“I say,” remarked the inhabitants of Dormitory Three in chorus.
Not that they were assembled in the dormitory, but “hasten slowly” time was just over on the afternoon of the day following Betty’s adventure in the wood.
“Hasten slowly” time occurred every day, and occupied the hour immediately following each midday meal. The name had originated after the utterance of an apt remark by one of the middle school girls who had discovered that the hour’s rest enforced by rule at St. Benedick’s was not waste of valuable time after all, but tended rather, in the end, to help towards a fuller use of energy. To new pupils hailing from other and perhaps more “go-ahead” schools it was something of a surprise to find that from two o’clock to three every one of the middle and junior girls was required to endure or enjoy an hour’s dolce far niente—stretched out in summer time on the lawns, and in winter time on rugs in the Oak Hall.
Of all the strange ways of school Betty had found this one, at first, the hardest to bear. Lying perfectly still on a sunny lawn during the first two afternoons her thoughts had travelled homewards at an alarming pace. She had longed to be up and “doing something.” And to know that sixty minutes of this home-sick time was ahead of her daily until the end of term seemed more than she could bear. On the third day, however, to her vast surprise, she had fallen asleep in the middle of a torturing thought as to whether Auntie had remembered to get those shoes of Jan’s both soled and heeled, and had wakened in amazement to find Gerry at her side while the church clock struck three. But after that experience the spell had been broken somehow; Betty had grown to look forward to the “hasten slowly” hour as one of the most restful in her restful days.
It was a good time to repeat the Guide law and the promises, sleepily and more sleepily until they almost changed to dreams. It was a good time to think thoughts that, otherwise, the business of the day might have ruled out altogether. Betty thought of the fairy piper music sometimes in this hour; and remembered what Sybil had said, and wondered. On this particular afternoon she had been thinking curiously, quietly, and almost lovingly of her strange secret adventure in the witch’s cottage.
And she had decided—had quite decided—that the adventure there was one of the things Sybil had meant. “Some things are loveliest when they are kept secret,” the head girl had said. “Things that sometimes happen when one is alone. It takes the bloom off them to talk of them.” Betty remembered every word, though she had not understood at the time what the words could mean. Now she was beginning to understand, though; so she told herself. For if she were to tell any one, the telling, somehow, would spoil her adventure-memory. That secret of the witch’s cottage—which had seemed so desolate outside, but which, inside, had been beautiful, cared for by some strange, mysterious magic—was her own. Perhaps the piper of dreams was connected with it. Perhaps——
Betty was still drowsily and happily “perhapsing” on the subject under the shade of one of the great old trees in the grounds, when the prefect whose duty that afternoon it was to preside over the juniors’ quiet hour gave the signal for them to rise.
“I say, Betty, tell us. We’ve not had a single chance to ask you about yesterday afternoon till now. You never said a word about it in the dormitory; but the other girls know. There’s plenty of time while we get our letter-writing things. You can even tell us while we write them. Miss Drury says we can write letters under the trees this afternoon because it’s too hot indoors.”
“I’m not going to tell anything while I write letters,” said Betty with startled conviction. Sunday afternoons were packed full, as she rightly considered, since there were five anxious, loving folk at home to be reassured concerning her health and happiness, and regaled with tit-bits of weekly information. “And besides,” she continued hurriedly, “there’s nothing to tell.”
“There is.” Mona and Rene were convinced on that point. “About the boy whose face you were patching up when Drina and Maud came along. They said it showed you’d make a good Guide. And however came you to be in the road at all?” finished up Mona.