Boarding schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- England -- Juvenile fiction
The two girls had now to face the very unpleasant fact that they had
missed the connection, and that the teacher who was to meet them at
Euston would look for them in vain. They wondered whether she would wait
for the next train, and, if she did not, how they were going to get
across London to the Great Western railway station. Marjorie felt very
doubtful as to whether her experience of travelling would be equal to
the emergency. She hid her fears, however, from Dona, whose countenance
was quite sufficiently woebegone already.
"We'll get chocolates out of the automatic machine, and buy something to
read at the bookstall," she suggested. "Two hours won't last for ever!"
Dona cheered up a little at the sight of magazines, and picked out a
periodical with a soldier upon the cover. Marjorie, whose taste in
literature inclined to the sensational, reviewed the books, and chose
one with a startling picture depicting a phantom in the act of
disturbing a dinner-party. She was too agitated to read more than a few
pages of it, but she thought it seemed interesting. The two hours were
over at last, and the girls and their luggage were safely installed in
the London train by a porter. It was a long journey to Euston. After
their early start and the excitement at Rosebury both felt tired, and
even Marjorie looked decidedly sober when they reached their
destination. Each was wearing the brown-white-and-blue Brackenfield
badge, which had been forwarded to them from the school, and by which
the mistress was to identify them. As they left the carriage, they
glanced anxiously at the coat of each lady who passed them on the
platform, to descry a similar rosette. All in vain. Everybody was in a
hurry, and nobody sported the Brackenfield colours.
"We shall have to get a taxi and manage as best we can," sighed
Marjorie. "I wish the porters weren't so stupid! I can't make them
listen to me. The taxis will all be taken up if we're not quick! Oh, I
say, there's that Tommy again! I wonder if he'd hail us one. I declare
I'll ask him."
"Hail you a taxi? With pleasure!" replied the young soldier, as Marjorie
impulsively stopped him and urged her request. "Have you got your
luggage this time?"
"Yes, yes, it's all here, and we've found a porter, only he's so slow,
and----"
"Are you Marjorie and Dona Anderson?" interrupted a sharp voice. "I've
been looking for you everywhere. Who is this you're speaking to? _You
don't know?_ Then come along with me immediately. No, certainly not!
I'll get a taxi myself. Where is your luggage?"
The speaker was tall and fair, with light-grey eyes and pince-nez. She
wore the unmistakable Brackenfield badge, so her words carried
authority. She bustled the girls off in a tremendous hurry, and their
good Samaritan of a soldier melted away amongst the crowd.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account