Second Form at Malory Towers (8 page)

When Mam'zelle, puzzled by the non-appearance of the girls back from their walk, sent Daphne down to see what had happened, the girl could have burst into tears when she saw the empty plates, the cake all gone, and the happy faces of the second-formers in the gym.

“You mean pigs!” she cried. “You didn't go out after all! And you've had tea without me!”

“We couldn't disturb you at your extra French lesson,” grinned Alicia. “Dear Miss Parker quite agreed it would be a pity to spoil it for you, as you were so anxious to have it”

Daphne glared at Gwendoline. “
You
might have come for me,” she said. “You could easily have slipped off and fetched me!”

“The only person who tried to get you was Mary-Lou,” said Sally. “She actually went up to Miss Parker and suggested that she should go and get you. Mary-Lou doesn't think that extra French is preferable to walks or games.”

Daphne looked at Mary-Lou and felt warm towards her. Not even Gwendoline, her friend, bad tried to get her out of that awful French lesson to join the games. But Mary-Lou had. Mary-Lou had thought loyally of her.

“Thanks, Mary-Lou.” said Daphne, and turned a rather watery smile on her. “I won't forget that. That was decent of you.”

From that time the selfish, boastful, untrustworthy Daphne was nice to Mary-Lou, not only because the smaller girl helped her so much with her French but because she really liked her and admired her. Perhaps never before had Daphne really liked anyone for themselves.

Mary-Lou, of course, was delighted. She had quite fallen under Daphne's spell, and was too simple to see the faults in the girl's character. She was very happy to be with her, and delighted to help her whenever she could. She did not even see that the help she gave almost amounted to making Daphne cheat, for many an evening she did practically the whole of Daphne's prep for her.

Gwendoline began to be jealous of Mary-Lou, for she sensed that Daphne was really beginning to like her very much. But Daphne always laughed when Gwendoline spoke to her about it.

“You
know
I'm only using her!” she said. “Don't be a mutt, Gwen. You're my friend and I don't want anybody else. I've nothing whatever in common with Mary-Lou—She's a silly little simpleton, a stupid little mouse!”

It was a good thing that Mary-Lou did not hear these remarks, for she would have been shocked and hurt. She was very glad to feel that Daphne really did like her. She often lay in bed thinking of the girl's beautiful hair and lovely smile. She wished she was as charming as that. But she wasn't, and never would be.

Daphne did not forgive the others for being mean enough not to warn her, when they knew the walk was off. She was even a little cold to Gwendoline about it, and Gwendoline, fearful of losing her grand friend's liking, made haste to lick her boots again, listening to all Daphne's tales with most satisfactory attention. Sally heard Daphne one evening. She was sitting near the curtain in the common room and the two girls, Gwen and Daphne, did not see her.

“Didn't I ever tell you about the time my mother gave a party on board our yacht, and I sat next to the Prince at supper?” began Daphne.

“Were you allowed to sit up to supper?” said Gwendoline. “And whatever did you find to say to a prince?”

“Oh, well—be seemed to admire my hair and talked to me awfully nicely.” said Daphne, beginning to embroider her tale as usual. I stayed up till one o'clock that night. The yacht was lovely. It had little lights all over it, and people on land said it looked beautiful—like a ship in a fairy-tale.”

“What were you dressed in?” asked Gwendoline.

“Oh—a frilly frock with little pearls all over it and my pearl necklace. It's worth hundreds of pounds.” said Daphne.

Gwendoline gasped. “Where is it?” she said.

“Oh, I'm not allowed to bring anything like that to school,” said Daphne. “Mother's very strict about things of that sort, you know. I haven't any jewellery here—or grand dresses—or anything you haven't got.”

“No. I've noticed that—I think it's very sensible of your mother,” said Gwendoline.

Sally had got tired of all this grand talk. She slipped off the windowsill. “It's a pity your mother didn't supply you with your own lacrosse stick, and another pair of shoes, and plenty of writing paper” she remarked. “Then you wouldn't have to keep borrowing from everyone else! A little less yacht, and fewer cars—and more envelopes and a book of stamps would be better for you. Daphne!”

