the point at which she had been attacked, picked up the missiles which had been thrown — they were easy enough to see, for they lay far out in the moonlight on the soaking grass of the lawn — and took them into Athelstan with her, two half-bricks, which had been hurled with considerable force.
As she entered the house, stepping quietly and having used her latch-key to get in, she was aware of faint stirrings down in the basement.
She tested the door at the top of the basement stairs, found it locked, as usual, smiled contentedly and then stopped short as a thought struck her, not a pleasant thought, either.
‘Goodness me,’ she said to herself, ‘it’s Lulu’s job to see that that door is locked. I suppose the maids forgot it in the half-term week-end, and that’s how she managed to get up here and cut that poor girl’s hair!’
Chapter 17
NYMPHS AND SATYRS
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‘You know, there’s a lot of fetishism in the preparation of vegetables — in fact, in all cooking,’ said Laura, roaming about the Athelstan kitchen (against all College regulations, needless to say) in quest of what she might devour.
‘That there isn’t!’ said Bella, promoted to cook. ‘And I wonder at you, Miss Menzies, using language like that!’
‘But — well, take brussels sprouts,’ for example,‘ pursued the educationist, discovering a jar of raspberry jam and helping herself to it by spreading it on a biscuit she had previously purloined. ’Now I bet you anything you like that when you do brussels sprouts you cut up each little stalk in the shape of a cross. Don’t you?’
‘Yes, so does everybody else, miss, and I hope you know that these here provisions have got to last the month. There’s been trouble already, the way they’ve disappeared. I don’t know what the Warden would think if she was to come in here now this minute and find you eating biscuits and jam and sultanas, the way you are.’
‘Being a sensible woman, duck, she’d suppose, correctly, that I was putting to the proof the College memo. on the subject.’
‘What’s that, miss?’
‘Well,’ said Laura, poking interestedly underneath the top layer of a large tin, ‘don’t they call this stuff consumable stock?’
‘Now, look, Miss Menzies,’ said Bella, removing the Bovril bottle out of reach, and firmly handing Laura a clean damp swab on which to wipe sticky fingers, ‘if you’ll promise to leave the things alone and go back and get on with whatever you’re supposed to be doing, and stop hindering me and getting in Lulu’s way with that tray for the Warden’s elevenses, I’ll tell you a secret, so be you won’t let it get round.’
‘I’m on,’ said Laura, wiping busily and finishing off on a clean handkerchief. She seated herself on a corner of the table. ‘Spill. Half a minute, though. Can’t I tell anybody at all?’
‘Well,’ said Bella, ‘I suppose you could tell Miss Boorman. She’s a quiet little thing. But don’t you go telling Miss Trevelyan. I know her. It’ll be all over College before you can say Jack Robinson.’
‘Not if I swear her to silence, Bella. Come on. Just those two and no more.’
‘Well, if you think…’
‘I do think. Go on. You know you want to tell someone. Is it about your boy friend?’
‘Go on with you!’ said Bella, delighted. ‘And me been married these thirteen years, going on!’
‘Go on, you’ve not. I don’t believe it! You wouldn’t have a resident job if you were married! Who makes his evening cup of cocoa?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know, miss. He’s a sailor.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t stick that! Well, go on. What’s this yarn?’
‘You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. You know the end-of-the-year summer dance, when the young gentlemen get invitations, and the young ladies’ brothers and their other friends can come?’
‘Yep. Though I haven’t experienced it yet.’
‘Well, you’re going to, miss. The Warden has made a very special point with Miss du Mugne, and it’s to be held at the Half-Term, or, rather, the Saturday night after, young gentlemen, cousins and all.’
‘Well!’ said Laura, jumping off the table. ‘Well, what do you say! Hot dog, Bella! I’ll have the Warden chaired from the bakehouse to Rule Britannia’s! Well, well, well! I never did! And they say the age of miracles is past! When’s the good news to be spread?’
‘That’s for Miss du Mugne to say, miss. Now don’t you go blurting it out and saying I told you, mind!’
‘Trust your Auntie! And — Bella! Grub?’
‘Ices and all, miss. Yes, the Warden said special as all the food was on her.’
‘The Warden said that all the food was on her,’ repeated Laura thoughtfully. ‘Hm! Knowing the Warden’s very sound attitude towards food, I am inclined, in no conservative spirit, to say Whoopee!’
Mrs Bradley had had some initial difficulty in convincing the Principal that the Half-Term Dance, as it was called as soon as tidings of it were broadcast to a surprised and enraptured College, was a necessity in helping to forward the ends of justice.
‘I’ve got to know how Miss Murchan was decoyed,’ she insisted, ‘and as I can’t imagine the circumstances I must attempt to reproduce them.’
