"Blyton, Enid - St Clare's 04 - The Second Form At St Clare's (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

you have told an untruth.' Mirabel saw her time at break going. She
would have to do the two papers then. She looked round the class for
sympathy. Usually, comforting glances were sent from one girl to
another, when somebody got into trouble. But there were no comforting
glances for Mirabel. Every one was glad that the Nuisance was in
trouble. Poor Mirabel! Her troubles were never-ending that morning. Miss
Jenks noticed all the drooping flowers in the waterless vases, during
the next lesson, and spoke sharply about it. ' Who is Room-Monitor this
week? ' ' I am/ said Mirabel. ' Well, look at the flowers,' said Miss
Jenks. ' It doesn't seem as if they can have a drop of water in the
vases, by the look of them.' ' Why, I filled them all up yesterday,'
said Mirabel, indignantly. ' I did really.' Miss Jenks went to the
nearest vase and tipped it up. ' Not a drop of water/ she said. ' I
suppose you will suggest next that somebody has emptiedall the vases,
Mirabel?' It flashed across the girl's mind that some one might actually
have done that, to pay her back for all the annoying things she had
done. But it seemed such a mean trick-to make flowers die in order to
get-somebody into trouble! She flushed and said nothing. ' I suppose you
thought I would let you miss part of the lesson whilst you filled up the
flowers/ said Miss Jenks, in disgust. ' Hilary, have you finished
answering the questions on the blackboard? Good-then just go and get
some water for the vases, will you? ' Mirabel spent the whole of break
doing the French paper twice over. She guessed now, by the grins and
nudges among the girls, that most of her troubles were due to them, and
she was angry and hurt. ' Just as I had made up my mind to be decent!'
she thought, as she wrote out the French papers quickly. ' It's beastly
of every one.' She was late for games because she could not put on her
coat in time to go to the field with the others. Alison had sewn up the
sleeves well and truly-so tightly that it was impossible to break the
stitches. Mirabel had to go and hunt for a pair of scissors to cut the
sewn-up sleeves. She was almost in tears. And then, when she put on her
Wellingtons to go across the muddy field-path, she squealed in pain.
Nasty little pebbles made her hobble along-and at last she had to stop,
take off the boots, and empty the pebbles into the hedge. Miss Wilton,
the sports mistress, had already started the lacrosse game going. '
You're late, Mirabel,' she called. ' Stand aside until half-time. If you
can't bother to be in time, you can miss part of the game.' It was cold
standing and watching. Mirabel felt miserable. Everybody and everything
was against her. What was the use of trying to be different? Miss Wilton
took her to task at half-time. ' Why were you so late? You know the time
perfectly well. You were almost fifteen minutes after the others!' She
waited to hear Mirabel's excuse. The other girls listened. They had not
bargained for Miss Wilton enquiring into the matter. Alison felt
uncomfortable. She didn't want to get into trouble for sewing up
Mirabel's coat-sleeves. She did not want another bad report. Last term's
had been very poor, and her father had had a good many things to say
that were not pleasant to hear. Mirabel opened her mouth to pour out her
woes-how her coat-sleeves had been sewn up-stones put into her
Wellingtons-and goodness knows what else done to her! Then she shut her
mouth again. How often had she scolded her young brother and sister for