Francie (19 page)

Francie stopped to think. Bob said, “Well, then, let's all pile into the bus and go somewhere else, why don't we?”

“Oh, we couldn't do that,” said Penny.

“Why in the world not?” said Glenn in surprise. “What else can we do?”

Helplessly Penny looked toward Francie to explain. What Glenn had suggested was so outrageous that she felt Francie must be able to see for herself that it was impossible. Francie must act as interpreter between England and America; Penny herself could not begin to do it. To her horror Francie only said easily, “Oh, it's against the rules to go riding without special permission, but as practically everything's against the rules anyway at that school, I guess a little more rule-breaking won't matter.”

“Penny doesn't seem so sure,” Bob pointed out.

“Oh, Penny's a good sport. She says she'll stand by, no matter what,” said Francie blithely.

Penny stood there on the pavement, watching Francie climb into the car. She had never in her life been in such a predicament. A whirl of doubts and fears kept her dumb; the only thing that stood out in the confusion was what Francie had just said: “She says she'll stand by, no matter what.” Well, and so Penny
had
said it. There was nothing she could do now, except regret Francie's ignorance of the common laws of self-preservation. Penny climbed into the car.

“We'd better take off our hats as soon as we're out of town,” said Francie. “No need to advertise where we're from.”

Still miserably silent, Penny agreed.

They decided there was time to go as far as the sea for their tea, and they could be back in ample time to catch the bus. Penny revived a little, and took part in the discussion. The girls talked it over for a long time while the boys waited impatiently, and the car idled on the road outside Farham.

“Personally I don't care what we do while we talk,” Glenn said about three times, “as long as we
can
talk. Do you realize I haven't seen this girl in six months, about?”

“Well, Penny thinks we ought to take you to the Museum, but I say you'd be bored,” said Francie. “It's not so easy to think of things to do, Glenn. There aren't any juke-box joints here, you know, and it's hard to catch a good picture. As for television—”

“Who cares about all that? You'll have Penny here calling us all barbarians,” said Bob. “Did we or didn't we come over to Europe to see the old country as she really is? Well then, juke me no juke boxes. Let's keep going until we get somewhere, that's all, and don't forget the traffic regulations.”

“It does feel odd, not worrying about petrol,” sighed Penny gratefully. The girls had taken off their hats and hidden them; now the breeze blew through their hair and filled them with adventurous delight.

In the back seat Penny even relaxed a little and began to enjoy Bob's company. Glenn drove, with Francie in the seat beside him and all the way they chattered. Ruth was doing fine, Glenn reported, and Gretta was all wet, though a good enough kid once you got to know her. One boy they knew well had failed his math exam and would have to pass an entrance exam before he was allowed into State. The newest excitement was wagering about who would “make” this fraternity or that. Aunt Norah was expected back from Florida in plenty of time to get the house ready for Francie's return. None of the crowd went to the Chocolate Shoppe any more. There'd been a switch of management and they preferred a chop-suey place farther downtown.

“Oh, golly, but it will be fun to get back,” sighed Francie.

“It'll be fun having you back,” said Glenn emphatically. “It's not the same without you. Say, though, you look fine, except for that gosh-awful outfit. Younger somehow.”

“Is that good? I must be perfectly terrible to look at. Nothing done to my hair in weeks, and no makeup.”

“You look okay,” he said heartily. “Say, do you know you're beginning to talk sort of Englishy? You are, honestly. ‘Frightful dress,'” he said, mimicking her tone. “You'll probably start a new style of speech in Jefferson.”

Francie shrieked with laughter, conscious that Penny was watching her with indulgent amusement when she wasn't chattering with Bob in the back seat of the car. It was easy to forget for the moment that they weren't in America where there were no Miss Maitlands to return to, and no Cinderella-like rush to be home on time.

When they reached the beach it was necessary to drive a little farther than they had expected, in order to find a café open. It was still rather early in the season and most of the places were closed and boarded up, but at last they found a teashop that would serve them, and there they sat for a long time, eating stale cakes and ice cream, and drinking tea.

