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Trials For The Chalet School

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 “Remember that this is sickness term,” Miss Wilson said forebodingly.  Miss Annersley, co-Head of the combined school proper and finishing branch with Miss Wilson, glanced up from the sheet of paper over which she had been frowning. “Why the gloom, Nell? Do you feel it in your bones that we’re due for one epidemic after another this term? Not,” she added candidly, “that I pay the slightest notice to any of your prophecies.”  Miss Wilson shrugged her shoulders. “Trust you to be downright crushing! All I was pointing out was that when we do get epidemics, it’s nearly always in the Easter term. I can’t see why I should be jumped on in such a wholesale manner for such a mild observation.” She decided to change the subject. “Hilda, why are you scowling like that at the letter you have? Who’s written about what?”
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The Chalet School Triplets

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 “Seen the letter-slab, Margot? There’s a letter waiting there for you that you’re going to rejoice over or I miss my guess!” Con Maynard gave the younger of her triplet sisters a mischievous glance. “Who’s it from? Is this a have?” Margot asked suspiciously. “No have, my dear!” Con suddenly relented. “It’s from Australia——” “Emmy at last!” Margot had swung round and was off like a shot for the entrance-hall where mail for the pupils of the Chalet School was always laid out. Con looked after her and laughed. “What’s the joke?” asked a clear, fresh voice behind the middle one of the Chalet School triplets. “Is it a joke or merely the beginning of insanity?” Con glanced round and laughed again. “Only that I saw a letter for Margot on the slab and when I told her it was there and where it came from, you couldn’t see her for dust. Poor old Margot! She still misses Emmy Hope badly!”
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The New Mistress At The Chalet School

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

~~1,29€~~ 1,16€ 10% OFF

 “Kathie—Kathie! Yoo-hoo!” The clear call rang through the house and there came the sound of the hurried opening of a door followed by quick footsteps and then a smooth brown head, gleaming in the sunlight which poured through the landing-window at the head of the stairs, appeared over the banisters. “Auntie! You’ve got back awfully quickly! Didn’t you meet anyone to have a good old gossip?” A trill of laughter escaped the speaker at this point before she went on, “I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just finishing the last of my darning. The coffee’s all ready on the simmering-plate.” “You’ll be down quicker than that, my lady!” Mrs. Grayson spoke with a comic decision. “There’s a letter for you on the hall-table. Mrs. Kenny must have taken it in as she was leaving. Come down and collect.” “Oh, won’t it wait till I’ve finished that awful ladder?” Kathie asked. “Not if I know you! The postmark is—Switzerland!”
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Monteagle

by Pansy

~~0,99€~~ 0,89€ 10% OFF

 "YES," said Mrs. Hammond, a little sigh in her voice as she spoke, "Mr. Hart is going with us; I don&#39;t know how long he will stay. I&#39;m afraid there is very little on Monteagle to hold him." Two children sat on the extreme end of the broken steps; one was pale, thin, hollow-eyed and sorrowful. The other was rosy-cheeked, chubby, and dirty. The pale one was perhaps twelve years old; the other, somewhat younger. "Only hear that name!" said the hollow-eyed girl. "Monteagle! Doesn&#39;t it make you feel cool just to think it over?" "I didn&#39;t think it over," said Rosy Cheek. "What is it, and where is it?" "I don&#39;t know where it is," spoken very wearily, as though it was an effort to speak at all. "In Heaven, maybe; the word sounds like it. Monteagle! It must be high, and cool, and still. I wonder what it feels like to be cool and still? Oh! How &#39;hot&#39; it is! O dear me!" There was such a world of longing and weariness in the sentence, that Mrs. Hammond turned and looked curiously at the girl; then uttered a little exclamation of surprise, and perhaps dismay. "Who is that girl, and what is the matter with her?"
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Following Heavenward - Or, The Story Of Alfred Reid By Pansy

