by Enid Blyton
'Well, I should think your parents will get a terrific shock when they see your report!' said Darrell, heartlessly. '1 should think it will be the worst one in the school. You'll be sorry you told so many fibs to your mother and Miss Winter at half-term, when you take your report home for the holidays!'
'I shall tear it up!' said Gwendoline, fiercely, feeling that she wouldn't be able to bear the astonishment, dismay and anger of her parents when they saw her report.
'You can't,' said Darrell. 'It goes by post. Ha ha ! I'm jolly glad you'll be shown up at home. Mary-Lou told me some of the idiotic things you told your mother and Miss Winter at half-term. Fancy boasting like that, when you've no more brains than a mouse, and what you have you don't use!'
Gwendoline was speechless. How dare Darrell speak to her like that? And HOW DARE Mary-Lou repeat to the others the things she had overheard her say to her mother at half- term? Nasty, sly, disgusting little meanie! She would jolly well pay her out. She would take her fountain-pen and stamp on it! She would—she would... Oh, there was no end to the things she would do to that beastly, ungrateful Mary-Lou!
'After I've been friends with her, too!' thought Gwendoline, angrily. "There's disloyalty for you! I hate her.'
Then she began to think about her report. She felt afraid when she thought of her father reading it. That was why he had sent her away to school—because he had said she was lazy and vain and too pleased with herself. He had said some horrid things. Gwendoline tried to forget them, but they came back into her mind at odd times.
She could tell what untruths she pleased, she could boast all she liked—but if in her report there were the words 'lazy, unreliable, irresponsible, conceited, stupid'—words she knew she richly deserved—well, her boasts and fibs would all be wasted.
'Only two or three weeks more,' thought Gwendoline, frantically. 'Can I possibly make my report any better in those few weeks? I shall have to try! Why didn't I know there were school reports before? I could have worked a bit harder. Now I shall simply have to SLAVE!'
And, to the intense astonishment of Miss Potts, and the no less intense surprise of Mam'zelle, Gwendoline began to work ! How she worked! She pored over her books. She wrote endless compositions and then rewrote them in her best writing. She was the most attentive one in the class.
'What has happened to Gwendoline?' asked Miss Potts of Mam'zelle. 'I begin to believe she has a few—just a few— brains at last!'
T too,' said Mam'zelle. 'See this French exercise ? Only one mistake! Never has this happened before to Gwendoline. She is turning over a new stalk.'
'New leaf, you mean,' said Miss Potts. 'Well, well, surprising things happen. There's Darrell working much better too—and Sally Hope quite a new child. And Mary- Lou has blossomed out tremendously since she jumped into the pool. But, Gwendoline is really the most surprising one. She wrote me quite a passable composition yesterday, with only six spelling mistakes. Usually she makes at least twenty. I shall be able to put ''Can use her brains "on her report, instead of "Never uses her brains!"
Gwendoline did not enjoy working so hard. Darrell laughed at her, and told the others why there was such a sudden change in the lazy Gwendoline.
'She doesn't want her people to know she told such fibs to them at half-term,' she said. 'Does she, Mary-Lou? That's what comes of boasting, Gwendoline. Sooner or later you have to eat your words.'
Mary-Lou laughed too. She was much bolder nowadays, though only when Darrell or Sally were there. Gwendoline scowled at her. Horrid little turn-coat!
Gwendoline had her chance of paying Mary-Lou out the next day. She went into the common room when there was no one else there—and in Mary-Lou's locker was her precious fountain-pen! Gwendoline saw it at once.
'That's the end of thatV she said, spitefully, and threw it on the floor. She stamped on it hard, and the pen smashed, spilling ink all over the wooden floor!
21 A SHOCK FOR DARRELL
IT was Jean who saw the smashed pen first. She came into the common room to get a book, and stopped short when she saw the ink on the floor, and the bits and pieces of the blue pen.
'Golly!' said Jean. 'Who's done that? What a mean trick!'
Emily and Katherine came in. Jean pointed to the pen. 'Look,' she said. 'There's a nice little bit of spite for you.'
'It's Mary-Lou's pen,' said Katherine, in distress. 'What a mess. Who could have smashed it? It's not an accident.'
