The Schoolmouse

by Dick King-Smith

  ‘Yes, Lovey?’

  ‘You’re educated, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, not properly. Not yet. I’m getting to know all sorts of things, but there’s an awful lot left to learn.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Lovey.

  ‘Well,’ said Flora, ‘like geography and history and science and maybe even French. They had a French lesson today, the Top Juniors did, it was ever so interesting. Do you know what the French for “mouse” is?’

  ‘No,’ said Lovey. ‘What’s French? I don’t know anything much. You’re lucky, you are,’ and she ran off to find the others.

  She’s right, thought Flora, I am lucky. I don’t suppose there’s another mouse on the face of the earth that knows as much as I do already. And it’s only my third term. But I can’t talk much about my lessons to the others because they wouldn’t understand.

  Imagine asking Father to count to 31!

  Or asking Mother what’s the capital of England.

  And my Buck may be handsome, but he doesn’t know much more than Lovey does really. They’re all uneducated. And why? Because there’s no one to teach them.

  Thankfully the school was of course empty of people at that moment, because suddenly Flora let out a loud excited squeak.

  ‘Yes, there is!’ she cried. ‘There’s me! I’ll start evening classes for them all! I won’t be just a schoolmouse. I’ll be the world’s first ever schoolteachermouse.’

  FOURTEEN

  In Which Lovey Plays Truant

  Flora’s first evening classes were not a great success.

  Lovey was keen to learn, certainly. She was curious about things, like Flora, though not as bright.

  Buck wanted to be taught, the better to understand some of the subjects that Flora knew so much about. He wished her to be proud of him.

  But with Hyacinth and Robin it was a different matter. They say you shouldn’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, and at first it seemed to Flora that you shouldn’t try to teach your parents anything. Hyacinth felt she was being patronized.

  ‘You, teach me?’ she said to Flora when she was told of the scheme. ‘I could teach you a thing or two, my girl,’ but she came along all the same, not wanting to be left behind in the quest for knowledge.

  As for Ragged Robin, he was willing, but dim. He feared very much that he would be the dunce and that the others would look down on him.

  The lessons took place in the Infant classroom.

  Since Flora’s days as an Infant, the teacher had put up on the wall a large picture alphabet, the writing on it so big as to be clearly visible even to Buck’s poor eyesight.

  ‘I have brought you here,’ said Flora, confronting her class of three schoolmice and one pet mouse, ‘because the first and most important thing, for mice or humans, is to learn to read. Once you can do that, there is no limit to what you can get into your heads.’

  Robin shook his, doubtfully.

  ‘And before you can learn to read,’ went on Flora, ‘you must learn your alphabet. There it is. Now then, the first letter of the alphabet is A.’

  ‘A what?’ said Hyacinth.

  ‘Just listen, please, Mother,’ said Flora, ‘and don’t interrupt. The second letter is B.’

  ‘A bee!’ said Robin in a pleased voice. ‘I’ve seen them! Nearly got stung once.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Flora. ‘Just wait, Father, you don’t understand.’

  ‘I knew I wouldn’t,’ said Robin dolefully.

  ‘And the third letter of the alphabet is C.’

  ‘See,’ said Buck. ‘Yes, I see.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Lovey. ‘I’m muddled. Start again, Flora.’

  That first lesson was hard going for everyone, but then Flora devised a way of teaching them the alphabet that was more fun. She invented a rhyme, and made them learn it by heart. It went like this.

  A B C D E F G

  Oh what clever mice are we!

  H I J K L M N

  Mice are just as bright as men.

  O P Q R S T U

  And to prove that this is true

  V and W X Y Z

  That’s the alphabet we’ve read!

  Thanks to this method, Flora’s class more or less mastered their ABC, though Robin was sometimes apt to get his tongue in a twist. Now they could actually begin to learn to read.

  For Flora, that summer term was a hard slog. By day she educated herself, and in the evenings she taught her class. But she had not the advantages of the human teacher. She could not select the proper books from the shelves. Turning the pages of those she found lying about was not at all easy, and, of course, she could not make use of the blackboard.

