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A Little Trouble For The Twins

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One day, about half-past five, when the twins were writing home, one of the fourth-formers popped her head in at the door.

“Hi, there!” she said. “Where are the O’Sullivan twins? Belinda Towers wants one of them.”

Pat and Isabel looked up. Pat went red. “What does she want us for?” she asked.

“How should I know?” said the messenger. “She’s been out over the fields this afternoon, so maybe she wants her boots cleaned. Anyway, jump to it, or you’ll get into a row!”

The messenger disappeared. The twins sat still. Hilary looked at them.

“Go on, idiots,” she said. “One of you must go and find out what Belinda wants. Don’t keep her waiting, for goodness’ sake. She’s got about as hot a temper as you have, Pat.”

“I’ll go,” said Isabel, and got up. But Pat pulled her down.

“No, don’t,” she said. “I’m not going to clean anybody’s boots! And you’re not, either.”

“Look here, Pat, don’t be goofy,” said Janet. “Belinda may want to tell you something. Golly, she might want to ask you if you’ll play in a match. She’s captain, you know.”

“Oh,” said Pat. “Well, I shouldn’t think it’s that because neither Isabel nor I have ever played lacrosse before, and we were pretty bad at it yesterday.”

“Well, do go!” said Hilary. “You’ve got to go in the end, so why not go now?”

Another girl popped her head in at the door. “I say! Belinda’s foaming at the mouth! Where are those O’Sullivan twins? They’ll get it hot if one of them doesn’t go along!”

“Come on,” said Pat to Isabel. “We’ll go and see what she wants. But I’m not doing any boot-cleaning or fire-lighting, that’s certain. And neither are you!”

The two got up and went out of the room. Everybody giggled. “Wish I could go and see what happens!” said Janet. “I love to see Belinda in a rage!”

Belinda Towers was in her study with Pamela Harrison, the girl who shared it with her. Pat opened the door.

“Knock, can’t you!” cried Belinda. “Barging in like that! And I should jolly well like to know why you’ve been all this time coming. I sent for you ages ago.”

Pat was rather taken aback, and Isabel did not dare to say anything.

“Well, haven’t you a tongue between you?” said Belinda. “My goodness, Pam, did you ever see such a pair of boobs? Well, as you’ve both come, you can both do a spot of work for me. I want my boots cleaned and Pam’s too. And make up my fire for me and put the kettle on to boil. You’ll find water just down the passage. Come on, Pam—we’ll go and collect our prep and by that time the kettle will be boiling and we’ll make tea.”

The two big girls walked to the door. Pat, very red and angry, stopped them.

“I didn’t come to St. Clare’s to wait on the older girls,” she said. “Neither did my twin. We shan’t clean your boots nor put on the kettle, nor make up the fire.”

Belinda stopped as if she had been shot. She stared at Pat as if she was some particularly nasty insect. Then she turned to Pam.

“Did you hear that?” she said. “Talk about cheek! All right, my girl—no walks down the town for you. Just remember that!”

The twins stared at Belinda in dismay. The St. Clare girls were allowed to go down to the town in twos to buy anything they needed, or to look at the shops, or even to go to the cinema if they had permission. Surely Belinda hadn’t the power to stop them doing that?

“I don’t think you’ve any right to say that,” said Pat. “I shall go to Winifred James and tell her what you’ve said and ask her about it.”

“Well, I’m blessed!” said Belinda, flaring up angrily, her red hair seeming to flame too. “You do want taking down a peg, don’t you? Run off to Winifred, by all means. Tell your little tales and see what happens.”

Pat and Isabel went out of the study. Isabel was very much upset, and wanted to stay and do what Belinda had ordered, but Pat was furious. She took hold of her twin’s arm and marched her off to Winifred’s study. The head-girl had her own study, which she shared with no one. Pat dared not go in without knocking. So, she knocked quietly.

“Come in!” said Winifred’s voice. The twins want in. Winifred was working at a table, “What is it?” she said. “I’m rather busy.”

“Please, Winifred,” said Pat, “Belinda Towers ordered us to clean her boots, make up her fire and put her kettle on. And when we said we wouldn’t she said we weren’t to go down into the town. So we’ve come to ask you about it.”

“I see,” said Winifred. “Well, it’s the custom of this school to get the juniors to wait on the seniors within reason. It doesn’t hurt them. When you go to Rome, you must do as Rome does, you know.”

