22 “ping!”
everyone was delighted when miss williams announced in her quiet voice, two days later, that darrell was once more to be head-girl of the form. “thank you for taking on the position temporarily,” she said to sally. “but i am now convinced that darrell deserves to be promoted again.”
“why, darrell? why has miss williams put you back as head this week?” asked belinda and the others, after class. but darrell didn’t tell them, of course. miss williams hadn’t actually said that it was because of her trying to put right the affair of the twins—but she knew that it was. she had really acted like a responsible head-girl then.
no more spiteful things were done to connie, and gradually the connie affair, as it was called, was forgotten. ruth seemed to forget her dislike and resentment, and was very sweet to connie. “next term,” thought darrell, “things will be quite all right—they’ll be in different forms, and ruth can go ahead with her good brains, and connie can work at her own pace and keep her hands off ruth.”
the term was slipping away fast now. alicia was better, and fortunately no one else had caught measles from her. most of the upper fourth had already had them, which was fortunate. alicia groaned because she felt sure she had failed—and would have to take the school certificate all over again. she was to come back to school a week before breaking-up. the girls were very pleased. they had all missed alicia’s quickness and sense of fun. gwendoline was perhaps the only one who didn’t want her back. poor gwen—she had already lost some of her fat, through having to play so much tennis and go for so many walks, and swim—or try to—each day! but she certainly looked healthier, and her spots were rapidly going.
clarissa amazed the class one day by coming back from a visit to the dentist and the occulist looking completely different! “i haven’t got to wear glasses any more!” she announced. “and that awful wire’s been taken from my front teeth. do you recognize me, girls?”
“hardly!” said darrell, and belinda got out her pencil to make a sketch of this different and most attractive clarissa!
she stood laughing in front of them—her deep green eyes flashing round, and her white teeth no longer spoilt by an ugly wire. her wavy auburn hair suited her eyes, and she looked unusual and somehow distinguished.
“you’ll be a beauty one day, clarissa,” said belinda, her artist’s eye seeing clarissa at twenty-one, lovely and unusual in her colouring. “well, well—talk about an ugly duckling turning into a swan!”
clarissa was now fast friends with bill, much to the girls’ amusement. nobody had ever thought that the boyish bill, who seemed only to care for her horse thunder, and for miss peters (but a good way behind thunder!) would make a friend in her form. but she had, and the two chattered continually together, always about horses, and rode whenever they could. gwendoline didn’t care. since she had seen clarissa going off at half-term with the dowdy-looking elderly woman in the old austin car, she had taken no further interest in her.
gwendoline wanted a grand friend, not somebody ordinary, whose people didn’t even clean their old car when they came at half-term! so gwen was once more alone, with no one to talk or giggle with, no one to call her friend.
“we ought to do something to celebrate alicia coming back,” said belinda. “she’s coming tomorrow.”
“yes! let’s do something,” said darrell, at once.
“something mad and bad,” said betty, who was in the courtyard with the others.
“a trick!” said irene. “we haven’t played a trick for two whole terms. think of it! what are we coming to? we must be getting old and staid.”
“yes, let’s play a trick,” said sally. “after all, the exams are over, and we worked jolly hard—we deserve a really good laugh!”
“what trick shall we play?” asked mavis. “betty, didn’t you bring anything back this term? last term you brought back that awful spider that could dangle from the ceiling like a real one—but we never got a chance of using it. gosh, i’d like to have seen mam’zelle’s face if we had managed to let it down over her desk!”
everyone giggled. “i didn’t bring it back with me this term,” said betty, regretfully. “i stayed with alicia in the hols and one of her brothers bagged it. but i tell you what i have got!”
“what?” asked everyone, getting thrilled.
“i haven’t tried them yet,” said betty. “they’re awfully queer things. they’re little grey pellets, quite flat. one side is sticky, and you stick it to the ceiling.”
“what happens?” asked irene.
“you have to dab each pellet with some kind of liquid,” said betty, trying to remember. “at least, i think that’s right—and then, according to the instructions, a queer bubble detaches itself slowly from the pellet, floats downwards, and suddenly pops—and makes a pinging sound.”
everyone listened in delight. “betty! it’s too marvellous for words!” said irene, thrilled. “let’s play the trick tomorrow, to celebrate alicia’s coming back. we’ll have to get the step-ladder to put some of the pellets on the ceiling. let’s do it when mam’zelle takes us. she’s always fun to play tricks on.”
so, with much secrecy, the step-ladder was hidden in the cupboard outside the upper fourth classroom, and just before morning school, three flat grey pellets were quickly fixed to the ceiling, where, quite miraculously, so it seemed to the girls, they stuck very tightly indeed, and could hardly be seen at all.
betty brushed each one over quickly with the liquid from a small bottle sent with the pellets. then the ladder was bundled into the cupboard again, just as mam’zelle’s high heels were heard tip-tapping down the corridor. daphne flew to hold the door open, and the others stood ready in their places.
