Canning Town Folk The work of Elsie J. Oxenham

NB: All of the excerpts about folk dancing below are © the estate of Elsie J. Oxenham

The Girls of the Abbey School (1921)

Here, one of the main characters Jen is introduced for the first time as a new girl at school, and almost immediately becomes passionate about folk dancing and the Hamlet Club.

Chapter 1: 'Chums for a Week'

The crowning of the May Queen was in progress in the big school hall, and among the crowd of girls who hung over the balcony railing none was more interested than Jen. She was very much of a new girl - or else, as she said to herself, she would jolly well have been down there among the other dancing girls, who, in two long lines, were laughing at their partners as they kicked and clapped hands and shook their fingers at one another in a quaint country dance, “Sweet Kate.”

The four previous Queens sat on the platform, grouped about the heroine of the day, a sweet-faced, bronze-haired girl of sixteen. Jen gazed at her worshipfully. She had not been shy the day before, her first day at school, because she did not know the meaning of the word, but she had certainly felt strange. The school was so very big; there were such crowds of girls, who all knew one another, and all knew where to go. Then this girl, with the ruddy hair and friendly brown eyes, had espied her and come to the rescue, had shown her over the school and answered her eager questions.

Jen had marvelled that a senior should take so much trouble over a thirteen-year-old, but Nesta and Kathy, of her form, had explained, when, thanks to this introduction, they had accepted her into their midst, “She’s the new Queen. The Coronation’s to-morrow night. It’s part of her work to look after new girls.”

“Then she does it jolly well. What’s her name?”

“Joan Shirley. Oh, yes, she’ll make a ripping Queen!” Molly Gilks assented.

So Jen watched Queen Joan with grateful eyes, as she walked bareheaded between lines of cheering girls to her throne, where the earlier Queens stood to greet her. At first, indeed, she had thought the bronze-haired girl who led the procession of former Queens, and wore a train of bright apple green, was Joan; but as she watched, wide-eyed, she saw this girl rising to abdicate her place as Queen, to receive a crown of forget-me-nots in place of her faded wreath, and to lead in her successor and crown her with a wreath of starry narcissus. “Why, there are two of them!” she said aloud, in amazement.

Somebody leaning over the railing beside her chuckled. “Yes, isn’t it weird? We hoped people who didn’t know them would think they were seeing double. I wanted to be down there in the crowd, and hear what people said. But you’ll do instead, as you’re new. You are new, aren’t you?”

Jen laughed as she turned to the speaker. “Awfully, hideously new. I’m only two days old.”

“Oh, well, you’ll soon grow up,” her new friend said encouragingly. “What Form are you?”

“IIIA.”

“I’m IIIB; that’s why I haven’t seen you, I suppose. But let’s watch the crowning; we can talk while they’re dancing.”

“But why are there two of them?” Jen murmured, as the one red-haired girl crowned the other, whose train was of rich violet, kissed her warmly, and left her to stand bowing to the cheering crowd. “Twins, aren’t they?”

“Not exactly; they’re cousins. Joy was last year’s Queen.”

“Joy and Joan? How muddling! They might have called one of them Alice, or Thomasina, or Muriel.”

The other girl laughed. “Now they’re going to have the Maypole! Which of the clubs shall you join?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jen said cautiously. “There are such heaps of them; I’ve been looking at the notices. Why aren’t you dancing? And what’s your name? I’m Jen Robins.”

“Jen? Not Jenny?”

“No, never Jenny!” Jen laughed. “The boys say Jen’s quite enough for me! I’m the youngest, you see.”

Her new friend nodded, apparently understanding. Then she laughed too. “I’m Jack! I think we’d better chum. My friend left last term. I’m friends with Nesta Green, and Molly Gilks, and Kath Parker, too, but they’re chums all together. You can chum with me, if you like.”

Jen’s eyes brightened. “That’s topping of you! But - Jack and Jen! We really can’t help it, can we? I’d like to awfully. What’s the whole of you?”

“Jacqueline, of course. Isn’t it enough to blight my career?”

“Not if you put tucks in it,” Jen retorted.

Jack giggled. She was short and dark, quick in her movements, with black bobbed hair tickling her cheeks and neck.

Jen was taller, but slim, with two thick, fair plaits, and stray twists of curls about her eyes and ears. “Why aren’t you dancing?” she repeated. “I’d love to join in! Isn’t this pretty?” as the plaiting of the Maypole gave place to “Sellenger’s Round,” danced in a big ring around the pole.

“Because I’m not a Hamlet. The Hamlet Club goes in for rambles and learns folk-dancing, and crowns the Queen. They have topping meetings, mostly out in the country or in a gorgeous old barn; but, you see, I go in for cricket, and they won’t let juniors do both. They say you can’t do either properly. Seniors sometimes do both, but not new girls. Kath and Molly play cricket, but Nesta’s a Hamlet. She’s dancing down there with Molly’s sister Peg.”

“I’ll want to do both! I can feel it coming on!” Jen sighed. “Oh, what are they going to do now?” as the dancers scattered, and began slipping rings of bells below their knees and snatching up white handkerchiefs.

“A morris. Those others were country dances. You’ll like this!”

Jen did like it, and watched with fascinated eyes as the “sides” of six danced “Trunkles” and “Blue-eyed Stranger,” then changed their handkerchiefs for staves and gave “Bean-setting.” “I’m keen on cricket, and I’d like to join the same as you!” she sighed. “But it’s going to be awfully hard to choose! This is so new and queer! I’ve played cricket all my life, but I never saw anything like this before. I’d love to join in those dances! And I’d like to join the club, because that ripping girl’s the Queen.”

