Second Form at Malory Towers (5 page)

Mary-Lou slipped happily into a seat beside Daphne and began to explain a few things to her. Without realizing it she had soon done the whole of the work, and Daphne smiled to herself, and thanked Mary-Lou warmly.

“That's all right,” said Mary-Lou, shyly. She gazed at Daphne's curling golden hair. “You've got beautiful hair,” she said.

Daphne was like Gwen. She loved people to admire her and say nice things. She looked at little Mary-Lou and quite liked her. Also she thought it would be extremely useful if Mary-Lou would always help her with her French.

“I suppose you wouldn't give me a hand with my French sometimes, would you?” she asked. I don't want any extra coaching from either of the Mam'zelles, but I'd love to let you explain things to me. You explain very well.”

Nobody had ever asked Mary-Lou for help before in that way. She went brilliant red, and swallowed hard.

"I'd love to.” she said at last. “Fancy
me
helping
you
! I'm the one that's usually always rushing round for help. I'd love to, Daphne.”

So, to the astonishment of the second-formers, they saw the curious sight of little Mary-Lou sitting by Daphne in the evenings at the end of the common-room, carefully explaining the mistakes made in the French exercise of the day before!

“
And
doing all the next day's work for her too!” said Darrell in disgust She didn't like to see the faithful Mary-Lou sitting so long with somebody else. Why, Mary-Lou had tagged along behind Darrell and Sally for terms and terms! Surely she wasn't going to make mat awful Daphne her friend.

“Let her be,” said the sensible Sally. “If she wants to help her, why not? Daphne is awful at French, but I don't blame her for not taking extra coaching from the Mam'zelles. You know bow irritable Mam'zelle Rougier gets in the evening, and you know how long Mam'zelle Dupont keeps you if you do go for extra work. You're supposed to go for half an hour and she keeps you two hours!”

“I hope Daphne won't put any of her silly ideas into Mary-Lou's head,” said Darrell.

“Maybe Mary-Lou will put a few sensible ideas into Daphne's head,” said Sally. I know you're longing to interfere, Darrell, don't!”

The gills soon sorted themselves out in the form, making their own friends, choosing people to sit next to and go walks with. It was nice to have a particular friend, and to have someone to confide in.

Sally had Darrell and Darrell had Sally. Irene had Belinda. The two became quite inseparable, and did one another no good. What one forgot the other certainly didn't remember! They seemed to make one another worse.

Alicia, of course, had Betty. Alicia was not as good-tempered as usual. She still smarted because she had not been made head-girl, and she was not at all nice to Sally nor as loyal to her as she should have been. Sally took no notice, but she was not very happy about it Gwen had Daphne, of course—and now Mary-Lou seemed to want Daphne too! How was Gwen going to feel about that?

“You needn't worry,” said Daphne to Gwen. “I'm only using her, silly little thing! I'll let her come out with me sometimes, when you're busy, because I don't want her to mink I only want her help for my French. You can use her too, Gwen. Copy my work when I've done it!”

So Gwendoline put up with Mary-Lou's company at times, and even said nothing when she went off alone with Daphne. What did it matter? Daphne was only using her!

But all the same Daphne couldn't help liking little Mary-Lou—and it was certainly a change from the silly Gwen to have good-hearted Mary-Lou trotting by her side once or twice a week!

After a few weeks Alicia got restless. It's time we livened things up a bit!” she said to Betty. I know we're second-formers now and all that—but there's no reason why we shouldn't have a bit of fun. Sally's such a bore-never a joke, never a trick!”

“What shall we do?” said Betty, her wicked dark eyes gleaming. I've got some invisible chalk. Have you got anything?”

“Invisible chalk! You never told me!” said Alicia, her face brightening. “What is it? Show me!”

I've got it in my locker, in a box,” said Betty. “The common-room will be empty now. Come along and I'll show you. It's queer stuff.”

The two girls went to their common room. Betty opened her locker and took out a tin box. Inside, wrapped carefully in paper, was a thick slab of curious pink chalk.