“But we didn’t want to come to St. Clare’s, so we don’t want to follow silly customs of that sort,” said Pat. “Do we, Isabel?”

Isabel shook her head. She couldn’t think how Pat could dare to speak to Winifred like that. Her knees were shaking as she stood! She was never so brave as Pat.

“I think I should wait a little while before you call our customs silly,” said Winifred. “Now listen—can’t you clean boots? Don’t you know how to make up a fire? Have you never put a kettle on to boil?”

“We never had to at Redroofs,” said Pat obstinately. “And we don’t at home either.”

“I don’t think I’d know how to clean muddy boots!” said Isabel, thinking that perhaps if she said that, Winifred would let them off.

“Good heavens!” said Winifred in disgust. “To think you’re nearly fifteen and you don’t know how to clean boots! How shocking! All the more reason why you should learn at once. Go back to Belinda’s study and try to do what she tells you. I know she’s hot-tempered and will tick you off properly, but honestly I think you both deserve it. Do have a little common sense.”

Winifred turned back to her books. The twins, red in the face, went out of the room and closed the door quietly. They stood outside and looked at each other.

“I shan’t clean her beastly boots, even if I have to stay in the school grounds the whole of the term and not go down into the town once,” said Pat, angrily.

“Oh, Pat! I do want to get a new set of hair-grips and some chocolate,” said Isabel, in dismay. “Come on—we’d better do it. The others will think we’re terribly silly if we kick up such a fuss. They laugh at us enough already.”

“Well, you can do it if you like, but I’m not going to!” said Pat, and she stalked off, her nose in the air, leaving Isabel by herself.

Isabel stood for a little while, thinking. “Supposing I go and do the jobs that Belinda wants done,” she thought. “That means that I can go down into the town if I want to—and as Pat is so exactly like me, she can go down too, if we each go at different times, with somebody else. No one will ever know! That will trick Belinda nicely!”

Isabel went to Belinda’s study. It was empty. On the floor lay two pairs of very muddy boots. The owners had evidently been across some very clayey fields. Isabel picked them up. Goodness, however did anyone set about cleaning boots like that?

She heard some one passing and went to the door. She saw Kathleen Gregory and called her.

“Kathleen! Look at these awful boots! How do I clean them?”

Kathleen stopped at once, looking delighted. She was pleased that Isabel should ask her help. “You want to scrape them first and get all the clay off,” she said. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

Soon the two girls were cleaning the muddy boots thoroughly. They took quite a time. Kathleen talked hard all the time, pouring out all kinds of information about how her mother spoilt her at home, and what a lot of presents she was always getting from her parents, and how much money they sent her for her birthday.

Isabel listened politely, grateful for Kathleen’s help, but thinking that she was rather silly. After all, every one got presents for their birthdays, and every one had money on their birthdays! When the boots were finished she put them neatly together on the shoe-shelf, and made up the fire. Kathleen showed her where to fill the kettle and set it on to boil. Just then Belinda and Pam came back.

“Oh, so you decided to be sensible, I see,” she said. “Where’s your twin? Did she help you?”

“No,” said Isabel.

“Well, tell her from me that there’s to be no going down to the town till she does her bit,” said Belinda, flinging herself down in a chair. “I won’t have new girls behaving as if they owned the place! Is the kettle boiling yet? My goodness, the water’s cold! How long has this kettle been on?”

“I’ve only just this minute put it on, Belinda,” said Isabel.

“I suppose it didn’t occur to you that it would be a good idea to make up the fire and put the kettle on first, before you did the boots?” said Belinda, sarcastically. “I suppose you thought it would be a great pity if the kettle boiled whilst you were doing the boots? I don’t know what you kids are coming to nowadays. When I was your age I had a lot more common sense. Clear out now. And see that you come running next time I send a message!”

Isabel went out of the room. Just as she was closing the door Belinda yelled to her again. “And mind you tell that obstinate twin of yours what I said. If she disobeys I’ll report her to Miss Theobald.”

Isabel fled. She felt upset and angry and very foolish. Why, why, why hadn’t she put the kettle on first? No wonder that Belinda had thought her stupid.

Isabel told Pat what had happened. “And she says you’re not to go down to the town till you do your bit,” she said. “But you can, Pat—because no one will know if it’s you or me going! I don’t think anyone can tell the difference between us yet.”

“All right,” said Pat, ungraciously. “But I don’t think much of you for giving in like that, Isabel. Fancy cleaning those dirty boots!”

