by Enid Blyton
Darrell gave a squeal of laughter. 'Oh, Bill—you're mad! Golly I'd love to have Thunder in the classroom too. I bet he'd neigh at Mam'zelle, and she'd teach him to whinny in French!'
'She wouldn't. She doesn't like horses. She told me so,' said Bill. 'She's scared of them. Imagine that, Darrell! I shouldn't have thought there was anyone in the world silly enough to be frightened of a horse.'
Most of the third-formers had been out to the stables to see Bill's wonderful horse. Actually he didn't seem very wonderful to Darrell, who didn't know a great deal about horses, but she did think he was lovely the way he welcomed Bill, whinnying in delight, pushing his big velvety nose into the crook of her arm, amd showing her as plainly as possible that he adored every bit of his freckled little mistress.
Mavis, Gwendoline, Daphne and Mary-Lou would not go near him. He was a big black horse, and they all felt certain he would kick or bite. But the others loved him.
Zerelda was not scared of him, and she admired him very much. 'Gee, he's wunnerful,' she said. 'But what a pity you've got to get yourself up in those awful breeches to ride him, Wilhelmina.'
Bill scowled. She hated to be called by her full name. 'I suppose you'd ride him in flowing skirts, with your hair down to your waist—and rings on your fingers and bells on your
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toes!' she retorted. 'All the way to Banbury Cross.'
Zerelda didn't understand. She didn't know the old English nursery rhyme. She smiled her lazy smile at Bill.
'You're wunnerful when you scowl like that,' she said.
'Shut up,' said Bill, and turned away. She was puzzled by Zerelda and her grown-up ways—and even more puzzled by her good humour. Zerelda never seemed to take offence, no matter how much anyone laughed at her or even jeered, as Mavis did very often.
She made the others feel small and young and rather stupid. They felt uncomfortable with her. She really did seem years older, and she deliberately used a grown-up manner, jeering gently at their clothes, their 'hair-do's' as she called them, their liking for getting hot and muddy at games, and their complete lack of interest in the lives and careers of film¬stars.
But she was generous and kind, and never lost her temper, so it was difficullt really to dislike her. Gwendoline, of course, adored her. She quite neglected Mavis for Zerelda, which annoyed that conceited young opera-singer immensely.
The first full week of school began on the next day, Monday. No more leniency from the mistresses, no more slacking from the girls, no more easy-goingways. 'Work, now, work for everyone!' said Miss Peters. 'It's not a very long term but you must work hard and show good results even if w e are a week or two short.'
The third form did not have only the third form girls from North Tower but the third-formers from others towers too, so it was a fairly big form. The standard was high, and Miss Peters was strict.
Mavis had been in Miss Peters' black books the term before, because of her poor work. But as it had been her first term, she had not been too hard on her. But now she, like everyone else, was getting tired of Mavis's parrot-cry, 'when I'm an opera-singer' and she was quite determined
to make Mavis a good third-former, opera-singer or not.
'You'd better look out, Mavis,' said Gwendoline, catching a certain look in Miss Peters' eye that morning as she studied Mavis. T know that look! You'll have to work this term, and forget your voice for a bit!'
'When I want your advice I'll ask for it,' said Mavis. "I'm not scared of our hearty Miss Peters, if you are! I'm not going to slave and make myself miserable at Malory Towers for Miss P. or anyone else. Waste your time,if you like—you'll never have a career, or be Somebody!'
Gwendoline was very hurt. Like many silly, weak people she had a great idea of herself, and was so continually spoilt at home that she really did think herself wonderful.
'If you're going to say things like that I shan't be friends with you,' she whispered.
'Go and tag round Zerelda then,' said Mavis, forgetting to whisper softly enough.
'Mavis! That's enough whispering between you and Gwendoline,' said Miss Peters' loud voice. 'One more whisper and you can stay in at Break.'
Bill couldn't seem to settle down that first Monday morning at all. She stared out of the window. She seemed very far away. She paid no attention at all to what Miss Peters was saying.
'Wihelmina!' said Miss Peters at last. 'Did you hear anything of what I have just said?'