“We ought to belong to the same things, if we chum,” Jack said doubtfully. “But perhaps we could - where do you live, by the way?”

“Here. My home’s in Yorkshire.”

“Oh! You’re one of the Special Twenty? Miss Macey only takes twenty boarders.”

“I’m the twenty-first,” Jen laughed. “Oh, just look at this one!” as the dancers, discarding their bells, formed into sets of four for “Heartsease,” and fell back from their opposites and turned their partners, all in the graceful, slow running step.

“That’s awfully pretty!” Jack decided. “Now it’s a minuet. How do you like being a boarder? I should loathe it!”

“I think it won’t be bad when I’ve got used to it. It felt queer last night, of course,” Jen said casually.

Jack gave her a quick look. “She’s sporty! Wonder if she cried in bed? I guess I should. Miss Macey’s quite jolly,” she said aloud.

“Yes, I should think she’s a sporty old bean,” Jen agreed warmly.

Jack smothered a laugh. “Jen!”

Jen looked at her with would-be innocent eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you know you mustn’t call Miss Macey a “sporty old bean?” Is that how you talk at home?”

“When I’m with the boys,” Jen explained simply. “I don’t think I’d say it to her!”

“To Miss Macey? I hope to goodness you wouldn’t!”

“Well, she looks a jolly old sport; that’s better, isn’t it?”

Jack looked doubtful. “Not so frightfully much. You’ll jolly well have to be awfully careful, if that’s how you talk at home!”

“I’ve an aunt living in the town here, so I’m going to her for weekends now and then,” Jen added. “I’m to go tonight, as this is my first Friday, and stay till Monday.”

“Meet me at the gate at ten past nine, then, and we’ll come in together. We must see one another sometimes, if we’re to be chums.”

“Don’t you think it’s rather sudden?” Jen asked solemnly. “We’d never spoken to one another ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, but I can tell if I’m going to like people! Can’t you?”

Jen’s eyes were dancing as she answered cautiously, “Don’t you think we’d better try it first for a week? Like being engaged before getting married, you know? I don’t like changing once I’ve made friends.”

Jack laughed. “Are you Scotch? I thought you said Yorkshire? All right! We’ll be engaged for a week. Then if we still want to we’ll get married.”

“Oh, why are they taking off their bonnets?” Jen had been intent on the dancers all through the conversation, and had watched the “Ribbon Dance” and the “Butterfly” with delight in their changing movements. Now about half of the girls had tossed aside the white caps or bonnets they wore with their many-coloured dancing-frocks, and stood in two long lines, bareheaded girls facing girls still with covered hair. Jen looked at Jack for an explanation. “Why is it? You seem to know all about it!”

“Edna Gilks sat next to me at the last dancing evening, and I asked her things; she’d hurt her foot, so she couldn’t dance. That’s Edna, the “bridesmaid” - Maid of Honour, I mean - to the pink Queen, Marguerite. This is a boy-and-girl dance; the girls without caps are the men. They say it’s the easiest way to show the difference. If their hair’s covered they’re women. Nesta’s being a man, you see.” “Why don’t you say gentlemen and ladies?” Jen remonstrated.

“They never do; it’s country dancing, you know.”

“Oh! But weren’t they men and women before?”

“Yes, but in some dances it doesn’t matter so much. They say in others you must show the difference, or it’s no fun for the audience. I’ve seen this before; it’s called “Halfe Hannikin.” See! The men are all dancing up their own side and down the women’s.”

“And each one has to stand and take a rest at the top, and then come in again as a woman. How weird! They’re getting all mixed up!”

“They’ll do “Peascods” next,” Jack prophesied. “The men and women make separate rings inside the big ring, and clap in the centre at different times. Edna says they’re supposed to be worshipping the old sacred tree on the village green.”

“I’ll have to join this!” Jen sighed wistfully, as the big rings of “Peascods” swung joyfully round. “It’s just too awfully fascinating for words!”

“But think of the cricket!” urged Jack.

From Chapter 25: 'An All-night Affair'

Joan looked up from a letter at breakfast-time with eager eyes. She glanced round the big table, then hammered with her spoon for silence and sprang on to her chair.

“Speech from Her Majesty! The throne is now occupied! Silence, all!” Joy proclaimed.

“Girls! Hamlets and others! I have the pleasure of telling you that tonight there will be a President’s meeting of the Club, followed by a full-dress dance - not robes and crowns for the Queens, of course; I don’t mean that! But dancing frocks will be worn, not gyms. It is rather soon after Friday night, I know; but Cicely’s going away next week, and she asked me to make it as soon as possible. We talked it over on Wednesday, when Joy and I went to Broadway End to plan things with the other Queens; they weren’t sure which night would suit them all, so they were to decide and let me know. Cicely says tonight; Miss Macey promised it should be whatever night they could all come.”

“And are they all coming, Joan? Mirry and Marguerite as well? How simply topping!” cried one of the elder boarders joyfully.

“But isn’t it too far? Can they get home again? Won’t we have to stop awfully early?” another asked. “It’s miles to Cicely’s, and frightfully lonely roads. Can they ride all that way alone at night?”

