First Term at Malory Towers (14 page)

It was Sunday. Darrell prayed hard for Sally all the time she was in church. She felt very guilty and ashamed. She also felt very much afraid. She felt that she ought to tell Miss Potts or Matron about the quarrel and how she had flung poor Sally across the room—but she was too frightened to tell!

Too frightened! Darrell was so fearless in the usual way that it was something strange and queer to her to feel afraid. But she
was
afraid. Supposing Sally was very
very
ill! Supposing—just supposing she didn't get better! Supposing Darrell's temper caused all that!

She couldn't, couldn't tell anyone, because they would think her so wicked, and she would disgrace her mother and father. People would say “That's the girl whose temper caused her to be expelled from Malory Towers! You know she made another girl terribly ill!”

It would be awful to be sent away from Malory Towers in disgrace. She would never get over it. But she was sure Miss Grayling wouldn't keep her another day if she knew that she had caused Sally's illness and pain.

“I can't tell anyone, I can't!” thought poor Darrell. I'm afraid of letting people know, because of what would happen to me, and how it would make Mother and Daddy feel. I'm a coward, but I daren't tell. I never knew I was a coward before!”

She suddenly thought of Mary-Lou, whom she had so often called a coward. Poor Mary-Lou—now she knew how
she
felt when she was afraid of something. It was a horrible feeling. You couldn't get away from it. How
could
she have sneered at Mary-Lou and taunted her? It was bad enough to feel afraid of something without being taunted about it.

Darrell felt very sad and very humble. She had started the term in such high hopes and spirits. She was going to be top! She was going to shine in everything and make her parents proud of her! She was going to find a fine girl for a friend. And she hadn't done any of those things.

She had got a low place in the form. She hadn't found herself a friend. She had been hateful to little Mary-Lou who had so shyly and eagerly offered her friendship—and now she had done something wicked and didn't dare to say anything about it!

Darrell was certainly down in the dumps that day and nobody could rouse her out of them. Miss Potts wondered if she was sickening for something and kept a sharp eye on her. Mary-Lou was worried, and hovered round hoping to be able to do something. And for once Darrell was kind to her and did not snap at her to send her away. She felt grateful for Mary-Lou's liking and sympathy.

Two doctors came to see Sally that day! The news went round North Tower House. “She's
fearfully
ill! But it's nothing infectious so we're not in quarantine. Poor Sally. Tessie says she had to go and see the Head this morning and she heard Sally groaning in the San. rooms above!”

How Darrell wished her mother was there that day! But she couldn't remember where her parents had gone to, though they had told her. She had forgotten in the excitement of yesterday. She sat down in a rocky corner by the sea, and thought things out.

She couldn't be a coward any longer, because it would be worse to stay at Malory Towers and know she was a coward than it would be to leave, knowing she had been brave enough to own up. But whom should she tell?

I'd better write and tell Sally's mother,” she thought. “She's the one that's nearest to Sally. I'll write and tell her all about the quarrel, and how it happened and everything. I'll have to tell her, too, how Sally says she hasn't got a sister. That's all very queer, but maybe Mrs. Hope will understand it. Then Mrs. Hope can do what she likes—tell the Head, I expect! Oh, dear! But I shall feel better when it's done.”

She left her seat by the sea and went back to North Tower. She got out her writing pad and began to write. It was not an easy letter to compose, but Darrell always found writing easy, and she poured out everything to Mrs. Hope— about the quarrel and what led up to it, and all about Sally not wanting to speak to Mrs. Rivers, and how unhappy she seemed to be. She was quite surprised to find how much she seemed to know about Sally!

She felt better immediately she had finished the letter. She didn't read it through, but stuck a stamp on the envelope and posted it at once. Mrs. Hope would get it the very next morning!

Then another rumour ran through North Tower. “Sally's taken a turn for the worse! A specialist is coming to see her! Her people have been telegraphed for! They're coming tomorrow!”

Darrell could not eat anything at all that day. It was the longest day she had ever known. Mary-Lou, scared by Darrell's stricken face, kept close by her—and Darrell welcomed her and felt comforted. Mary-Lou had no idea why Darrell looked so miserable, and didn't dare to ask her. She forgot the many sneers and taunts that Darrell had thrown at her for her weakness and feebleness; she only wanted to help.

The other girls did not notice anything much. They went for walks, bathed, lay about in the sun, and had a happy, lazy Sunday. Miss Potts still kept an eye on Darrell. What
could
be the matter with her? Was it Sally's illness that was worrying her? No, it couldn't be. She hadn't been at all friendly with Sally. Nobody had, for that matter.

Bedtime came at last. Matron had no more news of Sally, except that she was no better. No one was allowed to see her, of course. Matron had been quite shocked because Darrell had begged to go and see her for a moment or two!

Darrell lay in bed, thinking. The third- and fourth-formers came up to bed. The fifth-formers came and then the sixth. Then Matron, Mam'zelle and Miss Potts retired too, and Darrell heard lights clicking out. It was late. It was dark outside. Everyone was asleep except Darrell.

“I simply can't lie here thinking and thinking!” said Darrell to herself desperately, and she flung off her covers, I shall go mad! I shall get up and go into the Court! The roses will smell sweet there, and I shall get cool and perhaps be able to go to sleep!”

She slipped on her dressing gown and went quietly out of the room. Nobody stirred. She crept down the wide stairs and out into the Court. And then, in the stillness of the night, she heard the sound of a car purring up the hill to Malory Towers! It stopped outside. Whoever could it be, so late at night?

Darrell glanced up at the windows of the San. There were bright lights there. Sally couldn't be asleep, or the lights would be dimmed. What was going on now? Oh, dear, if only she knew!

