Boarding schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
"I'm to stop up half an hour later than Peter, Rona; do you hear that?"
she chattered. "Oh, I do hope the Prestons will arrive first of anybody!
I want to dance with Willie. Father let me have a cracker just now, and
it's got a whistle inside it. I wish I had a pocket. Where shall I put
it to keep it safe? Oh, I know--inside that vase!"
As she spoke, Dorothy jumped lightly on to the seat of the cosy corner
that abutted on the fireplace, and reached upwards to drop her whistle
inside the ornament. In her excitement she slipped, tried to save
herself, lost her footing, and fell sideways over the curb on to the
hearth. Her thin, flimsy dress was within half an inch of the fire, but
at that instant Rona, who was standing by, clutched her and pulled her
forwards. It all happened in three seconds. She was safe before her
father had time to run across the room. The family stared aghast.
"Whew! That was a near shave!" gasped Oswald.
Dorothy, too much surprised and frightened to cry, was clinging to her
mother. Mr. Stanton, acting on the spur of the moment, rushed to the
telephone to try if any ironmonger's shop in the town was still open,
and could immediately send up a wire-gauze fire-protector. The
fireplaces in all the other rooms were well guarded, but in the
drawing-room the hearth was so wide, and the curb so high, that the
precaution had not been considered necessary.
"It only shows how absolutely vital it is to leave no chance of an
accident," said Mr. Stanton, returning from the telephone. "Matthews are
sending a boy up at once with a guard. If it hadn't been for Rona's
promptitude---- Oh, there's the bell! Oswald, fetch your mother a glass
of water."
Poor Mrs. Stanton looked very pale, but had recovered her composure
sufficiently to receive her young guests by the time they were ushered
into the drawing-room. Dorothy, child-like, forgot her fright in the
pleasure of welcoming her friends the Prestons, and everything went on
as if the accident had not occurred. Mr. Stanton, indeed, kept a close
watch all the evening, to see that guards were not pushed aside from the
fires, and Mrs. Stanton's eyes watched with more than usual solicitude a
certain little pink figure as it went dancing round the room. The
visitors knew nothing of the accident that had been avoided, and there
was no check on the mirth of the party. The guests were of all ages,
from Peter's kindergarten comrades to girls who were nearly grown-up,
but it was really all the jollier for the mixture. Tall and short danced
together with a happy disregard of inches, and even a thorough enjoyment
of the disparity. Rona spent a royal evening. Her host and hostess had
been kindness itself before, but to-night it seemed as if they conspired
together to give her the best of everything. She had her pick of
partners, the place of honour at supper, and--by most egregious
cheating--the ring somehow tumbled on to her plate out of the trifle.
"I'm getting spoilt," she said to Oswald.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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