The Naughtieset Girl #1 ch1

CHAPTER 1 The Naughty Spoilt Girl “You’ll have to go to school, Elizabeth!” said Mrs. Allen. “I think your governess is quite right. You are spoilt and naughty, and although Daddy and I were going to leave you here with Miss Scott, when we went away, I think it would be better for you to go to school.” Elizabeth stared at her mother in dismay. What, leave her home? And her pony and her dog? Go and be with a lot of children she would hate! Oh no, she wouldn’t go! “I’ll be good with Miss Scott,” she said. “You’ve said that before,” said her mother. “Miss Scott says she can’t stay with you any longer. Elizabeth, is it true that you put earwigs in her bed last night?” Elizabeth giggled. “Yes,” she said. “Miss Scott is so frightened of them! It’s silly to be afraid of earwigs, isn’t it?” “It is much sillier to put them into somebody’s bed,” said Mrs. Allen sternly. “You have been spoilt, and you think you can do what you like! You are an only child, and we love you so much, Daddy and I, that I think we have given you too many lovely things, and allowed you too much freedom.” “Mummy, if you send me to school, I shall be so naughty there that they’ll send me back home again,” said Elizabeth, shaking her curls back. She was a pretty girl with laughing blue eyes and dark brown curls. All her life she had done as she liked. Six governesses had come and gone, but not one of them had been able to make Elizabeth obedient or good-mannered!

“You can be such a nice little girl!” they had all said to her, “but all you think of is getting into mischief and being rude about it!” And now when she said that she would be so naughty at school that they would have to send her home, her mother looked at her in despair. She loved Elizabeth very much, and wanted her to be happy—but how could she be happy if she did not learn to be as other children were? “You have been alone too much, Elizabeth,” she said. “You should have had other children to play with and to work with.” “I don’t like other children!” said Elizabeth sulkily. It was quite true—she didn’t like boys and girls at all! They were shocked at her mischief and rude ways, and when they said they wouldn’t join in her naughtiness, she laughed at them and said they were babies. Then they told her what they thought of her, and Elizabeth didn’t like it. So now the thought of going away to school and living with other boys and girls made Elizabeth feel dreadful! “Please don’t send me,” she begged. “I really will be good at home.” [Illustration: “Please don’t send me,” begged Elizabeth. “I really will be good at home.”] “No, Elizabeth,” said her mother. “Daddy and I _must_ go away for a whole year, and as Miss Scott won’t stay, and we could not expect to find another governess quickly before we go, it is best you should go to school. You have a good brain and you should be able to do your work well and get to the top of the form. Then we shall be proud of you.” “I shan’t work at all,” said Elizabeth, pouting. “I won’t work a bit, and they’ll think I’m so stupid they won’t keep me!”

“Well, Elizabeth, if you want to make things difficult for yourself, you’ll have to,” said Mother, getting up. “We have written to Miss Belle and Miss Best, who run Whyteleafe School, and they are willing to take you next week, when the new term begins. Miss Scott will get all your things ready. Please help her all you can.” Elizabeth was very angry and upset. She didn’t want to go to school. She hated everybody, especially silly children! Miss Scott was horrid to say she wouldn’t stay. Suddenly Elizabeth wondered if she _would_ stay, if she asked her very, very nicely! She ran to find her governess. Miss Scott was busy sewing Elizabeth’s name on to a pile of brown stockings. “Are these new stockings?” asked Elizabeth, in surprise. “I don’t wear stockings! I wear socks!” “You have to wear stockings at Whyteleafe School,” said Miss Scott. Elizabeth stared at the pile, and then she suddenly put her arms round Miss Scott’s neck. “Miss Scott!” she said. “Stay with me! I know I’m sometimes naughty, but I don’t want you to go.” “What you _really_ mean is that you don’t want to go to school,” said Miss Scott. “I suppose Mother’s been telling you?” “Yes, she has,” said Elizabeth. “Miss Scott, I _won’t_ go to school!” “Well, of course, if you’re such a baby as to be afraid of doing what all other children do, then I’ve nothing more to say,” said Miss Scott, beginning to sew another name on a brown stocking.