“It will have to be early, of course, because of all the day-girls. We can’t cut them out of meetings, you know; Edna and Peggy would never forgive us! That practice dance was different; but they must all come to this. We must have our maids of honour - Carry and Muriel as well as Edna and Peggy, you know! Miss Macey says we’ll get our prep. done in the afternoon, and then have two teas, visitors first, of course, and boarders last! Then we’ll have the meeting and dancing, and stop by eight, at the latest. That will give us heaps of time, and they’ll keep one another company on the way home, as they do when we meet at school.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know all the lot were all going to stop. That makes a difference, of course.”

“Cicely’s sending round notices to the day-girls,” Joan added. “She had to give notice of the meeting, of course, so she said she’d write to them at the same time that she wrote to me. So they’ll tell their folks they’ll be home late, and they’ll bring their shoes and things with them.”

“Is Miss Lane coming?”

“Oh, rather! We must have the fiddle. Yes, she’ll be here. She and the three Queens are going to stay the night,” Joan explained casually, with dancing eyes and a merry meaning look at Joy. “Yes, it will be a tight fit, but we’ll manage it somehow.”

“Some squash! I thought we were overcrowded as it is!” Jen murmured to Nesta.

“Cicely and Miriam are going to sleep in the abbey,” Joan continued. “Cicely says she’s been dying to sleep there ever since she first saw it, but she must have Mirry too, for fear of ghosts. So the caretaker is going to put them up. We’ll squeeze together a little more, and spare a room for Marguerite and Miss Lane; it’s only for one night.”

“I don’t understand!” Jen caught Joan, as the girls streamed out into the garden, discussing the news with much excitement, all evidently overjoyed at thought of a visit from these three seniors, who had left school nearly a year ago and were only occasionally seen now. Jen had heard much of Cicely and Miriam and Marguerite, and understood that they had been the ones to establish the Hamlet Club, start the dancing, and teach the rest. Cicely, she knew, was the President, but all three in turn had been Queens, Joy being the fourth Queen and Marguerite’s successor. She had seen them at Joan’s Coronation, but only in the distance; she knew they were all favourites, and that idea was confirmed by the excitement caused by Joan’s news.

Joan laughed, and drew her into the library alone. “Jenny-Wren, there’s more in this than meets the eye! But the rest is secret, known only to Joy and me, and mother and Miss Macey. And we’re thinking of letting you into it! You, Jenny-Wren!”

“Oh!” Jen breathed, gazing at her with shining eyes. “Oh, but why, Joan? How simply tophole! But why should you? And what is the secret?”

“First of all, what don’t you understand?”

“What is a President’s meeting?”

“One at which the President is present, of course - an official proper meeting. Now that she’s left school, she can’t come to every dance evening, so we practice and learn new dances without her, and she comes when she can; she says she won’t be able to come to many of the Saturday afternoon rambles, either. But now and then we must have her, for business and so on, besides wanting to see her! So we’ve decided to have President’s meetings, when she and the other Queens can come. You’ve heard of them all? - Mirry, the White Queen - Cicely, the Gold Queen, and the President of the Club - Marguerite, the Pink Queen?”

“I saw them all when you were crowned,” Jen explained eagerly. “Joy was the Green Queen, and you wore violet. Then is it for business tonight, as well as dancing?”

“Both. We have to receive you, for one thing. You aren’t officially a member, yet; you’ve just slipped in anyhow.”

“Oh!” Jen laughed. “But I’d far rather just slip in, please. Don’t waste time on me! Couldn’t that be enough?”

“Oh, you must be introduced to the President! She must know her members. You needn’t be shy; she’s awfully jolly. She’s been tremendously good to me,” Joan said soberly.

“I shall like her for that, then,” Jen said promptly.

Joan laughed. “And we have to read the minutes of the last meeting, and decide how to carry on the Club during the summer. Things are rather different this year, thanks to the dip., of course. But I don’t think it need make very much difference. We can still dance, and ramble on Saturday afternoons. We’ll have to take you to some of our favourite haunts; you’ve seen nothing yet but the abbey! It was when the Club came to see the abbey for the first time, on a winter ramble, and I showed them round, that I got to know the girls and Cicely, you know. It’s queer that we should be having our meetings here now! After the business we shall dance, and the rest will be allowed in to watch.”

“Shall we have any of the same dances we had on Friday?” Jen asked wistfully. “I love watching, but I love joining in still more! Couldn’t we have just one or two for me?”

“We will, for your sake, of course. Cicely would ask what you knew, and put them in for you, if I didn’t. Oh, you shall dance a little, anyway, Jenny-Wren!”

“But you said dancing frocks would be worn, and I haven’t got one,” Jen said gloomily.

Joan laughed. “You haven’t had much time to get one, have you? Everybody will understand that. Wear a summer frock and plimsolls, and borrow a sunbonnet if you want to be a woman! You can get sandals and white stockings later.”

“Oh, I’ve got white stockings to go with my white frock!” Jen said happily. “And it’s quite loose and swingy! Will that do?”

“So long as it’s loose and swingy, it will do beautifully,” Joan said solemnly. “And now for the secret, Jenny-Wren! I don’t want you to tell anybody, even Jack or Della, till tomorrow. Then you can talk about it as much as you like.”

