attention to Dan Dare, who, I was sorry to see, was in an even worse plight in the last picture than in the first with the green-faced crane operators.
Peace descended on Beech Green school-house as I read Eagle avidly from cover to cover, to the accompaniment of the distant squeakings of cot springs. Gradually, the squeakings grew less frequent, and finally stopped.
Heaving myself from the chair, and throwing Dan Dare aside, I made my way upstairs to attend to my duties.
6. Trouble and Love
M ISS CLARE was busy putting the last minute touches to the supper table. It had been a lovely day, and she had been pleased when Miss Jackson had said, at tea-time, that she thought she would cycle into Caxley and call on a friend there.
'We might go to the pictures,' she had said, 'so don't wait supper for me if I'm a little late. It just depends how we feel.'
Miss Clare had been delighted to hear about the friend. She knew that she had met one or two young teachers in the town, but had feared that her lodger's unswerving devotion to Miss Crabbe, the psychology lecturer, might stand in the way of any warm friendship elsewhere. With great delicacy Miss Clare refrained from asking the sex of the Caxley friend, but hoped, for Miss Jackson's sake, that it was male, and that he was young, single and good looking. She was inclined to think, however, that the friend was much more likely to be female, and if it were that new gym mistress, she, alas! was no more prepossessing than Miss Jackson herself, thought Miss Clare sadly.
By ten o'clock Miss Clare was beginning to think of bed, for she had risen at half past six as was her custom. She looked out of the window at the clear sky, and breathed in the fragrance from her garden. The lilac was in flower, and she could see the plumy pyramids of blossom outlined against the stars.
It was nearly eleven before Miss Jackson arrived. Miss Clare heard her calling goodbye, and a man's voice replying, in the distance. Then came the sound of Miss Jackson's bicycle thrown, with a clatter, into the shed. The back door burst open, and Miss Jackson with flushed face and shining eyes, stood before her. She looked very happy.
'Oh! You shouldn't have waited up,' she said reproachfully. 'I was later than I meant to be. We went to the pictures after all.'
Miss Clare enquired about the film. Yes, she was told, it was most awfully good, but rather a short programme. They had come out at a quarter to ten.
Miss Clare looked a little surprised, and Miss Jackson rattled on.
'We were so thirsty that we went into "The Bell" for a drink,' she explained, somewhat defiantly. 'Anything wrong with that?'
Miss Clare felt vaguely uncomfortable. It was obvious that Miss Jackson was very much on the defensive, and Miss Clare was beginning to wonder why. So far no name had been given to the friend, and whether it was male or female Miss Clare did not really know—but she was beginning to suspect that the friend was a man, and one that Miss Jackson felt she would not approve of.
'I don't know that "The Bell" is a very pleasant place for two girls to enter unescorted,' answered Miss Clare mildly, 'I see from The Caxley Chronicle that it is frequented by a number of Irish labourers who appear regularly before the magistrate.' She had chosen her words with some guile, and her manner was pleasant. Miss Jackson bolted her last mouthful of pie, and placed her knife and fork across her plate, with exaggerated deliberation.
'As it happens,' she said, raising her thick eyebrows, 'I was accompanied by a man.' Miss Clare congratulated herself privately upon eliciting this information. 'And what's more, he saw me home, so I was well looked after.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' said Miss Clare gently, pushing the cheese dish towards her lodger. 'Would you take some of my dark purple lilac to Miss Read in the morning?' she continued, skating gracefully away from thin ice. 'She has a lovely pale one, I know, but no deep purple.'
'Of
Peace descended on Beech Green school-house as I read Eagle avidly from cover to cover, to the accompaniment of the distant squeakings of cot springs. Gradually, the squeakings grew less frequent, and finally stopped.
Heaving myself from the chair, and throwing Dan Dare aside, I made my way upstairs to attend to my duties.
6. Trouble and Love
M ISS CLARE was busy putting the last minute touches to the supper table. It had been a lovely day, and she had been pleased when Miss Jackson had said, at tea-time, that she thought she would cycle into Caxley and call on a friend there.
'We might go to the pictures,' she had said, 'so don't wait supper for me if I'm a little late. It just depends how we feel.'
Miss Clare had been delighted to hear about the friend. She knew that she had met one or two young teachers in the town, but had feared that her lodger's unswerving devotion to Miss Crabbe, the psychology lecturer, might stand in the way of any warm friendship elsewhere. With great delicacy Miss Clare refrained from asking the sex of the Caxley friend, but hoped, for Miss Jackson's sake, that it was male, and that he was young, single and good looking. She was inclined to think, however, that the friend was much more likely to be female, and if it were that new gym mistress, she, alas! was no more prepossessing than Miss Jackson herself, thought Miss Clare sadly.
By ten o'clock Miss Clare was beginning to think of bed, for she had risen at half past six as was her custom. She looked out of the window at the clear sky, and breathed in the fragrance from her garden. The lilac was in flower, and she could see the plumy pyramids of blossom outlined against the stars.
It was nearly eleven before Miss Jackson arrived. Miss Clare heard her calling goodbye, and a man's voice replying, in the distance. Then came the sound of Miss Jackson's bicycle thrown, with a clatter, into the shed. The back door burst open, and Miss Jackson with flushed face and shining eyes, stood before her. She looked very happy.
'Oh! You shouldn't have waited up,' she said reproachfully. 'I was later than I meant to be. We went to the pictures after all.'
Miss Clare enquired about the film. Yes, she was told, it was most awfully good, but rather a short programme. They had come out at a quarter to ten.
Miss Clare looked a little surprised, and Miss Jackson rattled on.
'We were so thirsty that we went into "The Bell" for a drink,' she explained, somewhat defiantly. 'Anything wrong with that?'
Miss Clare felt vaguely uncomfortable. It was obvious that Miss Jackson was very much on the defensive, and Miss Clare was beginning to wonder why. So far no name had been given to the friend, and whether it was male or female Miss Clare did not really know—but she was beginning to suspect that the friend was a man, and one that Miss Jackson felt she would not approve of.
'I don't know that "The Bell" is a very pleasant place for two girls to enter unescorted,' answered Miss Clare mildly, 'I see from The Caxley Chronicle that it is frequented by a number of Irish labourers who appear regularly before the magistrate.' She had chosen her words with some guile, and her manner was pleasant. Miss Jackson bolted her last mouthful of pie, and placed her knife and fork across her plate, with exaggerated deliberation.
'As it happens,' she said, raising her thick eyebrows, 'I was accompanied by a man.' Miss Clare congratulated herself privately upon eliciting this information. 'And what's more, he saw me home, so I was well looked after.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' said Miss Clare gently, pushing the cheese dish towards her lodger. 'Would you take some of my dark purple lilac to Miss Read in the morning?' she continued, skating gracefully away from thin ice. 'She has a lovely pale one, I know, but no deep purple.'
'Of
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