“Well, it can’t be helped. They won’t send me home unless I behave badly,” she kept saying to herself, “Has anyone any more money to put into the Box?” asked William. He looked at a sheet of paper. “Jill Kenton and Harry Wills have received money this week and have already put it in. Has anyone else any?” Nobody had. “Nora, give out the two shillings to everyone, please,” ordered William.
Nora began to give out the money. She even gave it to Elizabeth, who was most surprised. She had quite thought that, owing to her behaviour, she would get no money at all. She made up her mind to buy some peppermints and some toffee and share them with Joan. She whispered this to her friend, who was sitting beside her.
“Thank you,” whispered back Joan, “I shall want most of my money to buy stamps this week, so I shall love to share your sweets!” “Does anyone want extra money?” asked William. George got up and spoke.
“We need a new cricket ball for a practice game,” he said. “We lost ours in the shrubbery.” “You must look for it again before you get the money,” said William. “Come to me to-morrow.” George sat down. Queenie got up. “Could I have some money to buy a birthday present for somebody?” she asked. “It’s my old nurse’s birthday this week, and I’d like to send her something. Half a crown will do nicely.” Half a crown was given to Queenie.
“I’d like a new garden spade,” said John Terry, standing up. “I’m afraid it will cost rather a lot, though.” Mr. Warlow, the games master, got up and spoke for John, “I should just like to say that in my opinion John deserves a new spade,” he said. “He is the best gardener in the school, and I believe the peas we had for dinner to-day were due to his hard work.” John’s spade was passed at once. “Give him the money,” said William. “How much is it, John?” “I’m afraid it is twelve shillings and sixpence,” said John. “I’ve asked at three shops and the price is the same in each.” Twelve shillings and sixpence was handed out. John sat down, blushing with pleasure.
Other things were asked for. Some were granted and some were refused. Then came the complaints and grumbles.
“Any reports or complaints?” asked Rita, knocking on the table for silence.
“I want to report Harry Dunn for cheating,” said a monitor firmly.
There was a buzz at once. Everyone knew Harry Dunn, a sly-faced boy in the class above Elizabeth’s.
He sat on his form, looking red.
“Cheating is awful!” said William, shocked. “We haven’t had a proper case of that here for three terms.” “Don’t give him any money to spend for the rest of the term!” called someone.
“No. That’s a silly punishment for cheating,” said William at once. “It wouldn’t stop him and would only make him angry.” There was a loud discussion about Harry. Rita banged on the table with her hammer.
“Quiet!” she said. “I want to ask Harry something.
Harry, what lesson do you cheat in?” “Arithmetic,” said Harry sulkily.
“Why?” asked William.
“Well, I missed five weeks last term, and I got behind in my arithmetic,” said Harry. “My father doesn’t like me to be bad at arithmetic, and I knew I’d be almost bottom if I didn’t cheat. So I thought I’d better cheat, and copy Humphrey’s sums. That’s all.” “Yes-he did miss five weeks last term,” said a monitor. “He had mumps, I remember.” “And his father does get wild if he isn’t near the top in arithmetic,” said another monitor.
“Well, it seems to me that we’d better ask Mr. Johns if he’d be good enough to give Harry extra help in arithmetic this term, so that he can catch up what be missed,” said William. “Then he won’t need to cheat.
Mr. Johns, I can see you at the back this evening-do you think it would help Harry if you gave him extra time?” “Rather!” said Mr. Johns, “I’ve already suggested it to Harry-and now that this has happened I think he’ll be glad of extra help in arithmetic, won’t you, Harry?” “Yes, thank you, sir,” said Harry.
But William hadn’t finished with Harry.
“We can’t let you sit with the others in your class until we know you won’t cheat again,” he said. “You had better put your desk apart from the others until you have caught up with the arithmetic you’ve missed-and then you can go back, if you will come and tell me that you won’t cheat again.” “All right, William,” said Harry. He hated the idea of being set apart because he was a cheat-and he made up his mind he would soon know as much as anyone else-and then he’d beat them with his own brains, and never cheat again.