Jen nodded, gazing at her worshipfully. Joan went on eagerly, “For quite a year, Jen, I’ve been wanting something! You know how I love the abbey? And how keen I am on our folk-dancing? Well, when I lived in the abbey I used sometimes to creep out at night, at full moon, and wander among the ruins, thinking how lovely they were by moonlight. Then when I learned to dance, I had a craving for a moonlight dance on the garth. Don’t you feel it too?” as Jen’s eyes gleamed and she gave a little breathless laugh of delight. “I knew you would; that’s partly why I’m letting you into it now. The others wouldn’t understand; they’d just look on it as a joke, and they’d giggle, and call out to one another, and be noisy. They can’t help it, and they wouldn’t mean any harm, but they can’t be quiet! Half the fascination of this will be in its weirdness; it would just be ruined with chattering going on! Well, now we’ve got our chance. The Queens know all about it, and they’ll stop the night, and Edna and Peggy and Carry and Muriel, too, if they care to; Cicely was going to give them the chance. Of course there won’t be beds for them all, so some of them are going to stop up all night, for once. We’re going to meet on the garth at midnight and dance till we’re tired, with Miss Lane to play for us; she’s sporty and up to anything; we know she’ll do it, though she may laugh! Then Ann Watson will give us supper, or early breakfast, at two in the morning or so, and they’ll all cycle home as it’s beginning to get light. I guess some of them will be late for school next morning, but it won’t matter for once. But if Edna and Peggy choose to sleep on the floor, rather than go home, I shan’t be surprised, and of course, we’ll let them. They don’t mind; they’re used to roughing it. Carry and Muriel won’t, that’s quite certain!”

“It’s a simply duckshious plan,” Jen sighed wistfully. “But why did you choose those four, besides the Queens?”

“Because they’re our bridesmaids - maids of honour, I mean! They’re our best dancers, too. Edna is Marguerite’s maid, Peggy is Cicely’s, Carry is Joy’s, and Muriel is mine. Bridesmaids and Queens have privileges! Mirry’s maid was her little sister Babs, but she said she wouldn’t bring her this time, as it was to be an all-night affair. Babs will be mad, I guess!”

“I would like to see it!” Jen sighed. “It will be awfully pretty! If I kept as still as a mouse, in one corner all the time, couldn’t you let me watch, Joan?”

“But we want you to join in!” Joan laughed. “You see, there’ll be nine of us, and we can do almost anything, in fours, or sixes, or eights, but for any longways dance we must have at least ten. So they said I’d better choose one more, and I thought of you, Jenny-Wren.”

“Oh!” Jen gasped again. “But how simply lovely of you! But why, Joan? Why me?”

“For one thing, because you’re the newest member. For another, because I’m so much obliged to you for being so good to Della that she felt inclined to tell you that secret, and so we found the hidden treasure. I do feel as if we owed it to you. For a third and last reason, because I believe you’ll enjoy it more thoroughly than any of the others would.”

“And enter into it in the proper way, as the rest of us will, without turning it merely into a joke,” she added in thought, but did not say it aloud.

“Oh, I will enjoy it!” Jen said fervently. “I’ll simply love it! And I will be quiet. But Jack was good to Della, too, Joan!”

“But Jack doesn’t dance. And although those were all my reasons when I told Joy I should choose you, you’ve added another to them now, by discovering the story of Lady Jehane and her jewels. You don’t know how I thank you for that. It seems to have made the whole abbey live in a new way, by putting real people and a real romance into it.”

Jen coloured in vast delight. That she, even she, could have added to Joan’s pleasure in her abbey, if not her love for it, was a wonderful and joyful thing to Jen. “But you’d have found it out for yourself as soon as you read her book,” she protested honestly.

“All the same, you found it, and you shall have the credit for it. I’m looking forward tremendously to telling Cicely the story tonight. I think I’ll save it up for the garth, and when we’ve danced till we’re tired, I’ll tell them the Romance of Jehane and Ambrose while they’re resting. There won’t be time for it before. You see,” she laughed, “none of those three seniors has heard a word about the treasure chamber yet! We’ve all that story to tell, and the treasures and books to show. They’re all keen on the abbey, Cicely and Miss Lane especially. Won’t there be some excitement?”

“Won’t we have a buzzy time?” But Jen’s voice was full of joyful anticipation, not dread. “But, Joan!” - and she became anxious suddenly - “will I be good enough to dance with all that lot? It would be all right with you, or Joy; you know I’m not good yet. But in a longways dance you have to go with everybody in turn. Suppose I had to dance with Cicely!”

“You will, if we do “Bonnets” or “Butterfly”! You’re sure to come to her in time. But you needn’t be nervous, Jen. She’s as jolly as she can be. They all are. They’re our best dancers; they’ve been at it longer than any of us, of course; but all the same, no new member need mind dancing with any of them. If only they see you’re trying your best to catch on, and if they know you’re enjoying the dances - and they will, if you look as you did on Friday night! - nothing else matters. If you’re keen, and they can see you love it, they’ll be jolly to you at once. Don’t think about yourself, that’s all; there’s no time for that in this kind of dancing! Just have a good time, that’s all you have to do!”

“I am frightfully keen, and I do love it awfully, and the thought of dancing in the abbey by moonlight, to fiddle music, is simply too gorgeous for words! As for having a good time, Friday was the most ripping thing I’ve known for ages! And I’m just hungry for some more of it. I want to do it all the time! But all the same, I think I shall be nervous if I find myself in the same ring or star as Cicely!” Jen confessed.

Chapter 26 - The President’s Meeting

In spite of Joan’s reassurance, Jen was inclined to be nervous when the evening came.

