Third Year at Malory Towers (2 page)

“Nearly sixteen,” said Zerelda, patting the big roll on the top of her head. “No, I guess I won't be in your class. You're not very big are you?”

“I'm as big as anyone else in my form,” said Darrell, and she thought to herself that if she wore her hair in the same ridiculous way as Zerelda did, she too would look tall.

She began to talk about Malory Towers. It was her favourite subject, so her voice went on and on, telling about the great school with its four big towers, one at each end— the courtyard in the middle—the enormous pool in the rocks, filled by the sea each tide, where the girls bathed in the summer-time.

“And in each tower are the dormies where we sleep, and our common-rooms—the rooms we play about in, you know, when we're not in class,” said Darrell. “Our house-mistress is Miss Potts. By the way, which tower are you in?”

There was no answer. Darrell looked in angry indignation at Zerelda. She was fast asleep! She hadn't heard a single word of all that Darrell had been telling her! Well!

DARRELL was so annoyed with Zerelda for falling asleep whilst she told her all about her beloved Malory Towers that she made up her mind not to say another word when Zerelda deigned to wake up.

She took a good look at the American girl. She was certainly very striking-looking, though her mane of hair was not really a very nice shade of gold. Darrell thought that Brass was a good surname for Zerelda. Her hair did look brassy! Darrell wondered if it had been dyed. But no, surely nobody would let her do that. Perhaps girls grew up more quickly in America though?

“It's a pity she's coming to Malory towers,” thought Darrell, looking closely at Zerelda's beautifully powdered face, with its curling eyelashes and rosy cheeks. “She just won't fit. Though Gwendoline will love her, I expect! But Gwendoline Mary always does lose her silly heart to people like Zerelda!”

Mr. Rivers looked back at the sleeping Zerelda and gave Darrell a comradely grin. She smiled back. She wondered what Zerelda's father and mother could be like; she thought they must be pretty queer to have a daughter like Zerelda.

Then she gave herself a little shake. “She may be quite nice really. It may just be because she comes from a country that lets its girls grow up sooner than ours do,” thought Darrell. She was a very fair and just girl and she made up her mind to give Zerelda a chance.

“Though thank goodness she'll be in a higher form, as she's nearly sixteen,” thought Darrell. “I shan't see much of her. I hope she's not in North Tower. Oh dear—whatever would Miss Potts think of her if she was!”

She thought of the downright Miss Potts. She thought of plump, sensible Matron who never stood any nonsense from anyone. And she thought of the mistress who took the third form, in which Darrell had already been for a term.

“Miss Peters! Gracious! She'd have a fit if Zerelda was in her form!” thought Darrell, seeing the mannish, hearty-voiced Miss Peters in her mind's eye. “It's really almost a pity she won't be in my form. I'd love to see Miss Peters deal with Zerelda!”

Darrell was tired when they at last reached Malory Towers. They had stopped twice on the way for meals, and Zerelda had awakened, and talked in a gracious, grown-up manner to Mr. and Mrs. Rivers. Apparently she thought England was “just wunnerful”. She also thought that she, Zerelda, could teach it a few things.

Mrs. Rivers was polite and friendly, as she always was to everyone. Mr. Rivers, who had no patience with people like Zerelda, talked to Darrell and ignored the American girl.

“Say, isn't your father wunnerful?” said Zerelda to Darrell, when they were speeding on their way again. “Those great eyes of his—and the black beetling brows? Wunnerful!”

Darrell wanted to giggle. She longed to tell her father about his “black beetling brows” but there was no chance.

“Tell me about this school of yours,” said Zerelda, sweetly, thinking that Darrell was rather silent.

“I've told you already,” said Darrell, rather stiffly, “but you must have been bored because you went to sleep.”

“Say, isn't that just too bad?” said Zerelda, apologetically.

“There's no time to tell you anything, anyway,” said Darrell, “because here we are!” Her eyes shone as they always did when they saw Malory Towers again for the first time.

The car swept up to the front door. It always seemed like the entrance to a castle, to Darrell. The big drive was now crowded with cars, and girls of all ages were rushing about, carrying bags and lacrosse sticks.

“Come on,” said Darrell, to Zerelda. “Let's get out. Golly, it's grand to be back! Hallo, Belinda! I say, Irene, got your health certificate? Hallo, Jean. Heard about Sally? She's in quarantine. Sickening, isn't it?”

