CHAPTER X

LOST, STOLEN OR STRAYED?

The next day was wet, so that the girls were obliged to amuse themselves indoors in their recreation time. Consequently there was no hockey practice, but it was not long before someone noticed the absence of the sticks from their accustomed place in the corner of the gym, half a dozen girls of the Fifth and Sixth, who were considered old enough to use the apparatus without the supervision of a mistress, having enjoyed themselves there that afternoon.

When it was realized that the sticks really had been spirited away by some mysterious agency and that nobody had the least idea where they were, there was a considerable sensation in the ranks of the hockey club members.

"Can it be burglars?" one Fourth-former suggested. "They might have broken into the school during the night."

"Burglars? Nonsense!" replied Madge briskly. "What burglar would bother to break into a place just to steal a pile of old hockey sticks! No, somebody has hidden them for a lark."

"But who?" demanded Deirdre. "And where?"

The group of girls in the gym room looked at each other in perplexity.

"It's my opinion," Irene said shrewdly, "that some of the netball girls have done it to annoy us. You know how indignant they were because Pam consented to play for us."

This was voted the most sensible suggestion yet proffered.

"If that's so, then Prue Preston knows something about it," Deirdre declared. "She's the ringleader of the Fourth."

"Yes," added Irene, "and it was done while all the seniors were at the play, depend upon it."

Some of the girls departed to see if they could learn anything from the Fourth or Third, while the rest scattered far and wide to search every spot where the sticks might possibly be hidden. Half an hour later they drifted back to the gym room to report failure in every direction. The Fourth and Third Forms, not to mention the Second, had stoutly denied all knowledge of the missing sticks, and seemed as genuinely surprised at their disappearance as the seniors themselves, though the netball players seemed amused at the news. As for Prue Preston, everybody affirmed that she had been with the rest of the Fourth all the evening after prep time, first in the common room at a meeting and then playing draughts with the indoor games club. Monica Carr had also been with them.

Tea bell put an end to the search, but it is to be feared that the prep of many of the Sixth and Fifth suffered that night from lack of the usual time and care bestowed upon it. Girls gathered in groups in each other's studies, still discussing the mystery and suggesting hiding-places, but all efforts proved fruitless. One or two lucky girls, who had not put their sticks back in their proper places after the last game, still retained possession of them, but two people alone could not play hockey and until the rest of the sticks turned up there could be neither practice nor match.

The second day was also wet, and Madge and Deirdre organized a thorough search of the whole premises, resolving that should the sticks be anywhere within the school bounds they should be unearthed.

The end of the search found a hot, dusty, tired and short-tempered band of hunters. No success had rewarded their efforts, and to add to their humiliation, numbers of smiling netball players had followed them everywhere, offering various absurd suggestions and displaying obvious delight in their quandary.

"I don't believe they are hidden in the school," Madge declared. "Is there any place we haven't searched? Of course, we can't go poking our noses into mistresses' rooms--but then, they can't be there. Did you search the boxrooms thoroughly?"

Two exceedingly grubby and dusty Fifth-formers stoutly affirmed that they had looked into every box and trunk--even the hatboxes--and that not a spider nor a cobweb had escaped their sharp eyes. Glenda, Irene and several others had searched all the dormitories, examining wardrobes and doors and peering under the beds. Madge had even inquired of the kitchen staff if they had seen any traces of the sticks in their domains, and had been informed with cheerful smiles that no one had seen them since the gym room had last been swept.

"I hope," Madge added, with a gallant attempt to be frivolous, "the cook didn't think I was accusing her of having designs on our sticks for firewood, or even for serving up in the stews!"

No one laughed, however. The matter was too serious.

"What annoys me most," said Glenda stormily, "is that crowd of netballites following us round with broad grins on their faces. I'm quite sure they know something about it, in spite of their denials. I searched their cubicles well, but with no results. After all, you can't hide a score of hockey sticks in any nook or cranny--or even one stick, for that matter."

Nat and Monica were there, both having been as indefatigable in the search as anyone. Monica was humming a tune from the Mikado under her breath, and now and again breaking into words:

"Here's a how-de-do, Here's a pretty state of things!"

Then Deirdre arrived on the scene and reported that she had bearded the lion in his den--the lion being the head gardener and groundsman, a particularly surly and cross-grained person--and had even persuaded him to unlock the gardener's shed and allow her to go inside.

"We looked in the bicycle shed," concluded Deirdre. "As for the garden, they weren't hidden under the winter greens, which are about all there is growing in it this time of the year, and Baines got quite annoyed when I suggested they had been buried in the soil, and said nobody had been digging in his garden unbeknown to him and we needn't look forward to a spring crop of hockey sticks!"

"The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, Have nothing to do with the case!"

hummed Monica, breaking into a new tune. Nat seized her by the arm and pulled her into the passage.

