The Naughtiest Girl in the School (17 page)

“Joan hadn’t even got a hat on,” said Elizabeth to herself. “She’ll be soaked! If only I knew which way she had gone I’d go and meet her with a mackintosh. Oh dear, everything’s going wrong!”

She could hardly eat any tea. When the meal was over, she ran to the playroom and then to the bedroom to see if Joan was back. She wasn’t. Elizabeth looked out of the window, she felt very ashamed and guilty.

“I meant to be so kind-and all I’ve done is to give Joan a dreadful shock, make her very unhappy, and now she’s out in this dreadful thunderstorm!” thought Elizabeth.

For a whole hour Elizabeth watched for Joan to come back. The thunder gradually rolled itself away and the lightning stopped. But the heavy rain went on and on, lashing down on the new leaves of the trees and making a noise like the waves breaking at sea.

At last Joan came back, Elizabeth saw a small dripping figure coming in through the garden-door. She rushed to Joan at once.

“Joan! You’re simply soaked through! Come and change at once.”

Water dripped off Joan’s dress, for the rain had been tremendous. The little girl was soaked through to the skin. She was shivering with cold.

“Oh, poor Joan,” said Elizabeth, dragging her friend upstairs. “You’ll catch a dreadful cold. Come on, you must change into dry things straight away.”

On the way up, the two girls met the matron of the school, who looked after them when they were ill, and who bandaged their arms and legs when they hurt themselves. She was a fat, jolly woman, and everyone liked her, though she could be very strict when she liked. She stopped when she saw Joan.

“Good gracious!” she said. “Wherever have you been to get into that state, you silly child?”

 “She’s been out in the rain,” said Elizabeth, “She’s awfully cold, Matron. She’s going to put on dry things.”

“I’ve got some of Joan’s things airing in my hot cupboard,” said Matron. “She’d better come along with me. Gracious, child, what a sight you look!”

Joan went with Matron, She was hurriedly stripped of her soaking clothes, and Matron rubbed her down well, with a rough towel. Joan said nothing at all, but stood looking so sad and miserable that Matron was worried.

“I think I’d better take your temperature,” she said. “You don’t look right to me. Put this warm dressing-down round you for a minute. I’ll get the thermometer.”

She sent Elizabeth away. The little girl went off to the music-room to practice, feeling very upset. She practiced her scales steadily, and somehow it comforted her. She went to look for Joan at supper-time, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Haven’t you heard?” said Belinda. “Joan’s ill! She’d got a high temperature, and she’s in bed in the San.”

The San., or sanatorium, was where any boy or girl was put when they were ill. It was a cheerful, sunny room, built apart from the school. So Joan was there, ill! Elizabeth’s heart sank. She felt that it was all her fault.

“Cheer up! She’ll be all right tomorrow, I expect,’ said Belinda, seeing Elizabeth’s dismayed face.

But Joan wasn’t all right. She was worse! The doctor came and went with a grave face. It was dreadful.

“I know what would make Joan better,” thought Elizabeth, in despair. “If only her mother could come and see her, and love her a bit-Joan would be quite all right! Her chill would go, and she’d be happy again.”

Elizabeth sat and wondered what she could do. Then an idea came into her head, she would write to Joan’s mother! She would tell her of the presents she had given to Joan pretending that they were from Joan’s mother. She would tell her how much Joan loved her mother, and wanted her to think of her and remember her-and she would beg her to come and see Joan because she was ill!

Elizabeth jumped up. She ran to Joan’s writing-paper, which she kept on a shelf in the playroom. In it she found the letter from Joan’s mother, and Elizabeth copied the address for herself. Then she slipped the letter back.

“Now I’ll write to Mrs. Townsend,” said the little girl. “It will be the most difficult letter I’ve ever written -but it’s got to be done. Oh dear-what an awful lot of trouble I’m going to get into!”

CHAPTER 20

More Trouble! 

Elizabeth sat down to write to Joan’s mother. She bit the end of her pen. She began twice and tore the paper up. It was very, very difficult. It took her a long time to write the letter, but at last it was done, and put in the box to be posted.

This is what Elizabeth had written:

“Dear Mrs. Townsend,

I am Elizabeth Allen, Joan’s friend. I am very fond of Joan, but I have made her unhappy, and now she is ill. I will tell you what I did.

You see, Joan told me a lot about you, and how she loved you, and she said she didn’t think you loved her very much because you hardly ever wrote to her, and you didn’t remember her birthdays. It is awful not to have your birthday remembered at school, because most people have cards and a cake. Well, I had a pound from my Uncle Rupert, and I thought of a good idea. At least, I thought it was a good idea, but it wasn’t, I ordered a big birthday cake for Joan, with a loving message on it-and I got cards and wrote in them ‘With love, from Mother,’ and ‘With love, from Daddy,’ and sent them. And I got a book and pretended that was from you too.

Well, Joan was awfully happy on her birthday because she thought you had remembered her. You can’t think how happy she was. Then she wrote to thank you for the things. I quite forgot she would do that-and of course you wrote back to tell her that you hadn’t sent them. Joan got a dreadful shock, and she went out for a walk by herself and a thunderstorm came. She was soaked through, and now she is very ill.

