may I ask, have you not apologised to me for your tardiness?’
There was a short pause whilst Patty considered which question Miss Briggs wanted answered first, but even as she opened her mouth to speak Miss Briggs grabbed her by the shoulder and slapped the side of her face sharply. Patty fell back a pace and put a hand to her hot cheek, but she could not help thinking that if Miss Briggs had known the full story of Laura’s chewing gum she would have got a good deal more than a slap on the cheek. Patty had found the chewing gum stuck to the iron railings round the park and had shared it with Laura. There had still been a trace of minty flavour in the grey and gooey mass and she had been enjoying her share when Miss Briggs had shouted at Laura. Naturally, Patty had immediately swallowed her own piece and, had it not been for the pain in her feet, would have worried quite a lot over what the chewing gum was doing in her insides. Suppose it gave her appendicitis? There was a rude song the girls used to sing, about the travels of a peanut … that had given someone appendicitis. However, she could not appear to be unmoved by the slap or Miss Briggs would grow suspicious, so she said, breathlessly: ‘Sorry, miss. I were last down to the cloakroom and there were only one pair of shoes left, so I had to put them on, didn’t I?’
She did not expect sympathy or even understanding but felt the familiar sinking of the heart when Miss Briggs snapped: ‘Last as usual, you mean. Can nothing teach you not to dream your life away, girl? Everyone else enjoys their walks and hurries to the cloakroom for outdoor clothing and shoes, but not you. Oh no, Miss Patty Peel comes in her own good time, when she thinks she will.’
There was a titter from the nearest group of girls, no doubt hoping to curry favour with Miss Briggs, though Laura gave her a sympathetic look out of her large, rather tearful-looking grey eyes. Patty knew most of the girls resented her because she was at least a year younger than they. The previous term she had been in Miss Nixon’s class with girls of her own age, but had rapidly become so bored by the childish work that her fellow classmates were stumbling through that she had begun to be naughty and disruptive. Miss Nixon, her gentle, undemanding form teacher, had taken her to one side and explained, almost apologetically, that she had suggested Patty should be moved from Class 3 to Class 4. ‘I don’t have the time to set you special work, which means you are often idle and often, I’m afraid, rather naughty,’ she had explained. ‘In a higher class, with older children, you will find the work more challenging and be less likely to get into trouble. I shall miss you, Patty, because you are easily my brightest pupil, but to hold you back would be selfish and not in the interests of the rest of my class. So when the new term begins in September, you will go to Miss Briggs’s class, where I am sure you will speedily find your feet.’
Patty had liked Miss Nixon but had known nothing about Miss Briggs and was appalled to find that her new teacher was both spiteful and vicious, much given to hitting her pupils and inventing punishments which often affected the whole class.
In a way, Miss Nixon had been right; removed from the company of children her own age, Patty had had to work hard to catch up. Having done so, however, she found herself even more unpopular than she had been with her own age group. The older girls might have tolerated her had she seemed to struggle or ask for their help, but that was not Patty’s way. She had simply slogged at her books, reading whenever she had time to herself, and questioning the teachers until she had no need to enquire further, for she understood what the lessons were all about. And then she had soared to the top of the class once more and had reaped the reward of being called a goody-goody, a know-all, and even teacher’s pet.
This last, as Patty knew to her cost,
There was a short pause whilst Patty considered which question Miss Briggs wanted answered first, but even as she opened her mouth to speak Miss Briggs grabbed her by the shoulder and slapped the side of her face sharply. Patty fell back a pace and put a hand to her hot cheek, but she could not help thinking that if Miss Briggs had known the full story of Laura’s chewing gum she would have got a good deal more than a slap on the cheek. Patty had found the chewing gum stuck to the iron railings round the park and had shared it with Laura. There had still been a trace of minty flavour in the grey and gooey mass and she had been enjoying her share when Miss Briggs had shouted at Laura. Naturally, Patty had immediately swallowed her own piece and, had it not been for the pain in her feet, would have worried quite a lot over what the chewing gum was doing in her insides. Suppose it gave her appendicitis? There was a rude song the girls used to sing, about the travels of a peanut … that had given someone appendicitis. However, she could not appear to be unmoved by the slap or Miss Briggs would grow suspicious, so she said, breathlessly: ‘Sorry, miss. I were last down to the cloakroom and there were only one pair of shoes left, so I had to put them on, didn’t I?’
She did not expect sympathy or even understanding but felt the familiar sinking of the heart when Miss Briggs snapped: ‘Last as usual, you mean. Can nothing teach you not to dream your life away, girl? Everyone else enjoys their walks and hurries to the cloakroom for outdoor clothing and shoes, but not you. Oh no, Miss Patty Peel comes in her own good time, when she thinks she will.’
There was a titter from the nearest group of girls, no doubt hoping to curry favour with Miss Briggs, though Laura gave her a sympathetic look out of her large, rather tearful-looking grey eyes. Patty knew most of the girls resented her because she was at least a year younger than they. The previous term she had been in Miss Nixon’s class with girls of her own age, but had rapidly become so bored by the childish work that her fellow classmates were stumbling through that she had begun to be naughty and disruptive. Miss Nixon, her gentle, undemanding form teacher, had taken her to one side and explained, almost apologetically, that she had suggested Patty should be moved from Class 3 to Class 4. ‘I don’t have the time to set you special work, which means you are often idle and often, I’m afraid, rather naughty,’ she had explained. ‘In a higher class, with older children, you will find the work more challenging and be less likely to get into trouble. I shall miss you, Patty, because you are easily my brightest pupil, but to hold you back would be selfish and not in the interests of the rest of my class. So when the new term begins in September, you will go to Miss Briggs’s class, where I am sure you will speedily find your feet.’
Patty had liked Miss Nixon but had known nothing about Miss Briggs and was appalled to find that her new teacher was both spiteful and vicious, much given to hitting her pupils and inventing punishments which often affected the whole class.
In a way, Miss Nixon had been right; removed from the company of children her own age, Patty had had to work hard to catch up. Having done so, however, she found herself even more unpopular than she had been with her own age group. The older girls might have tolerated her had she seemed to struggle or ask for their help, but that was not Patty’s way. She had simply slogged at her books, reading whenever she had time to herself, and questioning the teachers until she had no need to enquire further, for she understood what the lessons were all about. And then she had soared to the top of the class once more and had reaped the reward of being called a goody-goody, a know-all, and even teacher’s pet.
This last, as Patty knew to her cost,
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