"Look here, you imp of mischief," she said in a fierce whisper. "I believe you're at the bottom of the whole affair. You were here while we went to the play. Tell me, where have you hidden them?"

"Nowhere," retorted Monica, "they aren't hidden, at all." Pulling her arm away she walked off, singing softly: "Beautiful Mabel, would if I could, but I am not able," and leaving Nat to stare after her and rub her nose in greater perplexity than ever.

During the whole of that October week it rained continuously--as it not unfrequently does in October--and the girls were obliged to remain indoors most of the time. In addition to this, Miss Cazalet, the games and drill mistress, was confined to her room with an attack of influenza. So the members of the staff were not surprised at there being no hockey practices and were not aware of the mysterious disappearance of the hockey sticks; while the girls, both because they preferred to tackle their own problems and also because they did not like to be made to look ridiculous, did not carry any complaints to them about it.

They knew now that it was the work of the netball players, or some of them, for the morning following the search, Madge had found in her study a dirty, begrimed sheet of paper, with the following message inscribed on it in straggling, printed characters:

IF THE NETBALL KAPTANE WILL PROMISS TO PLAY FOR HER TEEM IN THE NEXT MACHE THE MISSING ARTIKLES WILL BE FOUND.

SINED--ONE WHO NOES.

P.S. SHE MUST RITE HER NAME IN THE TEEM ON THE NOTISS-BORD.

The Fifth and Sixth surveyed this illiterate epistle with disgust.

"It's positively childish, writing such nonsense to us," declared Madge. "Anyone would think we were kids in the Second Form, whose favourite recreation was playing at Red Indians. I am convinced this is the work of that harum-scarum young sister of yours, Pam."

Pam herself, who in her time had been one of the biggest pickles in the school and who even now, when she had attained the dignity of the Sixth, regarded life more or less as a joke, chuckled delightedly.

"Shouldn't be surprised. She's just like I was when I was her age. Mischievous lot of young imps!"

That week was decidedly a trying one for all those in authority. Never had the Fifth prepared their work in such a careless, slovenly manner; never had the Third and Fourth been more restless and inattentive and brimming over with mischief. Even the select little band of Sixth-formers, never noted for over-working themselves, seemed to have caught some of the prevailing atmosphere of restlessness. Miss Bennett, who was not very interested in the girls, beyond seeing that they worked well and adhered rigidly to the school rules, put it down to the incessantly wet weather. Miss Cazalet, who took more interest in the girls' pursuits outside lesson hours than any of the other mistresses, was still in bed.

Punishments were more numerous that week than usual. The prefects found it difficult to maintain their dignity and authority in the face of the smiles and giggles of the younger girls; by the end of the week tempers were becoming frayed, especially when, at the prefects' weekly meeting, the Principal observed that some of the girls in the school seemed to have got a little out of hand that week and gently suggested that the prefects should use every effort to get things running more smoothly. Madge was greatly tempted to explain the reason for all the disturbance, but refrained; for during recent years it had been the prefects' unwritten law never to take their troubles to the Principal unless they had failed entirely to master them themselves. When Miss Julian had dismissed the meeting, they held a gathering of their own in the study shared by Madge and Deirdre.

"A silly sort of mess we're in," the usually placid-tempered Deirdre declared disgustedly. "This is Friday and the match is next Wednesday, and still we can only muster a couple of sticks between the lot of us. Not only that, but those juniors are getting a good deal too big for their boots--positively cheeky this last week."

"If we give in to them now," said Madge tragically, "our prestige is gone for ever."

"All for nothing too," said Pam, still more amused than annoyed. "I've just had a letter by the afternoon post, cancelling the netball match. Our opponents can't play next Wednesday after all, and their secretary suggests another date--the following Saturday or Wednesday."

At this point in the discussion there came a knock at the door and in walked Allison.

"I've left the swotting for a bit," she explained with her cheerful smile. "I heard Prinny had given you a wigging at the prefects' meeting, so I simply had to come along and see if I could be of any use. Otherwise, it's sheer farce calling myself the Head Girl."

"We didn't want to disturb you, knowing how busy you are with your scholarship work," said Madge ruefully. "You know we promised you at the beginning of the term we would take everything off your shoulders."

"Yes, but when things aren't going very smoothly I couldn't stand outside, not for fifty scholarships," Allison declared with energy. She perched on the edge of the table. "What's the trouble? Haven't those missing sticks turned up yet?"

"No," replied Madge and explained the recent developments, showing Allison with rather a sheepish air the document sent by the "one who noes."

Allison could not help chuckling as she read it.

"They're holding hostages for you, Pam," she said, then her expression becoming more thoughtful she added: "Did you say the netball match is postponed?"

Pam nodded and showed Allison the letter she had received from the opposing netball secretary. Allison again looked at the mysterious epistle from the "one who noes."

