Third Year at Malory Towers (6 page)

Any other girl would have resented this, but Zerelda only grinned. Gwendoline, however, flared up at the unkind sneer at
her
games and gym performances, and scowled angrily at

Alicia.

“Nice little scowl you've got, Gwen,” said Belinda, appearing suddenly with her sketchbook. “Do you mind if I draw you like that? It's such a lovely scowl!”

Gwendoline scowled still more and flounced away. She knew Belinda's clever pencil and dreaded it! She didn't want her scowl to be drawn and passed round the common room, accompanied by delighted giggles. Belinda shut her book and looked disappointed in rather an exaggerated manner.

“Oh, she's gone! And it was such a lovely scowl! Never mind—I'll watch out for it and draw it another time.”

“Beast!” said Gwendoline, under her breath and went to sit by Mavis. She knew she would have to look out for Belinda and her pencil now! Once Belinda wanted to draw something she didn't rest till she had done so!

“You'd better go back to the fourth form common-room now,” said Jean to Zerelda. “The fourth-formers won't like it if you begin to live with us! We're rather beneath their notice, you know. And, after all, you are a fourth-former, Zerelda.” “I know. I wish I wasn't,” said Zerelda, getting up. “Aren't the fourth form girls “wunnerful” then?” said Alicia, with a grin.

Zerelda shrugged her shoulders and went out gracefully. “If she'd think of something else besides her looks and the way she's going to act, and being grown-up, and would put herself out to play games decently and take some interest in her work the fourth form wouldn't make her feel out of things,” said Jean, with her usual common sense. “But what's the good of telling Zerelda that? She simply doesn't belong to the school at all.”

Irene drifted in, looking for something. She hummed a lively little tune. “Tumty-ta-ti-tumpty-ta-ti-too!” She had just composed a gay dance, and was very pleased about it. The girls looked at her and grinned at one another.

“Where are you off to at this time of the evening, Irene?” asked Alicia.

Irene looked surprised. “Nowhere,” she said. “I'm just looking for my music-book. I want to write down my new tune. Tumty-ta-ti-tumty-ta-ti-too!”

“Yes, very nice,” said Alicia, approvingly. “But why have you got your hat and cloak on if you aren't going anywhere?”

“Oh, good gracious, have I?” said Irene, in dismay. She looked down at her cloak and felt her hat on her head. “Blow! When did I put these on? I did take them off, didn't I, when we came back from the walk this afternoon?”

“Well, you didn't have them on at tea-time or Miss Potts would have said something!” said Alicia. “You really are a chump, Irene.”

“Oh, yes, I know now what must have happened,” said Irene, sitting down in a chair, still with hat and cloak on. I went up to get a clean pair of stockings—and I was thinking of my new tune—and I must have taken my hat out instead of my stockings, and put it on—and then put on my cloak too. Blow! Now I shall have to go and take them off and find my stockings—and I do want to write down that tune.”

“I'll take them up for you and find your stockings,” said Belinda, who knew that Irene wouldn't he able to do anything sensible till she had written down her tune.

“
Will
you? Angel!” said Irene, and pulled off her hat and cloak. Darrell laughed. Belinda was as much of a scatterbrain as Irene. It would be a wonder if she got as for as the cupboard to put away Irene's things—and ten to one that she wouldn't remember the stockings!

Belinda disappeared with the hat and cloak. Irene began to hum her tune again. Mavis sang it in her lovely rich voice.

“Fine!” said Irene, pleased. “You make it sound twice as good, Mavis. One day I'll write a song for that voice of yours.”

“I'll sing it in New York,” said Mavis, graciously. “And that should make you famous, Irene, if
I
sing one of your songs! When I'm an opera-singer, I...”

“When you're an opera-singer, Mavis, You'll be even more conceited than you are now,” said Alicia's sharp voice, “which sounds impossible I know, but isn't.”

“Jean! Can't you stop Alicia saying such beastly unfair things?” protested Mavis, red with annoyance. “I'm not conceited. Can I help having a voice like mine? It's a gift, and I shall make it a gift to the whole world too, when I'm grown up.”

“Alicia's tongue is getting a bit sharp,” said Jean, “but you do rather ask for sharp things to be said to you, Mavis.”

