"Blyton, Enid - Malory 02 - Second Form at Malory Towers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

"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
"The chalk ought to be working now!"
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 t
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.
"Oh, excuse me for interrupting your class, Mr. Young," she said. "But could you just have a word with Mr. Lemming about the piano here?"
Mr. Young had to swallow his annoyance and explain what was wrong with the piano. In doing so he turned his back to Miss Grayling who eyed this patch of brilliant pink with the utmost astonishment. The girls were as quiet as mice now, and Alicia and Betty felt distinctly anxious.
Miss Grayling turned to Sally, the head of the second form. "Will you go to the hall and fetch the clothes brush there?" she said. "Poor Mr. Young has brushed against something."
Sally flew off and fetched the brush. Mr. Young was surprised to hear Miss Grayling's remark. He looked over his shoulder trying to see himself.
"Is it paint?" he asked in alarm. "I do hope not! Oh—only chalk! How in the world did it get there?"
"Oy!"
Soon the offending pink chalk had been vigorously brushed away by Mr. Lemming, who then proceeded to sit down on the piano stool himself to try out some of the bass notes, which had gone wrong. Alicia and Betty watched breathlessly. Most of the girls, guessing that some trick was being played, watched eagerly too.
They were well rewarded when Mr. Lemming rose from the stool. He was wearing a long black overcoat and on it was a wonderful pattern of bright pink. Mr. Young stared at it in amazement
"Ah, you have it tool" he cried. "See, Miss Grayling. Mr. Lemming has brushed up against something also. I will soon put him right."
In spite of being under Miss Grayling's eye the girls began to giggle. Miss Grayling looked very puzzled.
"Your coat was quite all right when we came along here," she said to Mr. Lemming. I am sure I should have noticed it if you had brushed against anything so violently pink as this. In any case there is no wall as pink as this chalk! Whatever can have happened?"
She walked to the stool and looked at it very closely. Alicia and Betty hardly dared to breathe. But the invisible chalk lived up to its name and Miss Grayling did not see a sign of it. It did not occur to her to sit down and see if the same thing happened to her. Still feeling puzzled she took Mr. Lemming out of the room, and the lesson proceeded again.
Not until the end of it did poor Mr. Young sit down on that stool again. When he got up, behold! He was as pretty a sight as before, and the girls stuffed their hankies into their mouths trying not to explode with mirth. Mr. Young noticed nothing this time. He walked pompously to the door and gave the girls the quick little bow he always kept for them.
"Good morning, young ladies!" And out he went, showing his patch of brilliant colour. As he went the bell for Break rang, and the girls tore into the Court, longing to give way to their pent-up laughter.
"Alicia! You had something to do with it! What was it?"
"Oh, it was marvellous! When be turned round to the blackboard I thought I should die!”
"Betty! Darell! Was it your trick? How did you do it? I looked at the stool and there wasn't a thing to be seen!"
"That reminds me,” said Betty to Alicia with a grin. "I must get a wet cloth and rub it over the stool" She disappeared, and the girls surged round Alicia, begging her to tell them the secret
Meanwhile Mr. Young was walking down one of die long corridors, quite unaware of his beautiful decoration. Mam'zelle Dopoot happened to come out of a room just behind him, and stared disbelievingly at the extraordinary sight. She raced after him.
"Monsieur Young! Ha, Monsieur Young!"