7 in the third form common-room
it was sunny but cold the first week or two of that easter term. the girls squabbled over getting the seats by the radiator in the common-room. gwendoline, mavis and daphne were the ones that complained most of the cold—but they were the ones who took as little exercise as they could, so of course they always got chilblains and colds.
bill didn’t seem to feel the cold at all. she was still tanned, although it was early in the year. darrell and alicia liked the cold, and they loved rushing out to play lacrosse in the afternoons.
they went out ten minutes before the others to practise catching. gwendoline couldn’t understand it, and she and mavis became friends again in sympathizing with each other over the cold, and jeering at alicia and darrell for being so hardy.
zerelda, of course, being a fourth-former, was now not very often able to be with any of the third-formers, so gwendoline had had to give up any idea of being her best friend. zerelda did not seem to be very happy in the fourth form, darrell thought. she often came slipping into the third form common-room in the evening—saying she wanted to borrow a book or a gramophone record—and then stopping to talk to darrell and the others.
“got a special friend yet?” darrell asked her one evening.
zerelda twisted one of her curls carefully round her finger and then shook it back into its proper place.
“no,” she said. “stuck-up things, the fourth form! they seem to think i don’t pull my weight. and they think the end of the world has come because i don’t want to try and get into the third match-team for lacrosse!”
“well, you’re so tall, you could do well in the team,” said darrell, considering her. “you ought to be able to take some fine catches. can you run?”
“run! i don’t want to run!” said zerelda, astonished. “as for that games captain—what’s her name—molly ronaldson—well, i ask you, did you ever see such a girl? big as a horse and just about as clumsy! shouts and dances about on the field as if she had gone mad!”
darrell laughed. “molly ronaldson is one of the finest games captains we’ve ever had. we’ve won more matches with her than ever before. she’s got an absolute genius for picking the right people for the match-teams. my goodness, if i could get into one of the teams i’d be so thrilled i wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
“is that so?” said zerelda, in her slow drawl, looking quite astonished. “well, maybe i wouldn’t sleep at night if i had spots on my face like gwendoline goes in for, or if i broke one of my nails—but i’d not lose my beauty sleep for any game in the world!”
“you’re a queer person, zerelda,” said darrell. she looked at her earnestly. “you’re missing all the nicest years of your life—i mean, you just won’t let yourself enjoy the things most english girls of your age enjoy. you spend hours over your hair and your face and your nails, when you could be having fun at lacrosse, or going for walks, or even messing about in the gym.”
“messing about in the gym! that’s another thing i can’t understand your liking!” said zerelda. gwendoline, who had come up to join in the conversation, nodded her head in agreement.
“i can’t understand that either,” she said in a prim voice. “it’s a pity gym is compulsory, and games too. i wouldn’t bother much about them if they weren’t.”
“only because, dear gwendoline, you’re so jolly bad at them that you make a fool of yourself every time you go into the gym or on the games field,” said alicia, maliciously. “zerelda’s different. i bet she’d be good at them—but she thinks that all that kind of thing is beneath her.”
any other girl would have resented this, but zerelda only grinned. gwendoline, however, flared up at the unkind sneer at her games and gym performances, and scowled angrily at alicia.
“nice little scowl you’ve got, gwen,” said belinda, appearing suddenly with her sketch-book. “do you mind if i draw you like that? it’s such a lovely scowl!”
gwendoline scowled still more and flounced away. she knew belinda’s clever pencil and dreaded it! she didn’t want her scowl to be drawn and passed round the common-room, accompanied by delighted giggles. belinda shut her book and looked disappointed in rather an exaggerated manner.
“oh, she’s gone! and it was such a lovely scowl! never mind—i’ll watch out for it and draw it another time.”
“beast!” said gwendoline, under her breath and went to sit by mavis. she knew she would have to look out for belinda and her pencil now! once belinda wanted to draw something she didn’t rest till she had done so!
“you’d better go back to the fourth form common-room now,” said jean to zerelda. “the fourth-formers won’t like it if you begin to live with us! we’re rather beneath their notice, you know. and, after all, you are a fourth-former, zerelda.”
“i know. i wish i wasn’t,” said zerelda, getting up.
“aren’t the fourth form girls ‘wunnerful’ then?” said alicia, with a grin.
zerelda shrugged her shoulders and went out gracefully. “if she’d think of something else besides her looks and the way she’s going to act, and being grown-up, and would put herself out to play games decently and take some interest in her work, the fourth form wouldn’t make her feel out of things,” said jean, with her usual common sense. “but what’s the good of telling zerelda that? she simply doesn’t belong to the school at all.”
irene drifted in, looking for something. she hummed a lively little tune. “tumty-ta-ti-tumty-ta-ti-too!” she had just composed a gay dance, and was very pleased about it. the girls looked at her and grinned at one another.
