Third Year at Malory Towers (11 page)

She opened the door sharply, making everyone jump. “What's all this? What are you doing? Oh, it's vow, Zerelda. What on earth have you got the curtain round you for? Are you quite mad? And what has happened to your hair? It looks a hundred times worse than usual. Janet, get on with your practising. Gwendoline, you shouldn't be here when a fourth former is practising. As for
you
, Zerelda, if I see any more tempers Like that, I shall report you to Miss Grayling! Throwing books at one another indeed! A third-former too! You'll go down into the first form if you behave like that!”

The girls couldn't get a word in, for Matron fired all this off at top speed. She pushed Janet firmly down on the stool, shooed Gwendoline out as if she was a hen, and took Zerelda firmly by the shoulder.

“You'll just come with me and let me find out if you've torn the cloth or the curtain,” she said. “If you have you'll sit down in my room under my eye and mend it. And while I think of it—if you don't darn your stockings better than you have been doing, I shall have to ask you to come to me for darning lessons.”

Angry and embarrassed, poor Zerelda had to walk down the corridor after Matron, trying to take the curtain and cloth away from her shoulders and waist, and wishing she could tie her hair back.

But Matron would give her no time to rearrange or tidy herself. This stuck-up, affected American girl had annoyed Matron so often—now Matron was getting a bit of her own back! Let everyone see Zerelda in this rumpled, ridiculous state!

And most unfortunately for Zerelda they met a whole batch of giggling second-formers, who stared at Zerelda in delighted amazement.

“What's she done? Where's Matron taking her? Doesn't she look
awful
!” poor Zerelda heard the twelve-year-olds say. She blushed miserably and looked round for Gwen. But Gwen had gone. She knew Matron in this mood, and she wasn't going to go near her if she could help it!

They met Mam'zelle at the bend of the stairs, and Mam'zelle exclaimed in surprise. “
Tiens
! What is this? Zerelda! Your hair!”

“Yes. I'm dealing with her, Mam'zelle,” said Matron firmly. She and Mam'zelle were usually at war with one another, so Matron did not stop to talk, but swept Zerelda along to her room at top speed, leaving Mam'zelle to gape and wonder.

Fortunately for Zerelda, Matron could find no damage done to either the tablecloth or the curtain. She was quite disappointed! She did Zerelda's hair for her herself, and Zerelda was so overcome by Matron's briskness and ability to talk without stopping that she submitted without saying a word.

Matron plaited Zerelda's hair into two fat plaits! Zerelda had never had her hair plaited in her life. She sat there, horror-struck. This awful school! Whatever would happen to her next?

“There,” said Matron, satisfied at last, tying the ends of the plaits with blue tape. She stepped back. “Now you look a proper schoolgirl, Zerelda—and very sensible and nice too. Why you want to go about pretending you are twenty, I don't know.”

Zerelda got up weakly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass. How
awful
! Could that really be herself? Why, she looked a nobody—just like all the other English girls. She crept out of Matron's room and fled up to the dormy to try and put her hair right.

She met Miss Peters, who stared at her as if she didn't know her. Zerelda smiled a weak smile and tried to get by without a word.

“Well -
Zerelda
!” she heard Miss Peters say, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. Zerelda shot down the corridor, praying that she would not meet anyone else.

Gwendoline was in the dormy, and she too stared at Zerelda as if she was seeing a ghost.

“Did Matron do that to you?” she asked. “Oh, Zerelda— you look like a real schoolgirl now—not a bit like yourself. Oh, I must tell the others that Matron plaited your hair.”

“If you dare to repeat such a thing I'll never speak to you again!” said Zerelda, in such a fierce voice that Gwen was quite scared. She shook her hair free of the plaits. “This horrible school! I'll never forgive Matron, never!”

ALICIA had not been allowed to forget the sneezing trick. All the form begged her to do it—except Sally. Sally still said she thought it was a dangerous joke to play, but Alicia laughed at her.

“You only say that because it's
my
trick!” she said, knowing that Sally was jealous of her friendship with Darrell. “If it was Irene's joke or Jean's you'd be thrilled.”

Jean was torn between her desire to see the trick played and her feeling that as head-girl she ought not to be too encouraging. Still, head-girls couldn't be too strict and prim-and she did badly want to see what would happen!

“There's to be a maths test next week,” said Alicia. “That's the time to do it! I bet we'll get out of the test all right. A-tish-oo!”

Everyone laughed. Darrell hugged herself. Oh, school was such fun! She enjoyed every single minute of it. She loved her work and her play, she loved the company of the chattering girls, she loved being third reserve—oh, everything was wonderful! This was the nicest term she had ever had.

Then she saw Bill looking anything but happy. Poor Bill! She was worried because Thunder was still not himself. Nobody else seemed to notice it—but Bill
knew
. Thunder wasn't just homesick, as she had thought at first. He wasn't well. She was very worried about him—and the more worried she got, the less attention she paid to her work, and the crosser she made Miss Peters.

“ Wilhelmina! Will you please pay attention! Wilhelmina! Will you repeat what I have just said? Wilhelmina, I will not have you in my class if you persist in looking out of the window and dreaming!” It was “Wilhelmina! Wilhelmina!” all the time.