Everyone turned to look at Bill, who still gazed out of the window, a dreamy expression on her small square face.
' WilhelminaV said Miss Peters, sharply. T am speaking to you.'
Still Bill took no notice at all. To the girls' amusement and surprise she suddenly made a little crooning noise, as if she was quite by herself and there was nobody else in the room at all!
Miss Peters was astonished. The girls giggled. Darrell
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37
knew what Bill was doing. She had heard that funny little crooning noise before—it was the noise Bill made to Thunder, when he nuzzled against her shoulder!
'She must be pretending she's with Thunder!' thought
Darrell. 'She's in the stables with him. She's not here at all.'
Miss Peters wondered if Wilhelmina was feeling all right.
She spoke to her again. 'Wilhelmina, are you deaf? What's
the matter?'
Gwendoline gave Bill a poke in the back and made her jump. She looked round at Gwendoline crossly, annoyed at being so rudely awakened from her pleasant day-dreams. Gwendoline nodded violently towards Miss Peters.
'That'll do, Gwendoline,' said Miss Peters. 'Wilhelmina, will you kindly give me your attention. I' ve been speaking to you for the last few minutes.'
'Oh, sorry! Have you really?' said Bill, apologetically. 'Perhaps you kept calling me Wilhelmina, though? If you could call me Bill I should always answer. You see...'
Miss Peters looked most disapproving. What an extraordinary girl!
'In future, Wilhelmina, please pay attention to all I say, and I shall not need to address you by any name at all!' she said. 'As for calling you Bill—please don't be impertinent.' Bill looked astonished. 'Oh, Miss Peters! I wasn't being impertinent. I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you. I was thinking about Thunder.'
'Thunder!' said Miss Peters, who had no idea that Bill had a horse called Thunder. 'Why should you think about thunder on a lovely sunny day like this? I think you are being very silly.'
'But it's just the day to think of Thunder!' said Bill, her eyes shining. 'Just think of Thunder, galloping over the hills and...'
Everyone tried to suppress giggles. They knew perfectly well that Wilhelmina was talking about her horse, but poor
Miss Peters looked more impatient than ever.
'That's enough, Wilhelmina,' she said. 'We'll have no more talk of thunder or lightning, or...'
'Oh, how did you know that my brother George's horse was called Lightning?' said Bill in delight, honestly thinking that Miss Peters was talking of horses.
But now Miss Peters felt certain that Wilhelmina was being silly and rather rude, she gazed at her coldly.
'Have you got your book open at page thirty-three?' she asked. T thought you hadn't! How do you think you are going to follow this lesson if you haven't even got the right page?'
Bill hastily found page thirty-three. She tried to put all thoughts of Thunder out of her mind. She made a soft clicking noise, and Alicia and Irene grinned at one another.
'Horse-mad!' whispered Alicia, and when Miss Peters' back was turned, Alicia rocked to and fro as if she was on a trotting horse, sending the class into fits.
Darrell hugged herself in delight. It was lovely to be back at school again, lovely to sit in class and work, and giggle and hear Miss Peters ticking off this person and that. She missed Sally very much, but Alicia was fun.
&n
bsp; 'I'll beg her to play one of her tricks,' thought Darrell. 'We haven't had any real fun in class for terms and terms!'
IN THE THIRD FORM COMMON-ROOM
39
7 IN THE THIRD FORM COMMON-ROOM
IT was sunny but cold the first week or two of that Easter term. The girls squabbled over getting the seats by the radiator in the common-room. Gwendoline, Mavis and Daphne were the ones that complained most of the cold—but they were the ones who took as little exercise as they could, so of course they always got chilblains and colds.
Bill didn't seem to feel the cold at all. She was still tanned, although it was early in the year. Darrell and Alicia liked the cold, and they loved rushing out to play lacrosse in the afternoons.
'They went out ten minutes before the others to practise catching. Gwendoline couldn't understand it, and she and Mavis became friends again in sympathizing with each other over the cold, and jeering at Alicia and Darrell for being so hardy.
