Third Year at Malory Towers (8 page)

“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 show it. Well, she's got plenty of pluck. Let's hope she'll learn that she's not so important a person as she thinks she is. If we got right down to the real Zerelda, we might find somebody worth knowing! We
might
. I still don't know!”

The lesson began. Zerelda concentrated hard. She forgot her hair, her nails, her clothes. She really wo
r
ked for about the first time in her life!

MOST of the third-formers were now almost settled in to their term's work. Alicia, however, was restless, missing Betty and not finding that Darrell quite made up for her old friend. Darrell was steady and loyal and natural—but she hadn't Betty's witty tongue, nor her daredevil ways. Still she was better then anyone else. Alicia hoped that Sally wouldn't be back till Betty came!

Bill was restless too. Bill had got the idea that Thunder was pining for the other horses at home, and she was always disappearing to be with him.

“How you do coddle that horses!” said Alicia, in disgust, “I wonder he puts up with it.”

Miss Peters was always pouncing on Bill for dreaming in class. Bill's standard of work was very uneven. She was brilliant at Latin, which she had taken continually with her brothers. She knew very little French, much to Mam'zelle's despair. She didn't know much maths because her brothers” tutor had devoted all his time to them at this subject and had not bothered much about her.

“He didn't think we did much maths in a girls” school,” explained Bill. “But I do know my tables. Miss Peters.”

I should hope so!” groaned Miss Peters. “You will simply have to have extra coaching at maths, Wilhelmina.”

“Oh, I can't,” said Bill. “I spend every minute of free time with Thunder.”

Miss Peters had known for some time now that Thunder was Bill's horse. She had seen him and admired him, much to Bill's delight. She had also marvelled at Bill's magnificent horsemanship. The girl rode as if she and her horse were one. She was never happier than when she was out riding with the others, galloping over the lovely country that lay behind Malory Towers.

But she was annoyed because she was only allowed to ride out with the others for company. She was not allowed to take Thunder out alone.

“But I do at home,” she protested loudly. “I've gone off by myself every day for years and years and years. It's silly not to let me. What harm can I come to? I'm with Thunder all the time.”

“Yes, I know all that,” explained Miss Peters, patiently, for the twentieth time. “But you are not at home now, you are at school, and you have to do as the others do, and keep their rules. We can't have one rule for you and one rule for them.”

“I don't see why not,” said Bill, obstinately. She often sounded rude, because she was so much in earnest, and Miss Peters sometimes lost patience with her.

“Well, you are not running this school, fortunately,” said Miss Peters. “You must do as you are told. And, Wilhelmina, if you insist on being silly about these things, I shall forbid you to see Thunder for two or three days.”

Bill was dumbfounded. She stared at Miss Peters as if she couldn't believe her ears. She went red to the roots of her hair.

“But I couldn't not see Thunder,” said Bill, trying to speak patiently. “You don't understand, Miss Peters. Though you
ought
to understand because you're so fond of horses yourself.”

“I dare say,” said Miss Peters, equally patiently. “But I'm not top-heavy about them, as you are—I mean, I don't think, dream, smell and ride horses every minute of the day and night as you do. Do be sensible, Wilhelmina. I'm putting up with quite a lot from you, you know, and it's time you pulled yourself together, and thought a little less of Thunder, and a little more of other things.”

But that was just what Bill couldn't do, as the other third-formers soon found out. She wouldn't go for extra practice at lacrosse. She wouldn't go for a nature walk. She wouldn't even take on any of her extra duties in the common room, which everyone had to do in turn. She got Mary-Lou to do them for her instead.

Mary-Lou was so gentle and kindly that she would do anything for anybody. Jean was very cross when she found Mary-Lou doing the flowers in the common room instead of Bill.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “You can see on the list it's Bill's week.”

“I know, Jean,” said Mary-Lou, scared at Jean's sharp tone. “But Bill did so badly want to go and give Thunder an extra grooming today. He got so muddy yesterday.”

“I'm getting tired of Bill racing off to the stables, never joining in anything the third form does, and getting other people to do her duties,” said Jean. “I shall talk to her about it.”

But she made no more impression on Bill than Miss Peters had done. Bill had spent her life with horses. She had, as Miss Peters, said, thought, dreamt, smelt, groomed, ridden horses all her life, and she just didn't want to do anything else.

She would have been excellent at lacrosse if she had practised. She was magnificent at gym, daring, supple and with a wonderful sense of balance. The gym mistress was delighted with her, and sang her praises to everyone.

Bill could turn “cart-wheels” as easily as any clown in a circus, going over and over on hands and feet till the others were giddy with watching. She could fling herself in the air and turn a complete somersault. The gym mistress forbade anyone else to try and do it.

“You'll only damage yourselves,” she said. But nobody else really wanted to turn somersaults in the air!

Bill could also walk on her hands, and the others often made her perform to them in the evening when she could not go to the stables. Bill was good-natured and natural, and didn't get her head in the least turned by all the praise and acclamation given to her for her performances in gym or common-room.

