The Annam Jewel by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

sewing, with little cold fingers that made a great many mistakes. She always did make mistakes, but today she made more than usual because she was thinking about Peter. Every time she thought about him, something inside her said, “Oh, Peter de—ah,” and a crying feeling came into her throat and eyes. She did not cry, because Ellen Smith had learnt not to cry. It seemed a long, long time since Peter had talked to her over the wall. Really it was only about three hours, but it seemed a long time. They had had afternoon lessons and tea, and now the sewing-class was nearly over. Some of the girls had finished already and were putting their work away in the desks which stood between the forms. Miss Jones had come down from her watchtower and was walking down the line, looking at the work before it was put away. She came to Rose Ellen and made a clicking sound with her tongue.
    Rose Ellen stood up, her legs shaking a little, and saw Miss Jones mark her work in two places with a blue chalk cross.
    â€œCarelessness and inattention,” said Miss Jones. “You will stay behind and do this piece again.” She passed on.
    Rose Ellen took her seam and began to unpick it. All the piece between the blue crosses had to be unpicked and done again. It was heavy, unbleached stuff, very cold to handle.
    The other girls got up and went out. Miss Jones returned to her watch-tower and sounded a bell. A monitress came in and lit the gas; then she, too, went out and shut the door.
    There was half an hour allowed for recreation before bedtime. Rose Ellen very often missed it. She would miss it tonight. Every now and then she looked up at the darkening windows. Peter would be waiting out there. He had said that he would wait there all night. Rose Ellen thought and thought, and could see no possible way in which she could obey Peter and get out into the playground that night. It was just one of those things which could not be done. On the other hand, Peter said, “Do it!” When Peter said to do a thing, Rose Ellen always did it.
    She went on sewing. Miss Jones had taken a novel out of her desk and was reading it. The classroom door opened so suddenly that she had not time to close the book before Ethel Dawkins, the monitress, came up to her, rather breathless.
    â€œPlease, Miss Jones, Miss Featherstone wants to speak to you immediate.”
    Miss Jones got up in a flurry. Miss Featherstone was the Principal, and no one ever kept her waiting.
    â€œPut your work away, Ellen Smith,” she said. “Put out the gas and lock up the classroom when she’s finished, Ethel. The keys are on my desk.” She spoke the last word at the door, and was gone.
    Rose Ellen got up gratefully and stretched herself. Then she looked round with some apprehension. Ethel Dawkins was a bully, and Rose Ellen was afraid of her. To her surprise she was alone in the classroom. Ethel had followed Miss Jones down the passage.
    Rose Ellen put her work into her desk, and walked up to the top of the room. It was nice to walk after sitting still for so long. She looked idly at the teacher’s desk. And then the great idea came to her.
    Miss Jones’ novel still lay on the desk. The keys were lying there too; Ethel had not taken them with her. There were two keys on a big ring. One of them locked the door of the classroom and the inner door that led from the classroom to the cloakrooms beyond; and the other, the bigger key, locked the door which led from the cloakroom passage into the playground.
    Rose Ellen took the keys. She was dreadfully, dreadfully frightened, because at any moment Ethel might come back. Peter had said, “Come!” and she always did what Peter said. She took the keys in a very cold hand that trembled, and ran to the cloakroom door. It was locked. She unlocked it, and passed into the dark passage beyond.
    Rose Ellen was frightened of the dark. She ran down the passage, past the black cloakrooms which opened