I am very unhappy about it, because I know it is all my fault. But I did really mean to make Joan happy.

What I am writing for is to ask you if you could come and see Joan, and make a fuss of her, because then I think she would be so glad that she would soon get better. I know you will be very angry with me, and I am very sorry.

Elizabeth Allen”

That was Elizabeth’s letter, written with many smudges because she had to stop and think what she wanted to say, and each time she stopped she smudged her letter. She licked-the envelope, stamped it, and left it to be posted.

What would Joan’s mother say? If only she would come and see Joan and put things right for her; it would be lovely-but goodness, she would be very, very angry with Elizabeth!

Elizabeth missed Joan very much.  The next day she went to ask Matron if she might see Joan, but Matron shook her head.

 “No,” she said. “The doctor says no one must see her. She is really ill.”

Elizabeth went to find John. He was putting sticks in for his peas to climb up. Every spare moment he spent in the school garden. That was the nice part of Whyteleafe School-if you had a love for something, you could make it your hobby and everything was done to help you.

“John,” said Elizabeth, “Joan is ill. Do you think you could spare me some flowers for her?”

“Yes,” said John, standing up straight. “You can pick some of those pink tulips if you like.”

“Oh, but they are your best ones, John,” said Elizabeth. “Aren’t you keeping them for something special?”

“Well, Joan’s being ill is something special,” said John. “Pick them with nice long stalks. Slit the stalks at the end before you put them into water-the tulips will last a long time then.”

Elizabeth just had time to pick the tulips, find a vase, and run to Matron with it before the school bell went. Matron promised to give the flowers to Joan. Elizabeth shot back to the classroom, and was only just in time.

“Don’t forget it’s the School Meeting tonight,” Belinda said to Elizabeth at the end of school that morning.

“Bother!” said Elizabeth in dismay. She had forgotten all about it. “I don’t think I’ll come. I know I’m going to get into trouble.”

“You must come!” said Belinda, shocked. “Are you afraid to?”

“No,” said Elizabeth fiercely. “I’m not afraid to! I’ll be there!”

And she was, sitting angrily on a form beside Harry and Helen, knowing perfectly well that Nora was going to report her as soon as possible.

“Well, if she does, I shan’t give Joan’s secret away,” thought Elizabeth. “They can punish me all they like-but if they do I’ll start being naughty again! Worse than ever!”

Of course Nora reported Elizabeth almost at once. She stood up and spoke gravely to Rita and William, the two Judges.

“I have a serious report to make,” said Nora. “It is about Elizabeth. Although we gave her every chance to be good and helpful last week, I am sorry to say that she has been mean and deceitful. She went down to the village this week, and took with her a pound-note to spend, instead of putting it into the money-box to share out. She spent the whole pound and would not tell me anything about it.”

Everyone stared at Elizabeth in surprise.

“A pound!” said Rita. “Twenty shillings-spent in one afternoon! Elizabeth, is this true?”

“Quite true,” said Elizabeth sulkily.

“Then it’s too bad!” cried Eileen, “We all put our money into the box and share it out and we gave Elizabeth extra money for a record-but she puts her money into her own purse, the mean thing!”

Everybody thought the same. The children began to talk angrily. Elizabeth sat silent, looking red and sulky.

Rita hammered on the table. “Quiet!” she said.

Everyone was silent. Rita turned to Elizabeth.

“Stand up, Elizabeth,” she said, “Please tell me what you spent the pound on-you can at least let us judge whether or not you spent the money well.”

“I can’t tell you what I spent it on,” said Elizabeth, looking pleadingly at Rita, “Don’t ask me, Rita. It’s a secret-and not my own secret, really. As a matter of fact, I quite forgot that I ought to put my money into the box, and then ask for what I wanted. I really did forget.”

“Do you think we would have allowed you to spend the money on what you bought?” asked Rita.

“I don’t know,” said Elizabeth, rather miserably. “All I know is that I wish I hadn’t spent it on what I did! I was quite wrong.”

Rita felt sorry for Elizabeth.

“Well,” she said, “you used the money wrongly and you know it-if you had only kept our rule, we should have known whether or not to let you have the money to spend as you did. Don’t you see what a good idea our money-box is, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, I really do, Rita,” said Elizabeth, glad that Rita was speaking kindly to her.

“Well, now listen, Elizabeth,” said Rita, after talking with William for a while, “we will be as fair as we can be to you about this, but you must trust us and tell us what you wanted the money for, first. If we think it was for a very good purpose, we shall say no more about it, but ask you to remember the rule another time.”

“That’s very fair of you, Rita,” said Elizabeth, almost in tears. “But I can’t tell you. I know now that I did something wrong with the money-but there’s somebody else mixed up in the secret, and I simply can’t say any more.”

“Who is the other person in the secret?” asked Rita.

“I can’t tell you that, either,” said poor Elizabeth, who had no wish to bring Joan in. After all, it wasn’t Joan’s fault at all, that this had happened.