SALLY FOUND HERSELF CLASPING THE DOOR OF THE NEXT CARRIAGE (See page 20.)
SALLY COCKSURE
A SCHOOL STORY
By IERNE L. PLUNKET
ILLUSTRATED BY GORDON BROWNE
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON : HUMPHREY MILFORD
REPRINTED 1929 IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS BY JOHN JOHNSON PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. Sally at Home II. On the Way to School III. Unpopularity IV. A Cold Shoulder V. Sally is Taken Up VI. An Escapade VII. Penalties VIII. A Rift in the Lute IX. A Broad Hint X. The Breach Widens XI. A Night Adventure XII. Sally at the Fair XIII. "Just Silliness" XIV. Autolycus XV. Will She Come? XVI. Disillusionment XVII. The New Term XVIII. The Blotted Essay XIX. Mischief XX. Games and Toffee XXI. Autolycus Gives Trouble XXII. Autolycus is Lost XXIII. The Portholes XXIV. Reconciliation XXV. Rescue
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Sally found herself clasping the door of the next carriage (see page 20) ... Frontispiece
Sally felt herself swung off her feet
"'Ware Castle!"
The policeman pursued for a few yards
"Hi! Hi!" she screamed excitedly
CHAPTER THE FIRST SALLY AT HOME
The hall-door bell rang violently. Sally Brendan, seated on the schoolroom hearthrug with a volume of Shakespeare on her knees, gave an expressive whistle and, dropping the book, ran to the window and leaned out as far as she could without losing her balance. In this way it was just possible to catch a glimpse of the front-door steps.
"Mrs. Musgrave! I guessed as much," she said, her head reappearing at last. "I can tell you one thing, St. Martin, she is in a thundering temper."
Her governess sighed. "You have no reason to say that, Sally: and at any rate this is lesson-time, and Mrs. Musgrave's call is intended for your mother. It has nothing to do with you."
"Hasn't it, though? Bet you a bob it has; and, as to her temper, vicars' wives are worse than most people because they have to keep them under so much. You should have seen her umbrella almost jumping in her hand with rage, and then the bell! You heard it yourself, and you can't deny it was like the noise telegraph boys make; and..."
"Sally, I must insist that you sit down and don't talk any more."
With a grunt Sally flopped on to the hearthrug, where she placed her ear to the floor, scout fashion, before re-opening her Shakespeare.
"Only wish I could hear through a carpet," she muttered discontentedly. "Bet your life she has come to tick me off to Mother. She looked mad, just like a cow that sees red."
Sally was quite right about Mrs. Musgrave's temper. The vicar's wife was very angry indeed. With a curt "No," she waved aside a cup of tea and declined a chair, striding the length of the drawing-room and back before she came to a halt beside Mrs. Brendan.
"Tell me whose writing this is! Be honest, Eva!" she demanded, tapping a square of white cardboard that she placed in the other's hands. On the cardboard was scrawled in pencil, between inverted commas,
"Two are Company."
"It ... it looks like Sally's writing," said Mrs. Brendan unhappily. "What do you say, Cecilia?"
A tall fair girl who had been standing by the tea-tray came over, picked up the card, and throwing it down impatiently answered, "It is Sally's writing, of course. What has she been doing now, Mrs. Musgrave?"
The vicar's wife almost choked as she said, "Insulting my husband, making him the laughing-stock of the parish. She is a wicked, unnatural girl."