Daphne looked haughtily at Sally. “Mind your own business!” she said. “I was talking to Gwen.”

“It is my business!” persisted Sally. “You are always borrowing from one or other of us—and you never pay back! As you're so rich, you ought to use some of your plentiful pocket-money to buy the things you lack!”

“Beast!” said Daphne, as Sally went out of the room. “She's jealous of me. I suppose—just because her people aren't as well-off as mine!”

Half-term came and went Sally and Darrell went out together with Darrell's parents and had a lovely tune. To Gwendoline's disappointment Daphne's parents did not visit her, so there was no chance of being asked out to meals with Daphne, or going off in a magnificent car.

“I wanted to see your mother,” said Gwendoline. “She looks so lovely in her photo.”

On Daphne's dressing table stood a photograph of a very beautiful woman, in a flowing evening gown, with gleaming jewels round her lovely neck. Everyone had admired it.

“You aren't much like your mother, all the same,” said Darrell, critically, to Daphne. “She's got wide-set eyes—and yours are rather near together. And your nose isn't the same.”

“Everybody isn't always like their mother,” said Daphne. “I take after my father's family, I suppose. I have an aunt who is very, very beautiful.”

“And I suppose you are considered to resemble her. Daphne?” said Jean, in her quiet, amused voice. “What it is to have beautiful and distinguished relatives! I have a plain mother, who's the kindest darling on earth—and quite an ugly father—and all my aunts are as plain as I am. But I don't care a bit. They're jolly good fun, and I like the whole lot.”

Gwendoline asked Daphne if she would like to go out with her at half-term, and Daphne accepted graciously. Mrs. Lacey, Gwendoline's mother, was very struck with the beautiful girl and her charming smile. As for Miss Winter, the governess, who always most faithfully came to see her darling Gwen every half-term, she could hardly take her eyes off her, which annoyed Gwendoline very much.

“
Such
a nice friend for you, dear,” said Mrs. Lacey to Gwendoline. “Such beautiful manners! And how rich her people must be to own a yacht and all those cars. Wouldn't it be nice if you could go and stay with them?”

“Ssh, Mother,” said Gwendoline, afraid that Daphne would hear. But Daphne was far too busy charming poor Miss Winter. She played up to Gwendoline very well too, remarking on her friend's brilliance, her clever comments in class, and what a favourite she was with the teachers.

Mrs. Lacey listened with pride and pleasure. “Well, you never told me these things in your letters, Gwen darling,” she said, fondly. “You're too modest!”

Gwendoline felt a little embarrassed and began to hope that Daphne wouldn't lay it on too thickly—if she did, her mother would expect a wonderful report, and Gwendoline knew perfectly well there was no hope of that.

Belinda and Irene went out together, both forgetting their hats, and both returning without their gloves. They went with Belinda's parents, who appeared to be as bad as Belinda herself, for they lost the way when bringing the girls back to Malory Towers, and turned up over an hour late, much to Miss Barker's annoyance. She could not bear the timetable to be played about with. But neither Belinda nor Irene noticed her cold manner as they went noisily into the room to report their return to her.

Alicia and Betty had gone out together, of course, and had come back fun of giggles. Apparently one of Alicia's brothers had been in the party, and had related with much gusto all the tricks that he and his class had been up to that term.

To everyone's surprise Jean had asked the bad-tempered, irritable Ellen to come out with her I Ellen had refused at first, rather ungraciously—and then had unexpectedly said she would. But it had not been a very pleasant outing, for Ellen had been rather silent and had not tried in any way to be pleasant to her hosts. She seemed sunk into herself, and Jean was sorry she had asked her.

“You might have been a bit more cheerful, Ellen.” she said, as they came into the school again. “You hardly spoke and you didn't laugh once even when my father made some quite good jokes!”

“Well, don't ask me out again then,” said Ellen, snappily, and turned away. Jean caught the gleam of tears in her eyes. Funny girl! So touchy that nobody could say a word to her without getting their head bitten off! Jean was beginning to be tired of her efforts to be nice to Ellen.

