“Two o’clock, madam,” they replied, more or less in chorus.
“And what did you all do then?”
“If you please, madam, we all went and washed,” volunteered a child of thirteen.
“And what did Miss Bonnet do while you had all gone to wash?”
“She came with us to see there’s no noise,” said a twelve-year-old.
“How long did it take you to wash?”
They could not answer that with any certainty.
“What did you do when you had washed?”
“We went in school and learnt our spellings ready for half-past two,” said the girl who had spoken first.
“Who was with you, then, until half-past two?” It turned out that no one was ever with them at that time. From one o’clock until two they had recreation, and then from about ten past two until half past, whilst the Community went to Vespers, the children were set to learn some piece of work or other in the classroom, and lessons proper began at half-past two, when the nuns came back from church.
“Who generally supervises the games on Monday dinner times?” was Mrs. Bradley’s next question.
“If you please, madam, nobody don’t. We plays by ourselves of a dinner time. Reverend Mother Superior put it to us to be good, and let Mother Saint Ambrose have a rest.”
“Oh, I see. That’s a very good idea. So you always look after yourselves from one o’clock until two, and then in the classroom from two until half-past two?”
When they had all been dismissed to go back to their lessons, Mother Ambrose volunteered the information that one of the orphans had been fairly badly hurt during the early part of the game.
“The child who was playing in the centre position fell and hurt herself, and was brought to me here in the Orphanage where I spent about twenty minutes in attending to her injuries,” she said.
Mrs. Bradley took out her note-book.
“How did she come to hurt herself so badly?” she enquired.
“She jumped for the ball at the same time as Miss Bonnet jumped for it. Miss Bonnet, being considerably heavier than the child, got the better of the encounter. The child was knocked down and sustained a fair number of abrasions, which I bathed, anointed and bound up. By the time I had finished, the game, I think, was over. Sister Saint Jude came over from the guest-house and gave me some assistance, I remember.”
“Miss Bonnet played centre, then, did she?”
“Oh, no. She always said that no one could direct the game from the centre position. When she took part in the games, she always played against the shooter.”
“Inside the goal circle?”
“Yes, with her whistle between her teeth, which always seemed to me dangerous.”
“The child was not badly hurt, then?”
“No, but the asphalt is rough. If the players fall they always cut their hands and knees. Then they must darn their stockings. It is all good training for life.”
Mrs. Bradley digested what was to her a novel view, and then asked:
“You came out into the playground, perhaps, before Vespers?”
“Certainly. Five minutes, I should think, before time, to make sure that the game was over and the children had gone off to wash.”
“Thank you, Mother Saint Ambrose. What happened to Miss Bonnet between the end of the game at about five minutes to two, then, and the time when she went for her bath, so very much later?”
“She had asked permission, I understand, of Sister Saint Francis, as the afternoon was at her own disposal— she would ordinarily, but for the holiday, have been at Kelsorrow School—to give some extra gymnastic coaching to some of the girls at the private school.”
“That would have been between two o’clock and two-thirty?”
“Yes. While the Community were in church.”
“I suppose she did give them the coaching?”
“I assume that she did. It is no concern of mine, and I know very little about it, and nothing directly—that is to say, from Miss Bonnet or Sister Saint Francis.”
Mrs. Bradley thanked her again, and then went to find Mother Francis, in order to get permission to speak to one of the girls. She wanted a girl who was friendly with either of the cousins of the dead girl, but not with the dead girl herself. She disliked the necessity for questioning the children at all, and was resolved to cause as little distress as she could.
“Oh, child,” she said, when a girl of twelve was sent out to her, “did you know Ursula Doyle?”
“Yes, a little. Not as well as I know her cousin, though.”
“On the day Ursula died Miss Bonnet gave extra teaching to some of the girls in the gymnasium, didn’t she?”
“Yes. I was one, and Ursula was supposed to have been another. Then there were two of the sixth form, and a girl who is terribly good. The rest of us had the extra coaching because we’re fairly bad at gym, and Miss Bonnet wanted to improve us before the drill inspection.”
