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

An Abbey Champion (1946)

Here, second-generation character Littlejan decides to rejuvenate the Hamlet Club, which has now been abandoned as boring by the older girls. In order to help Littlejan, the Abbey girls (now women) decide to consult the staff at Cecil Sharp House - this is the final time that the English Folk Dance Society (by now the English Folk Dance and Song Society) makes an appearance in Elsie J. Oxenham's books. As a result, the Hamlet Club holds its own weekend folk dance school, and by the end of the book Littlejan has been crowned the new May Queen.

From Chapter 17: 'The President At Home'

Cicely gave her a quick look. “I think perhaps they do. Help yourself to hot scones. You like sugar, don’t you? Now tell me what’s the matter with the Club, and why you’re the only one to be troubled about it.”

“Aunt Joan says it’s because I’ve come to it fresh and seen it from the outside,” Littlejan said shyly.

Cicely nodded. “And you’re old enough to think over what you see. What did you find in the Hamlet Club?”

“No seniors!” Joan Two burst into a flood of speech. “They’re all such kids! I was looking forward to it so much; Mother had told me about the Club. I expected to find it a big thing for the whole school, with a splendid Queen who made everybody do things. But the Queen’s younger than I am, in the form below me, and all the rest are juniors.” Her voice showed how bitterly she had been hurt and disappointed.

Cicely eyed her keenly. “Do you know why that is? Have you tried to find any reason?”

“The seniors say they’re tired of it; they keep doing the same dances. Mirry’s a very good Queen, so far as she can be, but only for the juniors. I wondered”—and Joan leaned forward eagerly—“if you could help us to find some new dances, easy ones that wouldn’t need a lot of learning, without difficult figures? Then the seniors might come back. They say they used to like it, but they don’t want to go on doing the same things over and over again.”

“There’s no need for that,” Cicely remarked. “The Club has learned plenty of dances; if they’ve got in a rut and keep on doing “Newcastle” and “Haste to the Wedding” it’s just laziness, because they can’t be bothered to rub up the ones they’ve forgotten. I could choose a programme the Club ought to know, which would have none of those dances on it.”

“I’m sure you could, and please, I don’t want you to think I’m tired of any of the dances,” Joan said anxiously. “Of course, I’m new; the rest keep on telling me that. I’d be quite happy to go on doing “Peascods” and “Hey Boys” for ever, and I think “Newcastle” is perfect.”

“We feel like that, but apparently the Club doesn’t. They want bucking up, but I don’t see who is to do it. I can’t take on the job myself.”

“Aunt Joan told me about your little boy,” Joan ventured. “I hope he’ll soon be better.”

Cicely gave her a quick smile. “I believe he will; he’s really stronger. But we’re going to take him away to a warmer place for the winter; the doctors say it will give him a good start, now that he seems to be getting on top of his early troubles. I can’t take on the Club. Joan can’t do it; she’ll be going home presently. We can’t ask anything of Jen just now. Miriam has her hands full with her new baby. Countess Rosamund is always busy, and she lives a long way off. It’s difficult, isn’t it? Let me think, and don’t forget your tea! Help yourself to cake.”

Littlejan watched her with complete trust that a way would be found. “I knew she’d think of something,” she told Mirry on Monday morning.

“You want to go to a School as we did,” Cicely said, at last. “But the next is in London, at Christmas. We could send somebody, who would learn the new dances and come back and teach the Club, but that puts it all off till next term. There are new dances, and from what I’ve heard, they’re the sort the Club would like; easy to learn and very jolly to do. Rosamund went to one or two parties in town before she was married, and she brought back an occasional fresh dance and told us about others, and I sent for the new books. But I’ve never had time to teach the new dances to the Club, and there seemed no hurry; I didn’t know they were grumbling.”

“Could we learn them out of the books?”

“We could, but I don’t think we will. Suppose I ask a teacher from town to come and give them to the Club? What you want is a weekend school. I wonder if the girls would come?”

“What’s a weekend school?” Joan asked eagerly.

“A very unusual way of learning folk dancing; one of the newer ideas. In our case it would be at half term. We’d ask Miss Macey for the use of the school hall, and we’d start on Friday evening with a reception to meet the London teacher—some dancing, and singing, and any of the Queens we could collect. Classes all Saturday, with off times for rest and meals and—if possible—a show in the evening, with a team from town; some men to do Morris and sword, and country with mixed couples. Then Sunday quiet; you’d all be very tired. More classes on Monday, and a big party at night. What do you think?”

“It sounds exactly right! And—oh, please!—could the Queens dress up?” Joan pleaded. “I’ve seen pictures in the school hall, and they all look so jolly! We can’t have Lady Joy, but the rest of you could be there, and I’ve never seen a May Day! Couldn’t you come in your crowns?”

“It would certainly be a novelty for the person from town! But I don’t know whether we could rise to it. We’d need to persuade the Countess and Joan to come; and Jen, if Kenneth’s doing well. I dare say some of the later Queens would be willing; we’ll think it over. Would the girls give up half term to dancing?”

“Some of them would love it. It would depend on Alison; she’s head girl. If she would come, the seniors would come too.”

“You’ll have to take on the job,” Cicely said briskly. “Ask Mirry to call a meeting of the Club. Then you must tell them what we propose and ask them to promise to come. If they’ll be there, I’ll see about the teacher.”

LIttlejan looked sober. “I can’t persuade the girls. They think I’m a nuisance as it is.”

“If we can run a successful school, they’ll think you’re anything but a nuisance. They’ve no idea what fun it will be. And after the school is over, so that things won’t fall flat, you should revive the Folk Play.”

“What’s the Folk Play? I know you talk about Folk Dancing, but I never heard of a play.”

“You’d perform it at Christmas, before the whole school. Give Alison a big part—St. George, if she’s tall! That will win her heart. The play was done once by the Hamlet Club, but it was years ago—in Maidlin’s reign, I think. The present generation of girls won’t know anything about it.” And Cicely told of the old mumming play, really the sword dance play, found in small bits in different parts of the country, but nowhere complete.

“Sometimes you find the play, but no sword dance. More often the play has been lost, but the dance remains. I found a play in an old book for children, made up from all the different versions, and altered it to make it suitable for girls to do; some of the words in the original were weird, to say the least of it.” And she went to a desk and rummaged in drawers and pigeon holes; then drew out a few typewritten sheets. “If you like the idea, use it as a bait to pull in your seniors. Have a look at it while I run up to see how Teddy has taken his tea. Then we’ll have an hour in Ceylon.”

She returned to find Joan grinning over the manuscript.

“Mrs. Everett, what a weird thing! But it would be fun to do. I’d love to be the Fool—or Slasher—or the Doctor; he’s priceless.”

“He’s a very fine part. The Fool is really the Priest, you know.”

“The Priest?” Joan Two’s eyes widened. “But why is he called the Fool?”

“The Fool—the simple man of the village—therefore the innocent and good man—and so the Priest. Doesn’t he marry St. George to the King of Egypt’s daughter?”

Littlejan grinned again. “Such a priceless wedding! Yes, of course, the Fool marries them. But how very odd!”

Cicely told of the death and rebirth of the year at midwinter, acted in the death of one or more characters in the play, and his being brought back to life by the comic Doctor. You always find the dead man who comes to life again, in every version. Other characters change or are forgotten; but the dying and coming to life are the heart of the play and can’t be left out. Sometimes it’s the Fool who revives the dead man, I’ve been told.”

“How marvellous!” Littlejan was drinking in the unfamiliar folk lore breathlessly. “Oh, we must do the play! But the girls will have to know what it means. Could we possibly ask you to come and tell them about it? And—oh, Mrs. Everett! There’s something else.”

Her voice dropped in such earnestness that Cicely looked rather curiously. “Tell me, then, Littlejan.”

“The Club’s motto. The girls have forgotten. I don’t think Mirry knows, but wouldn’t her mother have told her?”

“I’m sure she would, but Mirry’s very small yet. Miriam may have decided to wait a while before saying much to her.”

“That must be it, I think. But Alison’s been in the Club and all she could say was that it came out of “Hamlet”. They don’t care about the motto. Couldn’t you talk to them? Aunt Joan told me how you once preached a sermon to the Club with Lady Jen for the text, when she’d been so frightfully decent about taking up cricket to help the school, when she cared about the dancing more than anything. Couldn’t you come and preach to us again?”

“I could not!” the President said promptly. “I was young and cheeky, if I tried to preach to the Club, but I’m sure I never did. It’s too bad of Joan to put it that way! I merely told the rest what a brick Jen had been and reminded them of the meaning of the motto.”

“They need reminding now,” Joan ventured.

“I’ll think it over. But I’d like to feel the right time had come. I can’t rush down to the Club and row them for forgetting the motto. We’ve never talked about it much. Now what about Ceylon? I’ve heaps of photos and curios.”

“That will be marvellous! I am so glad I came!” Littlejan sighed happily.

“It pays to be brave,” Cicely laughed.

Chapter 18 - A Meeting of the Hamlet Club

“THAT’S a wonderful idea of the President’s.” Joan smiled at her namesake. “What a thrilling half term. But I thought you were to go to Kentisbury?”

Littlejan gave a cry of dismay. “I forgot about Kentisbury! And Chestnut—oh, Aunty Joan, I forgot!”

“School and the Club are becoming more important to you. That’s right and normal, and I’m glad. But I’m afraid you’ll have to choose. You can’t ask the other girls to spend their half term at school and not be there yourself.”

“If we have it some other weekend there’ll only be Saturday. We wouldn’t get anything like so much of it.” Littlejan looked very downcast. At last she gave herself a shake. “Chestnut will have to wait. I can’t let the President down, when she’s going to arrange it for us.”

“Or the Club. This may mean a new start and be a really big thing for the school,” said Joan, with her hopes for the future in her mind. “I’m sure you’re right. You must go to Kentisbury some other week, or a Friday after school, and stay till Sunday night. Rosamund will understand, she’ll come to have a look at your weekend school.”

“Oh, but we want her to be a Queen, and you and Lady Jen, too, at the Friday night reception! Mirry must help the President to welcome the London person, but we want a procession of Queens as well.”

Joan laughed. “We shall have to stop dressing up as schoolgirls, with our large families in the background!”

“I think it’s very important for you to come sometimes. Each of you means a year as Queen. It shows how old the Club is.”

Joan gave her one her quick appreciative looks. “Very true, Littlejan. A famous and old-established Club! I’ll come, if the others will, and we’ll look as impressive as we can.”

“That will be marvellous. I dare say I shan’t think much about Chestnut, once we’ve started.”

“I’m sure you won’t. If the right person comes from town you’ll have such a good time that you won’t stop to think about anything.”

Queen Mirry met Littlejan rather nervously on Monday, remembering the temper that had blazed out for one moment. “Littlejan, I’m sorry I let you down. Mother says I did and that I ought to have gone with you and not cared about Alison. Did you go all by yourself?”

“Rather! I had a marvellous time.” Joan Two’s face was bright, and the rest crowded round to listen. “A huge tea, and then I saw all the things the President has brought from Ceylon, where my mother’s going to live. I saw her little boy, Dick, and Cicely, who’s coming to school next term, and we went to the stables and saw the horses, and I told her about my pony, Chestnut. Some day we’re going to meet and ride together. Mrs. Everett’s keen on riding.”

“Jolly decent!” said the slow spoken Scot, Jean Guthrie, who was the head of Joan’s form, a tall girl with reddish golden hair which had won her the nickname of Ginger Jean. “If you’re going to be pally with her you’re in luck. You were daft not to go, Mirry.”

“I know I’m in luck,” Littlejan admitted, with no idea of the comment Jen and Rosamund would make—“Luck! I should call it something else! Pluck, if you like!”—“Mrs. Everett’s a darling, and she couldn’t have been kinder. She’s had the most marvellous idea for the Club, Mirry, and she wants you to call a meeting so that I can tell everybody about it.”

No teasing could draw any more from her. “If you want to know, you must come to the meeting,” she said sturdily, and it became imperative that the meeting should be held at the earliest possible moment.

Before the time came, however, the Hall was filled with excitement by the arrival of letters from America telling of the voyage,—the delight of the twins in the great liner—the concert on board, at which Maidlin had had to sing, and Jock to play, their identity having been discovered just in time—the first sight of the strange skyline of New York. Maidlin wrote to Joan and Rosamund and Mary, Lindy to her sister and a special long letter to Joan Two.

“They won’t mind if I write to you,” she began. “I feel bad about the way I had to let you down, just when your mother had left you. I hope you’ll chum up with Mary Dorothy, she’s jolly to talk to and she always helps.”