The meeting of the Hamlet Club was informal enough, and did not take long. She watched the eager greetings of the girls to the three former Queens, but kept in the background herself, Nesta and Molly whispering personal details of each, and telling of their election, coronation, and reign. At the meeting, she listened while minutes and reports were read, and plans for the summer were discussed. Among other items, she gathered that the school generally gave an entertainment in aid of some hospital in their town, early in the autumn term, and Joan asked for suggestions as to what form it should take this year. Last year’s, it seemed, had been a demonstration of folk-dancing, given by the Club members for the benefit of the public, with items by the Musical Society; and as it was referred to, Jen saw, from the amused looks which passed between the three senior Queens and the conscious dropping of Joy’s usually merry eyes, that something must have happened at that fete. Joy had been the reigning Queen at the time; had anything gone wrong? She resolved to ask Nesta afterwards. Joan looked serenely unconscious of anything lying behind, however; was she “putting it on”? She must know anything there was to tell; but she showed no sign of it.

Various suggestions were made, and it was decided to consult the School Dramatic Society as to the possibility of giving a play. “If they’d do Midsummer Night’s Dream, we could supply the dances,” Cicely remarked. “Then it wouldn’t be left only to our Club. It would be better for the school,” and Miriam Honor laughed at this characteristic speech.

Joan introduced the new member, explaining that Jen had already learned several dances, made quite a good beginning at the morris step, and taken part in a practice evening. She led her up to the Queens, and first the President and then the other two shook hands with her and welcomed her cordially. Then the meeting broke up, and the guests were led away - “To be introduced to the cups and plates and goblets and books,” as Cicely said, while the girls living in the house raced away upstairs to change into their dancing frocks and shoes, taking the day-girl members of the Club with them.

It was when it came to standing at the head of the long lines facing Joan, and with Cicely and Joy next couple down the row, to open the dance with “The Mary and Dorothy,” that Jen was nervous. She knew it had been chosen for her sake, and she was looking forward to it very greatly; but suppose she made a mistake, with Cicely standing there next to Joan! Suppose her “set and turn single” was not up to standard, or she was late in giving her hand to Joy for the ring! Cicely had been warned privately by Joan and knew how she felt, and her eyes were kindly and encouraging; she was very pretty, with dark brown hair and eyes, quite grown up, of course, after her six months’ trip to Ceylon during the winter. She wore a dancing frock of dark red, with wide white collar and cuffs; Miriam’s was of a soft lavender shade, and her hair was yellow; Marguerite, in green, had very dark eyes and black hair, and she was even more graceful than the other two, though all walked and held themselves in a way which Jen, watching with eager, appreciative eyes, described vaguely to herself as “topping.” Four years of folk-dancing, just at their growing stage, had done its work with them, and none of them could have been awkward if she had tried. Cicely had a very distinct air of authority, which made the way in which every one deferred to her seem only natural; but it suited her, and she was as kindly towards the nervous new member as Miriam Honor herself - Mirry, who had been loved by all the juniors and still was by all who knew her, in spite of her Inter B.A. and her reputation for scholarship.

Margia Lane, the fiddler, standing by the piano, struck up the quaint little air of “The Mary and Dorothy,” and Jen’s nervousness vanished in enjoyment, not merely her own, but everybody else’s. She was very sensitive to atmosphere, and these original members of the Club were so evidently out to enjoy themselves that everybody else had to do the same. Her fear of criticism disappeared; she danced for the pleasure of it, her face radiant and excited, and Joan flashed a laughing look at Cicely as she led Jen down the middle and up again.

“She’ll do,” the President whispered, as Joan took her new place on the other side of her.

Joan nodded. “You take her on for “Bonnets,” and see how she skips! She’s like thistledown. And she’s “some” keen!”

“What dances do you know, kiddy?” Cicely asked, as they rested. “I’d like one with you. “Hey, Boys”? Oh, good! That’s a fine beginning. I guess Joan’s been giving you private lessons on the garth? Yes, I thought so! But I don’t want “Hey, Boys”; you don’t dance with your partner enough in that. I’ll have you for a longways presently. What about “Bonnets so Blue”? I’m keen on that.”

“Oh, so am I! And it’s such a topping tune!” Jen said warmly. “But “We Won’t Go Home Till Morning’s” even better. I love them both!”

“We can’t have both in one evening’s programme, you know,” Cicely laughed. “But we’re going to have “Row Well” presently. Don’t you know it yet? Oh, it’s fine! You’ll soon pick it up. And - here, whisper! - you’d better try all you know, for we shall have it again on the garth at midnight!”

A laughing look of understanding passed between them; nothing more had been said about the midnight dance; this was the first reference Jen had heard to it since Joan’s promise of the morning, except an apparently casual remark of Joy’s at tea-time - “It’s going to be a gorgeous night for full moon!”

Jen had seen and understood Joan’s laughing look across at her, and had herself been watching the sky, in fear lest clouds should gather before sunset. But it was a clear, still night, ideal for their purpose, and it was evident, from occasional glances she caught, that not only the Queens, but their “bridesmaids” as well, had been warned of what was in store for them, and that all were looking forward to it intensely. If she had not been in the secret, she would have noticed nothing; but knowing what she did she understood the laughing, meaning look Miriam Honor gave her when she invited her to be her partner for “Gathering Peascods,” and what was in Edna’s mind when she came up to “bag her for “Sellenger’s Round”.” “We shall dance all these again presently,” Edna whispered, as they armed together, for Jen had watched the dance on Friday night and had grasped it very quickly. “It’s jolly good practice for you! Now honour the centre again; never forget that. It’s the bit of the dance! Peg wants you for something, too. What can you do?”

