but the girls forestalled her and picked up the sheets, showing them round to one another with squeals of laughter.
“Look at this one! I never saw anything so funny in my life!”
“Good enough for Punch magazine. I say — look at the baron’s face! And what is he wearing?”
“This one’s priceless. Gosh, Maureen really is a humorist, isn’t she?”
Then Irene picked up the sheets of music. “Hallo! Here are the tunes she has written! I bet they’ll be priceless, too. I’ll play them over.”
She went to the common-room piano, and with a very droll expression on her face she played the tunes, making them sound even sillier than they were.
Everyone crowded round the piano, laughing. “Isn’t Maureen a scream! She can do funny drawings and write ridiculous tunes too!”
Maureen began to feel frightened. Were the girls really in earnest about all this? They seemed to be. Surely — surely — they couldn’t really think that all her lovely work was so bad that it was funny? They must be thinking it was funny on purpose — perhaps they thought she meant it to be!
She turned to find Gwen. Gwen would understand. Gwen was her friend, she had told Gwen everything — how good she was at drawing, music and singing, how hard she had worked at all this, how pleased she was with the results.
Gwen was looking at her and it wasn’t a nice look. It was a triumphant look that said, “Ah — pride comes before a fall, my girl — and what a fall!” It was a look that said, “I’m glad about all this. Serves you right.”
Maureen was shocked. Gwen laughed loudly, and joined in with the others,
“Frightfully funny! Priceless, Maureen! Who would have thought you could be so funny?”
“Now sing,” said Mavis, and thrust one of the songs into her hand. “Let’s hear you. You’ve such a wonderful voice, haven’t you, so well-trained. I’m sure it must be a great joy to you. Sing!”
Maureen did not dare to refuse. She gazed at the music with blurred eyes and sang. Her loud voice rose, even more off the note than usual. It shook with disappointment as the girls began to clap and cheer and laugh again.
“Ha ha! Listen to that! Can’t she have a comic part in the play, Darrell, and sing it? She’d bring the house down. Did you ever hear such a voice?”
Maureen stopped singing. Tears fell down her cheek. She gave one desperate look at Gwen, a look begging for a word of praise — but none came.
She turned to go out of the room. Catherine ran after her. “Maureen! Don’t take it like that. The girls don’t mean anything!”
“Oh yes we do,” said Darrell, under her breath. “We’ve been cruel to be kind. Catherine would say a thing like that.”
“Don’t touch me!” cried Maureen. “ Saint Catherine — coming all over pious and goody-goody after you’ve laughed at me with the rest! Ho — SAINT!”
Catherine shrank back as if she had been slapped in the face. Nobody smiled, except Gwen. Mary-Lou looked upset. She couldn’t bear scenes of any sort. Bill looked on stolidly. She got up.
“Well, I’m going riding,” she said. “There’s half an hour of daylight left. Coming, Clarissa?”
Bill’s solidness and matter-of-fact voice made everyone feel more normal. They watched Bill and Clarissa go out of the room.
“Well — I don’t somehow feel that was quite such a success as we hoped,” said Sally. “Actually I feel rather low-down.”
“So do I,” said Darrell. “Maureen is a conceited ass, of course, and badly needed taking down a peg — but I’m afraid we’ve taken her down more pegs than we meant to.”
“It won’t hurt her,” said Gwen, in a smug voice. “She thinks too much of herself. I can’t think why she’s attached herself to me all these weeks.”
Alicia couldn’t resist this. “Like calls to like, dear Gwen,” she said. “Deep calls to deep. You’re as like as two peas, you and Maureen. It’s been a sweet sight to see you two
“Look at this one! I never saw anything so funny in my life!”
“Good enough for Punch magazine. I say — look at the baron’s face! And what is he wearing?”
“This one’s priceless. Gosh, Maureen really is a humorist, isn’t she?”
Then Irene picked up the sheets of music. “Hallo! Here are the tunes she has written! I bet they’ll be priceless, too. I’ll play them over.”
She went to the common-room piano, and with a very droll expression on her face she played the tunes, making them sound even sillier than they were.
Everyone crowded round the piano, laughing. “Isn’t Maureen a scream! She can do funny drawings and write ridiculous tunes too!”
Maureen began to feel frightened. Were the girls really in earnest about all this? They seemed to be. Surely — surely — they couldn’t really think that all her lovely work was so bad that it was funny? They must be thinking it was funny on purpose — perhaps they thought she meant it to be!
She turned to find Gwen. Gwen would understand. Gwen was her friend, she had told Gwen everything — how good she was at drawing, music and singing, how hard she had worked at all this, how pleased she was with the results.
Gwen was looking at her and it wasn’t a nice look. It was a triumphant look that said, “Ah — pride comes before a fall, my girl — and what a fall!” It was a look that said, “I’m glad about all this. Serves you right.”
Maureen was shocked. Gwen laughed loudly, and joined in with the others,
“Frightfully funny! Priceless, Maureen! Who would have thought you could be so funny?”
“Now sing,” said Mavis, and thrust one of the songs into her hand. “Let’s hear you. You’ve such a wonderful voice, haven’t you, so well-trained. I’m sure it must be a great joy to you. Sing!”
Maureen did not dare to refuse. She gazed at the music with blurred eyes and sang. Her loud voice rose, even more off the note than usual. It shook with disappointment as the girls began to clap and cheer and laugh again.
“Ha ha! Listen to that! Can’t she have a comic part in the play, Darrell, and sing it? She’d bring the house down. Did you ever hear such a voice?”
Maureen stopped singing. Tears fell down her cheek. She gave one desperate look at Gwen, a look begging for a word of praise — but none came.
She turned to go out of the room. Catherine ran after her. “Maureen! Don’t take it like that. The girls don’t mean anything!”
“Oh yes we do,” said Darrell, under her breath. “We’ve been cruel to be kind. Catherine would say a thing like that.”
“Don’t touch me!” cried Maureen. “ Saint Catherine — coming all over pious and goody-goody after you’ve laughed at me with the rest! Ho — SAINT!”
Catherine shrank back as if she had been slapped in the face. Nobody smiled, except Gwen. Mary-Lou looked upset. She couldn’t bear scenes of any sort. Bill looked on stolidly. She got up.
“Well, I’m going riding,” she said. “There’s half an hour of daylight left. Coming, Clarissa?”
Bill’s solidness and matter-of-fact voice made everyone feel more normal. They watched Bill and Clarissa go out of the room.
“Well — I don’t somehow feel that was quite such a success as we hoped,” said Sally. “Actually I feel rather low-down.”
“So do I,” said Darrell. “Maureen is a conceited ass, of course, and badly needed taking down a peg — but I’m afraid we’ve taken her down more pegs than we meant to.”
“It won’t hurt her,” said Gwen, in a smug voice. “She thinks too much of herself. I can’t think why she’s attached herself to me all these weeks.”
Alicia couldn’t resist this. “Like calls to like, dear Gwen,” she said. “Deep calls to deep. You’re as like as two peas, you and Maureen. It’s been a sweet sight to see you two
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