“Lindy doesn’t know I’ve had to lose Mary too,” Littlejan said to herself, as she devoured the closely written sheets, which gave just those details about the twins and what they had said and done, that everybody was longing to hear. Miss Belinda’s letters to Joan Two became famous in the family, and were read aloud and looked forward to eagerly.

“She tells you the right things, and such a lot of them,” Littlejan said. “It is queer how everybody’s had to go away and leave me and Aunt Joan to comfort one another!”

For Jack Raymond was in the north, inspecting John’s school and helping Jen in her journey to Sheffield.

“The next letters will be even more thrilling, for they’ll tell us about Joy and what the twins said when they saw Richard,” Joan One commented, as they discussed the news together. “You must write and tell Lindy things, too. When is the meeting to be? Maidlin will be as much interested as we are, and so will Joy, if she’s well enough.”

“The meeting’s tomorrow. It’s the seniors I’m bothered about,” Littlejan confessed. “It will make all the difference if they’re keen.”

She felt very nervous as she went to the Hamlet Club meeting after classes. Mirry and the juniors were all agog to hear what the President had suggested, but if the new plan were taken up only by the lower forms it would lose much of its importance to the school.

Her eyes widened as she entered the big classroom, for not only was Alison there, but the entire sixth form seemed to have come as well. Joan Two, given everything she could have desired in the way of an audience, felt a sudden sinking, and for one awful moment she thought she was going to be sick. It had not seemed a formidable task to tell the rather junior Hamlets of the President’s plan, and she was keen enough to have been looking forward to doing it; but her heart failed and she shrank as she saw the crowded room.

“Gosh! Everybody’s here!” she gasped.

“Rather!” Alison teased. “We’ve come to hear your speech. You’ve been such a frightful nuisance, looking important and mysterious, that we want to know what it’s all about. Up you get on the platform, and tell us the worst!”

“Won’t you take the chair, Alison?” Mirry pleaded.

“No fear! You’re in the chair my child. Do call on Joan Fraser to explain. We’re dying of curiosity.”

Mirry, with an odd little air of dignity, but looking flushed and diffident, stepped on to the platform and stood beside the desk. “Please Littlejan, will you tell us?” she asked.

“It’s not a long speech to introduce the speaker,” Alison grinned. “But it’s adequate. It’s exactly what we all want to say. Get it off your mind, Joan Fraser.”

Joan Two, scarlet but gallant, and eager to have the ordeal over, stood beside Mirry and looked round the room. “I never did anything like this before,” she said, a quiver in her brave voice. “I’m completely terrified and I want to run away. But nobody else can tell you, so I’ll have to it somehow. Can the people at the back hear? Ought I to shout?”

“No, just speak like that. We can hear all right,” she was assured from every corner.

“Don’t be frightened!” Ginger Jean added, and there was an encouraging laugh and an outburst of clapping.

“Sporting kid!” Alison said. “I wouldn’t have done it myself at her age. Fourteen, isn’t she?”

“Not until Christmas,” red headed Jean replied. “But she’s so frightfully keen on the Club. She’ll do it all right.”

“I wonder why she’s so keen?” Alison murmured. “I suppose those Abbey people put it into her.”

Littlejan’s speech was short but fervent. She poured out the story of her visit to the President and of the suggestions for half term. “All those first Queens say they never had such good times in their lives as when they went to the dancing schools. And the President says we can have one all for ourselves, here, if enough of us give in our names,” she ended. “She’ll go to London and find a teacher. We ought to send her a vote of thanks, but what she wants more is a long list of names.”

The meeting broke into excited comment and discussion. Mirry, powerless to check the tumult, sat in the mistress’s seat and made room for Joan.

“They’ll have to talk about your idea; and anyway, I can’t stop them! What a jolly plan, Littlejan! I’d love it. I hope a lot will want it.”

Joan Two squeezed in beside her. “Isn’t it rum to be up here? Girls, have you prepared your homework? Alison, take two order marks for talking in class! I could do it quite as well as Miss Macey.”

Mirry giggled. “You’d be a lovely teacher. You have made a mess of this meeting!”

Jean’s voice rose above the hubbub, slow and calm, as usual, but penetrating and emphatic. “Sounds all right. Let’s give it a trial.”

“But half term! Isn’t there a match?”

“No, it’s scratched. I was going to fix up something else.” This came from the games captain. “But do we want to spend the whole half term at school? Don’t we get enough of it?”

“This would be different. There’d be no rules, and we’d only use the hall,” said Jean.

“We’d bring our food,” Joan Two said loudly. “If it’s fine we could have picnics in the playground.”

“It won’t be fine,” Alison told her. “You don’t know our climate. November’s not the best time for weather.”

“It’s sometimes lovely, Ally,” said a friend. “We could cycle to the woods. Do we want to be cooped up in school?”

Alison pushed her way through the crowd. “May I address the meeting, Your Majesty?”

“If you can,” Mirry gave her a shy grin.

“I’ll make them listen!” She thumped the bell, and all the faces turned towards her in astonishment. “That’s better! This is a well conducted meeting! Don’t you know that remarks ought to be addressed to the chair?”

“Oh, Ally! You were talking like anything yourself!” cried a sixth former.

“And I’m talking now! Girls, this needs thinking about, but it’s quite a decent plan, and I shall come, if the idea goes through.”

“Oh, jolly good!” Joan Two hugged the Queen excitedly. “It’s going to be all right!”

Alison gave her a friendly glance. “It ought to be. You’ve done your bit. You’ve made quite an impression on the President. She came to see me and told me I’d got to back you up. Fact! She rode over to our place; she looks jolly on her big brown mare. She’s got a way with her, hasn’t she? She witches you into doing what she wants.”

Joan stared at her wildly. “Mrs. Everett said that?”

“Rather! She said a lot more. She seems keen on you. Girls! It’s a toss up. We may get lovely weather, but we can go to the woods on Sunday afternoon. If it’s wet we’ll be glad to have something to do. This plan’s a new idea and I vote we try it. If we don’t like it we won’t have another weekend school, and we’ll all stay away on Monday and Joan Fraser and the President and the London teacher can have classes all by themselves.”

“One more! They can do squares for four!” shouted her friend in the audience.

“I shall be there,” Mirry said with dignity.

“You’ll look funny doing “Argeers” with the President!”

“And I shall be there,” said Ginger Jean. “I’m not going to miss it.”

“I’m ready to take names,” the head girl announced. “I’ll start the list with the Queen and Joan Fraser, and Jean Guthrie, and me. Give in your names, those who would like to take part in the experiment. We don’t want everybody, there’d be no room to dance; so don’t come unless you’re keen. But if you give in your names, you must stick to it. We must know how many to plan for.”

Nobody wanted to be left out. The suggestion that there might not be room alarmed the waverers, and Alison was besieged by a clamouring crowd. She laughed, as she scribbled the names. “I guess the Lady President will be satisfied!”

Mirry and Littlejan comfortably conscious that they headed the list, hugged one another again. “It’s all right! We’ll get the London person! I do hope she’s nice!”

Chapter 19 - Mrs. Thistle

THE Secretary’s face fell when she heard the date of the weekend school. “Can’t you change your day? I’m afraid it’s going to be difficult.”

The President had driven to town to make the arrangements. “We can’t possibly change. It’s the school half term and all the plans are made,” she urged. “What’s the trouble?”

“A staff conference at Cecil Sharp House at that very time. I don’t see—I wonder if Mrs. Thistle would do it? She isn’t Staff, and she’d be ideal for your purpose.”

“Mrs. Thistle?” Cicely echoed. “Is she as prickly as her name? Who is she?”

“I’m sorry; the name is Thistleton, but everybody calls her Mrs. Thistle. She helps us a lot; an excellent teacher, and well up in the newer dances. I don’t know that I’d advise her for polishing for exam purposes, or trust her to get your crowd through “Chelsea Reach” without tying them into knots; but to give schoolgirls a jolly time with “Durham Reel” and “Kendal Ghyll” and “Steam Boat” nobody could be better; and I gather that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know the new dances,” Cicely confessed, “but the jolly time is all right. That’s exactly what we want; after all, the girls are giving up their half term to it. The jollier Mrs. Thistle can make her dances the better.”

“There’ll probably be a riot!” the Secretary said grimly.

“Oh good! Anything stodgy would kill country dancing in the school, and it’s been going on for twenty years.”

“Tell Mrs. Thistle that. You’d better meet her and explain what you want. You’ll have a rowdy time, if she lets herself go. She’s one of our “young marrieds” with a nice house, not too far out; her husband does medical research in town. Mrs. Thistle has two small boys, been married for six years, and is now twenty seven or so. She keeps open house for everything in the student line; young or old, boy or girl, rich or poor. They’re all welcome at John-and-Mary’s—that’s the house. I don’t know why; Mrs. Thistle and her husband are not called Mary and John. She runs a folk dance group in her own neighbourhood and does teaching for us as well. She has been to several Vacation Schools; I believe the first was when she was sixteen. She taught sword dances to her school when she was head girl; and she has times when she still seems much more like the head girl than a staid married woman and the mother of two. But she’s devoted to Rennie and Robin, and we are always hearing about them.”

“She sounds a good sort. Does she really keep open house for lonely students? What a lovely idea!”

“She says it keeps her out of mischief. You’d better see her. I could ring her up,” and she reached for the telephone. “Mrs. Thistleton? Out? Shall I see her at the House this evening? That will do then, thank you.”

“Mrs. Thistleton will be here tonight; she comes to the advanced country class. I’ll tell her what you want and ask her to arrange a meeting if you’ll give me your number.”

“We were hoping you could spare a team of dancers, to give the girls a demonstration on the Saturday evening. I suppose everyone will be too busy?” the President asked anxiously.

“We have a party, but it isn’t till eight thirty. What time did you want your show?”

“Early. Many of our girls live in the country and we don’t want to keep them out too late.”

“Six o’clock? An hour’s show? Our people could get a quick train back to town and be a little late for the party. We’ll manage it, Mrs. Everett. We’d like to help in every way we can.”

“That’s very good of you. I’m looking forward to meeting Mrs. Thistle,” Cicely said cordially.

She called on Joan on the way home to tell the plans she had made.

“I like the sound of Mrs. Thistle! I believe she’s going to be just what we want. I shall ask if she has a car and beg her to come and see us, for tea or morning coffee.”

“Couldn’t you ask her to come here and you run over to meet her?” Joan suggested. “We’re nearer town, and my baby is younger than yours; and I have two tinies to your one!”

“And you have the Abbey! You know you love showing it to new people! Right! We’ll ask her here, but when she comes to take our school I shall entertain her then.”

“Mrs. President!” Joan Two and Jansy arrived from school as the President was leaving, and Littlejan went eagerly to the side of the car. “I’ve had an idea. When my I tell you about it?”

The President’s brown eyes laughed at her. “What’s the matter with now, Joan Fraser? I like hearing your ideas, but I don’t like waiting. Jump in, and we’ll talk for five minutes. Will that be long enough?”

Joan sprang into the car. “Heaps. It’s a very little idea. Mrs. Everett, the girls love the new plan; they’re getting very keen. They hope Miss Lane will play for us, and they say she’s been playing for the Club since it started. That’s nearly twenty one years. I should think she’ll be glad to hear some new tunes! Couldn’t she have a present from the Club? Mirry could do it; she’s quite good at making little speeches.”

“At the opening reception,” Cicely said thoughtfully. “It would be a jolly little ceremony. I like the idea, Joan Fraser. But we have given Margia presents in the past; this ought to be different. What would you suggest?”

“A medal, like the Queens have!” Joan cried eagerly. “It could say “Fiddler to the Hamlet Club for nearly twenty one years,” and she could wear it when she plays for us.”

“That would be original. I believe she’d like it. We needn’t say “nearly”; it’s quite twenty one years since she began playing for us. The Club was born in the autumn; we danced in the October woods! But it was a secret; as far as the school is concerned, it dates from the following April. I like your idea, Joan Fraser. Shall I see to it for you?”

“Yes please. But let us all help. We want it to be from everybody.”

“The old Queens and former members as well. It will have to be a gold medal.”

“Oh cheers! It will be different from the silver ones the Queens have,” and Joan slipped out of the car and ran to tell Jansy and Joan Raymond.

Mrs. Thistleton’s choice was for a morning visit. “I have so many people at John-and-Mary’s in the evening, and I’m out such a lot,” she wrote. “But I can quite well run down to you one morning, and it will be a help to talk over our plans. I’m very keen to do what you want, and I’m longing to see your Club.” And she signed herself “T. Thistleton”.

“She might have been a little more friendly!” Joan remarked. “Is she Theodora, Tabitha, or Thomasina?”

“Or Tansy?” Littlejan suggested. “Oh, Aunt Joan, I want to see her! I hoped she’d come some evening!”

“She’s entertaining lonely students at John-and-Mary’s in the evening. You’ll see her at the weekend school.”

