Lonely as a cloud
"…and-then-my-heart-with-plea-sure-fills-and-dan-ces-with-the-daf-fo-dils."
"All right, all right, Adela," there was a note of resignation in the teacher's voice. "I see you have learned the lines… You may sit down."
Grinning broadly to her friends, and grimacing when the teacher had turned her back, the big straw-haired girl plumped back into her seat.
"Well – we should hear someone else, I suppose," the teacher said after a pause, turning back to the class. "Anybody?"
Out of the sea of bored impassive faces a hand slowly rose. The teacher's eyes lit up; clearly she had not expected it.
"Yes, Gillian?"
A thin pale-faced girl with mousy hair in a thick plait rose to her feet. Everything about her screamed ordinary and plain, but a close observer might have noticed a spark in the green eyes as she began,
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,…
The teacher's expression changed. A smile stole to her lips and she closed her eyes to listen. But the girl had become so lost in the poem that she did not notice. Nor did she notice that her neighbour was squeezing a piece of blotting paper soaked in black ink between the pages of her English book.
Apparently oblivious of everything around her, she finished,
…. The bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.
After a short silence the teacher opened her eyes and smiled at the girl.
"Well, Gillian, that was – what can I say? – wonderful! I cannot imagine this could be done any better… Thank you so much!"
As if waking from a trance, Jill sat down slowly. Her neighbour turned to the boy in the desk behind her and snickered.
"Yes, class," the teacher continued, and there seemed to e new energy in her voice, "that's how a poem should be recited. Now, after Gillian's marvellous performance, I do not think it would be a good idea to – no, we will turn to prose instead. So will you open your books on page 78…"
With a series of groans the pupils proceeded to do so.
When she opened her own book, Jill found the pages smeared with black ink. A glance at the triumphant grin of the pig-faced girl next to her told her everything. But she knew better than to tell he teacher. The so called code of honour at Experiment House (the one among the pupils, that is) considered 'blabbing to teachers' as the most heinous crime possible, and imposed severe and brutal punishments on it. Moreover, Jill knew it would be impossible for her to prove anything. She shrugged and turned the page so that the teacher would not notice. She had already read the piece in question, an extract from Frankenstein, anyway – the whole book, actually, and would be able to answer any questions the teacher might ask her.
"Here comes the Pole!" The lanky boy with the sleek blond hair guffawed. He could have laid claim to the term of pole himself easily, tall and thin as he was, but of course nobody would have dared to say a thing like that to Cholmondely Major's face. The group of girls and boys grinned.
"Thank you, Gillian," Adela Pennyfather said in a whining voice, "What a wonderful performance. So much feeling…"
'That's because it's such a beautiful poem,' Jill thought, but she was sensible enough not to say anything of the kind. She just wanted to pass the group silently, but Edith Winterblott, the pig-faced girl that was sitting next to her in English class, barred her way.
"We don't like teachers' pets here, you know," she said threateningly. "And we don't like to be made look stupid by a twerp like you…"
"You don't belong here, anyway," another girl with elaborately dressed shiny black curls added, stepping up to Jill. "Just look at you…"
Jill, who was only too painfully conscious of her mended cardigan and coarse cotton stockings, to say nothing of the skirt whose seams had clearly been let out more than once, swallowed hard to fight back her tears.
Adela Pennyfather, though perfectly dull in other matters, was a keen observer.
"My, oh my," she crooned gleefully. "Are we bringing on the waterworks? Little Jillie-baby running to mummie? But mummie isn't he-ere!"
As the others broke into raucous laughter, Jill, now really bursting into tears, ran off.