by Pansy

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 IT was raining drearily, and but few people were abroad—that is, few comparatively speaking, though the streets seemed full of hurrying, dripping mortals. In the large dry-goods store business was by no means so brisk as on sunny days, and one of the younger clerks, whose station was near a window looking out upon the thoroughfare, had time to stand gazing at the passers-by. They did not seem to interest him particularly, or else they puzzled him. His young, handsome face wore a thoughtful look, almost a troubled expression about the eyes, which seemed to be gazing beyond the passers-by. Just across the aisle from him, a lady, seated in one of the easy-chairs set for the accommodation of shoppers, waited and watched him; a young and pretty woman, tastefully, even elegantly-dressed, yet her costume was quite in keeping with the stormy day. The young man&#39;s face seemed to have special interest for her, though he was apparently unaware of her existence. A close observer would have discovered that she was watching him with deeply interested eyes. Whatever served to hold the thoughts of the young man apparently grew in perplexity, for the troubled look continually deepened. At last, forgetting the possible listener, he addressed the dripping clouds perhaps—at least, he was looking at them:— "I don&#39;t know how to do it, but something ought to be done. It is worse than folly to expect good from the way that things are now managed. Esther would have known just what, and how; and how interested she would have been! I try to do her work, and to &#39;redeem the time;&#39; but the simple truth is, I don&#39;t know how, and nobody else seems to."
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Little Miss Moth - The Story Of Three Maidens: Charity, Hope, And Faith

by Amy Le Feuvre

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 THREE little girls were looking out of the window on a very wet afternoon in March. They were so close together in age and height that sometimes two of them were taken for twins, yet there was a year between each of them. And they were unlike each other in looks. Charity, the eldest, had a quantity of red auburn hair down her back. She was very lively and talkative, and her eyes were always sparkling with fun and happiness. Hope, next to her in age, had fair golden hair and blue eyes; she was sweet tempered and rather apt to be an echo of anyone with whom she was. Faith, the youngest, was a quiet child, with short, dark, curly hair, and thoughtful brown eyes. She had a very sweet little face, but looked fragile and delicate beside her rosy, sturdy sisters. It was not a very cheerful scene outside the window. One of those quiet, dingy streets towards the outskirts of London, where rows of houses faced each other, all exactly alike, and where the only traffic was the tradesmen&#39;s carts rattling along, and an occasional cab or motor. But the little girls were talking fast and happily. The rain beating against the window panes did not depress them. The dark grey sky, the wet pavements, the wind whirling the smoke along the street from the chimneys opposite, the people hurrying by under sodden umbrellas, all interested the six bright eyes.
ENGLISH