“The girls are wild to know what she’s like. I told them her name, and they always call her Mrs. Thistle.”

“We shall have to ask leave to do that,” Joan warned her.

The President drove over early on the appointed day, and while they waited for their guest she heard the latest news from New York, and saw the newest letters from the twins. They had “simply shrieked with joy” said Lindy, when shown the new little brother, and their letters were full of him and of David who was trying to stand alone, and “galloping all over the place on his hands and knees” and whose odd little attempts at words intrigued his big sisters immensely.

“Were we like that?” they had asked, and were assured that they had been just as funny and just as interesting.

To their great delight Richard was another Abbey red head, not dark like David.

“Just like us and Mother!” they said joyfully.

Maidlin wrote in keenest interest about the weekend school, and promised to try and be home for it. “I’d like to learn the new dances quite as much as the Club would,” she said. “And Jock loves looking on. He enjoyed it so much last May Day that he keeps asking me to dance for him—as if I could do country dances as solos! Ivor’s concert is next week, and after that we shall come home. I shall hate saying good bye to Joy, but she’s getting stronger and she has all her children with her. And Jock wants to start on The Pallant.”

“The concert was a big success, according to the papers,” Cicely remarked. “Maidlin had a great reception.”

“We’ll make her sing to our school. The girls love to hear her, and she’s always willing,” Joan said. Here, I think, comes Mrs. Thistle,” at the sound of a small car.

“She went with the President to the terrace, as a tall girl sprang from the car and ran up the steps. She had yellow hair coiled over her ears in schoolgirl plaits under a white cap, and her bright blue eyes were eager.

“I’ve come,” she announced, and looked at them expectantly.

Her hostesses stared at her wildly. The President searched her memory for a clue.

Joan knit her brows. “But we’ve seen you before—”

“Tazy Kingston, who shared our rooms at Cheltenham!” Cicely shouted. “T for Tazy! Why didn’t you tell us? Did you know? Oh, what fun to see you again!”

“Oh, I knew! Not your names, of course, but I’d heard so much about your Club and the Queens and the barn, to forget. You were always called the President. To me you’re still Cicely Hobart and Joan Shirley, but it was obvious you would both change your names soon. I was only sixteen; I don’t suppose I told you anything about Bill, did I?”

“Is Bill your husband?” Joan asked with a laugh.

“Rather! He’s one of the best, but I didn’t know I was going to marry him, in those days. You haven’t changed much, in spite of families and things. I suppose you all have streams of offspring? That’s why you’re out of date with your dances, isn’t it? Will you really let me pull your Club together? I’m dying for the job. I’ll give them the best time ever,” she said earnestly. “They’ll be petitioning for a school at Christmas, before I’ve finished with them.”

“I’m sure they will,” the President agreed with her. “No one shall wrest you from us now. Even if your boys have measles or your house is burnt down, you must come.”

“Rennie and Robin aren’t showing any signs of measles, but I wouldn’t like to lose John-and-Mary’s,” Tazy said, taking a chair in the sunshine, while Joan rang for coffee.

“Why do you call your house by that odd name?” Joan smiled at her as she arranged cups on a small table.

“After our twin schools in Switzerland. Bill was cricket captain of St. John’s and I was head of St. Mary’s. But it really means we want to be a home for every lonely John and Mary in London. I’ve an enormous family of Johns and Marys. I’m godmother to them all. What’s your name, Joan Shirley? And how many infants have you?”

“Raymond. Four; the eldest is nearly eleven and is coming to your classes. I had Janice and John quite close together, and then a rest for a few years. Then started again with Jennifer who is now fifteen months old, and Jim, who is just four months.”

“Jolly little family,” Tazy commented. “And you, Lady President?”

“Much the same, but I haven’t an infant. Dick and Cicely were my start, then a while later I had Ted, who is now two.”

“And what about the rest of your crowd? Joy, who was always taken for Joan’s sister? And the little tall one who had the motor cycle accident—Jen?”

“Jenny Wren has beaten us all, with five bairns,” Joan smiled. “She’s not much older than you, but she married at twenty, and she’s had her family without long gaps. She has three boys and two girls, and she insists that she wants two or three more boys, and then she’ll stop. She’s even chosen their names; they’re to be Simon, and Bernard and Christopher.”

“I haven’t heard that,” Cicely laughed. “All her boys are saints, Tazy; Andrew, Antony and Michael. The girls are Rosemary and Katherine.”

“Gosh! I’d like to see her with them!” Tazy said yearningly. “Where does she live? I always liked your tall little Jen. She’ll be a lovely mother.”

“You’ll see, if all goes well, but the two elder boys and my John are away at school.” And Joan told of Jen’s anxiety over Kenneth. “He’s been very ill. Jen’s been with him day and night. But we think he’s turned the corner at last.”

“Poor Jenny Wren! What horribly bad luck!” Tazy said soberly. “It would do her all the good in the world to dance for a day or two and get refreshed and bucked up, if he’s going on well. I say, you know, we ought to talk business!”

“There is no business,” the President said firmly. “You want to come. We want to have you. What is there to discuss?”

“I know, but it seems weird that I should teach your Club! You’ve been dancing far long than I have.”

“Not lately,” Joan assured her. “Both Cicely and I have our hands full. We can’t possibly tackle the Club, or go to town to learn new dances. You must know heaps that we’ve missed.”

“You haven’t done “Morpeth Rant”?” Tazy’s eyes snapped. “Or “Dressed Ship”? “Alderman’s Hat”? “Steam Boat?” “Kitty’s Rambles”? “Pleasures of the Town”? Oh my dears, what a time your Club’s going to have!”

“I can believe it, now that I know who Mrs. Thistle is!” the President laughed across at her.

“We were annoyed when you signed yourself “T. Thistleton”,” Joan said. “We wondered if you were Thomasina or Theodora.”

“I know it was rude, but I couldn’t put “Tazy”. I wanted to be a surprise. If I have a girl later on, I shall call her Theodora Thistleton; it sounds well.”

“I hope you won’t mind seeing the President and me, and possibly Jenny Wren, wearing robes and crowned with flowers?” Joan asked. “For the Club is insisting that the Queens shall come in state to one of the functions.”

Tazy’s eyes danced. “But I shall love that. How many Queens can you muster?”

“Quite a respectable procession. The new little Queen is the twenty first. I said it was time the older ones gave up, but, as our newest recruit pointed out, we’re really important. We show what an old established Club we are,” Joan explained.

“Is that Joan Two?” the President asked. “It sounds like her. You must meet her, Tazy. She’s a real personality, and is entirely responsible for our weekend school.”

“Then we owe her a good deal. And Joy? What about her?” and joyfully shelving business, they plunged into talk of the old days and all that had happened since.

“You’ve called one of your boys after Sir Rennie Brown, the great doctor in Switzerland?” Cicely asked.

“Or after his son, who’s been our pal ever since we were at school. When our first was born, he had such a grave, wise little face, like an elderly physician, that we hooted with laughter, and shouted—“Rennie Brown!” We’re both very grateful to Sir Rennie, so we called the boy after him. He doesn’t look so professional now; he soon grew out of it! He’s an extremely lively youth of four.”

“I know that wise look on wee babies,” Joan smiled. “And your friend, who was with you at Cheltenham?”

“She’s married to Sir Rennie’s son. She has one small girl, Margaret Karen; Margaret for Lady Rennie Brown, and Karen for herself. Dearie me! It is fun to see you two again!” and Tazy looked from Joan to Cicely. “How I am looking forward to your school! What about music? Shall I bring a pianist?”

“Our music’s all right. Our fiddler has played for us for twenty years.”

“She should know how to cope with country dance tunes! Is she really good, or don’t you like to hurt her feelings? Musical people are so difficult.”

Cicely laughed. “Don’t worry. She’s quite good.”

“Her playing’s first class, Tazy,” Joan said. “Our music’s really lovely for dancing.”

“Oh, right! Then we shall all enjoy it,” Tazy said hopefully.

Chapter 20 - Dr. and Mrs. Robertson Come Home

“THE girls can’t talk about anything but half term,” Jansy told her mother. “Littlejan gets mad because Alison will call it “Joan Fraser’s Weekend School” and the others do it too.”

“It is Littlejan’s school,” Joan admitted. “I’m glad they realise they owe it to her.”

“She calls it “Mrs. Thistle’s school”. We’re dying to see her. Couldn’t you go to her house on Saturday and take us with you?”

“I’m afraid not. The President and I are to go to John-and-Mary’s tomorrow. She’s teaching classes on Saturday. You’ll see her soon Jansy.”

Jansy sighed. “Waiting’s so difficult! Mother, the girls want to know if they’re to wear tunics or dancing frocks?”

“What about tunics for classes and frocks for evenings? You could take your dresses and change at school. You may want to have playground picnics, and you’d be sorry to dirty your dance frocks. All the evenings are going to be partyish, and you’d want frocks then.”

“Oh, rather!” Joan Two had joined them in the Abbey in time to hear Jansy’s question. “We couldn’t have a reception for Mrs. Thistle, or watch the London team in tunics! I’m longing to wear my Hamlet Club frock again. You were a darling to give it to me, Aunty Joan! I feel like dancing the minute I put it on; it seems to get right into my legs.”

Joan laughed. “That makes it well worth while to have a green frock! I believe Mrs. Thistle will like the Hamlet Club.”

On one point everybody was anxious, but the minds of those at the Hall were eased the night before the school began. A car raced up the beech avenue, hooting joyfully, and Jock lifted Maidlin out in triumph.

“Just in time,” he said cheerfully, and dealt with the luggage while she ran up the steps to meet Joan.

“Oh, it’s nice to be home again! Does the school start tomorrow? We didn’t want to miss it.”

“Welcome home, Jock and Maidie! Or shall I say—Dr. and Mrs. Robertson?” Joan asked, drawing her in.

“I’m used to it now.” Maidlin gave her a swift smile from the depth of her black eyes. “What’s this?”—as a small tornado swept down the stairs, and Joan Two and Jansy, in pyjamas and dressing gowns, hurled themselves upon her.

“People say they always used to be met by a rush of twins,” Littlejan cried. “Mary Damayris said it at your wedding. Oh, Mrs. Robertson, Aunty Joan took us to see her dance! She’s lovely; aren’t you frightfully bucked that you belong to her? But such a funny kind of dancing! Jansy and I don’t want you to miss the twins too much, so we thought we’d rush at you instead, Mrs. Robertson!”

“Tell us about the twins, and David and Richard, Mrs. Robertson!” Jansy added.

“I won’t tell one single thing to any person who calls me that!” Maidlin vowed. “Now, tell me—oh, thank you, Joan! We’re frightfully hungry; but we wouldn’t stop for a meal. Jock, here’s a lovely supper ready for us.”

“And we’re ready for the lovely supper,” he agreed. “We’ve heaps to tell, but not when we’re so hungry.”

“We’ll tell while you eat,” Joan suggested. “Later you shall do your share. Jack and I are going home as soon as the weekend school is over. We’re going to leave you in peace.”

“Oh, you can’t do that!” Maidlin looked up in dismay. “Stay and take care of us, Joan! Please! Jock and I want to furnish Step Down and go there for weekends, to play at housekeeping before we start in earnest; and who will look after the Hall and these schoolgirls if you go?”

“That will need thinking about. We thought you’d want to be left alone.”

“We aren’t as bad as all that,” Maidlin’s hidden smile showed in her eyes again. “We feel quite old married people now.”

“We shall need you badly,” Jock urged. “If Maid has the responsibility of this place, I shan’t have any help from her in building the Pallant. Say you’ll stay and take care of us, and leave her free to give me a hand?”

“You talk as if you were going to dig the foundations together,” Jack Raymond said.

“I hope the foundations are dug already. I want Maid’s advice and opinion on all sorts of points.”

“Joan won’t forsake us. It would let us down too badly,” Maidlin said firmly. “Please tell us. How is Kenneth?”

“Really better. Jen came home today for a long weekend. She wants to see the school as much as you do—more, for Mrs. Thistle is an old friend.”

Maidlin nodded. “Are we having a procession?”

“Tomorrow night, to give the school a Hamlet Club send off. You’re singing, of course. Tomorrow, for Mrs. Thistle, a friendly, intimate function, we hope. On Saturday, for the London team; we must show them the best we have in the Hamlet Club. And on Monday, in an interval of the closing party. And we won’t let you off once.”

Maidlin’s eyes widened. “It’s a good thing we came in time, Jock.”

“I’m all for it. You began your career when you were crowned by the Club, and you sang your speech at them; you’ve told me about that. I’ll choose your songs.”

“Some of Joy’s songs, since she can’t be here; and some folk songs,” Maidlin decided. “Are we going to dress up, Joan? Jen and Rosamund, too?”