“This is terrible stuff,” said Glenn, looking at his plate with disfavor. “Do they feed you like this everywhere in England?”

“Now don't start talking about double malteds,” said Penny warningly. “It's an old joke here, the way you Americans begin to long for your soda fountains. Francie's a little better than she was, but for a while she was a great trial to all of us.”

“That's what I say,” added Bob. He spoke with deadly seriousness. “You ought to take things the way you find them in foreign countries, Glenn. What will these people think of us if we go criticizing everything about them just because it's not like home?”

“Hear, hear,” said Francie, applauding. “Shame on you, Glenn!”

Bob looked puzzled by their laughter until Penny explained: “We're only pulling your leg. I lived in America myself, so I don't really mind a little harmless yearning for a chocolate soda.”

“To tell the truth, it's all a lot better than we'd been led to expect. I thought I'd be really hungry by this time,” said Glenn.

“Oh no, it's not so bad. There's food enough to eat. Only it's stodgy, most of the time, and pretty much the same every day,” said Francie, “and naturally people who keep house get tired of planning and contriving. You see it's like being poor all the time, with no hope of it getting any better, at least not for a long while. When you're poor in America you've always got the saving hope that tomorrow you just might, miraculously, strike it rich. Nobody in England feels like that.”

“There aren't any miracles in England, eh?” asked Bob. “I see. I don't know as I'd like that. How do most of you feel about it?”

Penny, to whom he addressed his question, said, “We've never believed as much in miracles as Americans do. I suppose we feel we've got to pull through, that's all. We've always done it and we feel we ought to keep on trying.”

“Kind of a grim outlook,” said Glenn soberly. “Take it all in all, I guess Europe's no picnic. That's about the size of it.”

All four young people were grave and silent for a little. Penny suddenly noted the café clock and exclaimed in dismay. “Francie! Do look at the time. We'll never be back in Farham in time for that bus!”

Francie's hand fluttered to her mouth in alarm. Already it was nearly five o'clock. They all looked at each other, wondering what they should do about the predicament.

“I could get you back to the school, but it's bound to be a little late,” suggested Glenn. “Would anyone notice?”

“We'd be half an hour late. They'd be sure to notice,” said Francie. “Wait a minute, let me think.” She covered her eyes with her hands and sat as if in a trance, while the others respectfully waited. “I know,” she said at last, taking her hands down. “I'll manage. Just leave it to me.”

Penny looked dubious, but said nothing while Francie asked the waitress where she could find a telephone. There was a public one, said the waitress, in a little booth just down the beach and across the road. Francie collected loose change from the boys and hurried out the door purposefully.

“What's she going to do?” asked Glenn.

“I don't know,” said Penny in worried tones. “I hope she's not getting in too deep.”

“But you'll get into trouble too, won't you?” Bob asked.

“Oh well …” Her voice trailed off. The boys looked at her in respectful silence, but they had no idea of how deeply terrified she was. Penny had too much self-control for that.

Francie returned after a little while and nodded in a reassuring manner at her friend. “It's all right for the moment,” she said, picking up another cake. “Nothing to worry about.”

“How did you fix it? What did you say?” asked Penny tensely.

“Oh, I talked to Ella.” Ella was the maid. “I didn't have to say much, fortunately, because the girl at the switchboard didn't tell them at the other end where I was calling from. You know they sometimes do; she just asked if that was the Fair-fields number, and said, ‘Wait a minute,' and said to me, ‘Fourpence please,' and I think Ella's too dumb to notice that fourpence is too much for a strictly local call.”

“Yes,” said Penny, “but just what did you say? You didn't lie, did you?”

“Of course I didn't lie,” said Francie, with indignation in her tones. “I only didn't tell the whole truth. I said we were awfully sorry but we'd missed the bus, and would she tell somebody, please, and we'd get some supper and be along later.”

Penny didn't speak until Bob said, “Do you think you can get by with that?”

“No,” Penny said, “I don't think so. There's going to be a row.”

“I must say, you're awfully calm about it.” He looked curiously at her pale face.

“Sufficient unto the day,” said Francie, waving a macaroon in the air. “The thing is, I'm so awfully fed up I don't much care, and Penny feels the same way for reasons of her own. Do you know, they tried to stop me seeing you boys at all?”