She gave a little laugh. "It's simple enough," she said. "Accept their proposal as gracefully as possible. As the netball match is postponed, Pam can turn out for both teams without upsetting anyone. They on their side must keep their bargain and return the sticks if Pam promises to play in the 'next netball match'--as it says here. Then I hope it will be a case of all's well that end's well."

"Why, of course that's the way out!" cried Madge. "What muffs we were not to think of it ourselves!"

"Well, I think you were," said Allison candidly. "Perhaps Pam had better not mention at first that the netball match has been postponed, then their disappointment will be greater when they find they haven't got their own way entirely and Pam is still playing for the hockey team."

Already faces were brightening.

"Thanks awfully for your help, Allison," said Deirdre. "You are a brick."

"No," replied Allison, "not a bit of it. It's you who are the bricks for not wanting to worry me with prefects' affairs. I do appreciate it, I can tell you. Suppose you all come along to my study and have a cup of tea. I've a cake just sent from home, and I think I can persuade Ethel to let me have the tea on a tray from the kitchen." The prefects accepted the invitation with alacrity.

Before the day was ended a list appeared upon the notice-board, headed: "Team chosen to play in the netball match against St. Margaret's," and against the position of goal-defender appeared Pam Preston's name. There was great excitement in the group of netball players who had gathered round to read it.

"Pam's playing," Prue declared excitedly to Meggie. "They've given in."

Though Prue had followed Monica's advice and had not divulged the hiding-place of the sticks to any of her other followers, of course they all knew by now that she was one of the instigators of the plot. There was no need for any more secrecy. Very soon the facts would be known to the whole school, so she and Meggie lost no time in satisfying the curiosity of their companions and related the story to an admiring and appreciative audience--and with a considerable amount of complacency on the part of the narrators.

Going to their study directly after breakfast the next morning Madge and Deirdre found another sheet of dirty notepaper lying conspicuously on the table, and quickly read the following message:

ALLTHO THE SWIMING BARF IS CLOSED AT THE END OF SEPT. NO DOUT MOST OF THE HOKKEY XI ARE IN NEAD OF A GOOD WASHE.

ONE HOO NOES.

Madge's face was a study. The slower-witted Deirdre merely looked dazed.

"Well, if we aren't a set of prize idiots!" spluttered Madge at last. "No one ever thought of looking in the swimming-bath. That's where our sticks are. Just because it's been closed and locked up for the winter, we didn't give it a thought. Besides, who would dream of hiding anything in a swimming-bath! And we went so near--we searched the gardeners' shed and looked under all the cabbages!" For a moment conflicting emotions struggled for the mastery, then her sense of humour prevailed and she burst into a roar of laughter. Deirdre, recovering from her bewilderment, followed her companion's example, for nothing is more infectious than laughter; and the two girls sat and rocked till the tears rolled down their cheeks.

"How are we going to get them?" asked Deirdre, wiping the tears from her eyes. "The baths are locked up now."

"Miss Cazalet has the key," Madge replied. "She is better and is getting up to-day. We'll ask her for the key and tell her the whole story. She'll enjoy the joke immensely, I know. To think how we searched every impossible chink and cranny in the building, where one couldn't hide a pencil, let alone a hockey stick!" And Madge went off into a fresh gale of laughter.

The swimming-bath, which was situated in the farthest corner of the grounds and certainly in rather a remote spot, was duly entered--and there were all the missing sticks, lying just as they had been dropped in the deepest end of the white-tiled tank. Each owner seized her own particular stick with a delightful feeling of familiarity at holding a much-tried and well-known weapon in her hands once again. The grey rain clouds had lifted, the rain had stopped and the rays of the sun were flooding the watery fields with pale but welcome light. With joyous cheers, and feeling as if they had been let out of prison, the girls made a bee-line for the hockey field and, unhindered by the fact that the rain had long since washed out all the marks, were soon waging a pitched battle with tremendous enthusiasm and energy.

"I thought all along you had a hand in it," Nat declared that evening, as she and Monica were hard at work. "But you said the sticks weren't hidden anywhere."

"No more they were. No one who walked into the baths could fail to see them."

"I'm all the more convinced that I daren't let you out of my sight. You see what invariably happens when I do! The other girls in the Fifth don't know whether to be annoyed with you or not."

"Irene does," replied Monica. "She still doesn't like me at all." She critically surveyed the latest notice she was printing for the study wall with her head on one side and added happily: "Wait till I come out top. She'll dislike me still more then."

"Did you hear about Allison going to the prefects' meeting to help them?" asked Nat eagerly, and when Monica shook her head she related the incident, quoting Allison's words about not standing outside when things were going wrong, not for fifty scholarships. Nat spoke with a glowing face and eyes alight with hero-worship. "That's just like Allison. It's true, too. That's why we would do anything for her when she was Head Girl last year and worked so hard for the school; why we think so much of her now."