Читать книгу Second Form at Malory Towers - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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Darrell said good-bye to her parents and they purred off in the car. Darrell was always glad that her father and mother were sensible when they said good-bye. They didn’t burst into tears as Gwendoline’s mother always did. They didn’t expect her to stay close beside them and look mournful. They laughed and talked just as usual, promised to come down at half-term, then kissed her good-bye, and went, waving cheerfully.

Soon she and Sally were carrying their night-cases up the steps into the big hall. They had their lacrosse sticks too, which got entangled with people’s legs as the other girls surged around and about.

Miss Potts was in the hall. She had been their form-mistress when they had been in the first form, and was still their house-mistress, for she was in charge of North Tower, in which they slept. All the girls’ bedrooms or dormitories were in the four towers, and there was a house-mistress in charge of each one, and also a matron.

‘Sally! Darrel! Take charge of this new girl for me’

Miss Potts saw Sally and Darrell and called them. “Sally! Darrell! Take charge of this new girl for me, will you? She will be in the second form with you, and will be in your dormy. Take her up to Matron.”

Darrell saw a tall, thin girl standing by Miss Potts, looking nervous and scared. Darrell remembered how lost she had felt when she had first come to Malory Towers, and she felt sorry for the girl. She went up to her, Sally behind her.

“Hallo! Come along with us and we’ll look after you. What’s your name?”

“Ellen Wilson,” said the girl. She had a very pale face and looked tired out. In the middle of her forehead was a deep line, cutting down between her eyebrows, making her look as if she was continually frowning. Darrell didn’t much like the look of her, but she smiled at Ellen kindly.

“I expect you feel pretty muddled with all this row going on,” she said. “I felt the same last year when I came. My name’s Darrell Rivers. And this is my friend, Sally Hope.”

The girl gave polite little smiles and then followed silently behind them. They all made their way through the excited throng of girls.

“There’s Mary-Lou!” said Darrell. “Hallo, Mary-Lou! You’ve grown!”

Little Mary-Lou smiled. “I hope so!” she said. “I’m tired of being the smallest in the form. Who’s this?”

“Ellen Wilson. New girl. Second form,” said Darrell.

“In our dormy,” added Sally. “We’re taking her to Matron. Hallo, here’s Irene. Irene, we saw you nearly knock off your father’s glasses in the car, when you waved to us.”

Irene grinned. “Yes, that was the third time I’d done it. He was just getting annoyed with me. Are you going to Matron? I’ll come along too.”

“Got your health certificate?” asked Sally, slyly. It was a standing joke with the girls that Irene always arrived without it, no matter how safely her mother had packed it in her night-case, or given it in an envelope to Irene to put in her pocket.

“Got yours?” said Darrell to Ellen Wilson. “We have to hand them over at once. And woe betide you if you go down with measles or chicken pox or something if you’ve just handed in a certificate saying you haven’t been near anyone ill! Golly, Irene, you don’t really mean to say you haven’t got yours again?”

Irene was feeling in all her pockets, with a humorous look of dismay on her face. “Can’t find it at the moment,” she said. “Must be in my night-case. But no—Mother said she wasn’t going to put it in there any more because it always disappeared. Blow!”

“Matron said she’d isolate you next time you came without a health certificate,” said Sally. “You’ll have to be in the San. for two days till your mother sends another one. You really are an idiot, Irene.”

Feeling frantically in all her pockets, Irene followed Sally, Darrell and Ellen to North Tower, and went in with them. The second-form dormy was not far from the first-form dormy, where Darrell had slept for the last four terms. It was on the second floor and was a lovely big room with ten white beds in it, each covered with a pretty eiderdown.

The girls dumped their night-cases down in the dormy and went to look for Matron. Ah, there she was, shepherding another new girl up to the dormy. Darrell looked at the girl. She was about the same age as Darrell, and, like Darrell, had black curly hair, but cut much shorter, more like a boy. She looked rather dirty and untidy, but she had a very attractive grin, and her eyes twinkled as she looked at the other girls. She did not look nearly so lost or forlorn as Ellen.

“Ah, Sally—Darrell—here’s another new girl,” said Matron, briskly. “Take charge of her, will you? Her name is Belinda Morris. Now—have you all got your night-cases? And what about your health certificates?”

“Our night-cases are there,” said Darrell, pointing to where they had dumped them on the floor. “And here’s my health certificate, Matron.”

“Where’s my night-case?” said Belinda, suddenly.

“Surely you had it with you a minute ago?” said Matron, looking all round. “Well, give me your certificate and then go and look for your case.”

“But it’s in the case,” said Belinda, and looked vaguely round.

“You probably left it down in the hall for everyone to fall over,” said Matron. “You girls! Thank you, Darrell. Is this your certificate, Sally?—and yours, Mary-Lou—and yours, Ellen. What about yours, Irene?”

“It’s a most peculiar thing, Matron,” began Irene, hunting in all her pockets again. “You know, I had it when I started off this morning. I remember Mother saying ...”

