formers there, she fled. Then a fourth-former came. She was not scared of third-formers, but was very much astonished to see Zerelda and her strange raiment.
“I've got to practise,” she said, coming in. “Clear out”
Zerelda stopped indignantly. “Clear out yourself!” she said. “Gee, of all the nerve! Can't you see I'm rehearsing?”
“No, I can't,” said the fourth-former. “And wait till a mistress sees you in that curtain—You'll be for it, Zerelda Brass. Clear out now, both of you. I'm late already.”
Zerelda decided to go all temperamental like Irene. She caught up her book of Shakespeare's plays and threw it at the fourth-former. Most unfortunately at that moment Matron came by, and, as she always did, glanced into the practice-room to see that each girl there was practising. She was filled with astonishment to see somebody wearing a curtain and a tablecloth, with hair all over her face, throwing a book at a girl about to sit down at the piano.
She opened the door sharply, making everyone jump. “What's all this? What are you doing? Oh, it's vow, Zerelda. What on earth have you got the curtain round you for? Are you quite mad? And what has happened to your hair? It looks a hundred times worse than usual. Janet, get on with your practising. Gwendoline, you shouldn't be here when a fourth former is practising. As for you , Zerelda, if I see any more tempers Like that, I shall report you to Miss Grayling! Throwing books at one another indeed! A third-former too! You'll go down into the first form if you behave like that!”
The girls couldn't get a word in, for Matron fired all this off at top speed. She pushed Janet firmly down on the stool, shooed Gwendoline out as if she was a hen, and took Zerelda firmly by the shoulder.
“You'll just come with me and let me find out if you've torn the cloth or the curtain,” she said. “If you have you'll sit down in my room under my eye and mend it. And while I think of it—if you don't darn your stockings better than you have been doing, I shall have to ask you to come to me for darning lessons.”
Angry and embarrassed, poor Zerelda had to walk down the corridor after Matron, trying to take the curtain and cloth away from her shoulders and waist, and wishing she could tie her hair back.
But Matron would give her no time to rearrange or tidy herself. This stuck-up, affected American girl had annoyed Matron so often—now Matron was getting a bit of her own back! Let everyone see Zerelda in this rumpled, ridiculous state!
And most unfortunately for Zerelda they met a whole batch of giggling second-formers, who stared at Zerelda in delighted amazement.
“What's she done? Where's Matron taking her? Doesn't she look awful !” poor Zerelda heard the twelve-year-olds say. She blushed miserably and looked round for Gwen. But Gwen had gone. She knew Matron in this mood, and she wasn't going to go near her if she could help it!
They met Mam'zelle at the bend of the stairs, and Mam'zelle exclaimed in surprise. “ Tiens ! What is this? Zerelda! Your hair!”
“Yes. I'm dealing with her, Mam'zelle,” said Matron firmly. She and Mam'zelle were usually at war with one another, so Matron did not stop to talk, but swept Zerelda along to her room at top speed, leaving Mam'zelle to gape and wonder.
Fortunately for Zerelda, Matron could find no damage done to either the tablecloth or the curtain. She was quite disappointed! She did Zerelda's hair for her herself, and Zerelda was so overcome by Matron's briskness and ability to talk without stopping that she submitted without saying a word.
Matron plaited Zerelda's hair into two fat plaits! Zerelda had never had her hair plaited in her life. She sat there, horror-struck. This awful school! Whatever would happen to her next?
“There,” said Matron, satisfied at last, tying the ends of the plaits with blue tape. She stepped back. “Now you look a proper schoolgirl, Zerelda—and very sensible and nice too. Why
“I've got to practise,” she said, coming in. “Clear out”
Zerelda stopped indignantly. “Clear out yourself!” she said. “Gee, of all the nerve! Can't you see I'm rehearsing?”
“No, I can't,” said the fourth-former. “And wait till a mistress sees you in that curtain—You'll be for it, Zerelda Brass. Clear out now, both of you. I'm late already.”
Zerelda decided to go all temperamental like Irene. She caught up her book of Shakespeare's plays and threw it at the fourth-former. Most unfortunately at that moment Matron came by, and, as she always did, glanced into the practice-room to see that each girl there was practising. She was filled with astonishment to see somebody wearing a curtain and a tablecloth, with hair all over her face, throwing a book at a girl about to sit down at the piano.
She opened the door sharply, making everyone jump. “What's all this? What are you doing? Oh, it's vow, Zerelda. What on earth have you got the curtain round you for? Are you quite mad? And what has happened to your hair? It looks a hundred times worse than usual. Janet, get on with your practising. Gwendoline, you shouldn't be here when a fourth former is practising. As for you , Zerelda, if I see any more tempers Like that, I shall report you to Miss Grayling! Throwing books at one another indeed! A third-former too! You'll go down into the first form if you behave like that!”
The girls couldn't get a word in, for Matron fired all this off at top speed. She pushed Janet firmly down on the stool, shooed Gwendoline out as if she was a hen, and took Zerelda firmly by the shoulder.
“You'll just come with me and let me find out if you've torn the cloth or the curtain,” she said. “If you have you'll sit down in my room under my eye and mend it. And while I think of it—if you don't darn your stockings better than you have been doing, I shall have to ask you to come to me for darning lessons.”
Angry and embarrassed, poor Zerelda had to walk down the corridor after Matron, trying to take the curtain and cloth away from her shoulders and waist, and wishing she could tie her hair back.
But Matron would give her no time to rearrange or tidy herself. This stuck-up, affected American girl had annoyed Matron so often—now Matron was getting a bit of her own back! Let everyone see Zerelda in this rumpled, ridiculous state!
And most unfortunately for Zerelda they met a whole batch of giggling second-formers, who stared at Zerelda in delighted amazement.
“What's she done? Where's Matron taking her? Doesn't she look awful !” poor Zerelda heard the twelve-year-olds say. She blushed miserably and looked round for Gwen. But Gwen had gone. She knew Matron in this mood, and she wasn't going to go near her if she could help it!
They met Mam'zelle at the bend of the stairs, and Mam'zelle exclaimed in surprise. “ Tiens ! What is this? Zerelda! Your hair!”
“Yes. I'm dealing with her, Mam'zelle,” said Matron firmly. She and Mam'zelle were usually at war with one another, so Matron did not stop to talk, but swept Zerelda along to her room at top speed, leaving Mam'zelle to gape and wonder.
Fortunately for Zerelda, Matron could find no damage done to either the tablecloth or the curtain. She was quite disappointed! She did Zerelda's hair for her herself, and Zerelda was so overcome by Matron's briskness and ability to talk without stopping that she submitted without saying a word.
Matron plaited Zerelda's hair into two fat plaits! Zerelda had never had her hair plaited in her life. She sat there, horror-struck. This awful school! Whatever would happen to her next?
“There,” said Matron, satisfied at last, tying the ends of the plaits with blue tape. She stepped back. “Now you look a proper schoolgirl, Zerelda—and very sensible and nice too. Why
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