Jean caught sight of Zerelda getting out of the car, and stared as if she couldn't believe her eyes. Zerelda still had no hat on, and her hair cascaded down her shoulders, and the roll on top glinted in a ray of late sunshine.

“Golly—who's that? Some relation of yours?” said Jean.

Darrell giggled. “No, thank goodness. She's a new girl!”

“
No
! My word, what does she think she's come to Malory Towers for? To act in the films?”

Darrell darted here and there among her friends, happy and excited. Her father undid the trunks, and the school porter carried them in. Darrell caught sight of the label on Zerelda's trunk. “North Tower”.

“Blow! She's in our tower after all,” she thought. “Hallo, Alicia! Had good hols?”

Alicia came up, her bright eyes gleaming. “Super!” she said. “My word - who's that?”

“New girl,” said Darrell. “I know how you feel, I couldn't take my eyes off her either when I first saw her. Unbelievable, isn't she?”

“Look—there's our dear Gwendoline Mary having a weep on Mother's shoulder as usual!” said Alicia, her attention caught by the sight of Gwendoline's mother, who was dabbing away tears as she said good-bye to Gwendoline.

“There's Miss Winter, Gwendoline's old governess, too,” said Darrell. “No wonder poor Gwen never get any better— always Mother's Darling Pet. We get some sense into her in term-time, and then she loses it all again in the hols.”

Gwendoline caught sight of Zerelda and stared in surprise. A look of great admiration came over her face. Alicia nudged Darrell.

“Gwendoline's going to worship Zerelda. Look! Don't you know that expression on her face? Zerelda will have at least one willing slave!”

Gwendoline said something to her mother and her governess. They both looked at Zerelda. But it was plain that neither of them liked that look of her as much as Gwendoline did.

“Good-bye, darling,” said her mother, still dabbing her eyes. “Write to me heaps of times.”

But Gwendoline Mary was not paying much attention. She was wondering if anyone was looking after Zerelda. Could she possibly go up to her and offer to show her round? Then she saw that Darrell was with her. Darrell would soon push her off if she went up, she knew.

Zerelda stood looking round at all the bustle and excitement. She was dressed in the same brown coat, brown stocking and shoes as the others, and yet she managed to look quite different. She didn't seem to notice the curious glances thrown at her.

Darrell, seeing her father and mother about to go, rushed over to them to say good-bye.

“It's so nice to see you plunging into everything so happily as soon as you're back,” said her mother, pleased to see how gladly everyone greeted Darrell. “You are no longer one of the smaller ones, Darrell—you seem quite big compared to the first-and second-formers now!”

“I should think so! Babies!” said Darrell, with a laugh. “Good-bye, darlings. I'll write on Sunday as usual. Give Felicity my love and tell her Malory Towers is as nice as ever.”

The car moved off down the drive. Darrell waved till it was gone. Then she felt a punch on the back and turned to see Irene there. “Darrell! Come along to Matron with me. I can't find my health certificate.”

“Irene! I don't believe you;” said Darrell. “Yes, I'll come. Where's my night-case? Oh, there it is. Hey, Gwendoline, look out with that lacrosse stick of yours. That's twice you've tripped me up.”

Darrell suddenly remembered Zerelda. “Oh golly! I've forgotten Zerelda. She's going to be in North tower too. I'd better get her or she'll be feeling absolutely lost. I know how I felt when I came here first—everyone laughing and ragging and talking and I didn't know a soul!”

She set off towards Zerelda. But Zerelda did not look at all lost or bewildered. She looked thoroughly at home, with a tiny smile on her red mouth as if she was really rather amused by everything going on around her.

Before Darrell could reach her someone else spoke to Zerelda.

“Are you a new girl? I believe you are in North Tower. If you'd like to come with me I'll show you round a bit.”

“Gee, that's kind of you,” said Zerelda, in her slow drawl.

“Look,” said Darrell, in disgust. “There's Gwendoline Mary all over her already! Trust her\ She just adores anyone like Zerelda. Zerelda, come with us. We'll take you to Matron.”

“I'll look after her, Darrell,” said Gwendoline, turning her large pale-blue eyes on Darrell. “You go and look for Sally.”

“Sally's not coming back yet,” said Darrell, “she's in quarantine. I'll look after Zerelda. She came down with us.”

“You can both take me around,” said Zerelda, charmingly, and smiled her slow smile at Gwendoline. Gwen slipped her arm through Zerelda's and took her up the steps into the hall.

Alicia grinned. “Let's hope dear Gwen will take her off our hands for good,” she said. “But I suppose she'll be in a much higher form. She looks about eighteen!”