“They’ll come as Queens. Your primrose robe is pressed and ready, and we’ve masses of chrysanthemums for crowns. You’d better wear white flowers, as you’re a bride.”

“No, please! Pale yellow, to match my train. I shall need a maid as Lindy Bellanne can’t be here. Littlejan Fraser, will you carry my train?”

Littlejan flushed. “I’d be proud,” she said simply.

“That’s nice of you,” Maidlin smiled at her. “It won’t interfere with your dancing. The maids are always allowed to join in. Will you wear a white frock and my green and yellow colours?”

“Oh, but my green Hamlet Club frock—!” Joan Two began in dismay. “It’s much more dancey than my white one!”

“I think she and Jansy should wear their green frocks, as they’re part of the School,” Joan interposed. “Cicely agrees, so we’ve passed round word that maids of honour may wear dancing frocks. It will add colour to the procession.”

“Littlejan’s green will look jolly with my primrose,” Maidlin admitted.

“And Jansy’s green with my violet. In a November procession we can’t expect to have all our May Day colours. Most people will have to put up with chrysanthemums or Michaelmas daisies. I’m having daisies myself, for my crown and bouquet, tiny ones like violet stars.”

“Pretty,” Maidlin agreed. “Ros may manage November roses from her greenhouses, if not from the garden. Is Tansy maiding her again?”

“No, she’s at Wood End School.” Joan Two hooted with laughter. “Jan and I captured the two newest kids in the Club and told them they were to be maids for the Countess and Lady Marchwood, as they’re both so tall. The infants are frightfully bucked. They’re Susan and Sally Edwards, from Bell’s Farm. I do think Susan and Sally are jolly names!”

“Lovely names,” Maidlin assented. “That was a good idea, Joan Two. Their father gave us the tithe barn, didn’t he? I remember seeing Susan and Sally once.”

“They came to the Abbey for lessons in dancing from Aunty Joan, and we joined in so we got to know them. Their daddy’s terribly pleased that they’ll be in the procession.”

“I wonder Rosamund didn’t ask you to be her maid—or Jen?”

Joan Two looked at the elder Joan, who smiled but did not offer to help. “Matter of fact, they both did,” Littlejan admitted. “But we all thought it would be jolly to have Susan and Sally, and we couldn’t split them; they’re twins, you know. They’re eleven, but they’re very small. I knew you wouldn’t have Lindy, so I thought perhaps—but of course, I wasn’t sure—” she reddened and came to a stop.

“It was nice of you to trust me,” Maidlin exclaimed. “And you couldn’t possibly split twins! Has the Hall been dreadfully quiet? Have you missed Lindy badly?”

“Terribly!” Littlejan grinned at her. “But Jansy and I have done our best to make the quietness not so awful.”

“Not so noticeable,” Joan amended. “You two can do quite a lot in that line, when you try.”

“I made friends with Mary Dorothy instead of Lindy,” Littlejan went on. “But she had to go away with Lady Jen.”

“I was sorry to uproot Mary, when she had just settled down,” Joan said. “But Jen needed her badly.”

“But Mary Dorothy is happier with Jen than with anybody,” Maidlin said. “You needn’t feel sorry, Joan. Mary loves us all, but she worships Jen. She just lights up at the thought of going to help her.”

“I believe that’s true, Maidie. You know her so much better than I do,” Joan said thoughtfully.

“If you want to be kind to Mary, send her to the Grange when Jen’s there. She loves the place. We all depend on Mary and send for her when we want help. I’m afraid I shall be tempted to do it too. I can’t do without Mary entirely.”

“Aunt Joan and Jansy and I were left alone,” Littlejan said. “Anybody who was my pal immediately vanished.”

“But we’ve had quite a good time together, haven’t we?” Joan demanded.

“Marvellous! And there have been other things; all the planning for the Club, and Mrs. Thistle turning up—though I haven’t seen her yet. And I’ve made friends with the President. I do love her!”

Maidlin gave her a quick glance. “I’m sure you do. There’s nobody quite like her.”

“Alison says she’s got a way with her, and she witches you, and you have to do what she wants. Alison’s the head girl and she wasn’t keen on the Club; she was tired of it. But she’s keen on the weekend school now. The President charmed her into it somehow.”

“That’s useful, if she’s the head,” Maidlin assented. “The President has charmed you too, I think.”

“She likes Littlejan,” Joan smiled.

“I can’t imagine why! In the Christmas Vacation, she’s going to invite me and Chestnut to Broadway End for a night, and we’re going to ride together in Hampden Woods,” Joan Two said joyfully. “She was sorry the weekend school had spoiled my half term at the Castle; I suppose somebody had told her,” she looked doubtfully at Joan, who smiled again. “She wants to meet Chestnut,” Littlejan added. “She understands exactly how I feel about him.”

“Then Chestnut is still at Kentisbury? You haven’t boarded him at Bell’s Farm yet?” Maidlin asked.

“We thought he’d be happier with Ferguson. He knows the other horses there. And I haven’t much time for riding during term; school’s more thrilling than I expected and I’m busier.”

“School has a way of making one busy,” Maidlin agreed. “How is the President’s little boy?”

“Behaving well at present,” Joan said. “So Cicely is free to enjoy Littlejan’s weekend school.”

“Aunty Joan! You’re as bad as Alison!”

“Or as good,” Joan retorted. “It is your school. You worried and pulled strings till you made the President find this way of giving your slack seniors new dances.”

“I’m as keen on these new dances as any member of the Club,” Maidlin admitted. “Do you know what Mrs. Thistle means to teach?”

“She talks of something called “The Alderman’s Hat”,” Joan laughed. “And “Steam Boat” seems a great favourite; and “The Pleasures of the Town”. They’re out of the new books, and she raves about the tunes.”

“The names are as fascinating as ever,” Maidlin said happily. “It was hard to leave Joy and the children, but we had to be here for Mrs. Thistle.”

“We have to start earning pennies to pay for The Pallant,” Jock remarked. “I’ve put off my pupils for long enough, and Maid has several concerts ahead. Building houses and being married are expensive luxuries; we can afford them if we work, but not on our private incomes. We both have jobs; we must get on with them.”

“And I’ve let you down horribly by losing my Italian fortune,” Maidlin gave her hidden smile. “Never mind! I’ll work hard and sing whenever I’m asked, to make up for it.”

“You won’t sing when you’re asked,” he said firmly. “It wouldn’t pay. You’ll only sing for the best people and at the biggest concerts. We make an exception for the Hamlet Club.”

Maidlin smiled at Joan. “I have to do what I’m told.”

“You have to be looked after and your interests taken care of,” Jock assured her. “Only the best for you! You’ll have plenty of engagements. I’ll see to that.”

Chapter 21 - Welcome to Mrs. Thistle

THE mistresses found it hard to control the girls on Friday afternoon. Curiosity about the new experience was growing, and those who did not belong to the Hamlet Club intended to crowd the big galleries and look on. School closed at four o’clock, and most of the girls hurried home for tea and to change into white or dancing frocks; others, including Littlejan and Jansy, had tea with the boarders and dressed afterwards for the evening.

“I wish we could have gone home!” Jansy mourned. “They will have fun dressing up!”

“They won’t wear their crowns in the car, will they?” asked Mirry. “Mother and the President are bringing theirs and mine in a box.”

“They might get knocked about. We’re to help them to put them on straight,” Littlejan explained. “I’m aching to see the crowns and trains. It’s marvellous to be in the procession at my first chance!”

“Would you like to be the Queen?” asked one tiny maid of honour. “I think I’d be scared. I’ve heard the girls say you may be Queen some day.”

Littlejan reddened. “That’s a mad idea! I’d adore it; there’s nothing to be frightened of. But I’ve come here too late; there are heaps of girls who have been here for years. I’ll never be Queen, but I would like really to be in the procession. I’m only doing it for somebody else tonight. Mrs. Robertson has her own maid, but she’s in America just now.”

“Any maids of honour here?” Alison came to the door. “Oh, crowds of you! Your Queens have come. They’re dressing in the library.”

“Come on! Now we’ll see how they look!” and Littlejan led a rush of maids to the robing room.

“Oh, how absolutely marvellous!” she cried, and stood on the threshold, dazed by a blaze of colour—long white robes, velvet and satin trains, flowers in masses everywhere.

“You do look like a Queen!” Littlejan shouted, at sight of the President in white and gold, crowned with golden flowers, very regal and splendid; and then, in a quieter tone—“Oh, but my Queen’s lovely! She may be little, but she is a beauty!” and she gazed wide eyed at the Primrose Queen.

But there was no time for awestruck staring. The White Queen called her daughter, and began to robe her in a blue train. “Be quick, Mirry. You should have been in here with us, not chattering with the rest. Here’s your crown.”

Joan came forward, her violet robe thrown over her arm. “Jansy and Littlejan, here are girdles for your frocks, to show which Queens you belong to. Violet for you, Janice; knot it loosely, it looks nice on your green frock.” She handed Joan Two a pale yellow cord. “You can take them off for dancing, if you prefer it. Here are your wreaths; we’ll allow you to shed those too, but you must have them on for the procession.” And she arranged a garland of violet daisies on Jansy’s red head, and placed a circle of small yellow chrysanthemums on Littlejan’s dark curls.

“Gosh! I do feel an idiot! Fancy me, with flowers on my head!” said the new maid of honour.

“They’re lovely with your dark hair, Littlejan. You do look pretty,” Jansy cried.

Joan smiled. You both look very nice. We’d better have a photo, Joan Two, and send it to your mother, called “The Maid of Honour”. Uncle Jack still has some to take, hasn’t he?”

Littlejan nodded nervously, because of her unusual decoration and gave a quick, shy glance in the mirror Joan held up.

“Quite straight?” Joan asked briskly. “Does it feel firm? I’ve had a good deal of experience! Right! Then forget it and think about your Queen.”

“She’s the loveliest of the bunch!” Littlejan burst out, and Joan smiled again.

“Has Mrs. Thistle come?” Jansy asked anxiously.

“She’s with the Head. We haven’t seen her yet.”

“Gosh! We shall burst on her like a lot of rainbows! She’ll swoon with surprise and joy,” Joan Two remarked.

“Very likely,” Joan said, laughing.

“I’m the only one really entitled to wear autumn colours,” a clear voice was saying haughtily. “You all mocked at my robe and called it dingy, but nothing could be more like the woods at the present moment.” And Jen, very tall, yellow haired, came in, wearing a beech brown train decorated with “little yellow things that dance”, golden sheaves of elm and birch and poplar, and carrying a sheaf of autumn leaves.

“I protest!” cried the President. “I was the first to wear autumn colours,” and she swept round her golden train to show the big brown leaves painted on it. “I always said you bagged my colours, Brownie.”

“I forgot you,” Jen admitted. “Yes, I withdraw. You were the first autumn Queen. But you vanished so soon that it’s easy to overlook you.”

“Just what I should have thought nobody could ever do,” Joan commented.

“Overlook the President?” cried a new voice. “Never! Nobody ever could!” and Rosamund, crowned with red roses and wearing a crimson train, decorated with big white and yellow blooms, came to join Jen in looking for her maid.

“Here they are. They’re terrified,” said Littlejan. “This is Susan, and that one’s Sally.”

“They look very nice, and quite pretty enough,” Jen smiled down at her small attendant. “Do you mind carrying a dingy brown door mat, Sally? That’s what they called my lovely beech train. How jolly your yellow frock will look beside it.”

“Don’t be frightened! We won’t hurt you,” Rosamund said kindly. “Here’s a red rose from my bunch. Pin it on your front; that’s right, that’s my badge. What a pretty yellow frock! It does look gay beside my crimson. And it matches your curls so nicely. Come along, Susan! Clever of you to have yellow hair! You might almost be my little girl. Perhaps people will think you really are mine!”

“Oh no, Countess,” Jen mocked. “Susan’s at least ten, and you’re only twenty seven.”

“I’m eleven,” Susan ventured shyly, her face radiant at the great lady’s friendly tone.

“Worse and worse! I’m afraid nobody will take her for my daughter. I did hope somebody would say what a nice little girl I had! Or two nice little girls; better still! You’re a twin, aren’t you, Susan? I’d like to have twin girls.”

“Why this unseemly craving for daughters?” Jen demanded. “Boys are your duty. Aren’t you satisfied with your son and heir?”

“Hugh is very jolly, but I want a girl. Carry my train nicely, Susan!” Rosamund took her place in the line, following Mirry’s Aunt Barbara, the Wild Rose Queen.

Maidlin came after Jen, and Littlejan found herself in the procession, holding up the primrose train. Before she had time to be nervous, they were walking along the corridor, led by Miriam, the White Queen; the Golden President followed, and then came Joan in her violet robe.

