"I'm coming home--oh! isn't it spiffing? Do let us have trifle
and sausages for supper, and let Baba stop up for it. I've made
her a present, and it's not infectious, because Miss Birks has
had it stoved. And it will be ripping to see you all again. I'm
so glad I shan't miss Douglas. I hope Jinks is well, but don't
let them bring him to the station to meet me, in case he gets on
the line. Oh, high cockalorum for next week!
"Heaps and heaps of love from
"DULCIE."
"It's a good thing Miss Birks is sending a post card, you silly child,"
remarked Deirdre crushingly. "You've never told your mother which day
you're coming, to say nothing of mentioning a time."
"Oh, haven't I? No more I have. I'll put it in a P.S. I hope Mother
won't forget I said trifle and sausages. She always lets me choose my
own supper on the day I go home, and we have it all set out in the
breakfast-room. Generally we only get biscuits and milk before we go to
bed. I think they might let Baba sit up this time. She's nearly six. Oh,
bother! My stamps are upstairs. Do come with me, and I'll fetch them. I
simply hate going alone."
"You're as big a baby as Baba," returned Deirdre. "No, I can't and won't
and shan't go with you. You must pluck up your courage for once. Dear me
there's nothing to be afraid of, you scared mouse."
Thus duly squashed by her own chum, Dulcie made no further plea; she
only banged the door in reply, and they could hear her footsteps
stumping slowly and heavily upstairs. In a few moments, however, she
descended with a much swifter motion, and, looking pale and frightened,
burst into the schoolroom.
"There's somebody or something inside the barred room," she gasped.
"It--whatever it is--it's tapping on the door. I daren't go past."
Both Deirdre and Gerda rose to the rescue, and--three strong--the girls
ventured to investigate. With a few pardonable tremors they drew aside
the curtains that concealed the door of the mysterious room. There was
nothing to be seen or heard, however. The iron bars had not been
tampered with, and all was dead silence within.
"Your nerves are jumpy at present, and you'd imagine anything," decided
Deirdre.
"I didn't imagine it. I really heard it. I tell you I did. Oh, I say!
There it is again!"
Instinctively the girls clung together, for from inside the door
certainly came the sound of rapping, not very loud, but quite
unmistakable.
"Who's there?" quavered Deirdre valiantly. But there was no reply. "If
you want help, speak," she continued.
The three held their breath and listened. Dead silence--that was all,
nor was the rapping repeated.
"I've heard it before," whispered Gerda.
"When?"
"Several times. Once just after I came, and again in the middle of the
term, and about three weeks ago. It's always the same. A few taps, and
then it stops."
"Did any of the other girls hear it?"
"I didn't ask them."
"It's spooky to a degree. What can it be?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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