Mary-Lou came in with the quiet Violet. When she saw her pen, she stood and wailed aloud. 'Oh! Who's done that? I had it for my birthday from Mother. And now it's all smashed!'
All the girls gathered round. Darrell and Sally and Irene were astonished to see such a silent circle when they came chattering in. They joined it, and were not surprised when Mary-Lou's wails broke out again.
'What will Mother say? She told me to take great care of it if I took it to school.'
Alicia came whistling in, and she too was amazed to see the smashed pen, surrounded by its pool of deep violet ink. What a hateful thing to do to anyone!
'Who did it?' she demanded. 'It ought to be reported to Potty. I bet it's Gwendoline—spiteful little beast.'
'Where is Gwendoline?' asked Katherine. Nobody knew. Actually she was just outside the door, about to come in and pretend to be surprised and disgusted at the broken pen too. But. hearing the angry voices of the girls, her heart failed
her. She stood hesitating and listening.
'Look here,' said Alicia, 'there's one certain way we can find out who did this—and we will too.'
'What's that?' asked Katherine.
'Well, whoever stamped on this pen and smashed it must have got violet ink on the underneath of their shoes,' said Alicia grimly.
'Oh, yes,' said the others. 'Of course!'
'That's clever of you, Alicia,' said Katherine. 'We'll examine every pair every pair of shoes in our North Tower lockers—and when we see violet ink we shall know who did this.'
'I know without looking!' said Darrell's scornful voice. 'Nobody could have done it but Gwendoline. There's no one mean or spiteful enough but her!'
Gwendoline trembled with rage and fright. She took a hasty look at the underneath of her out-door shoes. Yes,they were stained violet ink. Hastily she ran down the passage, ran into the little store-room, took up a bottle of violet ink, and raced to the cloakroom where the shoelockers were. If only she got there in time!
She did, because the others were busy clearing up the mess before going to examine the shoes. Gwendoline smeared some of the violet ink on to the under-sides of one of Darrell's shoes, then threw the bottle into a nearby cup¬board. Then she hastily took off her own stained shoes, and stuffed them into the cupboard too. She pulled on a pair of slippers.
She ran out into the Court, and re-appeared at the door of the common room, apparently quite calm and unruffled. Oh, Gwendoline could act very well when it suited her!
'Here's Gwendoline!' cried Alicia. 'Gwendoline, do you know anything about Mary-Lou's pen?'
'Pen? What about her pen?' asked Gwendoline,
innocently.
'Someone's jumped on it and smashed it,' said Sally.
'What a beastly thing to do!' said Gwendoline, putting on a disgusted face. 'Who did it?'
'That's what we want to know,' said Darrell, feeling infuriated with Gwendoline's smug expression. 'And we're going to find out, see!'
'I hope you will,' said Gwendoline. 'Don't glare at me like that, Darrell. / haven't done it! Much more likely you have! I've noticed you've been jealous ever since so much fuss was made of Mary-Lou for jumping into the pool to rescue you!'
Everyone gasped. How could Gwendoline have the cheek to say a thing like that? Darrell began to boil. She felt the familiar red-hot flame rising up in her. Sally saw her face and put her hand on her arm.
'Go slow, old thing,' she said, gently, and Darrell simmered down. But she almost choked in the effort not to rage back at the smiling Gwendoline.
'Gwendoline
,' said Katherine, keeping her eyes on the girl's face, 'we think that whoever stamped on this pen must have violet ink on her shoes. So we mean to examine everyone's shoes, and we are sure we shall find the culprit in that way.'
Gwendoline did not change her expression at all. 'That's a very good idea!' she said, warmly. 'A very good idea indeed. I wish I'd thought of it myself. It certainly will tell us who the hateful person is that smashed up poor Mary-Lou's pen.'
Everyone was astonished to hear these words. A little doubt crept into the minds of the girls. Would Gwendoline be so pleased with the idea if she had smashed the pen? Perhaps she didn't do it after all?
'You can look at my shoes first of all, if you like,' said
Gwendoline, and she turned up first one foot and then another. There was no smear of ink on them, of course.
'We shall have to examine the shoes in the lockers too," said Katherine. 'But first, will everyone please turn up their feet for us to see?'