Joey And Co. In Tirol

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 “The long and the short of it is you’ve been overdoing it ever since you came to live in Switzerland. You’ve just gone at everything in your usual headlong fashion regardless of everything else. No one can go on doing that sort of thing indefinitely. Now see where it’s landed you!” Lady Russell stopped for breath at this point and eyed her younger sister severely, with one hand held up to enforce silence until she had finished. Joey Maynard, who had been lying back on her pillows, regarding her sister with an expression of awed admiration—Madge Russell had been holding forth for the last ten minutes and this was the first time she had stopped—paid not the slightest attention to the uplifted hand. She raised herself to turn and stare at the windows down which the rain was streaming so heavily that it was impossible to see out.
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Look Out Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Holidays at last!’ said Peter, coming in at the back door, and flinging his school satchel right across the kitchen. It struck the chair that the cat was lying in, and she gave a yowl of fright and disappeared at top speed through the open window. ‘Now what did you want to frighten old Puss for?’ demanded Cookie, rolling out pastry fiercely. ‘Sleeping there peacefully after catching mice all night in your father’s barn!’ ‘I didn’t know she was there,’ said Peter. ‘Honestly I didn’t. May I have a dig into that jampot, Cookie?’ ‘You may not,’ said Cookie. ‘Where’s your sister? Oh my, oh my—holidays again, and you two poking round my kitchen all the time. What a life!’ ‘Cookie dear, you’ll have two people to run your errands, and scrape out dishes, and tell you that your apple-pie is the best in the world,’ said Peter. ‘And . . .’ ‘Yes—and two people taking buns out of my tin, and wanting raisins to eat at all times, and asking for home-made lemonade, and . . .’ Janet, Peter’s sister, came running in, flung her arms round Cookie and gave her a smacking kiss.
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Fun For The Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Peter! Peter, where are you?’ shouted Janet, racing up the stairs. ‘Here—in my room,’ called Peter, appearing at his door and looking very cross. ‘I’m tidying it up. Dad looked in this morning, and wanted to know if I liked living in a pigsty! He said the pigs were tidier than I am!’ ‘Well—he was about right,’ said Janet, looking round the room. ‘Do you ever pick anything up when you drop it? Goodness, what’s this mess on the carpet—something stuck to it?’ ‘Oh—so that’s where my nougat went!’ said Peter, scraping a sticky mess off the carpet. ‘Good thing Dad didn’t tread on that—it would have stuck to his shoe for ages!’ Janet gave a delighted chuckle. ‘You really are dreadfully untidy, Peter,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’d better tidy up your room for you before Daddy comes back again.’ ‘What did you want me for?’ asked Peter, still scraping. ‘Ooh—it’s horrid, this. What a waste of a nice bar of nougat.’
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Shock For The Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 When are you having a meeting of the Secret Seven again?’ asked Peter’s mother. ‘I don’t know. Why, Mother?’ asked Peter, looking up from his book. ‘Well, because if you do, I don’t think you ought to meet in that old shed of yours,’ said his mother. ‘It’s such very cold weather. You’d better meet up here in the house.’ ‘Oh no, Mother,’ said Janet, joining in. ‘It wouldn’t be a secret meeting then. We must meet in the shed.’ ‘Well—you’ll have to heat it up a little then,’ said Mother. ‘I can’t have you down with colds just at the end of the Christmas term. Can’t you do without meetings till after Christmas?’ ‘Not very well,’ said Janet. ‘We’d half thought it would be a good idea to take the Christmas presents we’re making down to the shed—all seven of us, I mean—and have a sort of Making Presents meeting. We thought we could all wear our coats.’
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Good Old Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 One morning after school, Peter went to find his sister Janet. ‘Hey, Janet!’ he said. ‘I’m calling a Secret Seven meeting for tomorrow morning. Jack’s uncle has given him a lovely present, and he wants all the Seven to share it.’ ‘What is it?’ asked Janet. ‘A game of some sort?’ ‘No. You’ll have to wait and see,’ said Peter. ‘It’s Jack’s surprise, not mine. Will you write out a few notes and tell the others to come—10 o’clock sharp. Thank goodness it’s Saturday tomorrow.’ ‘Wuff,’ said Scamper the spaniel. He loved Saturdays too. He knew he would have Peter and Janet all day long then. ‘Yes, you shall come to the meeting as well,’ said Janet, patting his soft golden coat. ‘But do you know the password, Scamper?’ ‘Wuff-wuff!’ said Scamper at once, and the children laughed. ‘Quite right—the password is “wuff-wuff”,’ said Peter. ‘What a good memory you have, Scamper!’
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Secret Seven Fireworks

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Susie! You little horror!’ said Jack, angrily. ‘Singing like that in the street about the Secret Seven! Falling to bits! You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ ‘Oh, I do,’ said Susie, skipping in front of them now. ‘I know you haven’t met for ages—I know Jack’s lost his badge—I know you can’t use Peter’s shed for meeting-places—I know . . .’ Peter, Janet and Jack glared at the smiling, irritating Susie. ‘What do you mean—you know we can’t use our shed?’ demanded Peter. ‘You’ve been snooping.’ ‘No, I haven’t. My ball went over your wall, Peter, and I ran to get it—and I saw your shed full of onions! Onions!’ Susie laughed loudly. ‘So I knew you couldn’t be meeting there—and I’ve a very particular reason for asking if the Secret Seven is still going on or not.’
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Puzzle For The Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Hallo!’ shouted a voice over the wall, and Scamper barked loudly at once. Peter and Janet looked up from their gardening. ‘Oh, hallo, Jack!’ said Peter, pleased. ‘Stop barking, Scamper! Anyone would think you hadn’t seen Jack for a month. Come on in, Jack. Any news?’ ‘Yes. Rather nice news,’ said Jack, wheeling his bicycle in at the front gate. ‘My mother won a pound at the whist drive last night—and she’s given it to me to take all the Secret Seven over to the fair at Hilly-Down today. Can you and Janet come?’ ‘I say—how decent of your mother,’ said Peter, and Janet beamed. She had so badly wanted to go to the fair, but she and Peter were saving up for their father’s birthday. ‘There’s just one thing, though,’ said Jack, seriously. ‘Susie will have to come too—and she’s got an awful friend staying with her, called Binkie. Mother says the money’s for them too.’
ENGLISH