“merci, daphne,” said mam’zelle, briskly. “ah, alicia—it is very, very good to see you back. you have had a bad time with your measle?”
“well, actually i didn’t mind my measle very much, after the first day,” said alicia, with a grin. she was looking very well now.
“it is good that no one got the measle from you,” said mam’zelle, sitting down at her desk.
“i had a measle last year,” said irene, and this was the signal for everyone to talk about when they had a measle, too. mam’zelle had to bring the talk to an end, because it showed signs of getting very boisterous.
“we will have no more measly talk,” she said, firmly, and wondered why the girls laughed so much at this.
they took quick, surreptitious glances at the ceiling every now and again, longing to see the new trick at work. alicia had heard all about it, of course, and was thrilled with their novel way of celebrating her return. she had suggested that everyone should pretend they could not see the bubbles, or hear the “ping” when they exploded.
“mam’zelle will think she’s gone crackers,” she said. “i know i should if i saw bubbles that pinged round me when nobody else did!”
“today i go through the questions that you answered on the exam paper,” said mam’zelle, smiling round. “you will tell me what you put and i will say if it was good or no.”
“oh no, mam’zelle,” protested alicia. “we had to do the exam—let’s forget it now it’s over. anyway, i did such a frightful paper, i’ve failed, i know. i can’t bear to think of the exam questions now.”
irene nudged belinda. one of the grey pellets was beginning its performance. a small grey bubble was beginning to form up on the ceiling. it grew a little bigger, became heavy enough to detach itself, and floated gently down into the air. all three pellets had been placed just above the big desk belonging to miss williams, where mam’zelle was now sitting.
with bated breath the girls watched the bubble slowly descend. it looked as if it was about to fall on mam’zelle’s head, decided not to, and skirted round her hair, near her left ear. when it got there, it burst suddenly, and a curious sharp, very metallic “ping” sounded.
mam’zelle almost jumped out of her skin. “tiens!” she said “qu’est ce que c’est que ?a! what was that!”
“what was what, mam’zelle?” asked sally, innocently.
“a ping—comme ?a!” said mam’zelle, and pinged again. “ping! did you not hear a ping, sally?”
“a ping? what exactly do you mean, mam’zelle?” asked sally, putting on a puzzled look that made darrell want to cry with laughter. “you don’t mean a pong, do you?”
“perhaps she means a ping-pong,” suggested irene, and began to giggle. so did mavis. darrell frowned at them.
“i sit here, and suddenly in my ear there comes a ping!” said mam’zelle. “i feel it on my ear.”
“oh, i thought you meant you heard it,” said sally.
“i hear it and i feel it,” said mam’zelle. “que c’est drole, ?a! how queer!”
another bubble was now descending. the girls, trying not to appear as if they were watching it, waited for it to descend near mam’zelle. it floated down and exploded behind her head. “ping!” it was a most extraordinary little sound, small but very sharp and clear.
mam’zelle leapt to her feet wildly. she turned and looked behind her. “there it comes again!” she cried. “it was on my neck—and ping! it went. what can this be?”
“i expect it’s just noises in your ears, mam’zelle,” said darrell, comfortingly. this made irene give one of her terrific snorts, and daphne and mavis began to laugh helplessly.
“do you not hear this ‘ping’, darrell?” said mam’zelle, beginning to look scared. “i am . . .”
“ping!” another bubble popped with a ping, and mam’zelle stood with her mouth open in amazement. what was this pinging? and why could not the girls hear it? aha—was it a trick?
“is this a trick?” she began. “a bad, wicked trick, on your poor old mam’zelle again? i have not . . .”
ping! a little bubble landed fairly and squarely on mam’zelle’s bun of hair on the top of her head and pinged valiantly. mam’zelle shrieked.
“what is it?” she cried. “stop laughing, girls! tell me what it is, this ping.”
she saw irene looking up at the ceiling and she looked, too. but at that moment no bubble was descending, and she saw nothing. then a bubble which had actually got almost to the floor without popping, pinged just by her foot. mam’zelle jumped as if she had been shot. she leapt up again and made for the door.
“c’est épouvantable!” she cried. “it is unbelievable. i go to fetch help!”