It was dreadful. Bill was really very miserable now, but she said very little unless anyone actually asked her about Thunder. She knew that Jean disapproved strongly of her continual disobedience. But she simply couldn't help it! She must, must see Thunder each day, especially just now. Miss Peters was beginning to be puzzled over Bill. If the girl was so fond of her horse, why did she keep earning punishments forbidding her to see him? Miss Peters thought back a few days. Why, Bill couldn't have seen her beloved horse all the week. And yet she hadn't complained about it!

A suspicion came into Miss Peter's mind. Was Bill being disobedient? Surely not! Disobedience was not a thing that Miss Peters had to deal with very often. Girls rarely dared to disobey even her slightest word. She was noted for her good discipline.

She spoke about it to Miss Potts, who was in charge of North Tower, “I'm puzzled about Wilhemina, Miss Potts. I can't make her out. She is such a terrible dreamer, and yet she looks such a sensible, hardheaded little thing! Then, too, she seems so fond of that horse of hers—and yet although she knows I shall punish her by forbidding her to see him, she goes on being silly and getting punished! She can't have seen that horse of hers for a whole week now!”

Miss Potts looked startled. She frowned, trying to remember something clearly, “Well—that's funny—I could swear I saw Wilhemina in the stables yesterday when I went by, I looked in at the windows as I passed—and I'm almost certain it was Wilhemina—standing beside a big black horse.”

“Yes—that would be Thunder,” said Miss Peters, grimly. “The untrustworthy, disobedient little monkey! If I catch her disobeying I shall insist that the horse is sent back to her home. She can ride one of the school horses instead, I will not have her mooning all the morning over that horse, nice as he is—and being disobedient like that.”

Miss Peters was really very angry. She never could bear

Darrell and Bill tried to hide to be disobeyed. She went back to her room, feeling shocked and disappointed. She hadn't thought Wilhelmina would be so deceitful and untrustworthy. It just showed how little you knew about anyone!

Miss Peter felt more and more indignant about the whole thing as the day wore on. It so happened that she took the third form very little that day, as Miss Carton, the history mistress, Mam'zelle, Miss Linnie, the art mistress, and Mr. Young, the singing-master, each took the third form for a lesson. She had no chance of looking sharply at Bill to see if she looked guilty or not.

After dinner that morning there was about half an hour before afternoon school. This was a time when Bill very often slipped out to the stables. She usually went down the back stairs, out at a little side-door, and across to the stables by a path under the trees, so that, unless she was very unlucky, nobody would see her.

She slipped off to the stables as usual to see Thunder. He whinnied softly when he heard her footstep. She opened the big door and went inside. There was no one else there at all. Only the horses stamped and blew, glad of each other's company.

She went to Thunder's stall. He put his great black head into the crook of her arm and snuffled there happily. Bill stroked his velvety nose, “Thunder, do you feel better? Let me look at your eyes. Oh, Thunder, they aren't as bright as they ought to be—and I don't like the feel of your coat. It should be much silkier. It's harsh. Thunder, what's wrong? Don't be ill, darling Thunder, I couldn't bear it.”

Thunder blew a little, and whinnied happily. He didn't feel well, certainly—but that didn't matter when Bill was with him. He could feel ill and yet be happy at the same time if she was with him.

Upstairs in North Tower, Miss Peters walked along the corridor. She meant to find Bill and have a straight talk with her. She went to the door of the third-form common room and looked in. Wilhelmina was not there!

I want Wilhelmina,” said Miss Peters. “Where is she?”

Everybody knew, of course. But nobody was going to tell. Darrell wondered if she could possibly slip out and warn Bill to come back quickly.

“Shall I go and find her for you?” she said.

“No. I'll find her,” said Miss Peters. “Does anyone know where she is?”

Nobody answered. They all looked blank in a most irritating way. Miss Peters felt furious. She knew quite well that they all knew. Well, she couldn't expect them to sneak, if they thought Wilhemina was somewhere she ought not to be—in the stables!

I suppose she is in the stables,” said Miss Peters, grimly.

She looked at Jean. “You, as head-girl, Jean, ought to tell her not to be so foolish and dishonourable. You know I put everyone on their honour to obey any punishment I give.”

Jean went red and looked uncomfortable. It was all very well for Miss Peters to talk like that! Nobody could possibly make any impression on Bill if it meant that she would have to neglect Thunder!

“Stay here, all of you,” commanded Miss Peters, feeling sure that one or other might rush off to the stables to warn Bill if they got the chance. And Miss Peters meant to catch Bill herself and stop this kind of thing for good and all.

“Oh, poor Bill!” groaned Darrell, when Miss Peters had gone. “Now she'll get into a fearful row! I say—I bet Miss Peters has gone down the front stairs. If I race down the back ones, I
might
get to the stables first and warn Bill. I'll try!”

She didn't wait to hear what anyone had to say. She shot out of the room, almost knocked down Matron outside, raced down the corridor to the back stairs, went down them two at a time, slid through the side-door and out under the trees.

She shot over to the stable door and squeezed through it.

“Bill! Look out! Miss Peters is coming here!” she hissed. She saw Bill's startled face beside Thunder's black head.

Then she heard footsteps and groaned. “ It's too late— You'll be caught. Can't you hide?”

Darrell shot under a pile of straw and lay there, her heart beating wildly. Bill stood as if turned to stone, her freckled face pale with fright. The door opened wide and Miss Peters came in.

“Oh! So you
are
here, Wilhelmina!” she said, angrily. “I suppose you have been systematically disobeying me the whole week. I am really ashamed of you. You will never settle down at school whilst you have Thunder here, I can quite see that. He will have to be sent back home in a horsebox!”