“Oh, lovely! What a lot of colours!” Joan Two murmured, as she waited in the doorway.

Maidlin flashed back a smile at her. “Look at this! What do you think of Queen Beatrice?”

Following the blue and silver Queens had come a short, cheerful person wearing a striped robe of several colours.

“I am looking,” Littlejan responded cautiously. “It’s a bit gaudy, isn’t it?”

“She’s Queen Bee; she was called Beetle at school. She was a good Queen they say. Ready?”

Then a roar of welcome came from the galleries and from the Hamlet Club, and Littlejan realised what a proud position was hers, for this was Maidlin’s first appearance since her marriage.

Very pink, but as self possessed as if on a concert platform, the bride bowed and passed up the hall.

“Poor Maidie,” Joan said laughing, as she reached the platform. “But she had to get it over.”

As each Queen mounted the steps, she made a curtsey to the Head, and then went to her place, and her maid arranged her train in graceful folds around her. Beside Miss Macey, and included in the curtsey, stood a tall girl in a blue silk frock, with yellow hair coiled over her ears, her blue eyes wide with astonishment and delight, and already the crowd had discovered her and attention was diverted from the Queens.

“That must be Mrs. Thistleton! She looks terribly nice, but not a bit married,” the word went round the galleries.

Tazy responded to the curtseys with a country dance bob, while Miss Macey smiled and bowed.

“Why this?” Tazy asked, as the greeting to Maidlin rang out. “Is this little Queen a special favourite? Oh, but I know her! Who is she? Wait—let me think! Isn’t it Madalena di Ravarati? I heard her sing in the Albert Hall.”

“Known to us as Maidlin. The school—and I—haven’t seen her since her marriage to Dr. Robertson. She only came home from New York last night.”

“I am surprised! I’d like to speak to her.”

“Her maid is the child who has been the moving spirit in all this—Joan Fraser, a small Australian child who has just come to us. She insisted on having new dances, to bring back the wandering seniors.”

“Good girl! I must speak to her too. It’s a wonderful sight. You must be very proud of the Club. Oh, will she really sing to us? How marvellous!”

“A welcome to you, I expect,” Miss Macey smiled.

The Queens were all on the platform, at last. Maidlin rose from her place and came forward, dignified and quiet. Standing alone before the gay array, she sang a little verse, without accompaniment, her eyes on Mrs. Thistle.

“We give you our greeting

At this, our glad meeting,

To brighten our gloomy November!

You’ll teach us new dances,

You’ll give us new chances

And all that you say we’ll remember.

Heartily now we greet you—

Everyone’s longing to meet you—

But time is advancing,

So let’s have some dancing,

To brighten this rainy November!”

Jock listened, with a broad grin, standing with the Earl of Kentisbury and Jack Raymond. He had heard the words of the welcome song with hoots of laughter, but his wife had said, with dignity, “We always give a doggerel greeting to our guests and Queens.”

“Dog greeting is the name for it,” he had agreed.

Tazy looked startled. “What is the tune? My hat, it’s “Green Garters”. Who made up the words?”

The President gave a conscious grin.

“I thought so!” Tazy murmured.

Maidlin was repeating her chorus—

“Heartily now we all greet you

Everyone’s longing to meet you;

With dances you bristle, so come, Mrs. Thistle,

And share them with us this November!”

She made a low beautiful curtsey, like the one she had made to the Queen in the Albert Hall, and went back to her place, and the Hamlet Club gazed expectantly at Mrs. Thistle.

Chapter 22 - A Medal for Margia

TAZY stepped forward but kept at the corner of the platform, so that she could face the Queens as well as the crowded hall.

“Girls of the Hamlet Club!” Her voice rang out unafraid. “I do thank you very warmly for this delightful welcome, and I congratulate the school and Miss Macey on the Club and on this marvellous display of colour and beauty in its Queens.”

A cheer rang out, and the Queens laughed back at her from under their flower crowns.

“Especially I thank the singer for her charming greeting. I’ll do my best to deserve it. I’m not sure what name to call her, but perhaps Queen Madalena will be safe.”

There was a laugh, and Maidlin grew pink again.

“I’m looking forward to our school,” Tazy went on. “And I believe you are all feeling the same. As the weather is so kindly raining steadily, no one will grudge giving up the holiday to dance.”

Several of the audience looked self conscious or gazed accusingly at Littlejan Fraser.

“I’ve a strong feeling,” Tazy said, “that speeches should wait till the last evening. Then if we don’t want them we can just forget them. Most likely we’ll be too busy for anything but a song from our singing Queen.” And applause broke out again. “We’re dancers, and we want to dance. So suppose we have a little party of dances we know, and tomorrow at ten o’clock we’ll start on the new work. I assure you I really am bristling with fresh dances! Will you do “Goddesses” for me? I’d like to see your skipping.”

The girls looked at one another. Alison was pushed forward. Purple with embarrassment, she blurted out, “They haven’t done it lately. We’ve forgotten it.”

“Forgotten “Goddesses”? Oh, my dears, what a mistake! You are missing heaps of fun. I am so sorry for you!”

“The Hamlet Club sighed in relief and began to laugh. Every one of them had expected her to be indignant or scornful.

“Oh well, something else then! What do you know? I really would like to see your skipping. What about “Rufty Tufty”? You’ve not forgotten that, have you?”

In frozen horror, the Hamlet Club stared at her. Not a Queen but raised her head with a jerk of dismay. Maidlin’s eyes were like saucers; the President looked actually frightened; Jen whistled under her breath; Rosamund stared accusingly at Cicely; Joan gazed steadily at the teacher who asked for skipping in “Rufty”.

There was a long moment of stunned awful silence. Then a small voice from the platform cried—“She’s pulling our legs—all our legs! Look at her face! It’s a joke! She knows we can’t skip in “Rufty”.”

The Club’s relief found vent in a shout of laughter, and the twinkle which Joan had seen in their teacher’s blue eyes became laughter also.

“Good girl!” Tazy said heartily. “You saw through me! Aren’t you the one who read the Riot Act till they had to send for me to keep you quiet? Girls!” she clapped her hands and silence fell, an amused but slightly reproachful silence. “Girls! Forgive me! I swear I won’t do it again. But you all looked so dreadfully solemn; I just had to do something about it. I really do know “Rufty”. I admit it was a legpull, but honestly, it will be the last. I never saw anything funnier than your frightened faces and the alarm of your Queens at the thought that they’d brought you a teacher who expected skipping in “Rufty Tufty”! Now, what will you skip for me? You—the bright maid of honour—you choose.”

Crimson at the public notice, Joan Two stammered,—“Would “Flowers of Edinburgh” do?”

“Oh, you skip that? I like polka step myself; it’s so much neater. Still, skipping is quite correct; we’ll try the quieter step tomorrow. We can’t only do new dances or you’ll all be dazed and dithered. “Flowers of Edinburgh” please!” She looked at Margia Lane, who was tuning her violin. “Aren’t you going to dance, maid of honour?”

“I’m Joan,” Littlejan looked at her Queen, then sprang up and, forgetting to take off her wreath and girdle, ran with Jansy to the end of a long line.

The first playing of the tune satisfied Tazy. This was the real thing, and her foot was tapping to the rhythm while she watched the dancing.

“Awfully hard on all of you!” She went across to Cicely and Joan. “How can you bear to sit out?”

“We’ve had to endure it so often,” Joan said. “Tazy, you are a wicked woman! You gave us a terrible fright!”

“I ought to have warned you. But they looked in such deadly earnest, I couldn’t bear it.”

“All the same, it was risky,” the President said severely. “If young Joan hadn’t seen through you, you’d have had to tell them it was a joke, and they might never have trusted you again.”

“Big Joan was suspicious. I saw it in her eye. But the small one spoke first. She’s a jolly little dancer, and so is her partner who is obviously your daughter, Mrs. Joan. Don’t you get mixed in the Joans? What do you call the new one?”

“She’s Joan Two, or Littlejan; she’s called for me. My Janice, or Jansy, is called after her mother. Joan Two is the image of her mother, hence Littlejan,” Joan explained.

“I like their dancing; they’re very good,” Tazy called “last time” and stepped to the front of the platform.

Warm and cheerful, the dancers waited for her comment. It was unexpected. “I say, I do like your frocks!” she said.

A laugh went round. The Hamlet Club knew the effect of their loosely swinging dresses, in every brilliant shade and colour, upon those who saw them for the first time; gold and violet, deep blue and emerald, crimson, lemon and pink, all mixed up together.

“I like your dancing too,” Tazy added, as if it was an after thought, and the girls laughed again, but looked relieved.

“Now may I see “Rufty”?” Her eyes laughed back at them. “Your President threatens that you’ll never forgive me; just to show her she’s wrong, will you dance it for me?”

They would dance anything she liked, so long as they knew it. In a moment they were in sets of four, and Tazy was in their midst, turning alternate sets round, to face the platform instead of the windows. “That will give you plenty of room. Sure I haven’t muddled you? Then right away!”

“Oh, very good!” she told them at the end. “You may have gone a little stale and forgotten some of your stuff, but you’re real dancers, and jolly good ones. Is it true that you’ve never seen Headquarters dancing with men for partners? How you’ll enjoy tomorrow night! Why don’t you make those slackers dance with you?” Her eyes swept indignantly over the amused audience. “I soon made my husband dance, I can tell you!—though he’s not what I call good. But I’m talking too much; I always do. Your fiddler—I love your music! That’s why you dance so well. You owe more to her than you know. She must make a horrible clash on her strings, to stop me. At school I was called Taisez-vous, which means “shut up”. My unfortunate name is Anastasia, and put shortly it’s Tazy, so Taisez-vous was my nickname, because I talked so much. There I go again! Oh, thank you!”

Margia, with mischievous eyes, had played a crashing discord. The Club shouted—“Oh, please go on! We like to hear you talk!”

“Certainly not! You’re going to dance “Newcastle” if you aren’t too bored. Everybody knows “Newcastle”. Do you?”

The Club grinned and admitted that they did. Tazy took her place on the platform again, and watched critically.

“Yes, I like that. You’ve been well taught. You can’t think what a relief it is to come to a class who are real dancers and who don’t need to be taught to set and side. There’s not a case of bad setting among you; “Rufty” showed me that. And not one of you made the lines badly in “Newcastle”. I congratulate you!”

The Club, feeling much happier, dropped on the floor to rest and fan themselves.

“You’ll have to dust those jolly frocks,” Tazy remarked. “Oh, I say! Something’s going to happen! So sorry!” and she retreated hurriedly to her corner.

Mirry was standing in front of her throne, waiting for a chance to speak. She held out a small blue case to Margia Lane.

“With thanks from us all, because you’ve played so long,” she said simply.

“Oh, girls! And Queens! You shouldn’t! You know how much I love playing!” Margia exclaimed.

She drew out the gold medal, on its chain, with a cry of real delight as she read the inscription. “Oh, that’s beautiful! Thank you all so very much! Look, Mrs. Thistle! I’m sure the Queens and the Club have seen it already.”

“Twenty one years!” Tazy said. “They’ve been lucky to have you. Your music’s excellent. I am so glad to meet you! If you want a job, apply to me for a recommendation!”

“I belong to the Hamlet Club. I am proud!” and she hung the medal round her neck. “I feel like a super Queen!”

“Much more important to the Club than any of the Queens,” Rosamund told her.

“Wouldn’t you stand in the middle of the hall and let us dance “Sellenger’s” round you?” Tazy asked. “Then let’s dance it in her honour, girls. For Miss Lane, and her gold medal!”

After the dance Maidlin stood to sing “The Sleepy Song” about the little sheep going over the hill; then a couple of Joy’s songs, and the story of Silvy, the Female Highwayman.

“This is a treat indeed; and so unexpected!” Tazy whispered, sitting on Jansy’s cushion, at Joan’s feet. “Can we have her every night?”

“We’ve told her to expect it. But we mustn’t tire her; she’s fresh from the voyage from New York.”

“She doesn’t look tired.”

“No, she’s too happy. She’s a changed girl these last few months. But Jock will glower at us if we work her too hard.”

“Why doesn’t he dance?”

“Because he likes watching her. He calls her a rose leaf in the wind; or thistledown.”

“Won’t some of you dance? I’m sure the Club’s best dancers are on the platform. It does seem too bad!”

“It’s true, of course, but tonight is for the girls. I congratulate you,” Joan said. “You’ve taken them the right way. They’re all very happy, and the school will be a triumphant success.”

“I agree,” said the President. “They told me at the House that it would probably be a riot, but you have them well in hand.”

“What a shame! I must make them dance again,” and Tazy called for “The Old Mole” and “Hey Boys” and said kind words at the end of each.