A Chalet Girl From Kenya

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 “Well! What do you know about that?” Joey Maynard lifted her eyes from the letter she had been reading and looked down the long table at her husband who had just shoved aside his empty porridge plate and was now fathoms deep in his own correspondence. “Uh?” he grunted, his eyes fastened on a lengthy and official-looking document. “I said, ‘What do you know about that?’,” Joey repeated sweetly. “What is it?” “This, of course.” She waved the letter at him with so little regard for the narrow tray holding coffee percolator, hot-milk jug and sugarbasin, that she nearly sent the milk jug flying. Len, her eldest daughter, who sat on her left hand at meals, caught the jug with a squeal of horror and steadied it just in time. Jo gave her a grateful smile and then went on unconcernedly, “This letter I’ve just had. Wake up, do! Put that thing down, Jack, and attend to me for a minute or two.”
ENGLISH

The Chalet School Does It Again

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 Len Maynard shot down the stairs, giggling wildly at every step she took. She reached the bottom, turned right and raced along the corridor, through the wooden passage that linked up the chalet which formed one of the school’s Houses—Ste Thérèse de Lisieux, to be accurate—with the main building. This had once been a luxury hotel, but tourism had drifted away from the Görnetz Platz and the proprietor of the hotel had been very glad to dispose of his property to the Chalet School Company. Once in the main building, Len dropped into a more sedate pace, though she still giggled as she went. She reached a door which she opened just wide enough to allow her to slide in, and closed it behind her. About a dozen girls were in the cheerful room, all chattering eagerly, for this was the first full day of term and everyone had plenty to say about the Christmas holidays now, alas! behind them.
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The Island Of Adventure

by Enid Blyton

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 It was really most extraordinary. There was Philip Mannering, doing his best to puzzle out algebra problems, lying full-length under a tree with nobody near him at all—and yet he could hear a voice speaking to him most distinctly. “Can’t you shut the door, idiot?” said the voice, in a most impatient tone. “And how many times have I told you to wipe your feet?” Philip sat up straight and took a good look round for the third time—but the hillside stretched above and below him, completely empty of any boy, girl, man or woman. “It’s so silly,” said Philip to himself. “Because there is no door to shut, and no mat to wipe my feet on. Whoever is speaking must be perfectly mad. Anyway, I don’t like it. A voice without a body is too queer for anything.”
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Secret Seven Mystery

by Enid Blyton

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 Peter and Janet were having breakfast with their father and mother one lovely spring morning. Scamper, their golden spaniel, was lying as usual under the table. ‘Dad,’ began Peter, but his mother frowned at him. ‘Your father is reading the paper,’ she said. ‘Don’t bother him just now!’ His father put down the paper and smiled. ‘Do the Secret Seven want to make themselves really useful?’ he asked. ‘Because I’ve just read something in my paper that may be right up their street!’ ‘Oh, Dad—what?’ cried Peter, and Janet put down her egg-spoon and looked at him expectantly.
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Good Work, Secret Seven!

by Enid Blyton

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 “When are the Secret Seven going to have their next meeting?” said Susie to her brother Jack. “That’s nothing to do with you!” said Jack. “You don’t belong to it, and what’s more, you never will!” “Good gracious! I don’t want to belong to it!” said Susie, putting on a very surprised voice. “If I want to belong to a secret society I can always get one of my own. I did once before, and it was a better one than yours.” “Don’t be silly,” said Jack. “Our Secret Seven is the best in the world—why, just think of the things we’ve done and the adventures we’ve had! I bet we’ll have another one soon.” “I bet you won’t,” said Susie, annoyingly. “You’ve been meeting in that shed at the bottom of Peter and Janet’s garden for weeks now—and there isn’t even the smell of a mystery!” “Well, mysteries don’t grow on trees, nor do adventures,” said Jack. “They just happen all in a minute. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about the Secret Seven any more, and you needn’t think you’ll get anything out of me, because you won’t, Susie. And please go out of my room and let me get on with this book.”
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Secret Seven Win Through

