by Enid Blyton
Too late! What dreadful words. Too late to say she was sorry, too late to be loving, too late to be good and kind.
'1 said cruel things, I hurt him - oh, Miss Winter, why didn't you stop trie?' cried Gwen, her face white and her eyes tearless. Tears had always been so easy to Gwen - but now they wouldn't come. Miss Winter looked back at her, not daring to remind Gwen how she had pleaded with her to show a little kindness and not to force her own way so much.
'Gwen, dear - I'm very sorry about this,' said Miss Grayling's kind voice. I think you should go and pack now, because Miss Winter wants to catch the next train back. Your mother needs you and you must go. Gwen - vou haven't always been all you should be. Now is your chance to show that there is something more in you than we guess.'
Gwen stumbled out of the room. Miss Winter followed to help her to pack. Miss Grayling sat and thought. Somehow punishment always caught up with people, if they had deserved it, just as happiness sooner or later caught up with people who had earned it. You sowed your own seeds and reaped the fruit you had sowed. If only every girl could learn that, thought Miss Grayling, there wouldn't be nearly so much unhappiness in the world!
Darrell came into the dormy as Gwen was packing. She was crying now, her tears almost blinding her.
'Gwen - what's the matter?' said Darrell.
'Oh, Darrell - my father's terribly ill - he's not going to live,' wept Gwen. 'Oh, Darrell, please forget all the horrible, horrible things I've said this term. If only he'd live and f had the chance to make up to him for the beast I've been, I'd do everything he wanted - take the dullest, miserablest job in the world, and give up everything else. But it's too late!'
Darrell was shocked beyond words. She put her arm round Gwen, not knowing what to say. Miss Winter spoke timidly. 'We really must catch that train, Gwen dear. Is this all you have to pack?'
'I'll pack her trunk and see it's sent on,' said Darrell, glad to be able to offer to do something. 'Just take a few things, Gwen. in your nightcase.'
She went with Gwen to the front door, miserable for her. What a dreadful way to leave Malory Towers! Poor Gwen! All her fine hopes and dreams blown away like smoke. And those awful words - too late! How dreadlul Gwen must feel when she remembered her unkindness. Miss Grayling saw her off too, and shut the door quietly after the car had gone down the drive.
'Don't be too miserable about it,' she said to Darrell. 'It may be the making of Gwen. Don't let it spoil your last week or two, Darrell dear!'
Darrell gave the surprised Miss Grayling a sudden hug, and then wondered how in the world she dared to do such a thing! She went to tell the news to the others.
It cast a gloom on everyone, of course, though many thought secretly that Gwen deserved it. Gwen had no real friends and never had had. She had grumbled and groaned and wept and boasted her way through her years at Malory Towers, and left only unpleasant memories behind. But Sally, Darrell, Mary-Lou and one or two others tried to think kindly of her because of her great trouble.
Soon other things came to make the girls forget Gwen. Darrell and Sally won the school tennis match against the old girls. Moira won the singles. Someone had a birthday and her mother sent such a magnificent cake that there was enough for everyone in the school! It was delivered in a special van, and carried in by two people!
Then news came of Jo. It came through Deirdre. She received a parcel from Jo and a letter.
Here's some things for you I got myself [wrote Jo], And I've packed them myself too. 1 don't know what 1 'm going to do yet. Dad says he won't be able to get me into a school as good as Malory Towers, I'll have to go to any that will take me. But I don 'r mind telling you I'm not going to be idiotic again. Dad's been a brick, but he's awfully cut up really. He keeps saying it's half his fault. Mother's fed up with me. She shouldn't have kept boasting I was at Malorv Towers She says I've let the family
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name down. All I can say is, it's a good thing it's only 'Jones'.
I'm sorry I got you into a row, and I'm awfully glad they didn't expel you too. I wish you'd do something for me. I wish you'd tell the second-formers (go to Felicity) that 1 apologize for not owning up that time. Will you? That's been on my conscience for ages.
I do miss Malory Towers. Now 1 know I'm not going back again I see how splendid it was.
Hope you like the parcel.