Mavis was silent and cross. Gwendoline began to sympathize with her, for she too hated Alicia's hard hitting. Mary-Lou, darning a stocking in a corner, hoped that she would not come in for a flick of Alicia's tongue!

“Where's Belinda?” said Darrell. “She's an awful long time getting those stockings for you, Irene.”

“So she is,” said Irene, who had now completely forgotten about her stockings. “Blow! If she doesn't bring them soon, I'll have to go and fetch them myself. I simply must put a clean pair on for supper.”

Mam'zelle came bustling in, tip-tapping on her small feet in their high-heeled shoes. She held a hat and cloak in her hand.

“Irene!” she said, reproachfully, “These are yours! Three times already have I cleared up yours things from this place and that place. Now this time I have almost fallen down the stairs because of your hat and cloak!”

Irene stared in surprise. “But—where were they?” she asked.

“On the stairs—lying for me to fall over,” said Mam'zelle. “I see them on the stairs as I come down, and I say to myself, “What is this? Is it someone taken ill on the stairs!” But no, it is Irene's cloak and hat once more. I am very displeased with you, Irene. You will take an order-mark!”

“Oh
no
, Mam'zelle!” said Irene, distressed. Order-marks counted against the whole form. “Mam'zelle, I'm really very sorry.”

“One order-mark,” said Mam'zelle, and departed on her high heels.

“Blow Belinda!” said Irene. “What possessed her to put them on the stairs?”

Belinda came in at that moment. She was greeted by a volley of remarks. “We've got an order-mark because of you, idiot! What did you do with Irene's things? Mam'zelle found them on the stairs!”

“Golly!” said Belinda, dismayed. “Yes, I remember. I was going up the stairs with them, and I dropped my pencil. I chucked the things down to find it—and must have forgotten all about them. I
am
sorry, Irene.”

“It's all right,” said Irene, solemnly putting on her hat and cloak. “I'll take them up myself now—and I'll jolly well wear them so that I can't leave them lying about either!”

She disappeared for a long time. The bell rang for supper. There was a general clearing-up, and the girls got ready to go to the dining room.

“Where's Irene now?” said Jean, exasperated. “Honestly she ought to be kept in a cage then we'd always know where she was!”

“Here she is!” said Darrell, with a shout of laughter. “Irene! You've still got your hat and cloak on! Oh, You'll make us die of laughing. Quick, Alicia, take them off her and rush upstairs with them. She'll get another order-mark if we don't look out.”

DURING the first two or three weeks of term poor Zerelda had a very bad time. Although she was older even than the fourth-formers, and should therefore have found the work easy, she found, to her dismay, that she was far behind them in their standard of work!

It was a blow to Zerelda. After all her posing, and grownup ways, and her manner of appearing to look down on the others as young and silly, it was very humiliating to find that her maths, for instance, were nowhere near the standard of maths in the fourth form!

“Have you never done these sums before?” asked Miss Williams, in astonishment. “And what about algebra and geometry? You don't appear to understand the first thing about them, Zerelda.”

“We—we don't seem to do our lessons in America the same way as you do them here,” said Zerelda. “We don't bother so much. I never liked algebra or geometry, so I didn't worry about them.”

Miss Williams looked most disapproving. Was America really so slack in its teaching of children, or was it just that Zerelda was stupid?

“It isn't only your maths,” she said at last. “It's almost everything, Zerelda. Didn't you ever study grammar in your school?”

Zerelda thought hard. “Maybe we did,” she said at last, “But I guess we didn't pay much attention to the teacher who taught grammar. I guess we played about in her lessons.

“And didn't you do any history?” said Miss Williams, I realize, of course, that the history you would take would not be quite the same as ours- but Miss Carton, the history mistress, tells me that you don't know a single thing even about the history of your
own
country. America is a great country. It seems a pity to know nothing of its wonderful history.”

Zerelda looked troubled. She tried to think of something her school had really worked at. What had she taken real interest in? Ah—there was the dramatic class!

“We did a lot of Shakespeare, Miss Williams,” she said. “Gee! I just loved your Shakespeare. He's wunnerful. I did Lady Macbeth. You should have seen me trying to wash the guilt off my hands.”

