Читать книгу Claudine at St. Clare's - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Before a week had gone by, a fourth new girl arrived. Mam’zelle herself announced her coming.

“I have a surprise for you,” she beamed one morning, coming in to give a French lesson. “We shall soon have another companion in the fourth form. She arrived today.”

“Why is she so late in coming?” asked Pat, in surprise.

“She has just recovered from the measle,” said Mam’zelle, who always spoke of this illness in the singular and not in the plural. “The measle is a most tiresome disease. Claudine had a very bad measle, and she could not come back any sooner.”

“Claudine?” said Isabel. “What a pretty name! I like it.”

“Ah, and you will like the little Claudine too!” said Mam’zelle. “For she is French. She is my niece!”

This was news to the girls. They hadn’t even known that Mam’zelle had a niece. One coming to St. Clare’s too!

“I hope she will be happy at St. Clare’s,” said Hilary, feeling that some one ought to say the right thing.

“Ah, she will be very happy,” said Mam’zelle. “She would be happy anywhere, the little Claudine. There never was such a child for happiness. Always she smiles and laughs, and always she plays the trick and the joke.”

This sounded good. The girls began to look forward to Claudine’s coming. They looked at Mam’zelle expectantly, hoping to hear more.

Then Mam’zelle’s face grew solemn. She pinched her glasses more firmly on her nose and gazed at the listening girls with her short-sighted, much-magnified eyes.

“I have especially asked for Claudine to come here,” she said. “Before, she has been to a Convent School, but it was too strict for her, and always they found fault with the poor little Claudine. They said she cared nothing for any one, nor for any rules or customs. And I thought to myself, ‘Ah, the good, hard-working Bobby was once like that—and see what St. Clare’s has done for her! Now she works for her Matric. and she is as good as gold! Maybe the same thing will happen to my little Claudine.’ ”

Bobby looked uncomfortable as Mam’zelle made this speech. She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to be referred to as ‘good as gold’. But Mam’zelle was so much in earnest that Bobby made no protest. It wouldn’t have been any good, anyway! Mam’zelle swept on with her speech.

“And so the little Claudine comes today, well-recovered from the measle, and you will give her a grand welcome, will you not? For your old Mam’zelle’s sake?”

“Of course we’ll make her welcome,” said Susan Howes, and most of the others murmured the same, except Angela, Alison and Pauline, who all put on a bored look, as if a niece belonging to Mam’zelle wasn’t worth giving a thought to.

“Ah, you are good kind girls,” said Mam’zelle. “I will introduce Claudine to you as soon as she comes. She will love you all. She is a good girl though she seems to care nothing for what is good and proper. But you will change all that, n’est-ce pas?”

The girls thought that Claudine sounded distinctly amusing. It would be fun to have a French girl in the class! They glanced at one another, thinking that of all the new girls, this latest one sounded the most promising.

About five minutes before the lesson finished the door was opened, and a strange girl appeared. She was small, dark and smart. She had a very cheeky look and she gave a quick sidelong glance at the girls before advancing to Mam’zelle.

Mam’zelle gave a shriek

Mam’zelle gave a shriek, and then flung herself on the new girl. She kissed her several times on both cheeks, she stroked her dark hair, and poured out such a torrent of French that no one could follow it.

The girl replied in smooth, polite French, and kissed Mam’zelle on each cheek. She did not seem to mind her aunt’s outburst in the least.

“Ah, ma petite Claudine, here you are at last!” cried Mam’zelle. She swung the girl round to face the class. “Now see, here is the little Claudine,” said Mam’zelle, her glasses falling off her nose in her violent delight. “Greet your new friends, Claudine.”

“Hallo, buddies!” said Claudine, amiably. The girls stared in surprise and then giggled. It was funny to hear such an American expression from the little French girl.

“What did you say?” said Mam’zelle, who was not well up in American slang. “Did you say ‘Hello, bodies’? That is not correct, Claudine. You should say ‘Hallo, everybody.’ ”

The class roared. Claudine grinned. Mam’zelle beamed. She was plainly very proud of Claudine and very fond of her.

The bell rang for the end of class. Mam’zelle picked out Hilary. “Hilary, you will take the little Claudine with you, please, and show her everything. She will feel strange and shy, poor little one.”

Mam’zelle was quite mistaken about that, however. Claudine didn’t feel shy, and certainly didn’t seem to feel strange. In fact she acted as if she had known the girls all her life! She spoke easily and naturally to them. Her English was good, though like Mam’zelle, she sometimes put things in an unusual way.

She had been to school in France, and then had spent a term or two at a Convent School in England. It seemed that Claudine did not want to remain at her last school and they did not want to keep her.