Jo
Deirdre took the letter to Felicity, who read it in silence and then handed it back. 'Thanks,' she said. 'I'll tell the others. And - er - give her best wishes from the second- formers, will you? Don't forget. Just that — best wishes from the second-formers.'
News came from Gwen too news that made Darrell heave a sigh of relief. Gwen's father was not going to die. Gwen had seen him. It hadn't been too late after all. He would be an invalid for the rest of his life, and Gwen would certainly now have to take a job - but she was trying to be good about it.
It's mother who is so difficult [she wrote]. She just cries and cries. Well, 1 might have grown like that too, if this hadn't happened to me. I shall never be as strong-minded and courageous as you, Darrell - or Sally - or Bill and Clarissa - but I don't think I'll ever again be as weak and selfish as I was. You see - it wasn't 'too late' after all. And that has made a lot of difference to me. I feel as if I've been given another chance.
Do, do, do write to me sometimes. I think and think of you all at Malory Towers. I know none of you think of me, but you might just write occasionally.
All the best to the form and you.
Gwen
Darrell did write, of course. She wrote at once. Darrell was happy and had a happy future to look forward to, and she could well afford to spill a little happiness into Gwen's dull and humdrum life. Sally wrote too and so did Mary-Lou. Bill and Clarissa sent photographs of the stables they meant to set up as a riding school in the autumn.
And now indeed the last term was drawing to an end. Tidying up of shelves and cupboards began. Personal belongings from the sixth-form studies were sent home. Trunks were lugged down from the attics. All the familiar bustle of the last days of term began once more. Belinda drew her last 'scowl', and Irene hummed her last tune. The term was almost finished.
V
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'Last day, Darrell,' said Sally, when they awoke on the very last morning. 'And thank goodness it's sunny and bright. I couldn't bear to leave on a rainy day.'
'Our last day!' said Darrell. 'Do you remember the first, Sally - six years ago? We were little shrimps of twelve - smaller than Felicity and June! How the time has flown!'
The last-day bustle began in earnest after breakfast. Matron was about the only calm person in the school, with the exception of Miss Grayling, whom nobody had ever seen flustered or ruffled. Mam'zelle was as usual in a state of beaming, bewildered good temper. Miss Potts bustled about with first-formers who had lost this, that or the other.
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The trunks had most of them gone off in advance, but those being taken by car were piled up in the drive. Pop, the handyman, ran about like a hare, and carried heavy trunks on his broad shoulder as if they weighed only a pound or two. The first car arrived and hooted in the drive. An excited third-former squealed and almost fell down the stairs from top to bottom when she recognized her parents' car.
'TiensV said Mam'zelle, catching her. 'Is this the way to come down the stairs? Always you hurry too much, Hilary!'
'Come down to the pool, Sally,' said Darrell. They went down the steep path and stood beside the gleaming, restless pool, which was swept every now and again by an extra big wave coming ovet the rocks.
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'We've had fun here,' said Darrell. 'Now let's go to the rose-garden.'
They went there and looked at the masses of brilliant roses. Each
was silently saying good-bye to the places she loved most. They went to all the common-rooms, from the first to the sixth, remembering what had happened in each. They peeped into the dining-room, and then into the different form-rooms. What fun they had had!
And what fun they were going to have! 'We'll have a good look backwards, today, then we'll set our eyes forward,' said Sally. 'College will be better fun still, Darrell - everyone says so.'
June and Felicity caught sight of the two sixth-formers wandering around. June nudged Felicity. 'Look - they're saying a fond farewell. Don't they look solemn?'
June caught up with the sixth-formers. 'Hallo,' she said. 'You've forgotten something.'
'What?' asked Sally and Darrell.
'You've forgotten to say good-bye to the stables and the wood-shed, and . . .'
'That's not funny,' said Darrell. 'You wait till it's your last day, young June!'
'June's got no feelings at all, have you, June?' said Alicia, appearing round the corner. 'I feel a bit solemn myself today. Here, you two youngsters, this can jolly well be a solemn day for you too!'
To June's intense surprise she took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. 'Carry on for me,' she said. 'Carry the standard high! Do you promise, June?'