“where are you off to at this time of the evening, irene?” asked alicia.
irene looked surprised. “nowhere,” she said. “i’m just looking for my music-book. i want to write down my new tune. tumty-ta-ti-tumty-ta-ti-too!”
“yes, very nice,” said alicia, approvingly. “but why have you got your hat and cloak on if you aren’t going anywhere?”
“oh, good gracious, have i?” said irene, in dismay. she looked down at her cloak and felt her hat on her head. “blow! when did i put these on? i did take them off, didn’t i, when we came back from the walk this afternoon?”
“well, you didn’t have them on at tea-time or miss potts would have said something!” said alicia. “you really are a chump, irene.”
“oh, yes, i know now what must have happened,” said irene, sitting down in a chair, still with hat and cloak on. “i went up to get a clean pair of stockings—and i was thinking of my new tune—and i must have taken my hat out instead of my stockings, and put it on—and then put on my cloak too. blow! now i shall have to go and take them off and find my stockings—and i do want to write down that tune.”
“i’ll take them up for you and find your stockings,” said belinda, who knew that irene wouldn’t be able to do anything sensible till she had written down her tune.
“will you? angel!” said irene, and pulled off her hat and cloak. darrell laughed. belinda was as much of a scatterbrain as irene. it would be a wonder if she got as far as the cupboard to put away irene’s things—and ten to one that she wouldn’t remember the stockings!
belinda disappeared with the hat and cloak. irene began to hum her tune again. mavis sang it in her lovely rich voice.
“fine!” said irene, pleased. “you make it sound twice as good, mavis. one day i’ll write a song for that voice of yours.”
“i’ll sing it in new york,” said mavis, graciously. “and that should make you famous, irene, if i sing one of your songs! when i’m an opera-singer, i . . .”
“when you’re an opera-singer, mavis, you’ll be even more conceited than you are now,” said alicia’s sharp voice, “which sounds impossible i know, but isn’t.”
“jean! can’t you stop alicia saying such beastly unfair things?” protested mavis, red with annoyance. “i’m not conceited. can i help having a voice like mine? it’s a gift, and i shall make it a gift to the whole world too, when i’m grown up.”
“alicia’s tongue is getting a little sharp,” said jean, “but you do rather ask for sharp things to be said to you, mavis.”
mavis was silent and cross. gwendoline began to sympathize with her, for she too hated alicia’s hard hitting. mary-lou, darning a stocking in a corner, hoped that she would not come in for a flick of alicia’s tongue!
“where’s belinda?” said darrell. “she’s an awful long time getting those stockings for you, irene.”
“so she is,” said irene, who had now completely forgotten about her stockings. “blow! if she doesn’t bring them soon, i’ll have to go and fetch them myself. i simply must put a clean pair on for supper.”
mam’zelle came bustling in, tip-tapping on her small feet in their high-heeled shoes. she held a hat and cloak in her hand.
“irene!” she said, reproachfully, “these are yours! three times already have i cleared up your things from this place and that place. now this time i have almost fallen down the stairs because of your hat and cloak!”
irene stared in surprise. “but—where were they?” she asked.
“on the stairs—lying for me to fall over,” said mam’zelle. “i see them on the stairs as i come down, and i say to myself, ‘what is this? is it someone taken ill on the stairs!’ but no, it is irene’s cloak and hat once more. i am very displeased with you, irene. you will take an order-mark!”
“oh no, mam’zelle!” said irene, distressed. order-marks counted against the whole form. “mam’zelle, i’m really very sorry.”
“one order-mark,” said mam’zelle, and departed on her high heels.
“blow belinda!” said irene. “what possessed her to put them on the stairs?”
belinda came in at that moment. she was greeted by a volley of remarks. “we’ve got an order-mark because of you, idiot! what did you do with irene’s things? mam’zelle found them on the stairs!”
“golly!” said belinda, dismayed. “yes, i remember. i was going up the stairs with them, and i dropped my pencil. i chucked the things down to find it—and must have forgotten all about them. i am sorry, irene.”
“it’s all right,” said irene, solemnly putting on her hat and cloak. “i’ll take them up myself now—and i’ll jolly well wear them so that i can’t leave them lying about either!”
she disappeared for a long time. the bell rang for supper. there was a general clearing-up, and the girls got ready to go to the dining-room.
“where’s irene now?” said jean, exasperated. “honestly she ought to be kept in a cage then we’d always know where she was!”
“here she is!” said darrell, with a shout of laughter. “irene! you’ve still got your hat and cloak on! oh, you’ll make us die of laughing. quick, alicia, take them off her and rush upstairs with them. she’ll get another order-mark if we don’t look out.”