Zerelda, of course, being a fourth-former, was now not very often able to be with any of the third-formers, so Gwendoline had had to give up any idea of being her best friend. Zerelda did not seem to be very happy in the fourth form, Darrell thought. She often came slipping into the third form common-room in the evening—saying she wanted to borrow a book or a gramophone record—and then stopping to talk to Darrell and the others.
'Got a special friend yet?' Darrell asked her one evening. Zerelda twisted one of her curls carefully round her finger and then shook it back into its proper place.
'No,' she said. 'Stuck-up things, the fourth form! They seem to think I don't pull my weight. And they think the end of the world has come because 1 don't want to try and get into the third match-team for lacrosse!'
'Well, you're so tall, you could do well in the team,' said Darrell,_considering her. 'You ought to be able to take some fine catches. Can you run?'
'Run! 1 don't want to run!' said Zerelda, astonished. 'As for that games captain—what's her name—Molly Ronaldson—well, I ask you, did you ever see such a girl? Big as a horse and just about as clumsy! Shouts and dances about on the field as if she had gone mad!'
Darrell laughed. 'Molly Ronaldson is one of the finest games captains we've ever had. We've won more matches with her than ever before. She's got an absolute genius for picking the right people for the match-teams. My goodness, if 1 could get into one of the teams I'd be so thrilled I wouldn't be able to sleep at night.'
'Is that so?' said Zerelda, in her slow drawl, looking quite astonished. 'Well, maybe I wouldn't sleep at night if I had spots on my face like Gwendoline goes in for, or if I broke one of my nails—but I'd not lose my beauty sleep for any games in the world!'
'You're a queer person, Zerelda,' said Darrell. She looked at her earnestly. 'You're missing all the nicest years of your life—I mean, you just won't let yourself enjoy the things most English girls of your age enjoy. You spend hours over your hair and your face and your nails, when you could be having fun at lacrosse, or going for walks, or even messing about in the gym.'
'Messing about in the gym! That's another thing I can't understand your liking!' said Zerelda. Gwendoline, who had come up to join in the conversation, nodded her head in agreement.
T can't understand that either,' she said in a prim voice. 'It's a pity gym is compulsory, and games too. I wouldn't bother much about them if they weren't.'
'Only because, dear Gwendoline, you're so jolly bad at them that you make a fool of yourself every time you go into
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IN THE THIRD FORM COMMON-ROOM
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the gym or on the games field,' said Alicia, maliciously. 'Zerelda's different. I bet she'd be good at them—but she thinks that all that kind of thing is beneath her.'
Any other girl would have resented this, but Zerelda only grinned. Gwendoline, however, flared up at the unkind sneer at her games and gym performances, and scowled angrily at
Alicia.
'Nice little scowl you've got, Gwen,' said Belinda, appearing suddenly with her sketch-book. 'Do you mind if I draw you like that? It's such a lovely scowl!'
Gwendoline scowled still more and flounced away. She knew Belinda's clever pencil and dreaded it! She didn't want her scowl to be drawn and passed round the common-room, accompanied by delighted giggles. Belinda shut her book and looked disappointed in rather an exaggerated manner.
'Oh, she's gone! And it was such a lovely scowl! Never mind—I'll watch out for it and draw it another time.'
'Beast!' said Gwendoline, under her breath and went to sit by Mavis. She knew she would have to look out for Belinda and her pencil now! Once Belinda wanted to draw something she didn't rest till she had done so!
'You'd better go back to the fourth form common-room now,' said Jean to Zerelda. 'The fourth-formers won't like it if you begin to live with us! We're rather beneath their notice, you know. And, after all, you are a fourth-former, Zerelda.' 'I know. I wish I wasn't,' said Zerelda, getting up. 'Aren't the fourth form girls "wunnerful" then?' said Alicia, with a grin.
Zerelda shrugged her shoulders and went out gracefully. 'If she'd think of something else besides her looks and the way she's going to act, and being grown-up, and would put herself out to play games decently and take some interest in her work the fourth form wouldn't make her feel out of things,' said Jean, with her usual common sense. 'But what's the good of telling Zerelda that? She simply doesn't belong to
the school at all.'