Zerelda watched and marvelled. She could not imagine how any girl could want to do such extraordinary things. She thought Bill was decidedly mad, but she couldn't help liking her. In fact, most of the girls liked her very much indeed, though they were annoyed and exasperated when she wouldn't join in with them over anything.

Belinda did some beautiful drawings of Thunder. She was very good at drawing animals, and when Bill saw them she exclaimed in delight.

“Belinda! They're simply marvellous! Please, please give them to me!”

“No,” said Belinda, tucking them away into her portfolio. “I shall keep them with my collection of animal drawings.”

“Well, Belinda, do some specially for me,” begged Bill. “Oh, Belinda, you might. I'd have them all framed and stood on my dressing-table.”

“Gosh, Bill, you've got about six different photographs of horses there now,” said Belinda. “You've no room for a picture of Thunder.”

“I have! I should put him right at the very front,” said Bill. “Belinda,
will
you do me some drawings of Thunder? I'll do anything for you if you will.”

“Fibber!” said Belinda. “The only person you'll do anything for is Thunder. You wouldn't lift a finger to do anything for Miss Peters or for anyone in the third form and you know it.”

Bill looked taken aback. “Am I really as bad as that?” she asked, anxiously. “Is that what you all think of me?”

“Of course,” said Belinda. “Why, you don't even take on your own duties. I heard Jean ticking you off for that-but Mary-Lou's going on doing them just the same. So you can't have a drawing of Thunder, my dear Bill, because if you do you'll only go and stand and gaze devotedly at him all the evening when you can't go to the stables, and that will make us crosser than ever.”

Belinda paused to take breath. Bill looked as if she was going to fly into a temper. Then her sense of fairness came to her help.

“Yes. You're right, Belinda. I don't like you being right, but you are,” she said, honestly. “I probably
should
keep flying upstairs to look at Thunder's picture if I had a really good one. And I'm sorry about making Mary-Lou do my duties after Jean had told me about it. I'll tell her I'll do them all next week to make up.”

“Right,” said Belinda. “I'll draw you a fine picture of Thunder, with you on his back, if you like, if you keep your word. But—I shall jolly well take it away if you start being silly, because I'm only going to
lend
it to you till I see if you'll keep your promise.”

Bill laughed. She liked Belinda. She liked Irene, too. They both did the maddest, silliest things, but they were fun, and you could always trust them to do the decent thing. She longed for a picture of Thunder—she only had a very bad photograph of him. Now she was going to get a lovely drawing!

Jean quite thought that it was a belated result of her ticking off that made Bill offer to do Mary-Lou's duties the next week. She was pleased.

Belinda kept her word and gave Bill a beautiful picture of Thunder, done in black charcoal, with Bill on his back in her riding breeches and a yellow jersey. Bill was absolutely thrilled. She made Mary-Lou walk into the village with her to try to get it framed at once. She couldn't buy a frame there, so she took one of the horse-photographs out of its frames on her dressing table and put Thunder's picture in it, neatly trimmed to fit.

Everyone admired it. “Now you remember, Bill, it's not yours yet,” Belinda warned her. “It's only lent. The very next time you dodge out of duties or third form activities you'll find that picture gone!”

But although Bill was better from that day in trying to do some of the things her form thought she ought to do, she still didn't get on very well with Miss Peters. She
would
sit and gaze out of the window, She
would
forget that her name was Wilhelmina, she would daydream and not pay any attention to either Mam'zelle or Miss Peters.

Mam'zelle complained bitterly, “This girl is not even polite! I say to her, “Wilhelmina, do not dream,” and she does not even bother to hear me and answer. I say to reply to me. Never, never will she learn any French-except for ‘
le cheval
’ Miss Peters. The only time I get that girl to turn round to face me is when I say suddenly the name of her horse. ‘Thunder!’ I say, and she turns round at once. She is mad that girl. All English girls are mad, but she is the most mad.”

Miss Peters began to punish Bill in the way she resented and hated most. “Here is a returned maths lesson,” she said to Bill. “Do it please, and until you have brought it to me again you must not go to see Thunder.”

Or she would say, “Wilhelmina, you have paid no attention in class this morning. You will not go to the stables at all today.”

Bill was angry and resentful—and disobedient! She was not going to stop seeing Thunder for anyone in the world. Least of all for Miss Peters! And so, to Jean's disgust, she ignored Miss Peters” punishments and slipped off to see Thunder whenever she liked.

Miss Peters did not even dream that Bill would disobey. “One of these days she'll find out, Bill,” said Alicia. “Then you'll be for it! You really are an idiot.”

What with Bill and her horse, Zerelda and her ways, Irene and Belinda with their feather-brains, and Mavis and her opera-singing, Miss Peters considered that she had the most trying form in the school. “And all from North Towers too!” thought Miss Peters. “Really, I'm sorry for Miss Potts, their house-mistress. They must drive her mad! Now I wonder when Wilhelmina is going to bring me that returned geography lesson. She won't go to see that horse of hers till she does!” But Miss Peters was wrong. At that very minute Bill was in the stable and Thunder was nuzzling into her hand for sugar!