Three Girls from School

by L. T. Meade

Accordingly she desired Dan to take her to Dawson’s, and getting slowly and ponderously down out of the gig, she entered the shop.

Dawson himself was present, and came forward with much respect and alacrity to serve his well-known customer.

“Glad to see you out, Mrs Shelf,” he said. “The air will do you good, ma’am. The evenings are turning a bit nippy, aren’t they? Autumn coming on all too quickly. Ah, Mrs Shelf! and winter follows autumn just as death follows old age. We don’t know ourselves without the rector, Mrs Shelf. No wonder that you feel it—no wonder. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken of it. But you’ll come in now and have a cup of tea with my wife, won’t you, Mrs Shelf?”

“No, that I can’t,” said Mrs Shelf, quickly wiping away the tears which had sprung to her eyes at mention of the beloved name. “I must hurry back to Miss Annie; she is all alone, poor little thing! at the Rectory.”

“Is she, now?” said Dawson. “Well, now, and a sweetly pretty young lady she be. Of course you don’t want to leave her by herself. But isn’t that nice-looking young gentleman, her cousin, staying with you for a time?”

“Mr Saxon, you mean?” said Mrs Shelf. “So he be; but he had to go up to London on business this morning, no Miss Annie and I are by ourselves for the time. Now I want please, Mr Dawson, two pounds of your best rump-steak and a piece of kidney for a pudding, and a pound and a half of the best end of neck of mutton. That’s about all to-day. We sha’n’t be wanting as much meat as formerly; and perhaps, Mr Dawson, you wouldn’t mind sending in your account in the course of the next week or so, for Mr Saxon is anxious to square up everything for Miss Annie before he leaves for Australia.”

“I will see about the account,” said Dawson. “And now, that reminds me. I was going to speak about it before, only the dear rector was so ill, I couldn’t worrit him. But the fact is, I changed a cheque for twenty pounds for Miss Annie about a month ago; I can’t remember the exact date. The cheque was one of Mr Brooke’s, and as correct as possible. Miss Annie wanted it in gold, and I gave it to her; and the following Monday I sent Pearson, my foreman, round with it to the bank, and in some way the stupid fellow tore it so badly that they would not cash it, and said they must have a new cheque. Of course I would have gone to the rector, knowing that he would give it to me, but for his illness. Now, however, I should like to have my money back. Shall I add it to the account, or what would be the best way to manage it, Mrs Shelf?”

“But I can’t make out what you are driving at,” said Mrs Shelf. “Has Miss Annie asked you to cash a cheque for her—a cheque of the master’s for twenty pounds?”

“She certainly did. Let me see when the date was. It was a day or two after she came back from school, looking so bonny and bright; and, by the same token, Mr Brooke was taken ill that very day, and Miss Annie was sent into town in a hurry to get some things that you wanted for the master.”

“But,” said Mrs Shelf; then she checked herself. A queer beating came at her heart and a heaviness before her eyes. “Perhaps,” she said, sinking into a chair, “you would let me see the cheque that is so much torn that you can’t get it cashed.”