Read Online Third Year at Malory Towers by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online

out of a form like that!” said Irene. “Poor old Zerelda. I bet she feels awful.”
    “I should think she feels too ashamed for anything,” said Mary-Lou. “I know how I should feel. I shouldn't want to look anyone in the face again!”
    “I bet the fourth form are glad,” said Jean. “Ellen told me
    They had got more order-marks because of Zerelda than they've ever had before! Let's hope she doesn't present us with too many. We haven't done too badly so far—except when Irene and Belinda leave their brains behind!”
    “I think we all ought to be very nice to Zerelda,” announced Gwendoline. “I think we ought to show her we're glad she'll be in our form.”
    Mavis looked at Gwendoline sourly. She knew quite well that once Zerelda appeared, she, Mavis, would lose Gwendoline's very fickle friendship. Nobody else had any time for Mavis. Gwendoline wasn't much of a friend, but at least she was somebody to talk with, and whisper to.
    “Well,” said Darrell, “Zerelda's got her faults, but she's jolly good-tempered and generous—and I vote we welcome her and show her we're glad to have her.”
    “So, feeling rather virtuous and generous-hearted, the third-formers made up their minds to be very nice to Zerelda, and ease her disgrace as much as they could.
    They pictured her slinking into their form room the next day, red in the face, hanging her head, almost in tears.
    Poor Zerelda! She would be glad of their welcome.
    “Darrell! Darrell Rivers! Come over her and I'll give you some catches,” called the games mistress. Darrell ran up. She was a swift runner and loved lacrosse. How she longed to be in one of the match-teams. But it was hard for a third-former to be in a school team unless she was very big and strong.
    “You catch well, Darrell!” called the games mistress. “One of these days you'll get into a match-team. We could do with a good runner and catcher in the third match team.”
    Darrell glowed with pride. Oh! If only she could be in the match-team. How pleased her mother and father would be and how she would boast to Felicity. “I was in the match-team when we went to play Barchester. I was on the wing because I'm so fast. And I shot a goal!”
    Darrell ran straight into Mam'zelle
    She pictured it all as she ran to take another catch. Suppose she practised very hard indeed every minute she could? Should she ask Molly Ronaldson for extra coaching? Molly always said she was willing to give the juniors any tips if they were keen enough to come and ask for them.
    But Molly was seventeen and Darrell was only fourteen. Molly seemed a very high-up, distant, rather grand person to Darrell, who hadn't really a very high opinion of herself.
    She saw Molly as she was going off the field, hot and happy. She screwed up all her courage and went up to the big, sturdy girl shyly.
    “Please, Molly—could I just ask you something? I do so want to be in one of the match-teams one day. Do you think there might be a possible chance if I do extra practice at catching—and—and if you could give me any tips?”
    As red as a beetroot Darrell stared at Molly, the famous games captain. Molly laughed and clapped Darrell on the back.
    “Good kid!” she said. “I was only saying to Joan yesterday how you were coming on, and a spot of extra coaching would do you good. I'll send you the times I give extra practice to possible match-team players, and you can come along any of the times you're free.”
    “Oh, thank you, Molly,” breathed Darrell, hardly able to speak for joy. “I'll come every time I can.” She ran off, her face glowing. Molly had actually spoken to Joan about her! She had noticed her, had seen that she was coming on well. Darrell felt so happy that she leapt along like a deer, colliding with Mam'zelle round a corner, and almost knocking her over.

    “Now, what is this behaviour?” said Mam'zelle, tottering on her high heels and clutching wildly at the wall. “Darrell! What are you thinking of, to