“It doesn't look invisible!” said Alicia. “What does it do?”

“Well, if you rub it on to a chair, it can't possibly be seen.” said Betty. “And whoever sits down on it makes it warm and it leaves a bright pink patch on a dress or skirt.”

“I see,” said Alicia. “Golly—we could rub it on the mistress's chair in our form-room—when Mam'zelle Rougier is coming perhaps.”

I know! Let's rub it on to Mr. Young's chair, when he comes to take singing!” said Betty. “On his piano stool! Then he'll sit down hard on it when he plays accompaniment for our songs—and when he gets up and turns round to write on the blackboard—golly, what a scream!”

Alicia laughed loudly. “It would be better to play it on Mr. Young than on Nosey or Mam'zelle—he won't suspect a thing—and the first form will have a share in the joke too, because they take singing with us!”

Alicia cheered up considerably after this. She and Betty tried out the invisible chalk very carefully, and it was a great success.

Betty took a wooden-bottomed chair and rubbed the curious pink chalk all over it. “Look,” she said, “it doesn't show at all, Alicia. Can you see anything of it?” Alicia looked carefully at the chair, tipping it this way and that “It's perfect,” she said. “Not a thing to be seen! Funny how you can rub it on and it seems to disappear, Betty. It really is invisible. Now, you sit down on it and let me see what happens.”

Betty sat down, and remained there for a minute or two. The chalk would not work unless it was slightly warmed. As Betty was sitting solemnly there with Alicia watching her, Gwendoline popped her head in to look for Daphne. She was astonished to see Betty sitting solemnly by herself on a chair, with Alicia a little way off.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously. “What's happening?”

“Nothing,” said Alicia. “Buzz off! Daphne's not here.”

“But what are you
doing
?” persisted Gwendoline, suspecting something, though she didn't know what “Why is Betty sitting on that uncomfortable chair in the middle of the room like that?”

“Alicia! Nosey wants you!” suddenly cried a voice, and Jean's head came round the door. “Hurry! She's in a stew about something. Your maths paper, I should think.”

“Blow!” said Alicia, and shot off. “Be back in a minute, Betty,” she said, and ran down the passage. Jean looked with interest at Betty sitting all alone in the middle of the common room.

“Tired?” she asked. Betty scowled. She felt foolish. She wanted to hurl a book at Gwendoline's silly golden head, but she didn't dare to get up in case she had a nice chalky pattern on her back. She didn't want to let anyone else into the trick at the moment.

“Paralysed or something, poor thing,” said Gwendoline. “Can't get up. Or perhaps it's rheumatism!”

To Betty's great relief Gwendoline became tired of teasing her and went out to find Daphne. Jean gave a grin and left too. Betty got up and looked round at herself. She gave a chuckle of delight. She had a brilliant pink pattern on the skirt of her tunic. How extraordinary that the invisible chalk should act like that when it was warmed up!

Alicia came flying in. “Does it work?” she cried, and giggled when Betty swung round and showed her the bright pink marks. “Golly, it's fine! We'll try it on old Mr. Young tomorrow!”

“Shall we tell anyone?” asked Betty.

“Not a soul,” said Alicia. “Someone's sure to give it away by giggling if we do. No—we'll let dear Mr. Young spring this surprise himself on an astonished audience!”

Neither Betty nor Alicia did much prep that night Potty, who was taking prep, looked with suspicion at the two plotters and wondered what was up. It was obvious that their thoughts were pleasantly and humorously engaged far elsewhere.

Potty knew the signs. She warned Miss Parker. “Those two in your form, Alicia and Betty, are up to something. Miss Parker. Look out tomorrow. You'll have an unaccountable smell, or a curious noise, or an orgy of book-dropping or something.”

“Thanks.” said Miss Parker grimly. I'll watch out.”

But she could see nothing out of the way in her first lesson, or in her second one either. The girls worked much as usual. Only Alicia and Betty seemed restless. But then they often were, especially Alicia, whose quick mind often chafed at the slower rate of the others.