“No fooling!” Glenn had to hear the whole story then, and Francie retailed it with enthusiasm.

“So you see, I've burned my boats, or if I haven't it doesn't really make the slightest difference,” she finished recklessly. “I couldn't care less.”

“What about Penny, though?” demanded Bob. “She's got more to lose, it seems to me. We're not
her
old friends from America.”

They looked expectantly at the English girl, who only shook her head.

“Penny's backing me up,” insisted Francie. “Still, maybe we'd better be more careful from now on, and get home pretty early.”

A spin in the country, perhaps a stop somewhere for a sandwich, and back to school before nine o'clock would give them plenty of time to prepare for what would certainly be an ordeal of explanations, they decided. “Though if we just say we took a car back,” said Francie, “they may not probe further. I should think it most unlikely they'd make too much fuss; we're big girls now, even in their estimation. Oh, never mind. Let's forget about it now and just have fun.”

Penny swallowed hard and attempted to take this advice.

It had been a most exciting and enjoyable evening, in spite of the worry which even the impenitent Francie could not quite banish from her mind. They had driven far and fast, had eaten a surprisingly good dinner at a wayside hotel, and had been busy since, the girls telling the boys a wealth of things about England. They had chattered until their throats were dry. Now with an early moon making the fields silver, they drove slowly along the deserted road, talking in low tones.

“It's been a wonderful start to my trip, seeing you like this, Francie,” said Glenn with a sigh. “Gosh, I wish you could come on with us to France. I can't tell you what a difference it makes to Jefferson, not having you there.”

This was most gratifying. Francie said, “Don't think it hasn't made a difference to me too. I could have howled sometimes, I was so homesick for the gang.”

“Honest? I didn't know how you might be feeling after all this time. Those boys you talked about in your letter to Ruth—Mark and Peter—didn't they make you forget all about us?”

“Oh no, Glenn, never for a minute. They're cute enough, but I'm not used to English boys, I guess. And anyway I haven't had much chance to get acquainted. It's different over here.”

“Well, I'm mighty glad to find you haven't changed that way.”

“What do you mean, that way?” she asked with a flicker of interest. “Have I changed any way at all?”

“Gosh, yes,” said Glenn readily. “You're a lot different. You look younger, and you're keener on things, and not so, well, so spoiled. I guess what I mean is that you're a lot nicer to me!”

“That's because I'm so glad to see somebody from home!”

“Poor kid,” said Glenn.

It took a little while for these words and their true significance to soak into Francie's brain. When they did she suddenly sat up to attention. “Did you say poor kid? Why?” she demanded.

“Why?” repeated Glenn. “Oh, I don't know. I guess I've been feeling awfully sorry for you. It's only natural. We're all sorry for you, back at Jefferson.”

“But why should you be
sorry
for me? This I don't like.”

“Well, gee, haven't you been awfully unhappy? You sounded it. You kept writing letters …” His voice trailed off.

“I have
not
been unhappy,” said Francie in clear tones. “I love England, as a matter of fact.”

Glenn turned to look at her incredulously. “Go on! You couldn't. Stuck away in that crummy school—”

“And what's the matter with Fairfields? It's a very good school and I'm happy there. Sure, they don't always look at things my way and I don't see things in theirs, but it's a very nice gang of girls, Glenn, and don't you forget it. Why, they're worth any number of the kids at home, in lots of ways. I can't tell you all about it straight off …” Nor could she, she reflected. It would take hours and perhaps more words than she knew to explain Jennifer's sturdy independence, the honest friendship of Wendy or Marcie, the sincerity of all of them. They had good sense, those girls, and they were kind. At least, all except Jennifer were kind, and she had other qualities. “They're tough,” said Francie aloud. “Lots tougher than we are. And better sports, as far as I can see. I know that's a soppy expression but it's what I mean. I mean, it's not easy to tell in America what people are like, is it? Things are so easy there. Here, you can see right away … But I didn't mean to make a speech, Glenn. I only wanted you to understand, I
like
England.”