“Well, I rather enjoyed it,” said Isabel. “Kathleen helped me. First we ...”

“Oh, shut up,” said Pat, rudely. “Go and write an essay about how to clean boots and boil kettles if you want to, but don’t preach to me!”

Isabel was hurt. But Pat could not be angry with her twin for long. Before an hour had gone by she had slipped her arm through Isabel’s. “Sorry, old thing,” she said. “I wasn’t really angry with you. I was furious with Belinda, and took it out on you. Never mind! I’ll trick Belinda all right and go down to the town whenever I like, pretending that I am you.”

Pat was as good as her word! She slipped down to the town with one or other of the girls, pretending that she was Isabel, and nobody knew the difference! How the twins giggled about their trick!

And then something happened. Pat had gone down to the town with Kathleen after tea, when a messenger came to the common-room. Isabel was winding up the gramophone, and she jumped when she heard Pat’s name called.

“Patricia O’Sullivan! Belinda wants you!”

“Well—I must pretend to be Pat,” thought Isabel. “But why does Belinda want Pat? I’m the one that does her jobs just now. She knows Pat doesn’t.”

She soon knew what Belinda wanted. The sports-captain was making out a list and she looked up as Isabel came in.

“Pat O’Sullivan, you played well in the lacrosse practice yesterday,” she said. “I was watching. You’re a silly, obstinate kid, but I’m not counting that against you where lacrosse is concerned. I’m putting you down for the match on Saturday.”

Isabel stared in surprise. How pleased Pat would be! Isabel muttered a thank you and sped, longing for Pat to come back so that she might tell her the good news.

When Pat heard she stood speechless. “In a match already!” she cried. “How decent of Belinda! If she’d been spiteful she’d have left me out for months.”

Then she became silent and went away by herself. Isabel knew quite well what she was thinking, because she was worrying about the same thing herself.

Soon Pat came over and put her arm through Isabel’s. “I feel a beast now,” said Pat “I’ve let you do all the jobs—and I’ve gone down to the town all I wanted to, just to spite Belinda. I thought we were being rather clever to play a trick like that But now I don’t think so.”

“Nor do I,” said Isabel. “I just feel mean and dishonest. It was decent of Belinda to stick you in the match, although she must have felt furious with you—but we haven’t been decent. And, you know, Pat, I don’t really mind doing anything for the top-formers. They are awfully good sorts, really. After all, why should anyone mind putting a kettle on to boil and making toast? Belinda talks to me quite a lot now, and I like her, though I’m a bit afraid of her hot temper.”

Pat rubbed her nose and frowned. She always did that when she felt uncomfortable. She suddenly got up and went to the door. “I’m going to tell Belinda I’ve played her a trick,” she said. “I’m not playing in the match on Saturday knowing I’ve been mean.”

She ran out. She went to Belinda’s study and knocked on the door. Belinda yelled, “Come in!” She looked surprised when she saw Pat.

“Hallo, Isabel!” she said. “I didn’t send for you.”

“I’m not Isabel, I’m Pat,” said Pat “I’ve come about the match on Saturday.”

“Well, there’s nothing more to tell you than I told you just now,” said Belinda.

“That’s just it. You didn’t tell me just now—you told my twin, Isabel,” said Pat. “I was down in the town. I know you said I wasn’t to go—but I’m so like my twin that I knew nobody would ever know.”

“Rather a mean trick, Pat,” said Belinda, in a scornful voice.

“I know,” said Pat in a troubled voice. “I’m sorry for that. I’ve come to say thank you for putting me in the match, but of course I don’t expect to play now. Anyway, I couldn’t have you being decent to me if I was playing a trick just to pay you out. And I’ll take my share of the jobs with Isabel now. I was silly before. That’s all, Belinda.”

“No—not quite all,” said Belinda, in an unexpectedly gentle voice. “I’ve something to say too. You’ve done something rather mean, but you’ve been big enough to put it right. We’ll say no more about it—but you’ll play in the match on Saturday!”

Pat flew off to tell Isabel, her heart leaping for joy. How decent Belinda was! How could she ever have thought her beastly and horrid?

“I’ll boil her old kettle and clean her old boots and even scrub the floor now!” thought Pat. “And my word I’ll shoot a dozen goals on Saturday, see if I don’t!”

She didn’t—but she shot one very difficult one—and how pleased she was to hear both Isabel and Belinda shout, “Well done, Pat! Oh, good shot, good shot!”

The Twins at St. Clare's

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