Matron stared at Irene, really exasperated. “Irene! Don’t dare to tell me you’ve not brought it again. You know what I told you last term. There is a rule here that girls who forget their health certificates shall be isolated until one is produced. I’ve never had to enforce that rule yet—but in your case I really think ...”

“Oh, Matron, don’t isolate me!” begged Irene, taking her night-case, opening it and emptying all the contents higgledy-piggledy on the floor. “I’ll find it. I will!”

The girls stood by, laughing. Really, Irene was very funny when she had lost something. Matron looked on grimly. Irene bent low over the case, hunting hard—and suddenly she gave a cry and put her hand to her chest.

“Oooh! Something’s pricking me! Whatever can it be? Gracious, something’s run a sharp point right into me!”

She stood up, rubbing her chest. Then she opened the front of her coat—and the girls gave a scream of laughter.

“Irene! You donkey! You’ve got your health certificate pinned on to your front! You couldn’t lose it if you wanted to.”

Irene looked down, pleased. “Of course!” she said, unpinning it. “I remember now. I knew I should lose it unless I really did hang on to it somehow—so I pinned it tightly to my front. Here it is, Matron. You won’t have to isolate me after all!”

Matron took it, and put it with the others she had. “A narrow squeak for you, Irene!” she said, and her plump face broke into a smile. “You put a grey hair into my head at the beginning of every term! Now, you girls—unpack your night-cases and put out your things. The trunks won’t be unpacked till tomorrow—and then each of you will have to check the clothes’ list you brought with you.”

She departed, rustling stiffly in her starched apron, looking out for more returning girls, collecting lists and names and certificates, bringing order out of confusion, and welcoming back all the sixty or so girls returning to North Tower. In the other towers, three more matrons were doing the same thing. It was a real task to welcome back about two hundred and fifty girls, with their trunks, night-cases and odds-and-ends!

Belinda had wandered off to look for her night-case. Whilst the others were still putting out their things, she sauntered back, a brown suit-case in her hand. She opened it and shook out a pair of pyjamas. She stared at them in surprise.

“Golly! I didn’t know I had pyjamas like this,” she said. “And what posh bedroom slippers Mother has put in for me. For a surprise, I suppose!”

Darrell looked over her shoulder. Then she grinned. “You’ll get into trouble if you unpack any more of those things,” she said. “They belong to Georgina Thomas! She’ll be jolly wild if she finds out you’ve got her night-case! She’s probably hunting all over the place for it now. Can’t you read, Belinda?”

Darrell pointed to the name marked on the collar of the pyjamas. “Georgina Thomas.”

“Goodness, what an ass I am!” said Belinda, and stuffed all the things back untidily into the case. “I thought it was my case!”

She went out of the room again, presumably to hunt once more for her lost case. Darrell grinned at Irene.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do if we have two people like you, Irene!” she said. “One’s bad enough—but two! You’ll drive Mam’zelle cracked between you. And as for Miss Parker, our form-mistress—well, you know what she is! She can’t stand anything vague or careless. We shall have some fun this term with you and Belinda in the class together!”

Irene didn’t in the least mind being teased. She was a clever, good-humoured girl, brilliant at music, but very thoughtless and vague over the ordinary little everyday things. If anyone lost a grammar book it was Irene. If anyone forgot to turn up at a special lesson, it was Irene. And now here was another girl, Belinda, who seemed to be just as bad. Irene very much liked the look of her, and had already made up her mind to be friends.

Belinda soon came back again, this time, fortunately, with her own case. She tipped everything out, and then proceeded to put her things in place, just as the others did—pyjamas under the pillow—tooth-brush, face-flannel, tooth-paste and sponge on a glass ledge at one end of the dormy, where the wash-basins were. Brush and comb in their bag inside the top drawer of the dressing-table. Then the empty night-case was put with the pile outside in the corridor, waiting to be taken to the box-room.

There came a great clatter up the stairs and the girls in the dormy raised their heads. “The train-girls! They’ve come at last. Aren’t they late!”

More girls clattered into the dormy. Alicia Johns came in, her eyes bright. Behind her came Jean, the straightforward, sensible Scots girl. Then came Emily, a quiet girl whose only real interest was sewing, and the most elaborate embroidery.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight of us,” said Darrell, counting. “Two more to come. Who are they?”

“Gwendoline Mary for one, I suppose,” said Irene, with a grimace. “Dear Gwendoline Mary! I expect her mother is still sobbing over letting her darling lamb go away from her! Who’s the tenth?”

“Here comes Gwendoline,” said Darrell, and the girls heard that familiar, rather whining voice. Gwendoline was a spoilt child, and although Malory Towers had done her a lot of good, the holidays always seemed to make her worse again.

She came in—and with her was the tenth girl. Gwendoline Mary introduced her. “Hallo, everyone! This is Daphne Millicent Turner, a new girl. She’s in our form and in our dormy. She travelled down in my carriage and I’m sure she’s going to be a favourite with all of us in no time!”