“You see—it was most unfortunate—the Science Mistress went up a ladder into a tree to collect some curious fungus that grew there,” explained Claudine, in her little French voice. “And I came along and borrowed the ladder. So we did not have a Science lesson that day.”

“Golly! Do you mean to say that you left the teacher stranded up the tree?” said Bobby. “Well, you have got a nerve! No wonder Mam’zelle thinks St. Clare’s will be good for you. You can’t do that sort of thing here.”

“No?” said Claudine. “What a pity. Still, maybe you have good fun. I am sorry I did not come back to school on the first day. But I had caught a measle.”

The girls giggled. Every one liked Claudine, except Angela. Even Pauline listened to the new girl, and Alison was much amused by her. But Angela as usual looked down her nose.

“What did I tell you?” she said to Alison. “First we have to have Matron’s daughter, and now we have to have Mam’zelle’s niece! I can’t see what you find to be amused at in Claudine, Alison. I’m surprised at you.”

“Well, I like her voice and her manners,” said Alison. “I like the way she uses her hands when she talks—just like Mam’zelle does. She’s really quite amusing, Angela.”

Angela did not like Alison to disagree with her about anything. She looked coldly at her friend and then turned away sulkily. That was always the way she punished any one—by withdrawing from them and sulking. Alison couldn’t bear it.

Alison tried to make it up. She went after Angela, and took her hand. She praised her and flattered her, and at last Angela condescended to smile again on her willing slave.

Then Alison was happy. “You needn’t think I shall bother about Claudine at all,” she said to Angela. “She’s a common little thing, really.”

“Not so common as Carlotta,” said Angela, spitefully. Alison looked uncomfortable. She sincerely liked Carlotta, who was absolutely honest, truthful and straight, besides being amusing company. Even her hot temper was likeable. Alison thought that Carlotta was more completely herself, more natural than any of the other girls. And to be natural was to be very likeable.

Claudine settled in at once. She took a desk at the back of the room, and bagged a locker in the common room. She arranged her belongings in the locker, and put a photograph of her mother on top. She had brought a fine big cake with her and shared it generously all round, though Angela refused a slice. Alison did too, after hesitating. She was afraid that Angela might go into a sulk again if she saw her sharing the cake.

At first the girls were very much amused with Claudine, but they soon discovered that she had very un-English ways. For instance, she thought nothing of copying from someone else’s book! She had a quick brain, but she was often lazy—and then she would simply copy the answers set down by the girl next to her. This was Mirabel, whose brains were not of the highest order. So, more often than not, Claudine copied down mistakes. But she did not seem to mind at all.

“Look here—we oughtn’t to let Claudine cheat like this,” said Pat. “She keeps on copying from Mirabel. Mirabel says Claudine didn’t bother to do a single sum—she copied the answers of all hers!”

“The funny thing is, she does it so openly,” said Isabel. “I mean—I really don’t believe she thinks it’s wrong!”

Claudine was very astonished when Susan Howes, the head girl of the form, spoke to her about the copying.

“It’s cheating, Claudine; surely you can see that!” said Susan, her honest face glowing scarlet, for she did not like accusing any one of cheating.

“No, I do not see it at all,” said Claudine. “You all see me do it. Cheating is a secret thing.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Susan. “Cheating is cheating whether you do it in front of any one, or on the sly. Besides, it’s so silly of you to copy from Mirabel. She gets so many answers wrong. Miss Ellis will find out and then you’ll get into a row.”

“You think then it would be better to copy from Hilary?” asked Claudine, seriously. Susan sighed.

“Claudine, you mustn’t copy from any one. I know French people have different ideas from ours—Mam’zelle has, for instance—but you’ll have to try and get into our ways if you’re going to be happy here.”

“I am happy anywhere,” said Claudine at once. “Well, Susan, I will perhaps not copy again—only if I have not done any of my prep at all.”

Another thing that the girls found irritating about Claudine was the way she borrowed things. She borrowed pencils, rubbers, rulers, books—anything she happened to want at the moment. And nine times out of ten she didn’t give them back.

“I forget,” she explained. “I borrow a pencil and I use it, and I am most grateful for it—and then I forget about it, and poor Hilary, she says, ‘Where is my pencil, I have lost my pencil’—and there it is on my desk all the time, not at all lost.”

“Well, you might try and remember to give back things you borrow,” said Hilary. “After all, it was a silver pencil of mine you borrowed, one I like very much. And you might ask permission before you borrow things.”

“Oh, you English!” sighed Claudine. “Well, I will be good, and always I will say ‘Dear Hilary, please, please lend me your so-beautiful silver pencil.’ ”

Hilary laughed. No one could help being amused by Claudine. She rolled her expressive black eyes round and used her hands in the same way that Mam’zelle did. After all, she hadn’t been in England very long—she would learn English ways before the term was over!