“I know mostly those for four. They taught me last week, before the rest of you came. They tried to teach me morris too, but I couldn’t keep my hands and feet straight both at once.”

Edna laughed. “Oh, you will, in time. I remember what an idiot I felt when I started. But it’s a tophole feeling once you do get it.”

“I’d like a dance, Jen,” and Marguerite smiled down at her, for she too had been watching the new member’s enjoyment with amusement and sympathy. “What about “Butterfly”? Have you promised that yet?”

Jen looked up at her with happy, grateful eyes.

“You are ripping, all of you! I never dreamed you’d dance with me. No, I haven’t, but how can we make arches? I can’t reach up as high as you can.”

“We’ll have to pretend; you can stand on tiptoe,” the Strawberry Queen said gravely. “After all, Jen, if you have a partner of your own size to make an arch with, how am I to go underneath?”

Jen laughed. “You’ll have to be the arch by yourself, I guess. Thank you just awfully! I’d love it!”

“What was the matter with Joy at the meeting, when they talked about the fete last autumn?” she asked Peggy, as they danced “Rufty Tufty” together.

Peggy laughed. “Oh, it was an awful day! Joy had had a frightful quarrel with Carry, a regular bust-up, and they hadn’t spoken to one other for ages. It was Carry’s fault, really, but everybody blamed Joy for not being willing to make it up.”

“But Carry’s her bridesmaid! She couldn’t not speak to her maid!” Jen remonstrated.

“That’s what everybody said to her. But she could, and she did - didn’t speak to her, I mean; and everybody was down on both of them. That fete was the most uncomfortable business you can imagine, with Joy and Carry dressing on opposite sides of the room and not looking at one another. Ed and I had to help Joy with her crown and train, or she’d never have got them right; Carry wouldn’t lift a finger to help her; she always was a cat, of course. We were glad when it was over. That’s what every one was thinking of.”

“Joan didn’t look uncomfortable about it?”

“No; she’d told Joy what she ought to do, but Joy wouldn’t do it. They don’t like to be reminded of it now.” Peggy bowed politely in response to Jen’s little bob of a curtsey. “Dance that with me again later!” she whispered, and disappeared with a laugh to claim Marguerite as her partner for “The Old Mole.”

“Now, Jenny-Wren, you run away off to bed like a shot!” Joan commanded, as the last dance ended. “Oh, yes! You’re to go to bed! There are four whole hours till midnight! I don’t say we’ll all go to bed, but you must. You’ll rest, whether you sleep or not. I’ll come and wake you; I promise faithfully. How long do you want to dress? Five minutes? All right! Bring a warm coat; you’ll want it when you aren’t dancing. It’s going to be a lovely night.”

“But I’ll have to tell Jack and Della, Joan! They’ll wake, and if they don’t know what’s up they’ll ask thousands of questions and want to come too. Hadn’t I better tell them? They’ll understand it’s not a thing for everybody.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. It might be difficult to keep them from following us. You put all the things you’re going to want to wear in one pile, Jenny-Wren, and when I wake you I’ll do it very quietly and slip out of the room with your clothes, and you can dress in my room. Then they needn’t know anything about it till the morning.”

By nine o’clock the day-girls had all had supper and been sent off in little parties by moonlight, except the four “bridesmaids,” who, it was understood, were to stay for an extra chat with their Queens before they too went home. Carry and Muriel would go back to town by a late train; Edna and Peggy would cycle together most of the way; so every one supposed.

“Don’t lose the last train, Carry!” was the mocking good-night from one. “You’ll have to stop all night, if you do, and I’m sure Joy can’t spare any more beds!”

“You wouldn’t like to have to sleep on the floor,” another added, and Edna and Peggy laughed, as it was what they fully intended to do.

By ten o’clock, the whole school had settled to sleep, except the Queens and their maids, who still sat talking in Mrs. Shirley’s boudoir. Miss Macey, having given permission for Joan to have her heart’s desire - “As it’s only for once! Though I shouldn’t have thought it was worth it myself!” she had said - went off to bed, cautioning them to lock the door carefully when they went out, and to take the key with them if they wanted to come in again before the morning. “You must remember all those precious treasures still in my study. We can’t have open doors inviting burglars to walk in,” said she.

By eleven o’clock, Joan crept up to Jen’s room, found the neatly-prepared pile of clothes, quite easily seen by moonlight, and carried them all, with shoes and coat and frock, to her own room. Then she woke Jen very quietly, and had her out in the corridor before she realised she was not dreaming - for Jen had slept, and soundly, in spite of her protests. When she was really awake, Jen giggled to know how easily it had been done, and laughed again as she dressed hurriedly, at thought of Jack’s disgust and Della’s wrath in the morning.

Downstairs in the hall, sandwiches and a glass of milk awaited her. The elder girls had already had supper and were impatient to be gone, but they greeted her laughingly as they asked if she had had a jolly little nap.

“I had to go to bed!” Jen said with dignity. “My - er - husband and adopted daughter would have asked a million questions if I hadn’t. They wouldn’t have gone to bed without me.”

“You’ll give us away if you laugh like that!” Joan said warningly to Cicely and Marguerite. “Somebody will hear us and come to see, and we don’t want that. Have another sandwich, Mrs. Wren!”

“Take two, or three or four, and eat them as we go through the garden,” Joy suggested.

Jen took the hint and a handful of sandwiches. “I’m ready,” she announced. “Thanks awfully for the milk; I was jolly hungry!”