The groans of Irene attracted their attention. “Oh, Irene! I simply don't believe you've lost your health certificate again,” said Darrell. “Nobody could possible lose it term after term as you do.”

“Well, I have,” said Irene. “Do come to Matron now and stand by me.”

So they all went to find Matron. Darrell and Alicia gave up their health certificates. Matron looked at Irene.

I've lost it, Matron,” said Irene. “The worst of it is I don't even remember having it today! I mean, I usually remember Mother giving it to me, anyhow—but I don't even remember that this time. My memory's getting worse than ever.”

“Your mother came to see me not ten minutes ago,” said Matron, “and she gave me your certificate herself. Go away, Irene, or you'll make me lose it too!”

Gwendoline brought Zerelda to Matron. Matron stared as if she couldn't believe her eyes. “Who's this? Oh—Zerelda Brass. Yes, you're in North Tower. Is this your health certificate? She's in your dormy, Gwendoline. Take her there -and - er - get her ready to go down for a meal.”

Darrell grinned at Alicia, and Alicia winked back. Matron wouldn't be quite so polite about Zerelda tomorrow.

“Come on,” said Alicia. “Let's go and unpack our night-cases. I've heaps to tell you, Darrell!”

“ANY more new girls coming, have you heard?” Darrell asked Alicia.

“Yes, one. Somebody called Wilhelmina,” said Alicia. “She's coming tomorrow. One of my brothers knows one of
her
brothers. When he heard she was coming here, he whistled like anything and said, “Bill will wake you up all right!”“

“Who's Bill?” said Darrell.

“Wilhelmina, apparently,” said Alicia, taking the things out of her night-case. “She's got seven brothers! Imagine it! Seven! And she's the only girl.”

“Golly!” said Darrell, trying to imagine what it would be like to have seven brothers. She had none. Alicia had three. But seven!

“I should think she's half a boy herself then,” said Darrell.

“Probably,” said Alicia. “Blow, where's my toothbrush? I know I packed it.”

“Look—there's Mavis!” said Darrell. Alicia looked up. Mavis had been a new girl last term. She had not been a great success, because she was lazy and selfish. She had a beautiful voice, pure and sweet, but curiously deep—a most unusual voice that was being well trained.

Mavis was proud of her voice and proud of the career she was going to have. “When I'm an opera-singer,” she was always saying, “I shall sing in Milan. I shall sing in New York. When I'm an opera-singer, I shall...”

The others got very tired of hearing about Mavis's future career. But they were most impressed with her strong, deep voice, that could easily fill the great school hall. It was so rich and sweet that even the little ones listened in delight.

“But the worst of Mavis is that she thinks she's just perfect because she's got such a lovely voice,” Jean had complained a dozen times the term before. Jean was head-girl of the third form, and very blunt and forthright. “She doesn't see that she's only just a schoolgirl, with duties to do, and work to get through, and games to play. She's always thinking of that voice of hers—and it's wonderful, we all know that. But what a pity to have a wonderful voice in such a poor sort of person!”

Darrell hadn't liked Mavis. She looked at her now. She saw a discontented, conceited little face, with small dark eyes and a big mouth. Auburn hair was plaited into two thick braids.

“Mavis is all voice and vanity and nothing else,” she said to Alicia. “I know that sounds horrid, but it's true.”

“Yes,” said Alicia, and paused to glance at Mavis too. “And yet. Darrell, that girl will have a wonderful career with that voice of hers, you know. It's unique, and she'll have the whole world at her feet later on. The trouble is that she knows it now.”

“I wonder if Gwendoline will still go on fussing round her, now she's seen Zerelda?” said Darrell. Gwendoline, always ready to fawn round anyone gifted, rich or beautiful, had run round Mavis in a ridiculous way the term before. But then Gwendoline Mary never learnt that one should pick one's friends for quite different things. She was quite unable to see why Darrell liked Sally, or why Daphne liked little Mary-Lou, or why everyone liked honest, trustable Jean.

“Where's Betty?” asked Darrell. “I haven't seen her yet.” Betty was Alicia's best friend, as clever and amusing as Alicia, and almost as sharp-tongued. She was not in North Tower, much to Alicia's sorrow. But Miss Grayling, the Head Mistress, did not intend to put the two girls into the same house. She was sorry they were friends, because they were too alike, and got each other into trouble continually because of their happy-go-lucky, don't-care ways.