After the intense excitement of Ronnie's peril and subsequent rescue, his friends at the Dower House found it a little difficult to settle down into ordinary school routine. They could discuss no other topic, and many were their speculations concerning the brown-jerseyed stranger who had appeared in the very nick of time, and vanished afterwards without waiting to be thanked. His identity had not been disclosed, and when the girls spoke of him, Miss Birks, rather to their surprise, dismissed the subject hurriedly.
"If he does not wish his brave deed to be acknowledged, we must respect his silence," she said. "It is useless and futile to go further into the matter."
Mrs. Trevellyan was for a few days prostrated from the effects of that half-hour of suspense, but she had sufficiently recovered to attend church on Sunday, and holding Ronnie's little hand tightly in hers, knelt in the old Castle pew, with bent head and tears raining down her cheeks, as the clergyman announced that a member of the congregation desired to return special thanks for a very great mercy vouchsafed to her during the past week. Others besides Mrs. Trevellyan joined with heart-felt gratitude in that addition to the general thanksgiving, and when afterwards the lines of the grand old hymn rang out—
"O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come",
there was not a girl in the Dower House pews who did not sing it with real meaning in the words.
On the Monday, Mrs. Trevellyan, hoping to recover from her nervous attack more easily if she were out of sight of the sea, went away for a short visit to an inland watering-place, taking Ronnie and poor contrite Miss Herbert, who could not forgive herself for having allowed her young charge to run into danger. Appreciating the wisdom of the step, and realizing that her own girls had been in a state of high tension, and were suffering from the consequent reaction, Miss Birks granted the school a whole holiday, and took votes on how the day should be spent. Opinions seemed divided, so it was finally decided that Forms VI and Va should go by train to Linsgarth, look over the ruins of the abbey, and walk home by road; while Vb, containing the younger and more wildly energetic spirits, should enjoy the pleasures of a game at hare and hounds.
It was years since a paper chase had been held at the school, and while the elder girls affected to despise it, the younger ones had plumped for it in a body. They felt they required something more stirring than admiring ruins and marching along a high road.
"It may be very cultured, and good taste, and intellectual, and all the rest of it, to poke round with Miss Birks among Norman arches and broken choir-stalls, but it doesn't work off steam," confessed Evie Bennett. "I'm longing for a good sporting run, and that's the fact!"
"Let the Sixth talk architectural jargon if they like; hard exercise for me!" agreed Betty Scott.
It was arranged that all should start out at ten o'clock; Miss Birks conducting the expedition to Linsgarth, and Miss Harding assuming command of the paper chase, while Mademoiselle, who was a bad walker and disliked country excursions, promised herself a delightful day of rest and leisure in the garden. Miss Birks insisted that there must be three "hares", all solemnly pledged to keep well together, and the remaining six, who were to be "hounds", had orders not to outstrip Miss Harding to the extent of getting hopelessly out of eyeshot and earshot. Fortunately Miss Harding was energetic and enthusiastic, and promised not to be a drag on the proceedings. She donned her shortest skirt and her coolest jumper, and discarding a hat, appeared fully ready to play as hearty a part in the game as any of her pupils.