“Come very quietly!” Joan laughed. “I must go first with the abbey key, to open the garden gate,” and she brought the key from its nail in the housekeeper’s cupboard. “And Joy must come last to lock the front door. Don’t lose the key, Joy! Now come on, everybody!”

“Next stop, The Abbey by Moonlight!” murmured Joy the irrepressible. “Oh, I say, Joan! Couldn’t we go by Underground?”

“We want to see those passages, you know,” Cicely added. But Joan was already leading the way across the moonlit lawn. “We’ll show them to you tomorrow morning. I want to go by the tresaunt tonight,” she said, as she unlocked the abbey gate. “The tunnels wouldn’t fit in at all with the moonlight and the garth!”

“Madam, your slightest wish is law!” Joy said mockingly.

Chapter 27 - The Moonlight Dance

Joan’s secret had been well kept. Neither the boarders nor Dick suspected that the elder girls intended anything but a private chat after the dancing was over. If any whisper of their plans had got about, and especially if it had included the word “abbey,” Dick would certainly have found out all about it, for he had been wandering about all afternoon and evening in a state of extreme restlessness, impatient for night to come, annoyed by the promise of vivid moonlight, afraid lest Micky should not turn up, excited and eager and anxious.

Was the discovery of the lost treasure to fall to him? Were the jewels of Lady Jehane to be his? Only the general interest in the doings of the Hamlet Club and the visit of the “old girls” saved him from being noticed, when his suppressed excitement must certainly have aroused suspicion. He watched the dancing with the same air of scornful aloofness as before, and went off to bed with the rest, hoping devoutly that “the Joan-girl” and her friends would not sit talking too late.

With his door ajar he lay and listened. Long after he had thought all must be in bed, he heard Cicely’s peal of laughter at Jen’s reference to her husband and daughter, and indignantly realised that the girls were still downstairs. Very soon afterwards he heard a door close gently, and supposed the last of the day-girls had gone; he did not hear the rest come upstairs, but merely thought they must have come very quietly, as so many others were sleeping all around them. For safety’s sake he still lay and waited for a while, to let them all get into bed and asleep. Then he slipped out of his room and away downstairs to repeat the adventure of Friday night, but with no misgivings this time. He knew just what to do, just how to go; surely nothing could go wrong tonight! Unless, of course, Micky did not turn up; that was his only anxiety.

He crept into the housekeeper’s room and opened the cupboard. And then he had his first shock; for the key was not there. In utter dismay Dick stood and stared, then began a furious search on the shelves, on the mantelpiece, out in the hall, and in the kitchen, his anger growing with every fresh disappointment. But there was no sign of the key - very naturally, since at the moment it was lying in the pocket of Joan’s coat as she danced “Row Well, Ye Mariners,” clapping hands gaily with Peggy Gilks, on the moonlit cloister garth.

Almost ready to cry with disappointment and disgust, Dick gave it up at last, and slipped out by the pantry window and away, skirting the lawn where the shadows lay most thickly, to meet Micky and tell him he could go home.

“It’s no go - all up!” he said gloomily, as Micky crept out of the bushes to meet him by the gate. “I can’t find the key. The wretched beast of a girl must have hidden it somewhere. We’ll have to try again another night. Isn’t it a rotten swizz?”

“They’m here,” said Micky. “Gone through gate an hour ago - ten of ‘em - ten girls. Miss Joan were there, ‘n’ Miss Joy, ‘n’ Miss Jen, ‘n’ lots more!”

“Here? Gone into the abbey at this time? - I say! What’s that?” at sound of the thin, distant notes of a violin.

“Fiddle. One of ‘em were carryin’ of it. I seen her.” Micky nodded. “None of ‘em seen me, you bet!”

“Sammy!” whispered Dick, utterly amazed. “What on earth are they doing? I say, Mick! Did she lock the gate, or is it only shut?” With dawning hope he tried the handle, and gave a suppressed whoop as it turned easily. Joan had not locked the gate behind her. “Come on, Micky, man! We’ll see what they’re up to first, and then we’ll get on with our own stunt. Mind you keep out of this beastly moonlight, though!”

They both took good care to do that, and crept from shadow to shadow, round the back of the abbey buildings till they reached the lilac-bush behind the chapter-house. Sliding cautiously through the window in the back wall, they crept to the chapter-house door and peered round the corner to watch the girls on the garth, much disgusted and alarmed to find the moonlight shining full upon them. Dick had forgotten that the chapter-house faced south! He whispered a caution to Micky, but the dancing girls were too busy, and the watchers too enthralled, to notice them.

“Newcastle” was in progress, Jen and Peggy Gilks sitting out, watching eagerly from the ruined wall of the cloisters, where Margia Lane stood fiddling. They had found the grass of the garth, though very short, damper with dew than they had expected, and Cicely had peremptorily forbidden any one to sit down, except on the stone steps or broken walls. As the boys watched from the cloisters, the eight dancers formed stars in the centre or skipped round, “honoured their partners” and passed on to find new ones, skipped through arches and fell back in long lines, and finally bowed and curtseyed as the original couples met at the end.

“That’s fine, Margia!” Marguerite cried. “Would you mind playing it again? Once is never enough, you know!”

“Care to come in instead of me, Peg?” Joan asked.

“No, thanks. I’d get lost in the last figure. I never do know where I am.”

“But it’s awfully pretty!” Jen added. “I’m jolly glad you started this dancing!” she said fervently to Cicely Hobart.

