Read The Naughtiest Girl in the School Online
Authors: Enid Blyton
Friday came. Elizabeth leapt out of bed, ran to Joan’s bed, hugged her and cried, “Many happy returns of the day, Joan! I hope you’ll have a lovely birthday! Here’s a little present for you from me!”
Joan took the parcel and undid it. When she saw the red handbag inside, she was delighted-and she was even more thrilled when she found the comb, the handkerchief, and the sixpence. She flung her arms round Elizabeth and squeezed her so hard that Elizabeth almost choked!
“Oh, thank you, Elizabeth!” she cried. “It’s perfectly lovely. I did so badly want a handbag. I only had that little old purse. Oh, how I shall love using it! It’s the nicest present I have ever had.”
There was another surprise for Joan before she went down to breakfast. Hilda slipped into the bedroom with a lace-edged handkerchief for Joan. She had felt rather ashamed of herself for teasing Joan the day before, and had taken one of her best hankies to give for a present.
Joan was thrilled-in fact; she was so thrilled that a bright idea came into Elizabeth’s head. She flew down to the playroom to see if Harry was there. He wasn’t— but she could hear him practicing in the music-room.
“Harry! Harry!” cried Elizabeth, rushing up to him, and startling him so much that his music fell to the floor. “Will you do something for me?”
“Depends what it is,” said Harry, picking up his music.
“Harry, its Joan Townsend’s birthday,” said Elizabeth. “You know you said you’d give me one of your rabbits, don’t you, and I said it wasn’t any good, because I was going at half term-well, would you please give it to Joan instead, because you can’t think how pleased she is to have presents!”
“Well-” said Harry, not quite sure about it.
“Go on, Harry, do say yes-be a sport!” begged Elizabeth, her blue eyes shining like stars. It was very difficult to refuse Elizabeth anything when she looked like that. Harry nodded.
“All right,” he said. “What shall I do-bring the baby rabbit in at breakfast-time?”
“Oooh!” said Elizabeth, with a squeak of delight. “Yes! Do! Say, ‘Shut your eyes, Joan, and feel what I’ve brought you!’ and then put it into her arms. What a surprise for her!”
“Well, I’ll go and get it now,” said Harry, putting his music away. “But she’ll have to look after it herself, Elizabeth. It will be her rabbit.”
“I’ll look after it for her,” said Elizabeth, feeling delighted at the thought of mothering a baby rabbit each day. “Hurry, Harry!”
Elizabeth went back to the bedroom. The breakfast bell rang as she was tidying her chest-of-drawers. She slipped her arm through Joan’s, and they went downstairs together. They stopped at the letter-rack. There was one card for Elizabeth from Mrs. Allen - and in Joan’s place were three envelopes, in which were the cards that Elizabeth had bought! Joan took them down, going red with surprise. She opened them. She took out the first card and read it: “With love, from Mother.” She turned to Elizabeth, her eyes shining.
“She’s remembered my birthday!” she said to Elizabeth, and her voice was very happy. She was even more surprised when she found a card marked “With love, from Daddy,” and she was delighted with Elizabeth’s card.
“Fancy! Three cards!” said Joan, so happy that she didn’t notice that the writing on the envelopes was the same for all three.
She went into breakfast, quite delighted. And on her chair was an enormous cardboard box from the baker, and a small neat parcel from the book-shop.
Joan gave a cry of astonishment, “More presents! Who from, I wonder?” She opened the little parcel first, and when she saw the book about birds, and read the little card, her eyes filled suddenly with tears, She turned away to hide them.
“Look,” she whispered to Elizabeth, “it’s from my mother. Isn’t it lovely of her to remember my birthday! I didn’t think she would!”
Joan was so happy to have the book, which she thought came from her mother, that she almost forgot to undo the box in which was the enormous birthday cake.
“Undo this box, quickly,” begged Elizabeth, Joan cut the string. She took off the lid, and every one crowded round to see what was inside. When they saw the beautiful cake, they shouted in delight.
“Joan! What a fine cake! Oooh! You are lucky!” Joan was too astonished to say a word. She lifted the cake out of the box, on its silver board, and stood it on the breakfast-table. She stared at it as if it was a dream cake. She couldn’t believe it was really true.
“I say!” said Nora. “What a cake! Look at the candles-and the sugar roses! And look at the message on it- ‘A happy birthday for my darling Joan!’ Your mother has been jolly generous, Joan-it’s the biggest birthday cake I’ve seen.”
Joan stared at the message on the cake. She could hardly believe it. She felt so happy that she thought she would really have to burst. It was all so unexpected and so surprising.
Elizabeth was even happier-she looked at her friend’s delighted face, and hugged herself for joy. She was glad she had spent all Uncle Rupert’s pound on Joan. This was better than having a birthday herself-much, much better. Something that Miss Scott had often said to her flashed into her head.
“It is more blessed to give than to receive,” Miss Scott had said, when she had tried to make Elizabeth give some of her toys to the poor children at Christmas-time.
“And Miss Scott was quite right!” thought Elizabeth, in surprise. “I’m getting more fun out of giving these things, than if I was receiving them myself!”
“Everybody in the school must share my birthday cake,” said Joan in a happy, important voice, and she lifted her head proudly, and smiled around.
“Thanks, Joan! Many happy returns of the day!” shouted everybody. And then Harry came in and cried,
“Joan! Shut your eyes and feel what I’ve got for you!”
In amazement Joan shut her eyes-and the next moment the baby rabbit was in her arms. She gave a scream and opened her eyes again She was so surprised that she didn’t hold the rabbit tightly enough-and it leapt from her arms and scampered to the door, through which the teachers were just coming to breakfast, The rabbit ran all round them, and the masters and mistresses stopped in astonishment.
