"Blyton, Enid - St Clare's 06 - Fifth Formers at St Clare's" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

'Thanks, Jane,' said Angela and gave Jane a smile that thrilled her.
'But—I don't believe I'll be able to do it much more,' went on Jane.
' Why ever not ? ' demanded Angela. ' You promised you would. I hate people who back out of things when they have promised to do them.'
' Well, you see—Mirabel spoke to me about it today,' said Jane, rather desperately. ' She said—she said——'
' Oh, I can guess what she said,' said Angela sneeringly. ' She said you were a wonderful player—and you must practise more—and you mustn't do odd jobs for that horrid Angela. And you meekly said you wouldn't. Little turn-coat.'
' Oh Angela, don't talk like that,' said poor Jane, ' It's not fair. Of course Mirabel didn't speak against you. But I have to do what she says, don't I ? She's sports captain.'
' I don't see why any one has to do what dear, hearty, loud-voiced Mirabel says !' said Angela. ' I don't see why because she's mad on something she should expect every one else to be mad on it too. This passion for games, games, games! I agree with Claudine that it's silly.'
' Oh, but Angela,' said Jane, shocked, ' games are lovely. And they make you get the team-spirit too, and play for your side instead of yourself—and——'
'Don't preach at me,' said Angela, angrily. ' You're only a half-baked first former. I don't care what you do, anyway. Go and practise running and catching morning, noon, and night if you want to. I shall certainly not allow you to do anything for me in future. I don't like turn-coats. Leave that toast and go and find Violet Hill and send her to me. She can do my jobs instead of you.'
Jane was horrified at this outburst. She had given her heart to the beautiful, radiant Angela, and now it was treated as rubbish! Angela didn't want her any more. She would have that silly Violet Hill, who adored Angela from afar and would do anything for a smile from her.
Jane gave a sob and rushed out of the room. In a few minutes Violet Hill came in, thrilled to be sent for. Angela gave her orders in a lazy voice, amused to see how the little first former almost trembled with excitement as
she tidied up the room, and hung on Angela's lightest
word.
Alison came in after a while and looked surprised to see Violet there instead of Jane. ' Where's our devoted Jane ? ' she asked.
Angela told her in a few words what had happened. Violet Hill listened eagerly. She was glad that Jane was in disgrace. She would show Angela how much nicer she, Violet, was !
When Violet went out Alison spoke rather shortly to Angela. ' You shouldn't have said all that in front of Violet. You know how keen Jane was on you—she'll have a fit if she knows all this will be passed round her form.'
' Serves her right,' said Angela, viciously. ' Angela, you make these kids awfully silly,' said Alison, after a pause. ' I don't really think you treat them properly. You oughtn't to let them think you're so wonderful. I bet poor Jane is crying her eyes out. You know Miss Theobald dislikes that kind of thing.'
Angela went pale with rage. She always hated being found fault with. She glared at Alison and tried to think of something really cutting. She found what she wanted at last.
' Really, Alison,' she said, in her lightest, most jeering voice, ' really, Alison—who are you to talk of thinking people wonderful! You're a perfect ninny over that wonderful Miss Willcox of yours, aren't you? Why, you're even trying to copy that deep voice of hers. It just makes me laugh.'
Alison was deeply hurt. When she was fond of any one she could not bear to hear a single word said against
them. ' Miss Willcox is an absolutely sincere person,' she said,
with dignity. ' That's why I like her. You've no interest in English literature, or anything at all really, except yourself, Angela—so you can't understand my admiring any one with such an interesting character as Miss Willcox.'
'Tosh,' said Angela, rudely.
The two girls said no more to each other that evening. Angela fumed in silence and Alison wrote a long and, as she fondly hoped, intelligent essay for Miss Willcox. It was not a very happy evening.
Angela had her knife into Mirabel after that. She did not dare to go and tackle Mirabel openly about Jane, because she was afraid of Mirabel's rudeness. Mirabel was tasting power for the first time as sports captain, and she was rather arrogant and blunt in her speech. Also she was very thick-skinned and Angela despaired of being able to say anything that would hurt her.
So she had to content herself with looking at her sneeringly, and saying mocking things behind her back. But as sneering glances and words were typical of Angela when she was upset about something, no one took much notice, Mirabel least of all.
Angela made things up with Alison, not so much because she wanted to, but because she simply had to have some one to talk to and air her views to. Also, Alison genuinely admired her looks and her clothes, and it was always pleasant to bask in admiration of that sort.
Alison was not foolish with Angela as she had been when she first came. She no longer spoilt her and praised her and agreed with everything. But she could not hide her real admiration of the lovely girl with her shining golden hair, and brilliant blue eyes.
She was glad to make up the quarrel with Angela, for she wanted to talk about Miss Willcox—how wonderful she was in class, what beautiful poetry she wrote, how well she recited in that soulful voice of hers.
So, in return for admiration, Angela listened, rather
into
bored, to all that Alison wanted to say. They were friends again—but it would not take much to turn them into enemies once more !


5 HARD WORK—AND A LITTLE FUN

THE fifth form were certainly working very hard. Miss Cornwallis kept their noses to the grindstone, as Pat said, and piled prep. on to them. Miss Willcox expected a great deal of them too. Miss Theobald, the Head, took the form for one or two lessons and although she did not give them a great deal of prep. the girls felt that what she did give them must be specially well done.
When Mam'zelle piled prep. on them too, the girls grew indignant. ' Gracious ! What with all that maths. to do, and that map to draw, and those French poems to memorize, and that essay for Miss Willcox, we'll all have nervous breakdowns !' groaned Bobby Only Pam Boardman did not seem to mind. She had an amazing memory, and had only to look at a page once to know it by heart. Doris envied her this gift from the bottom of her heart.
' I've no memory at all for lessons,' she sighed. ' What I learn in the morning I've forgotten in the evening.'
' Well, if you're going to be an actress, you'll have parts to learn, won't you ? ' said Pam.
' The funny thing is, when I act a part and say the words out loud, I can remember them quite easily,' said Doris. ' I never forget them then. It's sitting hunched up over a book, reading and re-reading the words that gets me down.'
' Well, Doris, stand up and recite the words out loud, and act them if you want to,' said Pam, a gleam of fun
coming into her solemn eyes. 'Here--take this French poem--it's all about the so-beautiful country-side, as Mam'zelle would say. Recite it out loud, act the cows and the sheep, frisk when you come to the part where the little lambs play, and waddle like a duck when you get to them. You'll soon learn it.'
So, to the amazement of Pat and Isabel, who looked in at Pam's study to borrow a book, Doris threw herself heart, soul and body into the French pastoral poem.
She declaimed the poem loudly, with gestures of all kinds. She frisked like a lamb, she chewed cud like a cow, she waddled like a duck. It was perfect.
The girls shrieked with laughter. Dons had turned the solemn and rather heavy French poem into a real comedy.
' Now — do you know it ? ' said Pam, when Doris finished, and sat down panting in a chair.
Doris screwed up her nose and thought hard. ' Let me see,' she said, ' it begins like this . . .'
But until she got up and acted the poem as she had done before, she could not remember a word. It was evidently the acting that brought the words to her mind.
' Well — you do know the poem,' said Pam, pleased. 'You won't forget it now. Mam'zelle will be pleased with her chere Doris tomorrow ! '