try to cut across the lawn without him seeing us. But he’d always spot us from his window up there, and he’d shout and shake his fist. I bet his ghost is up there watching to see that we don’t do it again.”
“If you used to go into his garden when he lived in there, then surely you’re not frightened to go in now when there’s nobody about.”
Isobel shook her head. “I’m not going in.”
“Do you know anything about Mr. Carruthers? Or about his family?”
Again Isobel shook her head. “He never had a family.”
“He did so!”Marjorie insisted. “Mrs. Appleby said he had he had a son called John who was killed in the last war and a daughter, Jane, with golden curls.”
“Not that old man,” Isobel said positively. “I’ve never heard of him having children, and if he did they’d be grown-up. Why, I bet he was eighty years old!”
The girls turned and walked slowly home. Marjorie was disappointed that Isobel knew nothing more about the Carruthers. How was she ever going to find out how Shona had happened to own the painting of Clairmont House and what the connection was between her and the Carruthers family? She had tried asking Miss Morag, but that had reminded Morag of Anna’s running away and the burned dress, and they never got back to the subject of the Carruthers.
When they reached the Campbells’ house it was time for Isobel to leave and she politely thanked them for having her.
“A nice child,” Miss Morag pronounced. “You may ask her to come again.”
A few days later the top class took the Qualifying Exam. It all seemed very important as the desks were set up in the hall, spaced far apart. Marjorie was surprised to see Dr. Knight in the hall as well as Miss Dunlop and Mr. James, the headmaster.
“What’s Dr. Knight doing here?” Marjorie asked Isobel. “Do they think we’re going to faint when we see the questions?”
Isobel giggled. “He’s here to see we don’t cheat,” she explained. “He always comes in for the Qualifying.”
Dr. Knight gave Marjorie a friendly wink as he passed out the papers. Then he sat down at the front of the hall and read a book, while chewing on his unlit pipe. The only sound in the hall was an occasional perplexed sigh and the shuffle of feet. When Billy Wallace dropped his pencil, all the children raised their heads from their work and watched him walk up to the front of the hall to sharpen it.
Marjorie rather enjoyed the exam, especially the arithmetic and the intelligence test. Miss Dunlop smiled at her encouragingly when she gathered in the papers and asked if she’d found it hard.
“Not too bad,” Marjorie said, and then she more or less forgot about it. Now that she was happier at Canonbie she wasn’t sure she wanted to be chosen to go to the Academy the following September. It would mean being the new girl all over again and having to make new friends.
It was now light later in the evenings. Anna and Marjorie often went out together, exploring the countryside. The hedgerows were beginning to turn green and delicate spring flowers were blooming in the woods.
“Let’s go and see Mrs. Appleby at Escrigg Farm,” Marjorie suggested, as they walked down the road together after school.
“I want to go to Clairmont House,” Anna said.
“Clairmont House! Do you still go there?” Marjorie asked in surprise.
“Sometimes,” Anna said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“You shouldn’t be going in there,” Marjorie scolded. “Are you still playing with the toys?”
“I want you to read a book to me,” Anna answered.
“We’ve got books at home I can read to you.”
“Not like this book,” interrupted Anna. “This isn’t a real book. It’s just written in pencil. I think that girl Mrs. Appleby told us about wrote it—the girl who fell through the ice.”
“Jane Carruthers?”
“I saw ‘Jane’ in it, but most of it’s too hard to read.”
“Do you think it could be a diary?” Marjorie
“If you used to go into his garden when he lived in there, then surely you’re not frightened to go in now when there’s nobody about.”
Isobel shook her head. “I’m not going in.”
“Do you know anything about Mr. Carruthers? Or about his family?”
Again Isobel shook her head. “He never had a family.”
“He did so!”Marjorie insisted. “Mrs. Appleby said he had he had a son called John who was killed in the last war and a daughter, Jane, with golden curls.”
“Not that old man,” Isobel said positively. “I’ve never heard of him having children, and if he did they’d be grown-up. Why, I bet he was eighty years old!”
The girls turned and walked slowly home. Marjorie was disappointed that Isobel knew nothing more about the Carruthers. How was she ever going to find out how Shona had happened to own the painting of Clairmont House and what the connection was between her and the Carruthers family? She had tried asking Miss Morag, but that had reminded Morag of Anna’s running away and the burned dress, and they never got back to the subject of the Carruthers.
When they reached the Campbells’ house it was time for Isobel to leave and she politely thanked them for having her.
“A nice child,” Miss Morag pronounced. “You may ask her to come again.”
A few days later the top class took the Qualifying Exam. It all seemed very important as the desks were set up in the hall, spaced far apart. Marjorie was surprised to see Dr. Knight in the hall as well as Miss Dunlop and Mr. James, the headmaster.
“What’s Dr. Knight doing here?” Marjorie asked Isobel. “Do they think we’re going to faint when we see the questions?”
Isobel giggled. “He’s here to see we don’t cheat,” she explained. “He always comes in for the Qualifying.”
Dr. Knight gave Marjorie a friendly wink as he passed out the papers. Then he sat down at the front of the hall and read a book, while chewing on his unlit pipe. The only sound in the hall was an occasional perplexed sigh and the shuffle of feet. When Billy Wallace dropped his pencil, all the children raised their heads from their work and watched him walk up to the front of the hall to sharpen it.
Marjorie rather enjoyed the exam, especially the arithmetic and the intelligence test. Miss Dunlop smiled at her encouragingly when she gathered in the papers and asked if she’d found it hard.
“Not too bad,” Marjorie said, and then she more or less forgot about it. Now that she was happier at Canonbie she wasn’t sure she wanted to be chosen to go to the Academy the following September. It would mean being the new girl all over again and having to make new friends.
It was now light later in the evenings. Anna and Marjorie often went out together, exploring the countryside. The hedgerows were beginning to turn green and delicate spring flowers were blooming in the woods.
“Let’s go and see Mrs. Appleby at Escrigg Farm,” Marjorie suggested, as they walked down the road together after school.
“I want to go to Clairmont House,” Anna said.
“Clairmont House! Do you still go there?” Marjorie asked in surprise.
“Sometimes,” Anna said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“You shouldn’t be going in there,” Marjorie scolded. “Are you still playing with the toys?”
“I want you to read a book to me,” Anna answered.
“We’ve got books at home I can read to you.”
“Not like this book,” interrupted Anna. “This isn’t a real book. It’s just written in pencil. I think that girl Mrs. Appleby told us about wrote it—the girl who fell through the ice.”
“Jane Carruthers?”
“I saw ‘Jane’ in it, but most of it’s too hard to read.”
“Do you think it could be a diary?” Marjorie
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