  But gradually, as time passed, her pupils began to recognize some common words and Lovey in particular was making quite good progress. She can almost read, said Flora to herself, but I’m not so sure about the others. There’s a lot of guessing going on. I ought to test them. On a very simple book of course.

  And that, by chance, was what she found.

  Though the school itself was very old, most of the books in the Infant classroom were quite modern. But one or two remained that must have been there from the beginning.

  Flora found just such a one when nosing around the shelves. She cocked her head sideways to read the title on the spine.

  MY VERY FIRST READING BOOK

  it said.

  Excellent, thought Flora, it shall be theirs.

  By pushing and pulling at it, the five of them managed to dislodge it from the shelf, and it fell on the floor, open.

  ‘Ah!’ cried Flora. ‘What luck! There are several short simple sentences on these pages. Now I want you all to study them carefully – there are no pictures here to help you – and then I shall ask each of you in turn to read a sentence out loud to the rest of the class. It will be your very first test, to see how well you can read. Mother, will you read the top line, please?’

  Hyacinth studied the first line.

  ‘See the boy play with his kite.’

  She recognized the word ‘boy’, which she had often come across.

  ‘It’s about a boy,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, good,’ said Flora. ‘What is the boy doing?’

  ‘Give me a hint,’ said Hyacinth.

  ‘Something up in the sky,’ said Flora.

  ‘The boy is flying,’ said Hyacinth hopefully.

  ‘Yes, well, good try, Mother,’ said Flora, and she read the sentence correctly.

  ‘Flying his kite,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Yes, that’s what I was going to say.’

  ‘Now, Father,’ said Flora. ‘Try the next line.’

  Robin looked nervously at the second sentence.

  ‘Meg has a nice new doll.’

  He recognized the word ‘a’, but the rest was a mystery. I bet it’s one of those ones we learned, he thought.

  ‘“Mice are just as bright as men”,’ he said.

  ‘Not quite,’ said Flora. ‘Buck, can you read it?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Buck. ‘The print is so small. My eyesight, you know.’

  So Flora read that one out, and then asked Lovey to try the third sentence, which was

  ‘The cat sat on the mat.’

  And slowly, but quite correctly, Lovey read it!

  ‘Wonderful!’ cried Flora. ‘Good girl, Lovey!’

  ‘That can’t be right,’ said Robin grumpily. ‘I’m sure it should be

  “The cat sat on the rat.”

  Anyone can see that makes much more sense.’

  Flora kept on with My Very First Reading Book for the remainder of the summer term. Each evening the mice pulled it down and each morning the Infant teacher, much surprised, put it back into the shelves. She tried to find out which child was responsible, but ‘Not me, miss!’ was all she got.

  She would have been even more surprised could she have seen what went on one warm July evening towards the end of term. Flora had been taking a nap in the family home after her day’s studies. She told the others she
would meet them in the Infant classroom later.

  She woke and stretched, thinking that perhaps she would try a little number work with the class. Here there was a calendar too. The calendar hung on the wall as usual, and Lovey at least, she felt sure, would soon get the hang of it.

  When she arrived, it was to find that My Very First Reading Book had already been pulled down, and she was just in time to hear Buck say, very slowly, with long pauses between words,

  ‘Spot is good. Good dog, Spot.’

  ‘Buck!’ she cried. ‘That was brilliant! You’ll be catching up with Lovey at this rate.’

  Hyacinth looked round.

  ‘Where is Lovey?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Robin.

  ‘I saw her not long ago,’ said Buck.

  ‘Lovey!’ they all squeaked.

  But there was no answer, so they searched the school, calling and calling and looking everywhere.

  But Lovey was gone.

  FIFTEEN

  In Which All Ends Happily

  Term ended. The children and the teachers went home. The cleaning ladies cleaned up. The caretaker locked up. Once more the schoolmice had the school to themselves. But now there were only four of them. Buck felt sad. Because she was small for her age and, of course, because she was Flora’s sister, he had grown fond of Lovey and her cheeky ways.

  Ragged Robin was ill-tempered.