“Cheating is only done by stupid or lazy people,” said William. “Now-any more complaints?” Then it was Elizabeth’s turn to go red and look sulky! Up got Nora at once.
“I have a serious complaint to make,” she said. “It is about Elizabeth Allen again. I am the monitor in her bedroom, and I can’t make her go to bed at the right time. Not only that-she is awfully rude and horrid. I don’t think she cares how she behaves at all.” “Anything else?” asked Rita, staring in disgust at Elizabeth.
“Yes-she has poured ink twice over her bedside rug, and refuses to clean it,” said Nora.
“Well, we will send it to the cleaner’s and Elizabeth can pay for it,” said Rita, “It costs two shillings to get those rugs cleaned-so I am afraid you will have to give up your two shillings, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth really didn’t like to be rude to Rita. So she meekly took out her two shillings and passed them back to Nora, who put them into the money-box.
“About the going late to bed,” said William, “that’s easily dealt with. In future Elizabeth’s bedtime will be altered, and she will go at half-past seven, instead of eight.” “But I shall miss the concerts and the dancing,” said Elizabeth in dismay.
“That’s your own fault,” said Rita sternly. “If you are sensible, we will alter your bedtime next week- but only if you are sensible.” “And now about the rudeness and horridness,” said William. “I’m not sure we can blame Elizabeth for that. You know, we’ve usually found that rude children are caused by silly parents, who spoil them and let them say and do what they like. I should think Elizabeth’s parents are to blame for her present rude behaviour. They haven’t taught her good manners.” Elizabeth leapt up at once, her face full of anger. “Mummy and Daddy have taught me good manners!” she said. “They’ve beautiful manners themselves, and Mummy is never rude to anyone.” “Well, we shall only believe that when we see that you are following their example!” said William. “Whenever you are rude this week we shall each say to ourselves: ‘Poor Elizabeth! She can’t help it! She wasn’t brought up properly!'” “i’ll show- you I’ve got good manners!” shouted Elizabeth. “I’ll just show you, you horrid boy!” Everyone began to laugh at the angry little girl.
William banged on the table with his hammer. “Silence! Elizabeth wants to show us that she has good manners.
Go on, Elizabeth, shout a little more and call us names.
Then we shall see exactly what your good manners are.” Elizabeth sat down, boiling. So they thought her mother and father didn’t know how to bring children up with good manners, did they? Well, nobody would be more polite than she would be, next week! They would have to say they were wrong! Kenneth, the monitor in Elizabeth’s class, got up next. “Please, William and Rita,” he said, “could you do something about Elizabeth’s behaviour in class? It is simply impossible. She spoils all our lessons, and we are getting very tired of it. I guess Miss Ranger is too.” “This is really dreadful,” said Rita. “I had no idea Elizabeth was so bad. I am very disappointed. Has nobody a good word to say for her?” No one spoke. No one said a word. And then every74 one got a surprise, for up got Joan Townsend, the Mouse! She was blushing red, for she hated to speak in public.
“I-I-I should like to speak for Elizabeth,” she said. “She can be very kind. She isn’t really as horrid as she pretends to be.” Joan sat down with a bump, as red as fire. Elizabeth looked at her gratefully. It was good to have a friend! “Well, it’s something to hear that!” said William. “But it isn’t enough. What are Elizabeth’s favourite lessons?” “Music, painting, and riding,” shouted Elizabeth’s class, “Well, Elizabeth, until you can behave in the lessons you don’t seem to like, you must miss those you do like,” said William, after consulting with Rita for a while, “You will miss riding, music, and painting this week, and you will not go down to the village at all. We hope there will be better reports next week, so that we can give you back the things you love. We simply can’t let you spoil lessons for the rest of your class.” Elizabeth could not stand the Meeting for one moment more. She stood up, pushed a chair aside, and rushed out. “Let her go,” she heard Rita say, in a sorry sort of voice. “She’s being awfully silly-but she’s really not as bad as she makes out!” Poor Elizabeth! No money to spend-an early bed~ time-no concerts, no dancing, no riding, painting, or music! The little girl sat on her bed and wept. She knew it was all her own fault, but it didn’t make things any better. Oh when, when would she be able to leave this horrid school?