“Don’t you think we could one little new dance?” she said persuasively. “I know this is a reception, not a class, but wouldn’t you like something new to take away with you?”

The Club and the Queens broke into applause. Evidently they would like it very much indeed.

“Good!” Tazy said cheerfully. “Then make longways sets for “Steam Boat”. It’s priceless fun.”

“Tazy, what a jolly little dance!” cried Cicely, as the Club, arm in arm in lines of four, walked down the hall and came backwards, with some giggles of amusement, to their places. “If I throw over my household cares and come at ten tomorrow, will you do it again and have me in your class?”

“I like the walking hands across to that jolly tune. I’m coming too.” Joan had been watching carefully.

“You’ll have us all in your class if you know many more like that,” Rosamund warned her.

Tazy had grinned when the Rose Queen mounted the platform, for they had met in Switzerland. Now she said solemnly, “I know heaps. I shall give them “Spaniard” and perhaps “Mutual Love” so that Joan can see her walking star again, and then I shall send you all home to bed. We shall be so worked up that we’ll have to sing Queen Madalena’s “Sleepy Song” to calm our minds. I was hoping you’d turn up. How’s the son and heir?”

“Splendid! How are the Swiss people? I haven’t heard of Karen for three years.”

“She’s Mrs. Rennie Brown now, and Margaret Karen is a year old and a jolly kid.”

“Oh, that’s marvellous! Those days at the Platz seem so long ago.”

“You’ve gone a long way since then,” Tazy agreed. “I suppose I call you—?”

“Please don’t. We forget all that here. I’m just Rosamund, or the Rose Queen.”

“It must be quite a relief! Do come tomorrow, all you Queens! I believe we shall have a jolly time.”

“I know we shall,” the President assured her.

Chapter 23 - Dancing Queens

“YOU’D better rescind that order about frocks, Joan,” Rosamund said under cover of the music of “The Spaniard”. “We can’t prance about in tunics!”

“I could, but I don’t intend to,” the President joined in. “Frocks, certainly, for everybody. We’ll announce it.”

“Oh, let them wear their pretties!” Tazy had overheard. “Nobody dances in tunics nowadays. I’m sure they’d rather dance in frocks, and the colours are so good.”

“We have dancing frocks, too,” the President told her. “We always wear them for parties.”

“Do you keep your Queens colours? Are you always golden and Joan violet?”

“Oh no! How dull! As a dancer Joan wears pale grey and I have deep Liberty red.”

Tazy glanced at her dark hair and eyes and Joan’s bronze plaits under her crown, and nodded. “And the others?”

“Jen wears blue, and Rosamund is often in blue too, though her first choice was golden brown. You’ll see Maid in rose pink; that’s why her husband calls her a rose leaf!”

“I shall love to welcome you all to my classes!”

“It’s really important that we shall come, for we shall have to keep the Club up to the mark in these new dances,” Joan said virtuously. “They’ll spend hours arguing whether it’s running or skipping, unless one of us is there to keep them straight.”

“Sure we shan’t argue too?” Rosamund asked.

“Not if you’ve done them once and if you have the books,” Tazy said. “But I do think you’re sensible not to dash into them with only the books! It’s so much better to have somebody put you through them, even if you only do them once. I’ll see that you go through them more than once, and I’ll point out any snags you’re likely to find.”

“I shall have to go home during the day,” Joan warned her. “My boy’s only five months old. There are things Nurse can’t do for him.”

Tazy grinned at her. “These young mothers! We’ll do revision for the last half hour and you can run home to young Jim. After lunch I’ll see “Milkmaids” and “Goddesses” and keep the class busy till you arrive for the new stuff.”

“That’s good of you,” Joan said warmly.

In spite of drizzle and mist, the Club met in high spirits next morning. Tazy had spent the night at Broadway End, meeting Dick Everett again, and being introduced to Dickon, Cis, and delicate baby Ted. She was as radiant with enjoyment as the girls, her eyes alight with amusement as she welcomed the Queens of the night before, now merely dancers in short full frocks.

Calling for a repeat of “Spaniard” and “Steamboat”, Tazy threatened no more new dances if these had been forgotten. But the Hamlet Club were experienced dancers, and they remembered well, and the Queens, dancing with their maids who had taken part the night before, picked up the dances easily.

Tazy called for ribbons or girdles from tunics—“Because our hankies are so small. Handkerchiefs are correct, but we’d need big Morris ones. We’ll use ribbons and make comfortable arches and you shall have “Kendal Ghyll”.”

The nursery rhyme tunes amused Margia Lane; the skipping arches charmed the girls, and the vigorous dance reduced the Club to a state of exhaustion but great delight.

“I must be middle aged and stout!” the President sighed. “I’m done in! I believe Tazy did it on purpose. What about you, Joan?”

“Panting and worn out, but very happy. Tazy, I love that!”

“You did it jolly well. We’ll do it again—”

“Oh, not at once! Please!”

“On Monday,” Tazy laughed. “I want to give you “Soldier’s Joy”. It’s much quieter.

“Soldier’s Joy” appealed to the Club and became a favourite at once. Tazy followed up her success with “The Alderman’s Hat” which was very nearly the riot that had been predicted. She calmed the class with “The Dressed Ship” and then everybody found seats, on the floor if necessary, and ate biscuits and drank milk and talked.

“This is like old times—milk and biscuits in the quad at Cheltenham,” Joan said.

Tazy nodded. “We had to have it, to remind us of those days. And the girls need a rest. I think they’re enjoying themselves?”

“They’re in the seventh heaven and you know it. What do we do next?”

“Sing for half an hour, with Queen Madalena leading us in folk songs,” Tazy said promptly. “We join in the chorus.”

“Oh, good! Maid will do that for us.”

“I’m not a man!” Maidlin protested, but consented to be the chanty man in several songs of the sea.

“Now we’ll dance again,” Tazy called up her class. “You must have “Durham Reel” and “The Yorkshire Square” and perhaps we might trust you with “The Cumberland Square” though that often does become a riot! You ought to do “The Long Eight” and “The Pleasures of the Town” too; all simple, but very traditional, and so useful for parties.”

Lunch, after another strenuous hour, was a picnic affair, in classrooms or in corners of the hall. Tazy wandered from group to group;; the President, the Countess, Jen and Maidlin sat resting in one corner. The hall rang with chatter and laughter while Joan went home, to tend her baby and be back in time for the next session.

The President looked up. “Joan running home to her baby? Must you go too, Countess?”

“Not necessary. Hugh’s nearly nine months old and he’s in good hands. I’m not needed.”

“I wish somebody else in our crowd would have twins,” the President said. “Then Joy would have to stop swanking with hers. Why doesn’t Joan have two? Her father and Joy’s father were twins, weren’t they?”

“Joan’s content with ones,” Maidlin smiled at her. “Joy doesn’t swank, President, though she’s proud of her twins.”

“I’ll say she is! Two train bearers last May Day! If somebody else had two we could say—” her eyes swept over the group of tired Queens—““You aren’t the only one. There are Rosamund’s twins coming along.” That would squash her nicely.”

There was a shout of laughter, as the Rose Queen asked indignantly, with rising colour, “Why am I to be the victim? Have twins yourself!”

“You’re easily the most suitable. Joan doesn’t want them; Maidlin’s too little and new to have twins; Jenny Wren has too many already. You can—”

“I’ll thank you to take that back, President!” There was a howl of wrath from Jen. “I haven’t nearly enough yet. I’d love to have twins!”

“I won’t take it back. You have too many already,” the President said firmly. Considering your age and your infantile behaviour at times, five is quite ridiculous; at least three too many. I won’t wish twins on you as well. But Rosamund can afford it, with all her nurses and nurseries. Please think about it seriously, Countess!”

“To be honest, there’s nothing I’d like better,” Rosamund admitted. “I love girls; the best way to have a lot would be to have them two at a time. My husband was a twin. I may oblige you some day, Lady President.”

“Oh, but it’s your duty to have boys, because of the title,” Jen reminded her again.

“Rubbish! The title’s provided for, with both Hugh and Roddy. I’ve done my duty to the family and I wouldn’t mind another boy later on, but I do want some girls.”

“Kindly see to it as soon as possible,” Cicely said haughtily. “Here comes teacher! What next, Tazy?”

“I thought we’d do “Twin Sisters”. It’s a dear little tune. Why, what’s the matter?” as a laugh went round.

“The President has been issuing her commands and you probably know she always gets her own way. She’s just wished twins on to me,” Rosamund explained.

Tazy looked at her in amusement. “How extremely suitable! A castle the size of yours has plenty of room for a large family. We’ve passed your little house on the way to the seaside. Jump up and dance “Twin Sisters”. Perhaps it will bring you luck if you want twin girls!”

“I’d adore twin girls!” Rosamund flung at her defiantly. “Be a twin sister with me, Maid! It may bring you luck too.”

“I don’t want twins, thank you Ros. You can have them,” Maidlin said definitely, a touch of colour in her face.

“I’d love them,” Rosamund owned, under her breath.

The simple dances Tazy proposed for the afternoon were well received, though the music came in for criticism.

“Haven’t they tunes of their own?” the President asked reproachfully. “Why must we dance to Scottish songs? It’s poaching! “The Durham Reel” to “Hundred Pipers” and “Yorkshire Square” to “The White Cockade” and “Cumberland Square” is surely “My Love she’s but a Lassie Yet”?”

“Jock laughs at “Thady, you Gander”,” Maidlin remarked. “He says the dance is a version of the Scottish “Strip the Willow” and the tune is “There’s Nae Luck aboot the Hoose”.”

“Your Scottish accent is improving, since you married Jock, Maidie,” Jen told her.

“As for “Circassian Circle” the tune’s merely “The Irish Washerwoman”,” Rosamund said severely. “We knew that one before, of course.”

““Kendal Ghyll” this morning went to “Humpty Dumpty” and I think the other tune was “Mulberry Bush”,” laughed Joan. “Your first lot were better, Tazy. “Spaniard” was a lovely tune, and so was “Dressed Ship”, which seemed to sing—“Turn the woman under!” as you told us to do.”

“Those Apted dances have lovely music, but I expect for the old traditional things any tune would do. I suppose you and your crowd are soaked in Playford dances?” Tazy, perched on a desk, looked down at them.

“That’s about right. Lovely music there!”

““Chelsea Reach”, “Never Love Thee More”, “Nonesuch” and all the rest. Yes, well, I don’t want you to think I don’t know them or that I don’t prefer them to the “Durham Reel”! I love balanced figures, working out perfectly, and I love beautiful music, so I love the Playford books. But you wanted something new and easy, so I’ve plunged into this other set of dances, and I hope it’s what you want.”

“Oh, it is!” they assured her. “Just exactly what we want, and what the Club needs.”

“I rather thought so. But don’t let them forget their Playford dances and go all lazy and carefree.”

Cicely laughed. “I’ll see that they don’t!”

“The dem. tonight will help,” Tazy said. “They’ll see what their dances really can look like.”

She was right, for the dozen friends from town showed several of the simpler dances the Club had just learned, rather to their own amusement, and then gave a programme of the most beautiful things they could find, perfectly timed and spaced, and brought ringing applause from the rainbow coloured Hamlet Club, crowded against the walls, and from the rest of the school in the galleries. The demonstration was the talk of members and outsiders for days, and was a revelation of what the dances could really be.

But Joan Two went to Cicely on Monday, to ask with a touch of shyness, “Ought we to try to do those dances, President? Aren’t we messing them up? I felt rather bad on Saturday. Seems to me we’re playing about with them.”

Cicely laughed down at her. “Go on playing about then! You do it very nicely, Joan Fraser. You’re a jolly dancer already. Are you enjoying your school?”

“We’re loving it, and me—I—most of all, because I’m not any newer than the rest. Most of them know these dances, and I get on as well as any of them,” Joan Two burst out.

“You certainly do! I haven’t seen you in difficulties so far.”

“They all know so much more than I do about the old dances. I’ve simply loved this weekend.”

“When everybody has been new to the dances together. We’ve enjoyed it too.”

Littlejan gave her a shy look. “We thought you were having rather a good time.”

Cicely laughed. “And you enjoyed the show on Saturday?”

“It was simply marvellous! I spent all yesterday writing about it to Mother.”

“What a splendid way to show you’d enjoyed it! I merely wanted to cry with joy after my first dem.”

“Because you were looking at something that was quite perfect. I felt rather like that. I thought it was horrible cheek for kids like us to do the dances,” Joan admitted.

“Don’t worry! Mrs. Thistle likes the Club’s dancing. She hopes we’ll ask her to come again. We might have some morris. There hasn’t been time in this school.”

“We’d love that! Those men dancing morris terrified me.”

“They were rather fierce, weren’t they? You and I will never do it like that! But you must do morris, although the Club has let it slide lately.”