Irene drifted in , looking for something. She hummed a lively little tune. 'Tumty-ta-ti-tumpty-ta-ti-too!' She had just composed a gay dance, and was very pleased about it. The girls looked at her and grinned at one another.
'Where are you off to at this time of the evening, Irene?' asked Alicia.
Irene looked surprised. 'Nowhere,' she said. 'I'm just looking for my music-book. I want to write down my new tune. Tumty-ta-ti-tumty-ta-ti-too!'
'Yes, very nice,' said Alicia, approvingly. 'But why have you got your hat and cloak on if you aren't going anywhere?'
'Oh, good gracious, have I?' said Irene, in dismay. She looked down at her cloak and felt her hat on her head. 'Blow! When did I put these on? I did take them off, didn't I, when we came back from the walk this afternoon?'
'Well, you didn't have them on at tea-time or Miss Potts would have said something!' said Alicia. 'You really are a chump, Irene.'
'Oh, yes, I know now what must have happened,' said Irene, sitting down in a chair, still with hat and cloak on. T went up to get a clean pair of stockings—and I was thinking of my new tune—and I must have taken my hat out instead of my stockings, and put it on—and then put on my cloak too. Blow! Now I shall have to go and take them off and find my stockings—and I do want to write down that tune.'
'I'll take them up for you and find your stockings,' said Belinda, who knew that Irene wouldn't he able to do anything sensible till she had written down her tune.
'Will you? Angel!' said Irene, and pulled off her hat and cloak. Darrell laughed. Belinda was as much of a scatterbrain as Irene. It would be a wonder if she got as for as the cupboard to put away Irene's things—and ten to one that she wouldn't remember the stockings!
Belinda disappeared with the hat and cloak. Irene began
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THIRD YEARAT MALORY TOWERS
IN THE THIRD FORM COMMON-ROOM
43
to hum her tune again. Mavis sang it in her lovely rich voice.
'Fine!' said Irene, pleased. 'You make it sound twice as good, Mavis. One day I'll write a song for that voice of yours.'
'I'll sing it in New York,' said Mavis, graciously. 'And that should make you famous, Irene, if / sing one of your songs! When I'm an opera-singer, I...'
'When you're an opera-singer, Mavis, you'll be even more conceited than you are now,' said Alicia's sharp voice, 'which sounds impossible I know, but isn't.'
'Jean! Can't you stop Alicia saying such beastly unfair things?' protested Mavis, red
with annoyance. 'I'm not conceited. Can I help having a voice like mine? It's a gift, and I shall make it a gift to the whole world too, when I'm
grown up.'
'Alicia's tongue is getting a bit sharp,' said Jean, 'but you do rather ask for sharp things to be said to you, Mavis.'
Mavis was silent and cross. Gwendoline began to sympathize with her, for she too hated Alicia's hard hitting. Mary-Lou, darning a stocking in a corner, hoped that she would not come in for a flick of Alicia's tongue!
'Where's Belinda?' said Darrell. 'She's an awful long time getting those stockings for you, Irene.'
'So she is,' said Irene, who had now completely forgotten about her stockings. 'Blow! If she doesn't bring them soon, I'll have to go and fetch them myself. I simply must put a clean pair on for supper.'
Mam'zelle came bustling in, tip-tapping on her small feet in their high-heeled shoes. She held a hat and cloak in her
hand.
'Irene!' she said, reproachfully, 'these are yours! Three times already have I cleared up yours things from this place and that place. Now this time I have almost fallen down the stairs because of your hat and cloak!'
Irene stared in surprise. 'But—where were they?' she asked.
'On the stairs—lying for me to fall over,' said Mam'zelle. 'I see them on the stairs as I come down, and I say to myself, "What is this? Is it someone taken ill on the stairs!" But no, it is Irene's cloak and hat once more. I am very displeased with you, Irene. You will take an order-mark!'
'Oh no, Mam'zelle!' said Irene, distressed. Order-marks counted against the whole form. 'Mam'zelle, I'm really very sorry.'
'One order-mark,' said Mam'zelle, and departed on her high heels.