  ‘Life’s not fair,’ he said to Flora. ‘Why do all these misfortunes happen to us?’

  ‘Come and read to me, Father,’ said Flora. ‘It’ll take your mind off things.’

  ‘Read?’ said Robin. ‘Certainly not. I have broken up for the summer holidays.’

  Hyacinth seemed less worried than the others. She went about in a preoccupied manner, and was choosy about her food, developing a sudden addiction to soap, which she nibbled at in the sink.

  Flora thought hard about Lovey’s chances of survival. They’re not good, she said to herself. Why she went, I’ve no idea, but she’ll live to regret it. Or rather she won’t live.

  A French phrase book chanced to be lying open on the library table, and as Flora was studying it, she saw something that seemed to sum up the situation.

  Adieu – farewell, good wishes at a final parting Au revoir – goodbye until we meet again.

  But I’m afraid we shan’t meet again, thought Flora. Adieu, Lovey. Later that day she was alone with Buck.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it looks like the end of my evening classes for the moment. Lovey’s gone, Father flatly refuses to come, and Mother says she’s too busy, though I can’t see it myself. That only leaves you.’

  ‘A class of one,’ said Buck.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That means you could devote yourself to me. If you were willing.’

  Oh Buck, thought Flora, I am devoted to you, you great white handsome beast!

  ‘Of course I’m willing,’ she said. ‘I’d do anything for you, you know that.’

  Buck’s pink eyes seemed to turn even redder.

  ‘Oh Flora!’ he breathed, and their whiskers mixed as they touched noses.

  The weather was very hot, even at nights, and since there was no need for caution, the schoolmice relaxed wherever they fancied, always remembering, of course, to return to the brick-built soakaway whenever nature called.

  Only Hyacinth remained in the hole under the sink in the Lower Junior classroom, in so tetchy a mood that Robin took himself off to the old staffroom den for a bit of peace and quiet.

  As for Flora and Buck, they decided to make use of the hole in the wall over the teacher’s desk in the Infant classroom. It was cool and airy, and handy for the schoolteachermouse and her solitary pupil.

  About halfway through the holidays, they were sitting together on the desk, bathed in a glow of contentment. Both teacher and pupil had good reason to be happy, for Buck, with his back turned to the calendar on the wall, had just succeeded in counting to 31.

  ‘I must tell Mother!’ Flora said. ‘Don’t move. Have a rest. You’ve earned it.’

  ‘Mother!’ she called down the hole under the sink. ‘What do you think? Buck can count to thirty-one.’

  ‘Six is all I can manage,’ replied Hyacinth. ‘Come and have a look.’

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ cried Flora when she saw the half-dozen newborn babies, fat and pink and naked and hideous. ‘They’re beautiful!’

  ‘Fetch your father,’ said Hyacinth. ‘He’s in the staffroom.’

  Ragged Robin was not best pleased at being summoned.

  ‘Now what have I done wrong?’ he said to Flora.

  ‘Nothing wrong, Father,’ said Flora. ‘It’s a nice surprise.’

  And to Robin, it was.

  ‘Hyce!’ he cried when he saw his third crop of sons and daughters. ‘You never told me! I never knew!’

  ‘Well, now you do,’ said Hyacinth shortly.

  A horrid thought occurred to Robin, whose knowledge of heredity was sketchy.

  ‘Have they all got tails?’ he asked.

  ‘Poor Father,’ said Flora to Buck later in the hole in the wall. ‘He always says the wrong things and then Mother gets furious with him.’

  ‘I’m glad you don’t get furious with me,’ said Buck.

  ‘You always say the right things,’ said Flora.

  ‘Flora!’ said Buck fondly, and immediately the word seemed to echo through the school – ‘Flora! Flora! Flora!’

  But the echo was more high-pitched and the tone of it was familiar.

  ‘It’s Lovey!’ cried Flora, and she ran down to the floor, Buck following. ‘In here, Lovey!’ she called. ‘We’re in the Infants!’

  In a moment the small figure of Lovey appeared in the doorway.

