Third Year at Malory Towers (15 page)

“I shan't,” said Bill, earnestly. “Don't tease me, Alicia. I feel a bit queer though I feel so happy. Now I know that Miss Peters is so fond of Thunder—and he loves her, too, fancy that! —I shall feel quite different about everything. I might even let her ride him.”

Jean at last got a word in. “Listen to
me
now!” she said, and she told the third-formers about Mavis. They listened in horrified silence. Darrell burst out at once.

“Gracious! So Miss Peters didn't only save Thunder last night—she saved Mavis, too. But I say—fancy Mavis trying to walk home all those miles in the dark by herself. She's afraid of the dark, too,”

The girls were happy about Bill and Thunder, but upset about Mavis. They stood about in the dormy, talking, forgetting all about breakfast. Somebody came running up the corridor. It was Lucy of the fourth form.

“I
say
! What are you all thinking of? Aren't you coming to breakfast? The bell's gone long ago. Mam'zelle is absolutely furious!”

“Oh dear! Come on, everyone,” said Jean. “I feel all in a whirl.”

The news about Thunder and about Mavis spread all through the school, and was the talk in every class from the bottom form to the top. Darrell and Bill had to tell the tale over and over again.

It was Sunday so there were no classes. In the school chapel, where the service was held, a prayer was said for Mavis. All the girls joined in it, for although few of them liked Mavis they were all sorry for her. The news went round that she was worse. Her parents had been sent for! Oh dear, thought Jean, it was all her fault!

By the next morning, however, Mavis had taken a turn for the better. Thunder, too, was perfectly all right. Bill was thrilled. It seemed impossible that a horse in such pain as Thunder had been should be quite recovered the day after. How wonderful people like doctors and vets were!

The girls settled down to their classes on Monday, glad that Mavis was better. Jean especially was thankful. Perhaps she would soon be back in school. The whole matter would have blown over. Mavis would be given a talking to by Miss Grayling, but no punishment because she had punished herself enough. Everything would be all right.

Miss Peters had had a good rest on the Sunday, and was taking the third form as usual on Monday. When she came into the classroom, she had a surprise.

“Hurrah for Miss Peters!” cried Darrell's voice, and to the amazement of the forms on each side of the third form room, three hearty cheers rang out for Miss Peters. She couldn't help being pleased. She smiled pleasantly all round.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was nice of you. Now— open your books at page forty-one. Alicia, come up to the blackboard, please.”

Darrell looked with interest at Bill several times that morning. Bill didn't gaze out of the window once. She paid great attention to every word that Miss Peters said. She answered intelligently, and when it was her turn to come up to the blackboard, she did extremely well.

“Very good, Bill,” said Miss Peters, and a gasp went round the class. Miss Peters hadn't called her Wilhelmina as she always did. She had called her Bill. Bill grinned as she went back to her place. She looked a different person.

Darrell admired her as she watched her in class after class. Bill had made up her mind to do a thing and she meant to do it She
would
do it, too! Darrell thought that it was quite possible for Bill to rise near the top of the class once she had made up her mind to do it.

“I suppose that's what Daddy would call strength of character,” thought Darrell. “He's always saying that strength of character is one of the greatest things anyone can have because then they have courage and pluck and determination, no matter what difficulties come. Bill's got it. I bet she won't dream, or gaze out of the window again, or not bother with her work. She's going to repay Miss Peters for Saturday night!”

Miss Peters knew that Bill meant to repay her for that, too. She trusted Bill now. They understood one another, which really wasn't very surprising, because they were very much alike. Miss Peters was mannish, and Bill was boyish. They both loved life out-of-doors and adored horses. They had disliked one another very much indeed—but now they were going to be firm friends. That would be nice for Bill.

“Darrell! Are you day-dreaming?” said Miss Peters' voice. “You don't seem to have written down anything at all!”

Darrell jumped and went red. Gracious! Here she was admiring Bill for being able to stop dreaming in class—and she, Darrell, had fallen into the same fault herself! She pulled herself together and began to write.

That afternoon Miss Hibbert was going to take the first rehearsal of the play in the art-room. This was often used for dramatic work because it had a small platform. Zerelda was very much looking forward to the afternoon. She sat in her place, murmuring some lines from “Romeo and Juliet” below her breath. Miss Peters saw her lips moving and thought she was whispering to Gwen.