Elizabeth stood up at once and stamped her foot. “Afraid!” she shouted. “_I’m_ not afraid! Was I afraid when I fell off my pony? Was I afraid when our car crashed into the bank? Was I afraid when—when—when——” [Illustration: “Afraid!” Elizabeth shouted. “I’m not afraid!”] “Don’t shout at me, please, Elizabeth,” said Miss Scott. “I think you are afraid to go to school and mix with obedient, well-mannered, hard-working children who are not spoilt as you are. You know quite well that you wouldn’t get your own way, that you would have to share everything, instead of having things to yourself as you do now, and that you would have to be punctual, polite, and obedient. And you are afraid to go!” “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!” shouted Elizabeth. “I shall go! But I shall be so naughty and lazy that they won’t keep me, and then I’ll come back home! And you’ll have to look after me again, so there!” “My dear Elizabeth, I shan’t be here,” said Miss Scott, taking another stocking. “I am going to another family, where I shall have two little boys to teach. I am going the day you go to school. So you can’t come back home because I shan’t be here, your father and mother will be away, and the house will be shut up!” Elizabeth burst into tears. She sobbed so loudly that Miss Scott, who was really fond of the spoilt, naughty girl, put her arms round her and comforted her. “Now don’t be silly,” she said. “Most children simply _love_ school. It’s great fun. You play games, you go for walks, all together, you have the most lovely lessons, and you will make such a lot of friends. You have no friends now, and it is a dreadful thing not to have a single friend. You are very lucky.”

“I’m not,” wept Elizabeth. “Nobody loves me. I’m very unhappy.” “The trouble is that people have loved you too much,” said Miss Scott. “You are pretty, and merry, and rich, so you have been spoilt. People like the way you look, the way you smile, and your pretty clothes, so they fuss you, and pet you, and spoil you, instead of treating you like an ordinary child. But it isn’t enough to have a pretty face and a merry smile—you must have a good heart too.” Nobody had spoken to Elizabeth like this before, and the little girl was astonished. “I _have_ got a good heart,” she said, tossing her curls back again. “Well, you don’t show it much!” said Miss Scott. “Now run away, please, because I’ve got to count all these stockings, and then mark your new vests and bodices.” Elizabeth looked at the pile of stockings. She hated them. Nasty brown things! She wouldn’t wear them! She’d take her socks to school and wear _those_ if she wanted to! Miss Scott turned to a chest-of-drawers and began to take out some vests. Elizabeth picked up two brown stockings and pinned them toe to toe. Then she tiptoed to Miss Scott and neatly and quietly pinned them to her skirt! She skipped out of the room, giggling. Miss Scott carried the vests to the table. She began to count the stockings. There should be six pairs. “One—two—three—four—five,” she counted. “Five. Dear me—where’s the sixth?” She looked on the floor. She looked on the chair. She was really vexed. She counted the pile again. Then she went to the door and looked for Elizabeth. The little girl was pulling something out of a cupboard on the landing.

“Elizabeth!” called Miss Scott sharply, “have you got a pair of your brown stockings?” “No, Miss Scott,” said Elizabeth, making her eyes look round and surprised. “Why?” “Because a pair is missing,” said Miss Scott. “Did you take them out of this room?” “No, really. Miss Scott,” said Elizabeth truthfully, trying not to laugh as she caught sight of the stockings swinging at Miss Scott’s back. “I’m sure all the stockings are in the room, Miss Scott, really!” “Then perhaps your mother has a pair,” said Miss Scott. “I’ll go and ask her.” Off marched the governess down the landing, the pinned brown stockings trailing behind her like a tail. Elizabeth put her head into the cupboard and squealed with laughter. Miss Scott went into her mother’s room. “Excuse me, Mrs. Allen,” she said, “but have you one of Elizabeth’s new pairs of stockings? I’ve only five pairs.” “No, I gave you them all,” said Mrs. Allen, surprised. “They must be together. Perhaps you have dropped them somewhere.” Miss Scott turned to go, and Mrs. Allen caught sight of the brown stockings following Miss Scott. She looked at them in astonishment. “Wait, Miss Scott,” she said. “What’s this!” She went to Miss Scott, and unpinned the stockings. The governess looked at Mrs. Allen. “Elizabeth, of course!” she said.

“Yes, Elizabeth!” said Mrs. Allen. “Always in mischief. I really never knew such a child in my life. It is high time she went to school. Don’t you agree, Miss Scott?” “I do,” said Miss Scott heartily, “You will see a different and much nicer child when you come back home again, Mrs. Allen!” [Illustration: Elizabeth hit the door with the book she was carrying and shouted angrily.] Elizabeth was passing by, and heard what her mother and her governess were saying. She hit the door with the book she was carrying and shouted angrily. “You won’t see me any different. Mother, you won’t, you won’t! I’ll be worse!” “You couldn’t be!” said Mrs. Allen in despair. “You really _couldn’t_ be worse!”