  ‘I’m back!’ she said. ‘Wait there. I’ll fetch my friend.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a friend,’ said Flora.

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Lovey, ‘but I have now. I’ll just go and get him. He’s a bit shy.’

  Flora and Buck looked at one another, but before they could speak, Lovey returned. Following her, rather reluctantly, was an even smaller mouse.

  ‘This is Haycorn,’ said Lovey. ‘Haycorn, this is my sister Flora and her boyfriend Buck.’

  Haycorn took one look at Buck and turned tail, ready to flee, but Lovey reassured him.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Buck’s ever so nice. He’s just white, that’s all, he can’t help it.’

  ‘Lovey,’ said Flora. ‘We’ve all been worried stiff. Wherever have you been all this time?’

  ‘I’ve been down at the farm,’ said Lovey. ‘There’s Mum and Dad, and there’s you and Buck, and I said to myself, Come along, Love-in-a-mist, my girl, it’s time you started living up to your name. So I went down to the farm on a nice misty evening, and who should I meet but Haycorn. He’s a farm mouse, you see, but I’ve been telling him he’ll like it up here.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ said Flora and Buck with one voice.

  ‘You will, won’t you, Haycorn?’ said Lovey.

  ‘Yes, Lovey,’ said the very small mouse in a very small voice.

  ‘And you’ll come to Flora’s class with us and learn to read.’

  ‘Yes, Lovey,’ said Haycorn.

  ‘He may not want to,’ said Flora.

  ‘He will,’ said Lovey. ‘Come along now, Haycorn. I’ll introduce you to Mum and Dad.’

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ said Flora. ‘Mother’s had six more babies.’

  ‘Oh goody!’ cried Lovey. ‘I adore babies. I just can’t wait.’

  ‘Wait for what, Lovey?’ said Haycorn.

  Lovey gave a squeak of amusement.

  ‘He’s very young,’ she said to Flora, ‘but he’ll learn,’ and off she dashed, followed by her little swain.

  ‘Fancy!’ said Flora. ‘You have to admire her, Buck. Off she goes without telling a soul, finds her way to the farm, and picks up a boyfriend.’

  ‘She practically could pick him up,’ said Buck, ‘he’s
so small. Not much more than a baby really. And talking of babies, I haven’t seen these new ones yet.’

  ‘Do you want to?’ said Flora.

  ‘Oh yes. Lovey’s not the only one who’s fond of babies. I just wish . . .’ and then he stopped.

  ‘Just wish what, Buck?’ said Flora.

  ‘Oh nothing,’ said Buck.

  He sighed.

  ‘You’ve got your career,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Flora. ‘What with you and Mother and Father and Lovey and Haycorn and before long Mother’s new six, I shall have a big class to teach, a class of . . . well, you do the sum, Buck. How many?’

  ‘Eleven,’ said Buck.

  ‘Well done,’ said Flora. ‘You may have started life as a pet mouse, but you’re learning fast. I’m proud of you. Your reading especially is coming on a treat. Which reminds me, I remember finding something in My Very First Reading Book that I want to show you now. Help me get it off the shelf.’

  When the book had fallen to the ground, Flora began to turn the pages with her nose, looking at each until she found the one she wanted.

  ‘Ah yes, here it is,’ she said at last. ‘Read me this sentence, will you, Buck, the one I’ve got my paw on?’

  ‘Children are a great blessing.’

  read Buck, with a little help from his teacher.

  ‘Would you agree?’ said Flora.

  Buck stared at her across the pages of My Very First Reading Book.

  ‘You mean . . .?’ he said softly.

  ‘I mean,’ said Flora, ‘that we are to be blessed. Shortly before the start of the Christmas term, I reckon.’

  ‘Oh, Flora!’ said Buck. ‘How marvellous! And what extraordinary children they will be, with your brains’ (and your beauty, thought Flora) ‘and with you to teach them. Why, there will be no limit to their scholarship. Oh, Flora, you have made me the happiest white mouse in the world.’

  ‘And you,’ said Flora, ‘have made me the happiest schoolmouse.’