01 The School at the Chalet Read Free Page A

over all this as her fingers moved up and down the keys with accuracy and precision. It seemed almost impossible that it could be she who, on the morrow, would be taken up to London by her father, unusually indulgent, and there given over to Miss Bettany’s charge. Madge and Jo had left their old home early in the previous week, in order to pay farewell visits to such relatives as remained to them.
    It’s too good to be true!’ thought Grizel ecstatically; ‘and that’s ten o’clock, thank goodness!’
    She finished off the scale of A flat melodic minor in grand style, and then shut down the lid of the piano with a bang. She had heard her stepmother go out a few minutes previously, so she ran down to the kitchen, where the cook, who adored her, and spoilt her when it was possible, welcomed her with a wide smile, and made haste to proffer a rock bun.
    ‘Just hot out of the oven, Miss Grizel, love,’ she said.
    Grizel accepted it, and, sitting on the table, munched it with good appetite.
    ‘This time to-morrow I sha’n't be here,’ she said, when it was disposed of.
    ‘No, lovey. It’ll be the train this time to-morrow,’ replied the good woman in her soft, sing-song voice.
    ‘And then Paris next day-and then Innsbrück next week!’ Grizel spoke exultingly ‘Oh, Cookie! I’m so thrilled, I’m so thrilled, I can’t keep still!’
    ‘Eh, it’s a lot you’ll be seeing, Miss Grizel. And you’ll write to Cookie and tell her all about the grand sights in them furrin cities, won’t you?’
    ‘Of course I will, Cookie dear! I’ll write to you as often as I can.’ And Grizel jumped down from her perch and, flinging her arms round Cook’s neck, gave her a hearty hug. ‘I’ll write to you every week if I can.’
    ‘There’s a love! And-Miss Grizel, dearie, I was over to Bodmin last night, and I got this for you to remember your Cookie by.’
    ‘Oh, Cookie! How dear and kind of you! Whatever can it be?’
    Grizel took the narrow parcel, feeling its shape with childish curiosity before she opened it. A little scream of ecstasy broke from her as she realised what it was-a beautiful Waterman fountain pen.
    ‘Oh, Cook! And I’ve always wanted one ever so!’
    The tears stood in her grey eyes as she carefully examined it. Cook, looking down at the small flushed face, felt well rewarded for her long tramp of the night before, and for the sacrifice of a new spring hat, which had been necessary to buy the pen.
    ‘I’ve nothing to give you,’ said Grizel, sudden sadness in her tones.
    ‘You’ll be giving me your news, lovey- maybe a picture-postcard or two! That’s all I’ll be wanting from you. Now you’d better go, Miss Grizel. The mistress only went down to the butcher’s, and she won’t like it if she finds you here.’

    Grizel nodded. Too well she knew the scolding that would be the portion of both of them if her stepmother caught her in the kitchen. With a final hug and a kiss, she turned and ran upstairs to her own little room, cuddling her new possession. Some paper lay on the little dressing-table, and she ‘tried’ the pen on it. Cook had had it filled ready, and it was a beauty-neither too fine nor too broad. She wrote her name with a flourish several times, and then, hearing Mrs Cochrane’s step on the stairs, tucked it away into her attaché case, and screwed up the bits of paper, thrusting them into her pocket just in time. When her stepmother entered the room she was standing gazing out of the window, and whistling softly. Mrs Cochrane frowned at her.
    ‘Grizel! I have told you before that I will not allow whistling! Kindly obey me! As long as you are under this roof you will do as I tell you!’
    Grizel obeyed. The disciplining of the past three years had taught her the value of unquestioning obedience, if it had taught her nothing else.
    ‘You had better put on your outdoor things and come with me,’ went on her stepmother. ‘You ought to say good-bye to the Rector and Miss