Everyone did, but no one had inky marks. Then, in a solemn group, the first-formers set off for the cloakroom in which their shoe-lockers were kept.
Gwendoline's shoes were examined first, because Katherine, like the rest felt that her shoes were more likely to be marked with ink than anyone else's. But they were not.
It was one of Darrell's shoes that was smeared with the bright-coloured ink! Katherine pulled it out, and then stared at it in the greatest amazement and horror. She held it out in silence to Darrell.
'It's—it's your shoe!' she said. 'Oh, Darrell!'
Darrell stared at the inky shoe speechlessly. She looked round at the silent girls beside her. Some of them turned away their eyes. Alicia met hers with a hard look.
'Well, well, who would have guessed it was our straight-forward Darrell?' said Alicia, flippantly. '1 wouldn't have thought it of you, Darrell.'
She turned away with a look of disgust. Darrell caught hold of her arm.
'Alicia! You surely don't think/smashed the pen! I didn't, I tell you, I didn't! 1 would never dream of doing such a hateful thing. Oh, Alicia—how could you think I'd do it?"
'Well—you can't deny your shoe is inky,' said Alicia. 'You've got a dreadful temper, Darrell, and I've no doubt that in a fit of spite you stamped on Mary-Lou's pen. Don't ask me why! I haven't a temper like yours.'
'But Alicia—I'm not spiteful!' cried Darrell. 'You know I'm not. Alicia, I thought you were my friend! You and Betty always let me come with you. You can't believe a thing like this about a friend of yours.'
'You're no friend of mine,' said Alicia, and swung out of the room.
'There's some mistake!' said Darrell, wildly. 'Oh, don't believe 1 did it, please, don't believe it!'
7 don't believe you did it!' said Mary-Lou with tears running down her cheeks. She slipped her arm through Darrell's. 'I know you didn't. I'll stick by you, Darrell!'
'And so will I, of course,' said Sally's soft voice, i can't believe you did it, Darrell, either.'
Darrell was so glad to have two friends out of the stony- eyed girls around that she could almost have wept. Sally took her out of the cloakroom. Katherine looked round at the others. Her face was puzzled and dismayed.
'I can't believe it's Darrell either,' she said. 'But—1 suppose—until it's proved differently we'll have to think of her as the culprit. It's a pity, because we've all liked Darrell.'
'I never did,' said Gwendoline's malicious voice. T always thought she was capable of any mean trick, with that temper of hers.'
'Shut up," said Jean, roughly, and Gwendoline shut up, well satisfied with what she had said and done.
Sally and Mary-Lou were good friends to Darrell then. They stuck by her, helped her, and stoutly defended her. Mary-Lou was openly defiant to Gwendoline. But it was all very unpleasant, and though no one had suggested a punishment for the smashing of the pen, it was punishment enough to have cool looks and cold voices always around.
Mary-Lou was very worried about the matter. It was all because of her pen that Darrell had got into this trouble. But she knew that it couldn't be Darrell. Like Sally, she had great faith in Darrell's natural honesty and kindness, and she was certain she could never do a mean trick to any one.
Well, then, who could have done it? It must have been someone with a spite against both Mary-Lou and Darrell, and that person must be Gwendoline. Therefore, Gwendoline must have smeared Darrells' shoes with the ink!
But it also followed that Gwendoline's own shoes must have been inky too—and yet, when she showed them to the girls, they had been quite free from ink.
May-Lou lay in bed one night and frowned over the problem. How could it have been done? Was Gwendoline there when they had planned to examine the shoes? No, she wasn't.
But she might have been listening outside! And she would have had time to rush to the shoe-lockers, smear Darrell's shoes with ink, and take off her own before sauntering back to the common room and joining in the conversation!
Mary-Lou sat up in excitement. She was suddenly sure that that was what had happened. She began to shake a little, as she always did when she was frightened or excited. Where could Gwendoline have hidden her shoes? Somewhere near the shoe-lockers, anyway. Would she have taken them away and hidden them in a safer place? Or might they still be there?
It was very late and very dark. Everyone had gone to bed long ago. Mary-Lou wondered if she dared to go down to the cloakroom and have a look round. She so badly wanted this hateful affair to be cleared up.