“Zerelda!” she said, sharply. “What are you saying to Gwendoline?”

“Nothing, Miss Peters,” said Zerelda, surprised.

“Well, what were you saying to yourself then?” demanded Miss Peters. “Stand up when you answer me, Zerelda.”

Zerelda stood up. She looked at Miss Peters and recited dramatically what she had been murmuring to herself.

“Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day;

It was the nightingale and not ...”

A volley of laughter from everyone in the class drowned her voice. Miss Peters rapped sharply on her desk. “Zerelda! I hope you don't really
mean
to be rude. That's enough! We are doing geography, not Shakespeare. Sit down and get on!”

AFTER the dinner hour that day the third-formers brought up the subject of Alicia's trick again.

“You know, Alicia—I don't somehow feel as if I want it played on Miss Peters now,” said Bill.

“Nor do I,” said Darrell.

“I don't want it played at all,” said Sally, stoutly.

“Well, you're the only one that doesn't,” said Alicia. “So keep quiet. What does everyone else say?”

“
I
don't quite like to play it on Miss Peters now,” said Belinda. “I feel like Bill and Darrell. You know—it seems a bit odd to give three cheers for somebody and then the very next day play a trick on them like that.”

“
I
shouldn't mind,” said Zerelda, who hadn't liked being ticked off in class that morning by Miss Peters. “What's in a trick, anyway! Only a bit of fun. I guess it wouldn't matter at all.”

“I agree with Zerelda,” said Gwen's voice. “Why shouldn't we? Don't you agree, Daphne?”

“I don't know,” said Daphne, who had been rather struck with Miss Peters' dramatic ride through the night. “No—I think on the whole I'd rather play it on Mam'zelle—or Miss Carton, perhaps.”

“Well, I don't much care who we play it on,” said Alicia. “Darrell and I will agree to what the majority say.”

“Darrell and you!” exclaimed Sally. “What's Darrell got to do with it? It's your trick, not hers!”

“Oh, we've just been planning it out together that's all,” said Alicia, coolly, pleased to see Sally's jealousy flare up in public. Darrell went red. It was true she had enjoyed talking over the trick with Alicia—but she knew quite well that Alicia was only saying that to make Sally cross. Bother them both. Why couldn't they all be friends together? Never mind— Betty was coming back soon. Then perhaps Alicia would stop teasing Sally and Sally would stop being jealous and spiteful.

“Well—let's play the trick on Mam'zelle then,” said Irene. “Mam'zelle's lovely to play tricks on. We haven't played one on her for terms and terms.”

“Right. Mam'zelle it shall be,” said Alicia. “Do you agree, Darrell? We'll talk about the best time and so on together when we've got a minute to ourselves. It's time to go over to the art-room now.”

They all went off to the art-room, Sally looking glum. Alicia slipped her arm in Darrell's and bore her off as if she really was her best friend. Darrell glanced back at Sally and tried to take her arm away from Alicia. But Sally gave her such a sour look that Darrell was annoyed, and didn't go back to her after all.

Privately Darrell thought the hour of Shakespeare was a dreadful waste, because it was a fine sunny afternoon when a game of lacrosse could have been arranged. Still it would be fun to see Zerelda trying to impress Miss Hibbert.

Zerelda was excited. This was her great chance. If only she could bring it off - make Miss Hibbert say what a gift for acting she had. “Zerelda, you're a born actress!” she would say to her. “You have a great Gift. You must turn all your attention to building it up. You have the right appearance, too - striking, graceful, mature. It will make me very proud to teach you this year!”

Zerelda had done a little roll of hair on top of her head again - not so big a roll as before, certainly, but still a roll, pinned up to make her look older. Her hair was not tied back so tightly either. She had made up her face a little - put red on her lips, pink on her cheeks, and had smothered herself with powder. Her hands were white. Her nails were very long and highly polished. She hoped she looked a finished actress!

Miss Hibbert did not look at all like a producer of plays. She was neat, with a well-fitting coat and skirt, and her hair, slightly wavy, was brushed well back. She wore a pair of glasses with rather thick rims. She was very efficient, and knew exactly how to pick the right actor for the right part.