The lesson before Break was singing. Just before the second lesson was finished Betty put up her hand, “Please, Miss Parker, it's my turn to get things ready for Mr. Young in the singing-room. May I go?”

Miss Parker glanced at the clock. “Yes. You have about four minutes.”

Betty flashed a quick grin at Alicia and went demurely to the door. Once outside she raced down the corridor and made her way to the singing-room. No one was there. Mr. Young was always a minute or two late, thank goodness!

Betty flew to the piano stool. It was the round leather-topped kind, that could be screwed round and round. Betty took out her piece of pink chalk and rubbed it vigorously all over the top of the round stool.

She was sure there was not a single spot unchalked, though, of course, she could not see anything of what she had done at all. It certainly was invisible chalk!

Then she quickly sent the stool spinning round till” it was too low for Mr. Young. If ever it was too low or too high he had a little habit of sitting on the stool and going round and round with it till it had reached the height he liked. If only he did that today it would give the chalk a wonderful chance of getting properly on to him!

Betty stacked the music ready and cleaned the blackboard. Then there came the sound of feet and the first form marched into the room under the sharp eye of Miss Potts.

Then came the second form. Alicia's eyes were bright. Betty grinned at her and winked. Then she went to hold the door for the two mistresses to go out and for Mr. Young to come in.

In he trotted, a dapper little man in a well-brushed black suit and a too-high collar. He smoothed his pointed moustache and bowed politely to the girls.

“Good morning, young ladies.”

“Good morning, Mr. Young,” they chorused, and rustled their song-sheets. The lesson began. Mr. Young took some blackboard drill for five minutes, explaining various notes and signs. Then he went to the piano.

Betty nudged Alicia and held her breath. But, most annoyingly, Mr. Young did not sit down. He struck a few notes with one hand, standing facing the girls as he did so, his baton raised.

“Exercises, please,” he said. “I wish to see your mouths well open, and to hear the sound coming from the Back of the Throat.”

Mr. Young set great store on the “Back of the Throat”. It was always coming into everything, exercises, songs and sight-reading. “Back of the Throat” was his one unfailing motto.

Now he stood, instead of sitting, and conducted the exercises. Alicia was in agonies of disappointment. Suppose he didn't sit down at all? Probably the next person then, to sit down would be the accompanist of the mistress who taught dancing—and she always wore a brightly coloured frock so that the chalk wouldn't show at all. What a waste!

But Mr. Young did sit down eventually, of course. He had a new song to teach to the girls, and, as always, he wanted to play the whole thing through two or three times before he taught it, so that the girls could catch the hit and swing and tune of it.

So down he sat. Aha! That stool was once more too low! Mr. Young twirled himself vigorously round on it till it was the right height. The girls giggled. Mr. Young could never realize how funny he was, twirling round lightly on that little stool.

“Now I will play you your new song,” said Mr. Young. “You may sit to listen to it. You will hear when the chorus comes, for I will sing it to you.”

Off he started, tumty-tum-ti-tam, his hands flying up and down, and then his voice booming out at the chorus. Alicia and Betty winked at one another. The chalk ought to be working now.

Three times Mr. Young played the song and then he got up. “Did you like it?” he asked, and the girls chorused loudly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Young!”

Mr. Young turned towards the blackboard and picked up a piece of white chalk. At once the girls saw that he was smeared with the brightest pink at the back! They stared in delight.

“Look at Mr. Young! What's he rubbed against? Oh, do look!”

Soon the class was in a state of giggle and Mr. Young glared round.

“Silence, please! What behaviour is this today?” There was a momentary silence, but as soon as the unfortunate singing-master turned back to the board again more giggles broke out Then Irene gave one of her terrific explosions.

Mr. Young flung the chalk down on the floor. He looked as if he was about to stamp on it and probably he would have done so if the door hadn't suddenly opened, and Miss Grayling appeared. She had someone with her.