'I promise,' said June, startled. 'You - you can trust me, Alicia.'
'And I promise, Darrell,' said Felicity, equally solemnly. 'I'll never let Malory Towers down. I'll carry the standard high too.'
Alicia released June's shoulders. 'Well,' she said, 'so
long as we've got .someone to hand on the standard to, I'm happy! Maybe our own daughters will help to carry on the tradition one day.'
'And have riding lessons on Bill's and Clarissa's horses,' said Felicity, which made them all laugh.
There was more hooting in the drive. 'Come on. We shan't be ready when our people arrive,' said Alicia. 'That sounds like my brother Sam hooting. He said he'd come and fetch me today.'
Into the seething crowd they went. Mam'zelle was shouting for someone who had gone long since, and Suzanne was trying to explain to her that she wasn't there. Miss Potts was carrying a pair of pyjamas that had apparently dropped out of someone's nightcase. Matron rushed after a small first-former anxiously, nobody could imagine why. It was the old familiar last- morning excitement.
'Darrell! Felicity!' suddenly called Mrs Rivers' voice. 'Here we are! Where on earth were you? We've been here for ages.'
'Oh, that was Daddy's horn we heard hooting,' said Felicity. 'I might have guessed. Come on, Darrell. Got your case?'
'Yes, and my racket,' said Darrell. 'Where's vours?'
Felicity disappeared into the crowd. Mr Rivers kissed Darrell and laughed. 'Doing her disappearing act already,' he said.
'Good-bye, Darrell! Don't forget to write!' yelled Alicia. 'See you in October at St Andrews.'
She stepped back heavily on Mam'zelle's foot. 'Oh, sorry, Mam'zelle.'
'Always you tread on my feet,' said Mam'zelle, quite unfairly. 'Have you seen Katherine? She has left her racket behind.'
Felicity ran tip with her own racket. 'Good-bye, Mam'zelle. Be careful of snakes these holidays, won't
you?'
'Ahhhhhhh! You bad girl, you,' said Mani'zelk1. T heeeess at you! Ssssssss!'
This astonished Miss Grayling considerably. She was just nearby, and got the lull benefit of Mam'zelle's ferocious hiss. Mam'zelle was covered with confusion and disappeared hurriedly.
Darrell laughed. 'Oh dear - I do love this last-minute Hurry. Oh - are we off. Daddy? Good-bye, Miss Grayling, good-bye, Miss Potts, good-bye, Mam'zelle - good-bye, Malory Towers!'
And good-bye to you, Darrell - and good luck. We've loved knowing you. Good-bye!
First published in Great Britain in 1941 by Methuen & Co. Ltd.
Copyright C Lnid Blyton Limited 1941 is a registered trademark of Fnid Blyton Limited.
This edition distributed in 2008 by EuroKids International Private Ltd.
By arrangement with Hgmont Books Limited, 239 Kensington High Street, London, W8 6SA.
Printed in India.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
This paperback is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated w ithout the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
CONTENTS
CHAPTERPAGE
I.HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS 5
II.OFF ON AN ADVENTURE12
III.WHERE CAN THE WISHING-CHAIR BE? 20
IV.HUNTING FOR THE CHAIR! 27
V.OFF TO MR. SPI LLS Ob WIZARD COTTAGE35
VI.MR. SPELLS IS VERY MAGIC43
VII.OFF ON ANOTHER ADVENTURE! 51
VIII. THE SLIPPER1ES PLAY A TRICK!58
IX. MOLLIE AND THE GROWING OINTMENT 66
X.OFF TO FIND THE TOYS73
XI.MISTER GRIM'S SCHOOL FOR BAD BROWNIES80
XII.( HINKY IS NAUGHTY87
XIII.HOME, WISHING-C HAIR, HOME!95
XIV.MASTER BLACKY'S STRANGE ARMY 101
XV. OFF TO THE LAND OF GOODIES! 1 OH
XVI. AN AFTERNOON WITH COUSIN PIPKIN115
XVII.A MOST ALARMING TALE122
XVIII.MR. SPELLS" MOTHER129
XIX. AWAY ON ANOTHER ADVENTURE136
XX. WANDERING CASTLE AT LAST143
XXI. AVERY EXCITING TIME150
XXII.WINKS AND CHINKY ARE SILLY 157
XXIII.WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LAND OF SPELLS 164
XXIV.THE ISLAND OF SURPRISES 171
XXV.HOMEAGAIN ANDGOOD-BYE! 178
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
Mollie and Peter had just arrived home for the holi-days. Their schools had broken up the same day, which was very lucky, and Mother has met them at the station.