“Is this a rabbit I see?” cried Mademoiselle, who was afraid of all small animals. “Oh, these children! What will they bring to breakfast next?”
“I’m so sorry,” said Harry, catching the rabbit. “You see, it’s Joan’s birthday, and I was giving her one of my rabbits.”
“I see,” said Miss Best, “Well, take it out to the hutches now, Harry, and Joan can have it again after breakfast.”
“Oh, Elizabeth! I’m so happy!” whispered Joan, as they sat down to their eggs and bacon. “I can’t tell you how happy I am!”
“You needn’t tell me,” said Elizabeth, laughing. “I can see how happy you are-and I’m glad!”
CHAPTER 19
Joan gets a Shock
Joan had a wonderful birthday. She laughed and chattered in a way that no one had ever seen before. The little girl became quite pretty with happiness, and when she cut her birthday cake, and gave a piece to everyone in the school, her face was a picture!
“Nobody could possibly look happier,” thought Elizabeth, eating the delicious cake. “Goodness! That baker certainly did make Joan’s cake well. It’s gorgeous!”
That evening, after supper, Elizabeth asked Joan to come and help her plant the lettuce seeds she had bought, but Joan shook her head.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’d love to, Elizabeth-but I’ve got something important to do.”
“What is it?” asked Elizabeth, rattling the seeds in her packets.
“Well-I’ve got to write and thank my mother and father for their cards, and the lovely cake and the book,” said Joan. “I must do that tonight.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth in dismay. She turned away biting her lip and frowning.
“Good gracious!” she thought. “I didn’t think of Joan writing to say thank you. Whatever will her mother think when she gets Joan’s letter, thanking her for things she hasn’t sent? Will she write and tell Joan she doesn’t know anything about them-and what will poor Joan do then?”
Elizabeth went out to the garden, thinking hard. Now she had made a muddle! Why hadn’t she thought of Joan writing to her mother? It was silly of her. Joan was going to be very unhappy-and perhaps angry-when she found out the truth.
“Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all,” said Elizabeth to herself. “Bother! Why do I do things without thinking first? I wonder if Joan’s mother will be angry with me for pretending those cards and the book and the cake were from Joan’s parents. I don’t feel happy about it anymore. I feel dreadful.”
She went to give John Terry the seeds. He was delighted.
“Good!” he said. “Just what I wanted. I plant a new row of lettuce every week, Elizabeth, and then we have new lettuces growing in different sizes, so that each week I have a fresh row to pull. Did you like the lettuces we had for tea yesterday? Those were out of the frames. I was rather proud of them.”
“They were simply lovely, John,” said Elizabeth, still busy thinking about Joan. She simply couldn’t imagine what would happen and she felt worried.
She helped to plant the lettuce seeds, but John scolded her because she sowed them so thickly.
“I thought you knew something about gardening!” he said. “Do you want the lettuces to come up like a forest?”
“Sorry, John,” said Elizabeth. “I was thinking about something else.”
“You haven’t been naughty, I hope?” asked John, who liked Elizabeth, and was always pleased when she came to help him in his garden. “I hope you won’t get ticked off at the Meeting again. You’ve bad enough of that!”
“I’m afraid I shall be!” said Elizabeth, sighing. She was worried about that too-she was sure Nora would report her for spending a whole pound-and whatever would she say about it? She wasn’t going to give away her secret, and let everyone know that it was she, and not Joan’s parents, who had sent the cake and the book. Things were suddenly getting very difficult.
Joan was very happy for two days-and then she got a letter from her mother that took away all her happiness.
Elizabeth was with Joan when she found the letter at tea-time in the letter-rack.
“Oh! Mother has written very quickly to answer my letter,” said Joan happily, and she took the letter down. She tore it open and stood reading it. Then she turned very pale and looked with wide, miserable eyes at Elizabeth.
“Mother says-Mother says-she didn’t send me a card-she forgot,” said Joan in a trembling voice. “And-and she says she didn’t send me a cake-or that book-and she can’t understand why I’m writing to thank her. Oh, Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to do or say. She put her arm round Joan and took her to the playroom. No one was there, for everyone had gone in to have tea. Joan sat down, still very white, and stared at Elizabeth.
“I don’t understand it,” said poor Joan. “Oh, Elizabeth-I was so very happy-and now I feel dreadful! Who could have sent those things-if it wasn’t my mother?”
Still Elizabeth couldn’t say a word. How could she say she had done it? Her kindness now seemed like a cruel trick. Poor Joan!
“Come in and have some tea,” said Elizabeth at last, finding her voice. “You look so pale, Joan. Come and have some tea-it will do you good.”
But Joan shook her head.
“I’m not hungry. I couldn’t eat anything,” she said. “Let me alone. You go in to tea without me. I want to be alone-please, Elizabeth. You are kind and sweet to me, but I don’t want anybody just now. I’m going out for a walk. I’ll be better when I come back.”
Joan slipped out of the playroom, Elizabeth stared after her, unhappy and worried. Joan had gone out alone-without anyone, which wasn’t allowed. Elizabeth simply didn’t know what to do. So she went in to tea, very late, and was scolded by Nora.
“You’re late, Elizabeth,” snapped Nora. “You’ll have to go without cake today.”
Elizabeth slipped into her place and said nothing. As she ate her tea, she noticed that the room was getting very dark indeed.
“There’s a good old storm blowing up,” said Harry. “My goodness-look at that rain!”
“Splendid!” said John. “I badly need it for my broad beans and peas!”
But Elizabeth did not think it was splendid. She was thinking of poor Joan, out for a walk all alone in the storm. A roll of thunder sounded, and lightning flashed across the window.