She looked over the girls as they came in. She knew Zerelda already because she had taken her for a few lessons in the fourth form. She looked in astonishment at Zerelda's make-up. Good gracious! What did the girl think she was up to!

She looked over the girls as they came in. She knew Zerelda already because she had taken her for a few lessons in the fourth form. She looked in astonishment at Zerelda's make-up. Good gracious! What did the girl think she was up to!

Miss Hibbert had absolutely no idea at all that Zerelda fancied herself as an actress or as a film star. Nobody had told her. Perhaps if she had known, she might have been a little more patient, even a little kinder. But she didn't know.

There was a lot to get through. For one reason or another two rehearsals had been put off, and Miss Hibbert was feeling a little rushed for time. She handed out copies of the play and looked round the form.

“Now—has anyone acted in this play before?”

Nobody had. Zerelda stepped forward and said a few words, trying to speak the English way. “Please, Miss Hibbert, once I did Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare.”

“Oh,” said Miss Hibbert, gazing at Zerelda's hair. “Zerelda. I don't like the way you do your hair. Don't come to my classes with that silly roll on top again.”

Zerelda went red and stepped back.

“Has anyone read the play?” Darrell and Mary-Lou put up their hands, and so did Zerelda.

“Does anyone know any of the parts? Has anyone been sufficiently interested to learn any of the speeches?” went on Miss Hibbert.

Zerelda stepped forward again. “Please, Miss Hibbert. I know all Juliet's speeches, every one of them. I guess I could say them all, right now. It's a wunnerful part, Juliet's. I've been rehearsing it like mad.”

“Yes. She's awfully good as Juliet,” put in Gwendoline, and got a grateful smile from Zerelda.

“Very well. As you've taken the trouble to learn the part, you can take it this afternoon,” said Miss Hibbert. She looked round the class for a boyish third-former to take the part of Romeo. Her eye fell on Bill.

“You,” she said. “What's your name—Wilhelmina—you can take the part of Romeo today. And you, Darrell, can be the nurse, and you...”

Quickly she fitted part after part. The girls looked at their copies of the play and prepared to read and act them.

“Not very inspired,” said Miss Hibbert, after the first few pages had been read. “Turn to the part where Juliet comes on. Zerelda, are you ready?”

Was she
ready
”? Why, she was waiting on tenterhooks to begin! She was full of it! She was Juliet to the life, poor, tragic Juliet.

Zerelda launched herself into the part. She declaimed her lines in a most dramatic manner, she flung herself about, she inarched up and down, she threw her head back, imagining herself to be beautiful and most lovable.

“Stop, Zerelda,” said Miss Hibbert, amazed. But Zerelda did not stop. Heedless of the giggles of the class she ranted on. Irene gave one of her enormous snorts, and Miss Hibbert glared at her. She spoke loudly to Zerelda again.

“STOP, Zerelda!”

Zerelda stopped and stared blankly at Miss Hibbert, surprised to see that she looked so furious.

“How dare you behave like that?” stormed Miss Hibbert. “Sending the class into fits! Do you think that's the way to behave in a Shakespeare class? They may think it comical but I don't. Those are lovely lines you have been saying—but you have completely spoilt them. And do you really think it is clever to throw yourself about like that, and toss your head? Don't you know that Juliet was young and gentle and sweet? You are trying to make her into some horrible affected film star!”

Zerelda took in what the angry mistress was saying. She could hardly believe it. She went rather white under the pink on her cheeks.

“And why have you made yourself up like that?” demanded Miss Hibbert, roused to more anger by the giggles of the rest of the form. “I cannot tell you how horrible you look with that stuff on your face. You would not dare to go to Miss Peters' class like that. I'm not going to put up with it. You may as well make up your mind, Zerelda, that you will never be an actress. You simply haven't got it in you. All that happens is that you make yourself really vulgar. Now go and wash your face and do your hair properly.”

Zerelda felt like a balloon that had been pricked. All her confidence and pride oozed out of her. She crept to the door and went out. Some of the girls felt sorry for her.

Rather subdued by this unusual outburst, the rest of the form went on with the reading. Miss Hibbert, a little sorry that she had been so very hard on Zerelda, handed out a few words of praise. “Alicia, you're good. Mary-Lou, you have a nice voice if you could remember to hold your head up when you speak your lines. Darrell, I can see you are trying. Next time we will all take different parts.”