“So are lots of us - jolly glad!” Joy laughed. “We’ll put up a statue to her in the school hall, shall we, Jenny-Wren?”

“Oh, don’t trouble! Just keep them dancing; that’s all I want. But see they do it properly; I hate to see the dances messed up. It hurts me every time,” Cicely said seriously. “They’re waiting for us, Joy. I’ll be the woman this time. Come on!”

The girls caught hands and ran to the centre in a ring, throwing up their arms, and with a grunt of scorn Dick drew Micky away. “Come on, man! We’ve got work to do! This is piffle! We can’t waste time here!”

They dived into the secret passage and made their way into the crypt, and Dick’s torch flashed at once on that mysterious “JEHANE III” on the wall.

“It can’t be Jehane the Third!” he argued, “but it must be three; she couldn’t be a hundred and eleven! She wasn’t, anyway; they say she was quite a kid! Three what, then? What did he mean by it?”

“If ‘twere a water-plug in road, ‘twould be three feet away,” Micky suggested.

Dick saw the point at once. “We ought to have brought a measure. How mad! We’ll have to guess. Three feet would be a yard.”

“Might not be feet, though,” Micky pointed out. “Might be three yards, or three paces, or three stones - three of them big blocks.”

Dick agreed gloomily. “We’ll have to tear the whole place up. Why couldn’t the silly ass say what he meant by it? All the same, we aren’t going to be done, Mick. We’ve found the old church - there’s the well to prove it! - and the very place, with her name, and all. We’re jolly well not going to give up till we’ve got the jewels, too. We’ll try three feet first; ‘tisn’t likely to be three inches! About how much is a yard?”

Between them they decided, after some controversy, on an “outside and inside” measurement of a yard, as Dick said - one probably too big, the other as probably too small. With a bit of soft chalky stone, Dick marked out two circles, with Jehane’s name as the centre, and the circumference at the distance of their rather doubtful measurements.

“Must be somewhere in the wall, between those two, if it’s three feet from her name,” he said. “If that’s no go, we’ll try three feet, and then three paces, from the wall across the floor. It might be under the floor, or in the wall, seems to me. You tap the stone between those circles, man, and see if it sounds hollow anywhere. That’s how the carroty-girl found the way into the secret passage,” and he set to work himself to show Micky how to do it.

They worked hard for a long time, testing every inch of the stone, but without result. No hollow sound rewarded their blows, and Dick’s exasperation grew as their failure seemed certain.

Up on the garth the girls were still dancing. The simpler longways dances, in which Jen could take part, alternated with more elaborate sets of six or eight, which she watched with great enjoyment, and also with keen appreciation, though she could not have put it into words, of the strangeness of the scene - the silence, broken only by the quaint Old English music from Miss Lane’s fiddle, or the occasional cry of an astonished owl, or a laugh from one of the dancers - the beautiful high windows of the refectory above, and the broken but still beautiful arches below, the old windows and doorways, the intense white light and black shadows - the weird quietness of this dancing on the velvet turf, with none of the tapping of the feet she was used to in the hall - the light-coloured frocks and white feet and hoods of the dancing girls. She felt it all in her own way as deeply as Joan, though to her it was a new and strange experience, while Joan had dreamed of it for so long.

Joan, skipping round in the heys and cast-off of “The Old Mole,” glanced at her rapt face and felt justified in her choice of Jen to fill the vacant place in their number. “Look at the kiddy!” she whispered to Cicely, as they met for a moment, then parted to circle again. “I knew she’d enter into it tremendously.”

Cicely nodded. “She’ll do,” she said again, as she curtseyed in reply to Joan’s polite bow.

The country dances gave place after a time to morris, when six at a time the elder girls danced with tapping staves or waving handkerchiefs, and again Jen watched enthralled, and with more appreciation now that she understood the difficulty of the movements. Then, two at a time, while the others rested on the steps of the refectory stairs, they danced morris jigs, and Joan and Joy, exchanging a laughing look, took their places for a minuet.

“We simply must, for old times’ sake!” Joan said. “But for our minuet we might none of us be here now! But after this we’ll have supper!” - and presently Mrs. Watson brought out coffee, and more sandwiches and cakes, and warm milk for Jen, rather to her indignation.

“Aren’t I old enough to have coffee, too?” she demanded.

“Not at one a.m., Jenny-Wren,” Miriam laughed.

“But it couldn’t make me any wide-awaker’n I am already!”

“Have a sandwich, and be thankful for your blessings, my dear infant!” Cicely retorted, and Jen subsided, remembering Jack and Della and Nesta asleep in bed.

Following supper - for which Joan invited them all into her little room, but which they all preferred to take out in the cloisters overlooking the moonlit garth and sitting on chairs and cushions - Joan told the romance of Jehane and Ambrose, as she had promised, and held them all fascinated with the story. Then Cicely called on Miriam to sing, as she was always expected to do on dance-evenings, and to a low accompaniment from the violin she sang “The Lover’s Tasks,” with its quaint refrain - “Sing Ivy Leaf, Sweet William and Thyme”; and by special request of Joy, “The Bonny Blue Bell” - “I will be married on a Tuesday morning.”

Then they turned to dancing again, Jen taking part, “to get warmed up,” in several dances for four and another longways set. And so at last it was after two o’clock, and all agreed that they felt a little tired and ready to rest.


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Text © Ju Gosling aka ju90 2010

Supported by Arts Council England, Well London, East London Dance, English Folk Dance and Song Society, London Borough of Newham, Newham NDP. Lottery funded.