“Make a longways set!” Tazy’s voice rang out. “I’m going to give you something new, and I defy anybody to mix it up with anything else I’ve given you. Now listen to this jolly tune. It’s “Piper’s Fancy”.”

“Tazy, what a lovely dance!” Joan cried at the end.

“You did it beautifully, Joan Queen,” Tazy laughed. “I’ve still a few new things for you! We’ll do “Green Sleeves” and “Yellow Lace”, but first I want to see some of those we’ve done already, or we shall get tied up in knots at tonight’s party. And I couldn’t bear to go away without giving you the “Morpeth Rant”,” and she turned to Cicely. “Joan will do it so prettily.”

“Seems to like your dancing, Joan!” Rosamund remarked.

“I always did, and she’s as good as ever she was,” and Tazy watched with real pleasure, and Joan danced her way under arches made by Rosamund and the President and the Head Girl.

Jock, looking on from the platform, laughed as his small pink wife dived under the raised arms of Jen, Littlejan and Jean Guthrie. “Priceless fun to watch,” he said to the teacher. “How they all enjoy it!”

“Much better fun to do,” Tazy said severely. “Yes, it’s been a memorable half term.”

“Thanks to the little green girl dancing with my wife, I believe.”

“So they say. They’re sure we shall hear more of your Littlejan.”

“You mean she’ll be a Queen some day?”

“They seem to think so,” Tazy turned to call “last time”.

After a strenuous party she drove away, her car heaped with flowers and chocolates, to cries of—“Come again! We’ll have another school soon.”

She laughed and waved her hand, and raced away, back to John-and-Mary’s and her “neglected offspring” as she called them.

“And that’s that!” said the head girl, as they dressed to go home. “Satisfied, young Joan? It’s been your idea all through. I must say I thank you for it.”

“Hear hear!” came from every corner, led by Ginger Jean.

“It was the President’s idea,” Littlejan said sturdily. “I’ve loved every minute of it. I wish it wasn’t over.”

“Things will go horribly flat now,” Jean groaned. “Nothing but swotting till Christmas.”

“I don’t see why,” Joan Two sounded mysterious.

Alison swung round. “Something more up your sleeve? Out with it, Littlejan Fraser!”

“They’re calling me! Ask me tomorrow! The President gave me another idea, so we shouldn’t feel too bad when Mrs. Thistle went away.” And Joan Two fled, to hurl herself, laughing, into the car with Jansy and Joan.

From Chapter 29: 'The Marigold Queen'

JOAN Two’s Easter holidays were spent in a state of blissful radiance. The hint that she might see her father put the final touch to her happiness.

“I want you for a week,” Rosamund told her before they parted in the barn. “Tansy and Chestnut and your breeches are waiting. Come soon; I’d like to have you as early in the holidays as possible.”

“How jolly nice of you!” Littlejan sparkled.

“To be honest, I’m thinking of my own plans as well,” Rosamund said, laughing. “The sooner the better!”

“You shall go at once,” Joan agreed, when she was consulted. “You’ve a lot to do, but we’ll manage it when you come back—unless you’re mind’s made up already? In that case we could ask Margia to go ahead; she always decorates the Queen’s train; it’s her privilege. She’s a painter by profession and a fiddler by accident, she says, and she’s proud when she watches the procession, with all the robes she has designed. Have you any ideas about your colour, or your flowers, or your maid?”

It was the morning after the choosing, and they were sitting on the terrace, waiting till it was time for Joan to drive home and take Jansy and Joan the Second with her.

“Have red, Littlejan,” urged Jansy, who could never wear red herself.

Littlejan coloured. “I’ve been thinking in the night. I couldn’t sleep for joy,” she said simply.

Her eyes ranged over the garden, a blaze of orange with Siberian wallflower in every bed. She went across the lawn, while Joan and Jansy watched her curiously, and brought back a glowing head of flowers.

“Could I have this? There’s never been an orange Queen. Or is it too much like the President’s gold?”

“What a lovely choice, with your dark eyes and hair!” Joan exclaimed. “An orange Queen! Oh, it’s not like the President’s! Hers is pure golden; this is much deeper. We’ve never had anything like it. You’ll be positively startling in orange, LIttlejan.”

“But we can’t call you Siberian wallflower,” Jansy protested. “We always have a nickname from the Queen.”

“Not cheiranthus, which is the flower’s real name,” Joan said laughing. “Will you be Oranges and Lemons? Or is there some other flower that would do?”

Littlejan’s eyes swept round the garden again, and once more she went down the steps and crossed the lawn. This time she brought two marigolds and laid them on Joan’s knee. That’s the same colour, isn’t it?”

“Exactly the same. Oh, a Marigold Queen! Littlejan, how pretty! We’ll ring Margia up and ask her to come and talk it over, and we won’t go home till after tea,” Joan cried. “It’s worth waiting, to get things started. Maid will give us lunch—or we’ll drive out and have a picnic! Then Margia can work on your train while you go to Kentisbury.”

Margia came eagerly to hear the new plans. She looked at the dark eyes and curls of the Queen elect, and received her choice with enthusiasm.

“Bring me a marigold, Joan the Second. Now look! You see the brown centre?”

“Very dark brown, like velvet.” Littlejan waited eagerly.

“If you like the idea, I shall line your train with dark brown—as I lined Maidlin’s with pale green—and I shall turn up the end and sides to make a brown border to your orange—like Maidlin’s green border. Then I shall paint marigolds up and down the border, and—this is a new idea, for you—I shall scatter orange stars all over the brown lining, so that it won’t be too dark; small marigolds, that will show against your white gown, as you walk. This orange wallflower will make a lovely bouquet, with marigolds mixed in it; and when you’re through the stages of wearing a white crown and then forget me nots, your marigold wreath will look perfect on your dark hair. Do you like my plan?”

“It sounds quite marvellous! But won’t it be a lot of trouble—all those stars on the inside?”

“I’ll stencil those; it will be quick and easy. But I’ll paint the marigolds on the outer border.”

“Could you save me a scrap of the orange and brown stuff from somewhere that wouldn’t show?”

“I’m sure I could. What do you want them for?”

“To send to Mother. Father may be here. Isn’t it wonderful?” Joan Two’s eyes blazed joyfully.

“Oh good! I remember your mother, when she was Joan’s maid for one day,” Margia said. “She must certainly have patterns. What would you like for your picture? I always do one for the Queen.”

“Will you really give me a picture? What a lot of jolly things there are for the Queen! Might I have one of the Abbey barn? We’ve had such good times dancing there.”

“Nobody has had the barn, yet. You helped to find it, didn’t you?” Margia was interested at once. “Shall I do the beautiful old doorway?”

“Oh please! Then when I’m in Ceylon I can imagine I’m going in and we’re just starting to dance!”

“And you’ll find yourself humming “Steam Boat” or perhaps “Sellenger’s Round”,” Margia agreed.

“You’re taking a lot of trouble for Littlejan,” Joan observed, as she went with Margia to her car.

“I like that girl. And I love my gold medal and I’m told she suggested it. She’ll be something special in the way of Queens, if I can manage it,” Margia said.

“What about your maid, Littlejan?” Jansy asked as they drove home, leaving Maid and Jock alone, but deeply content, at the Hall.

“I’d like to have you,” Joan Two said promptly, “but you’re a maid already. You don’t want to get rid of her, do you?” she looked at Joan.

“Do you want to desert me, Jansy?”

“N-no,” Jansy hesitated. “No Mother, I’ll stick to you.”

Joan laughed. “Some day, if anyone asks you again, I think you should forsake me and be maid to a reigning Queen, but not yet. She’s too young, Littlejan; you should ask somebody among your own set, who would help and with whom you could talk things over. What about the golden haired Scot who is not going to be Queen Jean after all?”

“She might be Queen next year, when she’s used to being in the procession. I shall ask her,” Joan Two agreed. “She was terribly nice to me last night. She really seemed to want me for Queen, but they all did. I can’t understand it!”

“She’ll make a fine contrast to you,” Joan commented. “Couldn’t you ride over from Kentisbury, and give her your invitation? She’d like to see Chestnut. Where does she live?”

“In Worthing. She’s a boarder during the term.”

“Then ask the Countess to let you go one day.”

“You may go anywhere you like, so long as Ferguson is with you,” Rosamund said, listening to the plans with interest. “I’m not riding at present; but he’ll go with you, and he won’t let you overdo it. I like your choice,” and she looked at the orange wallflower and marigolds which Littlejan had lain in her lap. “You’ll be a gorgeous spot of colour in the procession.”

“You don’t think it’s gaudy, do you?” Littlejan asked anxiously. “Jansy keeps calling me Oranges!”

“She’s only teasing. You’ll be called Marigold, and in time Littlejan will be forgotten.”

The golden haired Scot, Jean, working in her garden near the sea, was suitably impressed when her future Queen rode up and hailed her over the hedge.

“Jean! St. Andrew! Come and see my Chestnut! This is Tansy on Black Boy. And Mr. Ferguson!” and Ferguson touched his hat gravely. “Jean, will you be my maid? I’d like to have you terribly much, but it seems rather cheek to ask you when you’re head of the form,” Littlejan said humbly.

“Joan, I’ll love it! I’d be terrified of being Queen, but the maid hasn’t much to do. I’ll help you in the background,” Jean exclaimed.

“Right! I’m jolly glad! You’ll need a white frock and a girdle of orange and brown,” and Joan Two pointed to a marigold. “I can always find my flower anywhere, and it’s there nearly all the year round, Aunty Joan says.”

“Queen Marigold! How pretty!” Jean cried.

“What would you choose, if you were Queen?”

“Lavender blue, powder blue,” and Jean broke off a sprig of rosemary from the bush by the gate.

“A Rosemary Queen! Oh, that would be jolly! It’s different from Mirry’s forget me not blue; much softer,” Littlejan said in delight. “Perhaps we’ll have you for a Rosemary Queen one day!”

“Not likely! How nice you look in breeches, Littlejan!”

Joan Two had swung down from her steed to find the marigold. “Isn’t Chestnut a darling? The Earl of Kentisbury gave him to me. I stay at the Castle every holidays so that I can ride with Tansy.”

Jean gave Tansy a shy smile. “Weren’t you Lady Kentisbury’s maid at Mirry’s crowning? I remember thinking how nice you looked wearing her red ribbons with your black hair. Will you be there on May Day?”

“I don’t know if My Lady’s going,” Tansy said. “She didn’t mean to go this year, but as it’s for Joan Two, perhaps she will. She wants to see her crowned.”

“She told me she’d come for the crowning, but not to dance,” Littlejan added. “Thanks terribly much, Jean! I do so want St. Andrew for my maid!” She was mounted again and Chestnut was stamping impatiently.

The girls waved their whips and rode away, and Jean watched admiringly, and then went to tell the news to her mother.

“How have they managed to have different Queens for twenty one years?” Tansy asked, as they rode through the lanes to Kentisbury. “There aren’t twenty one colours. I wish I’d made a list when I was My Lady’s maid.”

“I wondered about the colours, when I was choosing mine,” Littlejan admitted. “Jansy helped me to make a list of the Queens. First there was the White Queen, Mirry’s mother; and the Gold Queen, the President. The Strawberry Queen went to America, so that left pink for somebody later on. Lady Joy was the Green Queen—bright green, and Aunty Joan is violet. Her maid, Muriel, was chosen, and wore blue, then there a Silver Queen Nesta whose flower is a thing called “Honesty” with silver pennies for its fruit; Aunty Joan showed me some in the garden. It’s flower is purple, so the Silver Queen has purple bands on a white train, and silver circles on the bands. Queen Beetle has a gorgeous train, all colours, and they call her Stripes; you must have seen her!”

“Oh, I did!” Tansy chuckled. “You couldn’t make any mistake about her!”

“She was the eighth Queen. Mirry’s Aunt Barbara was the Wild Rose Queen, with tiny pink roses on a cream train; then Lady Kentisbury wore crimson, with big white and yellow roses; Lady Jen had beech brown with cowslips and tiny yellow leaves; and Maidlin was the last Abbey Queen, in primroses and green—the twelfth Queen. After that they had repeats of some colours, but in different shades; clover pink, dark ivy green, purple—the Heather Queen; and lilac and bluebell Queens and a tall dark girl wore scarlet—she’s called Poppy. After her there was a grey Queen with flowers of every colour in her border, rather fascinating! And a hyacinth Queen, in shades of pink and blue and white. Mirry has forget me not blue, and then comes my orange. There’s been nothing like it.”

“Clever of you to find something new!” Tansy commented. “I’d like to see a full procession.”

