Book One—Chapter Nine.
A Visit to the Fair.
Almost immediately after early dinner, two waggonettes came up to the door, and the girls of the sixth form and the girls of the third form, with their governesses and Mrs Burton herself, started off for a long and happy day in some distant woods. They were to visit the ruins of Chudleigh Castle and go up to the top of Peter’s Tower—a celebrated place in the neighbourhood—and afterwards they were to have tea on the grass; and, best of all, they need not return home until the moon came up.
The moonlight drive home would be the most fascinating part of the whole expedition. For days and days this picnic to Chudleigh Castle had been talked about; and Harriet, with the others, had enjoyed it in anticipation. Now, she had to stand by, gloomily holding Ralph’s hand, while the carriages were packed with radiant, happy girls, and, what was still harder, she had to listen to their gay shouts, and, in particular, to their badinage at her expense.
“I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, Harriet,” said Rose Amberley.
“I hope you and Ralph will have fun, my dear,” said Agnes Winter, one of the sixth form girls, whom it was a great honour to know, and whom Harriet secretly adored. Even her own special chum, Jane, was looking flushed and pleased—disgustingly flushed and pleased, thought Harriet. And there was that little weak Vivian giggling in the silly way she always did, and casting covert glances at her, and, of course, laughing at her in her sleeve. And there was that odious Robina, not looking at her at all, but calmly taking her seat, and making others laugh whenever she spoke to them. Oh, it was all distracting, and for the time being so angry was Harriet that even the prospective pony lost its charm.
At last the waggonettes started on their journey. The sound of their wheels ceased to be heard. Stillness followed commotion; gay laughter was succeeded by—in Harriet’s opinion—a sort of void. Again Ralph tugged her arm.
“Now,” he said, “now it’s gipsies, isn’t it?”