Darrell slipped through the archway that led from the Court to the drive. Yes, a car stood there, a dark shape, silent now and empty. Whoever had come in it had gone into Malory Towers. Darrell crept round to the door that led into the Head's building. Someone had left it open! She pushed it and went inside. Now she would find out what was happening!

THERE was a little light burning in the hall. The Head Mistress's rooms were in darkness. She was evidently upstairs in the San. Darrell crept upstairs. There were bright lights everywhere, and a good deal of bustle. What was happening to poor Sally?

Darrell couldn't understand what was going on. Sally must be very ill to have so many people bothering about her like this in the middle of the night! Darrell's heart felt very heavy. She didn't dare to go any farther in case someone “ saw her. But she felt she
must
stay where she was. She must get to know some thing! She couldn't possibly go back to bed without finding out what was happening. If only, only she could help!

She sat down on a window-seat, and drew the heavy curtains round her, straining her ears to catch a word from any of the people bustling about from one of the San. rooms to another. That was Matron's voice—the matron of North Tower! And that was the other Matron's voice, very crisp and sharp, giving an order. And that was a man's voice.

Darrell held her breath and listened to the mysterious voices and noises, but she couldn't hear a word.

Oh, what would they all say if they knew that she, hot-tempered, wicked little Darrell was at the bottom of all this fuss and worry and bother? Darrell pulled the curtain round her head and wept great tears that soaked into the heavy silk.

She sat there for about half an hour. Then, quite suddenly, and without meaning to, she fell fast asleep! Lost in the heavy curtains, she slept, tired out.

She did not know how long she slept. She awoke again later, hearing noises. She sat up, wondering where in the wide world she was! Then she remembered. Of course—she was near the San. She had come to find out what was happening to Sally, j At once all the fear and anxiety closed round her once again. She felt lonely and lost, and wanted her mother. She clutched the curtains round her as she heard voices coming near. Was it doctors? Nurses? Perhaps the Head Mistress herself?

And then Darrell's heart almost stopped beating! Some one was going by the window-seat where she sat, someone who spoke in a voice she knew and loved!

“She'll be all right,” said the voice. “Just got her nicely in time! Now...”

Darrell sat as if she was turned to stone, listening to that well-known voice! It couldn't be! It couldn't be! It
couldn't
be her own father's voice!

She suddenly found herself able to move. She thrust the curtains aside and looked between them. She saw her father walking along with the Matron, talking earnestly. Yes, it was, it really was her father.

“DADDY!” squealed Darrell, forgetting absolutely everything except the fact that there was her father, whom she thought was miles away, walking along the passage just near her. “Daddy! Oh, Daddy! Stop, here's Darrell!”

Her father stopped as if he was shot! He couldn't believe his ears! Darrell leapt down from the window-seat and flung herself on him like a small thunderbolt. She clung to him and began to cry.

“What's the matter, darling?” said her father, amazed. “Why are you here?”

Miss Grayling came up, astonished and rather disapproving. “Darrell! What are you here for, child? Mr. Rivers, you had better come into my room downstairs, please.”

Carrying Darrell in his arms, her father followed Miss Grayling downstairs, with Matron clucking behind like an astonished hen. Darrell clung to her father as if she would never let him go. Was she dreaming? Could it be that this was really her own father, in the middle of the night? Darrell couldn't imagine how or why he was there, but it was enough that he was.

He sat down in a big armchair with Darrell on his knees. Matron disappeared. Only Miss Grayling was there, and she looked in a very puzzled manner at Darrell and her father. There was something here she didn't understand.

“You cry all you want to, then tell me what's the matter,” said Darrell's father. “Why, we only saw you yesterday, and you were so happy! Never mind, I'm here, and I'll put everything right for you.”

“You can't!” wept Darrell. “I've been wicked! It was my temper again. Oh, Daddy, it's all
my
fault that Sally is so ill!”

“My dear child, what
are
you talking about?” said her father, puzzled. Darrell snuggled her head into his chest and began to feel much better. Daddy could always put things right. So could Mother. What a blessing he was here tonight.

Then she raised her head, and spoke in surprise. “But Daddy—
why
are you here? I thought you were miles away!”

“Well, I was,” said Mr. Rivers. “But Miss Grayling telephoned to me to say that little Sally Hope had appendicitis and the surgeon they usually had was ill, so could I come straight along and do the operation. So of course I did! I hopped into the car, drove here, found everything ready, did the little operation, and here I am! And Sally will be quite all right and back again in school in about two weeks” time!”

A great load fell away from Darrell's heart. She could almost feel it rolling away. Why, appendicitis was some-thing anyone might have! Her father was always curing appendicitis! She spoke anxiously.

“Daddy—appendicitis couldn't be caused by a push— or a fall—could it?”

“Good gracious, no!” said her father. “Sally's had this little affair coming on for some time, there's no doubt about that. All the term and before that, I should think. But what makes you ask that question?”

Then everything came pouring out—how funny and queer and rude Sally had been—how Darrell had lost her temper- the violent push, the fall—everything!

“And I worried and worried and worried,” said Darrell, with a sob. “I thought if Miss Grayling knew, she would send me away from Malory Towers, and you and Mother would be ashamed of me, and I couldn't sleep, so I got up and...”

“What a silly little girl!” said her father, and kissed the top of her head. “Perhaps we had better take you away from Malory Towers ourselves, and have you at home, if you are going to think such silly things, Darrell!”

“Oh, no—don't do that! I love being here!” said Darrell. “Oh, Daddy—if you
knew
how different I feel now that I know Sally was going to be ill, anyhow—it wasn't anything to do with me, after all. But oh, dear—I wrote to Mrs. Hope about it! What
will
she think?”