“It can’t happen, as Queen Strawberry is in America, and several others have moved away. But everybody who can turns up, and there’s usually a long row of Queens, Mirry says. Jean will be the Rosemary Queen next year, if I can manage it. She’d be a lovely Queen, once she stopped being shy. She’ll be used to platforms once I’ve done with her!”

“They’ll call you an Abbey Queen too.”

Littlejan flushed. “I’m not good enough for that. They’ve been such jolly Queens.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think you’ll be exactly a bad one!” Tansy mocked.

“Aunty Joan!” Littlejan began, the night before her crowning. “Why did you think the Club was going to choose me? You must have known, for you’d asked the other Queens to come. Or would you have asked them for anybody?”

“I might, Marigold—” Joan Two gave her a swift laughing look—“But I knew, I was quite sure.”

“I want to know why. What made you expect it?”

“I was sure, from the time you went alone to see the President. I know you thought I was a little unkind, or that I didn’t understand how frightened you were; but I had to make you go alone. It wouldn’t have been at all the same if I’d gone with you. It made you a leader in the Club; a sort of champion rather like one of the knights in the play, going ahead and clearing the way! I wanted the rest to know you were the one who had tackled the problem, and I made sure that they understood.”

“You didn’t tell them to ask me?” Littlejan looked up quickly.

“of course not. There was no need. I knew I could leave it to them—and to you. Once you’d started to lead you would go on. But I told Alison how hard it had been for you and how brave you had been.”

“Then the motto was at the bottom of it,” Littlejan said after a thoughtful pause. “For that was why I went.”

“The motto helped, I’m sure,” Joan agreed.

“I didn’t know I was being a champion,” Littlejan grinned suddenly. “I was terribly frightened. I say, Aunty Joan, shall I really be hung up in the school hall with all you people, and have a big picture to send to Mother? It’s too marvellous for words!”

Joan laughed. “Jandy Mac will treasure her portrait! There’s always one for the Queen’s mother, as well as for the school gallery of Queens. I wish they were in colour, but we can’t manage that.”

Mother will know my colours, from the patterns I’ve sent her,” Joan Two said happily.

Joan had been hesitating on one point. Now she made up her mind to speak out. “Don’t worry any more about the motto, Marigold. The Club has had a reminder of the meaning. Alison told me she had spoken to them. Don’t ask me what she said, for I don’t know.”

Littlejan gave her a quick look. “When did Alison do it?”

“When she told them you had stayed with Jansy, at Christmas; when the Club had the meeting and decided to put off everything.”

Littlejan looked thoughtful. “I’d like to know what Alison said. Oh well! If I don’t know I can’t worry.”

“Very wise!” Joan said laughing. “Don’t think about it any more.”

Welcomed as always by Maidlin and Jock, Joan had joined Jansy and Joan Two at the Hall for the coronation, as her own home was too far away. An extra bedroom was ready, in case an important guest should arrive in time.

Littlejan, a prey to wild excitement on account of the morrow’s festivities, and to nervous anxiety for family reasons, sat on the terrace steps, plaiting marigolds into a wreath. Suddenly the flowers went flying, and with a shout she raced across the lawn as a taxi whirled up the drive and someone leaned out, waving a cheerful hand.

“Father! He’s come in time! Oh, Father!” and she was lifted into the car and disappeared.

“Isn’t that a happy thing for Queen Marigold!” and Joan went indoors to tell Maidlin and to see that a meal was ready for the traveller.

Chapter 30 - The Crowning of Littlejan

“YOU’LL sit just there, on that spot.” Joan in her long white robe and violet train led the blue eyed sea captain to a particular chair under the gallery, at the back of the audience. “You can see every corner of the hall and the platform. It’s the place Janice had, when she saw us all for the first time on the day I was crowned. So it’s right you should have it to watch your girl become the Queen.”

The big sandy Scot who had married Jandy Mac smiled and thanked her, and watched the gay scene with amused interest, while Joan threw her train over her arm and went to see that Jansy’s wreath of violets was put on properly.

In the dressing room the usual greetings were being flung about among the Queens.

“House not ready yet, Maid?” asked the President.

“Not for another month,” Maidlin, in her primrose and green train and wearing a new white gown that gave her confidence, turned and smiled at her. “Jock keeps thinking of improvements and it’s better to make them before we move in. We’re very happy at the Hall, and we’re being useful, giving a home to Jansy and the new Queen, and we keep going to Step Down for weekends. We’re working hard at our garden at The Pallant.”

“I’ll say you are!” Rosamund joined in. “I often drive that way just to gaze at your show of arabis and aubretia and alyssum—white and yellow and purple all up your hillside—a blaze of colour! It’s a joy to everybody passing along that road.”

“That’s what we want it to be,” Maidlin said happily. “Later on there will be masses of red ramblers on the walls, and the rose terrace will be full of colour. And for the autumn there are chysanthemums; we mean our hillside to cheer up the road all the year round.”

“Any news of Joy and the family?” Cicely asked.

“They’re coming about the end of July. We hope to be in our own house by then,” Maidlin’s colour rose and she turned to speak to Rosamund.

“Nice of those two to come,” Cicely said. “I didn’t think we’d see them tonight.”

“They came for Littlejan,” Joan explained. “No one else would have been honoured by the Rose and Primrose Queens, but they wanted her to have a good procession, for her mother’s sake. And her father is here; she’s a proud and happy girl.”

“Jolly for Marigold! Here’s Jenny Wren. All well, Brownie?”

The Brown Queen was radiant. “Better than well! I’ve brought Kenneth home, and he’s stood the journey splendidly. He’ll be up and about quite soon, and we shall be ready for visitors.”

“Good! It’s been a dreadful year for you,” the President said sympathetically. “Has it aged you much, Jenny Wren?”

“A little, perhaps. But I expect to be my usual merry self soon,” Jen said haughtily.

“As noisy as ever? We’ve missed your lively chatter. We’ll be glad to have our Brownie back.”

“You may get too much of me, now that Kenneth is no longer so heavily on my mind.”

“Here’s our new Queen,” Joan remarked.

“Oh, what a picture! She is pretty, Joan!” Jen murmured.

“Marigold, what a beautiful train!” the President exclaimed.

Littlejan, with uncovered dark curls, lifted her white robe and curtseyed. “I never wore a long dress before. It feels lovely for doing this!” and she followed her curtsey to the President with one to Joan and Rosamund. “Isn’t my colour marvellous? I didn’t know it would look quite so gorgeous,” and she swept her orange train round and displayed it proudly. “Look at my marigolds! Isn’t Miss Lane a dear? Do you see my stars? Nobody else has stars on her inside!”

“You don’t seem the least frightened, Marigold,” the Primrose Queen smiled at her. “I was terrified. I thought I should be sick, and Mary had to stay and comfort me.”

“I’m not frightened.” The new Queen squared her shoulders gallantly. “I’m so bucked that they want me. And it’s marvellous to know Father’s here.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rosamund said. “There’s nothing to be scared of, not in a gorgeous robe like that!”

Joan Two flashed a laughing look at her. “It helps a lot,” she admitted.

“Are Susan and Sally going to be our maids again?” Rosamund looked round. “I meant to have Tansy, but I was told maids must be from the school this time, so Tansy’s come to look on. She had to see Joan Two crowned! They went through a great deal together. Oh yes, here are our maids! You are growing a big girl, Susan! What a pretty white frock! What about you, Maid—?”

“Mine’s called Angela. She’s smaller than Susan and Sally,” Maidlin smiled at bright eyed Angela. “She’s come complete with primrose wreath and girdle. She’s a little dark angel, so my primrose suits her nicely.”

“I thought of that when I chose her,” Littlejan said. “My marigolds simply don’t show on my maid; we’ve had to put leaves with them.”

Ginger Jean laughed. “Mine’s a pretty wreath, and the marigolds will look bonny on you when you wear them, Queen.”

“Couldn’t we start?” Littlejan pleaded. “Do take Mirry away and give her a decent crown! Those faded narcissus look so sad!”

“Queen Marigold commands!” said the President. “Everybody ready? Then lead the way, White Queen. Your daughter has had a good reign and has done well for the Club.

From the doorway Littlejan and Jean watched the crowning of Mirry with her thick circle of forget me nots. Then she came to fetch her successor, and suddenly Joan gave a gasp, for the head girl stepped forward, the new crown of white starry flowers on an orange cushion with dark brown tassels at the corners. Inexperienced in the ceremony, Littlejan had not realised that her crown was not in sight, and that a last surprise was to be sprung on her.

“Queen!” said Maid Jean. “The head girl’s going to carry your crown. It’s never happened before.”

“Alison! Oh, you can’t!” Joan Two cried.

“And why not? I know it’s the custom to have a small crown bearer, but you can have a tall one, if you can have a tall Doctor, and we mustn’t separate the Doctor and the Fool. Don’t keep the Club waiting, Marigold.”

With dark eyes as starry as the flowers, Littlejan followed Alison and the crown as Alison followed Mirry up the hall. A roar of welcome rang out, both for the orange robe and its wearer, and the sailor standing under the gallery laughed, but was deeply touched as he treasured each moment for Jansy in Ceylon.

“Her mother ought to have been here. Why do they want her for Queen?” he asked of one of the dancers, crowded in the gangway. “I’m her Dad. I want to tell her mother.”

The gaily clad girls were watching critically as Littlejan knelt and Mirry laid the starry crown on her dark hair.

“Because she bullies us and makes us do things.” One of them glanced at the Queen’s father, and liked the look of him.

“But we like the things she makes us do,” said another. “She has ideas, and she keeps on till she gets what she wants.”

The sailor chuckled. “You like that?”

“We’d gone stale and everybody was slack. Marigold pulled us up and all sorts of jolly things have happened. She’ll come and speak to you presently, when the maypole’s over; the Queens always walk about and talk to their friends so that people can admire the trains. Isn’t Marigold a lovely colour? Come on, everybody! It’s the maypole now!” and in a whirl of coloured frocks they were gone, to seize the orange, brown, white and blue ribbons and dance in the new Queen’s honour.

“Good thing I’m here, or she’d have had nobody to speak to,” Captain Alec remarked.

“Don’t you think it!” A tall girl turned to him scornfully. “There’s the Earl of Kentisbury; he gives her ponies and things; she’s a great pal of his. And Captain Raymond; he dances with her at parties. And Dr. Robertson; she lives with him at the Hall. There are plenty who will congratulate Marigold!”

“Mere dads must keep in the background,” murmured Alec Fraser, much amused.

Littlejan came straight to him however when the interval released her from her throne. “Father, isn’t it marvellous? Do you like my long gown?” and she curtseyed. “And my train? Isn’t it a gorgeous colour?”

“I like the crown,” he laughed. “I’m going to tell Mother every single thing. I hear you’ve found a new name; these lassies call you Marigold. You’re gey bonny, my bairn.”

“I don’t suppose they’ll call me anything else now. It’s better than Littlejan, anyway.”

“Well lassie, in all this dressing up and dancing, don’t forget your cricket. I expect to hear in every letter how many wickets you’ve taken. You won’t be too busy for cricket, will you?”

“Rather not! I’m looking forward to it,” Littlejan’s eyes sparkled. “It’s the first year a Queen has been allowed to play in matches. I mean to do them proud.”

“That’s good. But don’t forget the school books!”

“The Head will see to that. She says I work very well; she won’t let me slack. Come and meet Lord Kentisbury, Father; he’s a dear. Lady Kentisbury is the Rose Queen; you’ve heard about her. She and Primrose aren’t going to dance, and I’d better not either, though I hate looking on. The rest of the Queens will change and join in the dancing. Look at my medal! I’m Queen Joan the Second, the twenty second Queen. This the Club’s coming of age year.”

“It’s a great day for you, lassie.” Her father surveyed her in proud amusement. “They’ve done well by you. See that you deserve it.”

“I’ll try!” And Queen Marigold led him off and introduced him to friends.

“Queen!” said Maid Jean, holding the orange velvet train carefully out of the dust of the hall. “Somebody wants you. You brought her to see me.”

Littlejan turned quickly as Tansy pushed through the crowd. “Tans! How jolly of you to come!”

“I say, you are togged up!” Tansy mocked.

Joan Two grinned at her. “Don’t you like my regal attire?”

“I shall describe you to Ferguson,” Tansy said solemnly. “Do you know what I heard My Lady say? “The Club will be safe now for three or four years, and then Jansy will be ready to take charge. Joan Two will keep them up to the mark”. Fact! She said it.”

“I’ll do my best, but they’re expecting a lot and I’m not really good enough,” Littlejan said humbly. “They call me an Abbey Queen. That means I’ve a good deal to live up to.”

“You’ll do it all right. You’ll keep them in order,” Tansy grinned back at her cheerfully.

Return to Elsie J. Oxenham's work

Return to Home Page

Return to top of page

Text © Ju Gosling aka ju90 2010