They hugged her hard. "Mother! It's grand to see you again. How's everyone?"
"Fine," said Mother. "The garden's looking lovely, you bedrooms are all ready for you, anD your playroom at the botton of the garden is long¬ing for you to go there and play as usual."
The two children looked at one another. They had a big Secret. One they couldn't possibly men¬tion even in their letters to one another at school. How they were longing to talk about it now!
"Can we just pop down to our playroom first of all?" asked Peter when they got home.
"Oh, no, dear!" said Mother. "You must come upstairs and wash—and help me to unpack your things. You will have plenty of time to spend in your playroom these holidays."
The children's Secret was in their playroom— and they so badly wanted to see it again. They went upstairs and washed and then went down to tea.
"Can we go to our playroom after we've helped you to unpack?" asked Peter.
Mother laughed. "Very well leave me to un¬pack, and go along. I expect you want to see if I've given away any of your things. Well, I haven't.
I never do that without asking you."
After tea Peter spoke to Mollie in a low voice.
"Mollie! Do you think Chinky will be down in our playroom waiting for us—with the Wishing- Chair?"
"J do hope so," said Mollie. "Oh, Peter, it was dreadful trying to keep our Secret all the term long and never saying anything to anyone."
"Well, it's such a marvellous Secret it's worth keeping well, said Peter. "Do you remember when we first got the Wishing-Chair, Mollie?"
"Yes," said Mollie. "We went to a funny little shop that sold old, old things to get something for Mother's birthday, and we saw heaps of queer en¬chanted things there. And we were frightened and huddled together in an old chair..."
"And we wished we were safe back at home," said Peter, "and, hey presto! the chair grew little red wings on its legs, and flew out of the window with us, and took us back to our palyroom!"
"Yes. And it wou
ldn't go back to the shop even when we commanded it to," said Mollie. "So we had to keep it—our very own Wishing-Chair."
"And do you remember how we went off in it again, and came to a castle where there was a gi¬ant who kept a little servant called Chinky?" said Peter. "And we rescued him and took him home in the Wishing-Chair with us."
"That was lovely," said Mollie. "And after that Chinky lived down in our playroom and looked after the chair for us..."
"And told us when it grew its wings so that we could all fly off in it again and have wonderful adventures," said Peter. "Then we had to go to school and leave it"
"But it didin't matter really, because Chinky took the chair home to his mother's cottage and lived with her and took care of it for us," said Mollie.
"And he said he'd come back as soon as we came home for the holidays, and bring the chiar with him so that we could go adventuring again," finished Peter. "If Mother only knew that's the rea¬son we want to get down to the playroom—to see if Chinky is there, and to see the dear old Wish¬ing-Chair again."
Peter found the key. "Come on, Mollie—Let's go and see all our toys again."
"And the Wishing-Chair," said Mollie in a whis¬per. "And Chinky."
They rushed downstairs and out into the gar¬den. It was the end of July and the garden was full of flowers; it was lovely to be home! No more les¬sons for eight weeks, no more preps.
They raced down to the playroom, which was really a big airy shed at the bootom of the garden. Peter slid the key into the lock. "Chinky!" he called. "Are you here?"
He unlocked the door. The children went into the playroom and looked round. It was a nice room, with a big rug on the floor, shelves for their books and toys, a cot with Mollie's old dolls in it, and a large dolls' house in the corner.
But there was no Wishing-Chair and no Chinky
the pixie! The children stared round in dismay.
"He's not here," said Peter. "He said he would come to-day with the chair. 1 gave him the date and he wrote it down in his note-book."