“Now we can look forward to Christmas!” said Darrell with satisfaction. “Half-term's over.”

“We've got those awful French plays to mug up now.” groaned Alicia. “Whatever possessed the two Mam'zelles to think up such a horrible thing for the second form to do? Who wants to see us perform French plays?”

Each form had to produce some sort of entertainment at the end of the term. It was the lot of the second form to learn two French plays, one chosen by Mam'zelle Dupont, the other by Mam'zelle Rougier.

It was over the choosing of the girls to play the different characters in these plays that the two Mam'zelles almost came to blows.

In one play there was a Princess—the Princess True-Heart. In the other there was an angel—the Angel of Goodness. Mam'zelle Dupont wanted her favourite, Daphne, to play both parts. She pictured the pretty, golden-haired girl as the Princess—ah, how wonderful she would look! And as an angel! Truly Daphne was made for the part of an angel!

But Mam'zelle Rougier unfortunately had quite different ideas. “What! You would choose that imbecile of a Daphne to play two good parts like that!” scoffed Mam'zelle Rougier. “She could never learn half the words—and her pronunciation is AB-OM-IN-ABLE! You know it I will not have that girl in a good part.”

“Ah, but she will look the part to perfection,” cried Mam'zelle Dupont, sweeping her arms wide apart to emphasize her words. “She looks a real Princess—and when she smiles, it is truly the smile of an angel.”

“Bah!” said Mam'zelle Rougier, rudely. “She is one of your favourites, your little pets. Now Sally would do well in one of those parts—she would learn well and her pronunciation is good. Or Darrell. Or even Mary-Lou would be better than Daphne, for she at least speaks French as it should be spoken.”

“You are mad!” cried Mam'zelle Dupont. “As if any of those girls could play such parts as these. I insist on Daphne playing the parts.”

Then I shall not have anything to do with the plays,” said Mam'zelle Rougier stiffly. “It is always a mistake to do as you do. Mam'zelle Dupont, and have favourites—and when it comes to forcing them on me, it is finished!”

“I do not have favourites!” said Mam'zelle Dupont, untruthfully, tapping her foot on the ground. “I like all the girls just the same.”

Mam'zelle Rougier snorted disbelievingly. “Then you are the only one who thinks so,” she said. “Good day, Mam'zelle. I cannot stand arguing here, talking nonsense about such girls as Daphne.”

She swung round and walked off stiffly, holding her thin bony body like a stick. Flump little Mam'zelle Dupont stared after her angrily. Favourites, indeed I How dared Mam'zelle say things like that to her? Never would she speak to Mam'zelle Rougier again. Never, never, never! She would leave Malory Towers. She would go back to her beloved France. She would write to the newspapers about it. Mam'zelle Dupont made a noise nice the growling of a dog and startled Miss Potts considerably as she came in at the door.

“Don't you feel well, Mam'zelle?” she said, rather alarmed at Mam'zelle's red face and glaring eyes.

“I do not feel at all well. I have been insulted,” said Mam'zelle Dupont. “I am not to be allowed to choose the girls in my own plays. Mam'zelle Rougier objects to my choosing the pretty, charming Daphne for the Princess. She will not even allow me—me, Mam'zelle Dupont—to give her the part of the Angel of Good-ness!”

“Well. I must say I agree with her,” said Miss Potts, sitting down and arranging her papers. “Daphne always seems a double-faced little creature to me.”

“You too are in the plot against me!” said Mam'zelle going all dramatic, and working herself up into a tearful rage. “You too! Ah, these cold English people! Ah, these...”

Miss Potts was very glad indeed to hear a knock, at the door at that moment. She didn't like dealing with Mam'zelle in these moods. Matron came in, smiling.

“Can I have a word with you, Mam'zelle?” she asked.

“No, you cannot,” said Mam'zelle, fiercely. “I am upset. My heart it beats so—and so—and so. But I tell you this—will choose what girl I wish for my plays. Ah-h-h-h!”

And, making a noise like a dog again, Mam'zelle walked angrily from the room, leaving Matron quite stupefied. “Whatever is she talking about?” she asked Miss Potts.