. Great was the delight of the whole school when one morning a brood of seven small ducklings appeared on the water, each as yellow as a canary, and seemingly quite at home already in its native element.
Then there was the rose garden, where every variety of the queen of flowers seemed to flourish, from the delicate Maréchal Niel to the sweet, oldfashioned, striped York and Lancaster. Archways and pillars were covered with climbers and ramblers, a little untrained, but hanging down in such glorious profusion that one almost approved of the neglect. Round this garden was a high hedge of clipped holly, so that it was sheltered from every wind, and the roses bloomed as if in a greenhouse. Nor must we forget the peacocks, which were as much a feature of the old house as the twisted chimneys, or the stone balls on the porch. There were six of them, and the gorgeous sheen of their feathers as they spread their tails in the sunshine was a sight worth remembering. In fact, as Miss Russell often remarked, they gave a finishing touch to the whole scene, and made the Manor look more than ever like a medieval picture.
The village of Haversleigh was only ten minutes' walk from the lodge gates. It consisted of one long row of quaint black-and-white cottages, with thatched roofs, and gardens so gay with flowers that they seemed to be overflowing into the road, and pinks and pansies were coming up between the cobblestones of the street. At the end stood the beautiful ancient church, built in days when each artisan was a master of his craft, and made his work a labour of love. Strangers often came from a distance to admire the delicate tracery of the windows, the exquisite carving of the pillars, and the splendid old oak choir stalls that had formed part of a tenth-century abbey. At the west end hung a collection of banners, won by Monica's ancestors in many a hard-fought battle, and, all tattered and faded as they were, still bearing tribute to the glories of the past. There were monuments, too, in memory of the Courtenays: stone effigies of knights in armour, lying under carved canopies emblazoned with their coats-of-arms; stiff ladies and gentlemen of Tudor times, with starched ruffs and buckled shoes; and one lovely marble figure, by a forgotten sculptor, of a young daughter of the house who had perished during the Great Plague. The ruthless hands that had chipped and spoiled many of the other monuments had spared this one, and the beautiful, calm face seemed to be resting in tranquil sleep, patiently waiting for the summons to arise to immortality.
The Manor pew, though large, could not accommodate the school. The girls sat in the left aisle, and made quite an important addition to the little congregation of villagers. They certainly helped to swell the singing, and I think even the most thoughtless among them learned to love that dear old church, and carried its remembrance into after years.