But she was so afraid of the dark! Still, she had been afraid of the water too, till she had jumped in to save Darrell. Perhaps she wouldn't be afraid of the dark either, if it was to help Darrell. She would try and see.
Mary-Lou crept out of bed. She didn't put on a dressing-gown. She simply didn't think of it. She crept down the room and out of the door. Thank goodness there was a dim light shining in the passage!
Marv-Lou crept down the stairs
Down the passage she went, to the stairs, and down the stairs to the rooms below. She made her way to the cloakrooms. Oh. dear, they were in pitch-darkness. Mary- Lou felt a cold shiver creeping down her back. She was frightened. In a moment she would scream. She knew she would!
'This is for Darrell! I'm doing something for somebody else and it's very important,' she said to herself, as firmly as she could. 'I shan't scream. But oh, where's the switch?'
She found it and pressed it down. At once the light came on and the cloakroom could be seen clearly. Mary-Lou drew a deep breath. Now it was all right. She wasn't in the dark any more. She felt very proud of herself for not screaming when she had so badly wanted to.
She looked at the lockers. That was Gwendoline's over there. She went to it and took out all the shoes. No—not one was inky. Now—where could inky ones be hidden?
22 THE END OF THE TERM
MARY-LOU caught sight of the little cupboard nearby. She knew what was kept there. Old balls, an old racket or two, split gym shoes and all kinds of rubbish. Gwendoline's shoes might be there! She opened the cupboard door cautiously, afraid that a spider or earwig might come out.
She peered into the dusty rubbish, and poked it about with her finger. She pulled at an old racket—and something fell with a thud.
Mary-Lou wondered if the noise had awakened anyone and she held her breath, shaking. But no one seemed to have heard. She began to poke about again.
She found Gwendoline's shoes! She found the bottle of violet ink! That was what had fallen down with a thud! Mary- Lou looked at the bottle, and knew what Gwendoline had used it for. She looked at the shoes—and there, on the right- hand one was a broad violet mark!
With trembling hands Mary-Lou looked at the name inside the shoe again, just to make sure. Yes—there was the name, written in Miss Winter's small printing—Gwendoline Lacey.
'So it was Gwendoline! It was 1 knew it wasn't Darrell!' thought Mary-Lou, joyfully. 'I'll go straight back and wake the others. I'll tell them at once. Well—no, I won't. Perhaps Katherine would
be cross if she knew I'd gone snooping round at night.'
Mary-Lou took the bottle of ink, and the shoes. She clicked off the light and stood in darkness. But did she mind? Not a bit. She didn't once think of the black darkness as she sped upstairs. Her mind was full of her grand discovery.
Darrell hadn't done it! Darrell hadn't done it!
Mary-Lou was awake first in the morning. She went to (Catherine's bed and shook the surprised head-girl. 'Wake up! I've something important to tell you! Wake all the others.'
The others awoke when they heard the disturbance, and sat up in bed, rubbing their eyes. Mary-Lou stood in front of the beds, and waved Gwendoline's shoes dramatically.
'Look! I've found the real inky shoes! And I've found with them a bottle of violet ink! See? The person who really smashed my pen hid her own shoes and smeared Darrell's with this ink to make it seem as if she 'd done it!'
'But whose shoes are they?' asked Katherine, in amazement. 'And where did you get them?'
'I crept downstairs in the dark last night, and hunted in the cloakroom,' said Mary-Lou triumphantly. Everyone gaped in surprise. Mary-Lou creeping down in the dark! Why, she was terrified of the dark, everyone knew that!
T found the shoes and the bottle in the cupboard there,' said Mary-Lou. 'And shall I tell you the name written inside? No, I won't. Have a look round the room, all of you—and you'll see whose name is written in these shoes—you can tell by her face!'
It was true. Gwendoline's face was red with shame and horror. She stared at Mary-Lou in misery and anger. So she had been found out after all! Why hadn't she taken those shoes and the bottle and thrown them into the sea!
'It's Gwendoline!' said the girls, in hushed voices, staring at the red-faced girl in disgust and horror. And this time Gwendoline did not attempt to deny anything. She lay dow n in bed with her face hidden in the pillow.
Katherine examined the shoes and the bottle. Then she walked up to Darrell's bed and held out her hand.