“Yes. I can quite imagine it,” said Miss Williams, dryly. “But there's a little more to education than being able to act Lady Macbeth. Zerelda, you will have to work very very hard to catch up the work of your form. I am willing to give vow extra coaching, if you would like it, and Mam'zelle, who is very distressed at your French, says she also will give you some of her free time.”

Zerelda was really alarmed. Gee, wasn't it enough to have all these classes and games, and be expected to attend each one and be serious over the work, without having to do a whole lot of extra study? She looked so very alarmed that Miss Williams laughed.

“Well, Zerelda, I won't burden you with extra work just yet, if You'll really make an effort and try to give your attention to your school work and not—er—
quite
so much attention to your face, shall we say—and nails—and hair?”

Zerelda was annoyed. She was going to study to be a famous film star, so what was the use of all this algebra and history stuff? Just waste of time for a girl like her! She had good brains, she knew she had—it was just that American schools and English were so different. They had different standards. Life was easier in America.

She looked down at her long, beautifully polished nails and well-kept hands. She felt that Miss Williams had shamed her and made her feel small. Zerelda couldn't bear that! She was better than any of these tough little English girls any day! They didn't know a thing really!

So she looked stubborn and said nothing. Miss Williams gathered up her papers, thinking that Zerelda was really a very difficult girl.

“Well, that's all for now,” she said, briskly. “I shall expect much better work from now on, Zerelda—and please do think of the other fourth-formers too. You know that returned work means an order-mark, which counts against the whole form. You have got far too many.”

Zerelda thought that order-marks were very silly. She wouldn't have minded at all getting twenty or thirty a week! But the other fourth-formers minded very much.

The head-girl, Lucy, spoke to Zerelda about it. “Look here, Zerelda, can't you stop getting order-marks? There are two half-holidays given this term, but any form getting over forty order-marks has the holiday withheld. The form will be pretty wild if you make them miss their half-holiday, I can tell you!”

So, what with some serious talks from Miss Williams and some tickings-off from Lucy, and from Ellen, a serious, scholarship girl who had gone up from the third form into the fourth, and was very pleased about it, poor Zerelda had rather a bad time.

“There doesn't seem time to do anything!” she thought to herself, as she polished her nails that night. I simply must take care of my hair—and it takes ages to curl it properly and set it—and I can't let my complexion go—or my nails. I don't have a minute to myself. But I simply must do something about the work. For one thing, I feel as if I'm letting America down! I can't bear these English girls to be so much better at everything than I am!”

So Zerelda really did try with the work. But her pride would not let her cast off her posing and her grown-up ways. She no longer really looked down on the English girls, but she was still going to show them that she, Zerelda, was far, far above them in all the ways that mattered!

Zerelda had hoped that she would be able to show her ability for acting in the play the fourth form were going to perform. But, alas! For her, it was a French play, and Zerelda's French did not please Mam'zelle at all.

“
C'est terrible
!” cried Mam'zelle Dupont, and the other Mam'zelle for once agreed with her. Both of them were astonished at Zerelda and her ways, and spent a few pleasant half-hours telling each other of Zerelda, ‘
cet enfant terrible,’
that terrible girl.

When Zerelda had been awarded fifteen order-marks, had three lessons out of every six returned, and had one day given in no prep, at all because she said she couldn't do any of it, Miss Williams went to Miss Grayling.

“Zerelda Brass isn't up to the fourth form,” she told Miss Grayling. “She's making them furious because of the order-marks she's getting. The trouble is they know what a lot of time she wastes over her appearance, and they think if she gave a bit more time to her work, it would be better all round. I've told her this myself, of course. I don't think she's a bad girl at all, Miss Grayling—only silly, and brought up with quite the wrong ideas. What are we to do?”

“Do you think extra coaching would help?” asked Miss Grayling. “She is nearly sixteen, you know. She ought to be well up to School Certificate standard. She had quite a good report from America.”

“No. I don't think extra coaching would help at all,” said Miss Grayling. “It would worry her too much. She simply isn't up to the fourth form—and I really doubt if she's up to third form standard either! The trouble is she's got such a great opinion of herself, and appears to look down on the others. They resent it.”