Read Online Third Year at Malory Towers by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Enid Blyton
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come round the corner like a wild beast?”
“Oh, Mam'zelle— sorry !” cried Darrell, happily. “Honestly I didn't mean it. Oh, Mam'zelle, Molly Ronaldson is going to give me extra coaching at lacrosse. Think of it! I might be in the third match-team one day!”
Mam'zelle was just going to remark that not for anything would she rejoice at that big Molly giving Darrell coaching at that extraordinary game lacrosse, when she saw Darrell's shining eyes. She had a soft spot for Darrell, and she smiled at her.
“I am very glad for you, ma petite !” she said. “It is indeed a high honour. But do not go round the corner and knock your poor Mam'zelle over in this way again. You have made my heart go patter-pit!”
“Pitter-pat, you mean, Mam'zelle,” said Darrell, and ran off laughing.
She told the others what Molly had said. They were most impressed, all except those who disliked games. No one of the third form had ever been in a match-team, though one or two steady ones, such as Jean, had tried very hard. So had Sally.
“ What with Bill rushing off to her horse every single minute, Irene rushing off to try out her new tune on the piano, Mavis trilling her voice, and now you, Darrell, racing off to practise catching from dawn to dusk, the third form will soon have a nice empty common-room,” said Alicia, a little jealous of Molly's notice of Darrell.
“Zerelda will be there to make up!” said Darrell. “I don't expect she'll mind our company there—she was always slipping into our common-room till you stopped her, Jean.”
Zerelda came to the third form classroom the next day, carrying her pencil-box and paint-box, which she had forgotten to take to the form room the night before. She walked in looking quite unconcerned.
The third-formers immediately began to be nice. “Here, Zerelda—wouldn't you rather have this desk till Sally comes back?” said Darrell. “It's got a nice position.”
“No, Zerelda. You come and sit by me,” said Gwendoline.
“I should like that.”
Alicia looked keenly at Zerelda. Zerelda looked exactly the same as ever! She didn't hang her head, she didn't look upset, she wasn't even red in the face.
“I don't believe she cares a bit!” thought Alicia. But Zerelda did. She cared terribly. It was very hard indeed to walk into the classroom of a lower form, knowing that everyone had been told that she had been sent down.
She wished they wouldn't try and be kind to her like this. It was nice of them, but she hated to think they were being nice because they were sorry for her.
“Keep you chin up, Zerelda!” she said to herself. “You're American. Fly the Stars and Stripes! Make out you don't mind a bit.”
So, appearing quite unconcerned, she took the desk she had put her things in the night before, put in her pencil-box and paint-box, and began to look for the book she would need for the first lesson.
The third-formers felt a little indignant. They had so virtuously and generously decided to welcome Zerelda, and help her not to mind what they considered to be a great disgrace—and she didn't seem to mind at all. She was exactly the same as usual, speaking in her slow drawl, fluffing up her hair, appearing even more sure of herself than ever.
Darrell felt rather annoyed. She considered that Zerelda ought to have shown a little more feeling. She didn't stop to think that Zerelda might be putting on a show of bravery, and that was all. Underneath it all the girl was miserable, ashamed and feeling very small.
Miss Peters came in briskly as usual. Mary-Lou shut the door. Miss Peters swept keen eyes round the class. “Sit!” she said, and they sat. That keen glance had taken in Zerelda-but Miss Peters saw what the others did not see—a rather panic-stricken heart under all Zerelda's brave show. A hand that shook slightly as she picked up a book—a voice that wasn't quite so steady as usual.
“She feels it all right,” thought Miss Peters. “But she's not going to
“Oh, Mam'zelle— sorry !” cried Darrell, happily. “Honestly I didn't mean it. Oh, Mam'zelle, Molly Ronaldson is going to give me extra coaching at lacrosse. Think of it! I might be in the third match-team one day!”
Mam'zelle was just going to remark that not for anything would she rejoice at that big Molly giving Darrell coaching at that extraordinary game lacrosse, when she saw Darrell's shining eyes. She had a soft spot for Darrell, and she smiled at her.
“I am very glad for you, ma petite !” she said. “It is indeed a high honour. But do not go round the corner and knock your poor Mam'zelle over in this way again. You have made my heart go patter-pit!”
“Pitter-pat, you mean, Mam'zelle,” said Darrell, and ran off laughing.
She told the others what Molly had said. They were most impressed, all except those who disliked games. No one of the third form had ever been in a match-team, though one or two steady ones, such as Jean, had tried very hard. So had Sally.
“ What with Bill rushing off to her horse every single minute, Irene rushing off to try out her new tune on the piano, Mavis trilling her voice, and now you, Darrell, racing off to practise catching from dawn to dusk, the third form will soon have a nice empty common-room,” said Alicia, a little jealous of Molly's notice of Darrell.
“Zerelda will be there to make up!” said Darrell. “I don't expect she'll mind our company there—she was always slipping into our common-room till you stopped her, Jean.”
Zerelda came to the third form classroom the next day, carrying her pencil-box and paint-box, which she had forgotten to take to the form room the night before. She walked in looking quite unconcerned.
The third-formers immediately began to be nice. “Here, Zerelda—wouldn't you rather have this desk till Sally comes back?” said Darrell. “It's got a nice position.”
“No, Zerelda. You come and sit by me,” said Gwendoline.
“I should like that.”
Alicia looked keenly at Zerelda. Zerelda looked exactly the same as ever! She didn't hang her head, she didn't look upset, she wasn't even red in the face.
“I don't believe she cares a bit!” thought Alicia. But Zerelda did. She cared terribly. It was very hard indeed to walk into the classroom of a lower form, knowing that everyone had been told that she had been sent down.
She wished they wouldn't try and be kind to her like this. It was nice of them, but she hated to think they were being nice because they were sorry for her.
“Keep you chin up, Zerelda!” she said to herself. “You're American. Fly the Stars and Stripes! Make out you don't mind a bit.”
So, appearing quite unconcerned, she took the desk she had put her things in the night before, put in her pencil-box and paint-box, and began to look for the book she would need for the first lesson.
The third-formers felt a little indignant. They had so virtuously and generously decided to welcome Zerelda, and help her not to mind what they considered to be a great disgrace—and she didn't seem to mind at all. She was exactly the same as usual, speaking in her slow drawl, fluffing up her hair, appearing even more sure of herself than ever.
Darrell felt rather annoyed. She considered that Zerelda ought to have shown a little more feeling. She didn't stop to think that Zerelda might be putting on a show of bravery, and that was all. Underneath it all the girl was miserable, ashamed and feeling very small.
Miss Peters came in briskly as usual. Mary-Lou shut the door. Miss Peters swept keen eyes round the class. “Sit!” she said, and they sat. That keen glance had taken in Zerelda-but Miss Peters saw what the others did not see—a rather panic-stricken heart under all Zerelda's brave show. A hand that shook slightly as she picked up a book—a voice that wasn't quite so steady as usual.
“She feels it all right,” thought Miss Peters. “But she's not going to
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