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Easter holidays at last!’ said Peter. ‘I thought they were never coming. Didn’t you, Janet?’ ‘Yes. It was a frightfully long term,’ said Janet. ‘We’ve broken up now though, thank goodness. Don’t you love the first day of the hols, Peter?’ ‘Rather! I get a lovely free sort of feeling,’ said Peter, ‘and the hols seem to stretch out in front of me for ages and ages. Let’s have some fun, Janet!’ ‘Yes, let’s! April’s a lovely month—it’s warm, and sunny too, and Mummy will let us off on picnics any day we like,’ said Janet. ‘Scamper, do you hear that? Picnics, I said—and that means rabbit-hunting for you, and long, long walks.’ ‘Woof!’ said Scamper at once, his tail thumping on the floor, and his eyes bright. ‘You’re the best and finest golden spaniel in the whole world!’ said Janet, stroking his silky head. ‘And I do so love your long, droopy ears, Scamper. You like it when we have holidays, don’t you?’
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Three Cheers Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘I don’t see much sense in calling a Secret Seven meeting,’ said Janet to Peter. ‘There’s really nothing to discuss—no adventure or mystery anywhere—and I did want to finish reading my book.’ ‘We haven’t had a meeting for three weeks,’ said Peter. ‘And if you’ve got something better to do than to belong to the Secret Seven and attend the meetings, well, do it! We can easily get somebody instead of you.’ ‘Peter! Don’t be so cross!’ said Janet, quite horrified at the thought of not being a Secret Seven member. ‘Of course I want to belong. But it’s only really exciting when something is happening. Or if we’ve got plenty to eat and drink.’ ‘Well, if the others bring what they promised we should have quite a nice feast,’ said Peter. ‘Do help me to tidy the shed ready for the others, Janet—you just sit there and do nothing!’
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Go Ahead, Secret Seven

by Enid Blyton

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 Peter was going home from school one afternoon, swinging his satchel, when someone came running behind him and bumped into him. He dropped his bag and almost fell over. He looked round crossly, expecting it to be George or Colin. But it wasn’t. It was Susie with her cheeky face, standing by the kerb grinning at him. ‘Sorry!’ she said. ‘You were in my way. How’s the Secret Seven Society going?’ ‘You just look where you’re going, Susie,’ said Peter, picking up his bag. ‘As for the Secret Seven, it’s no business of yours. You’re always trying to interfere!’ ‘Jack says there haven’t been any Secret Seven meetings for ages,’ said Susie, walking beside Peter, much to his annoyance. Susie was the most aggravating girl he knew.
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Kits At Clynton Court School

by May Wynne

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 Do come over here, Pearl,” urged Roseleen excitedly, “it’s . . . a girl . . . in the grocer’s cart. It looks as if it might be the new girl who ought to have come last week—only it can’t be! The grocer boy is grinning like anything—and yes! he is handing her down a hockey stick . . . and a bag, and she is actually shaking hands. Really if that’s not the limit! Wherever can Miss Carwell have got her from?” Pearl Willock crossed to the side of her friend. The two girls were alone in the deserted schoolroom; and their interest for the moment was wholly given to the new arrival.
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Secret Seven On The Trail

by Enid Blyton

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 ‘Mummy, have you got anything we could have to drink?’ asked Janet. ‘And to eat too?’ ‘But you’ve only just finished your breakfast!’ said Mummy in surprise. ‘And you each had two sausages. You can’t possibly want anything more yet.’ ‘Well, we’re having the very last meeting of the Secret Seven this morning,’ said Janet. ‘Down in the shed. We don’t think it’s worth while meeting when we all go back to school, nothing exciting ever happens then.’ ‘We’re going to meet again when the Christmas holidays come,’ said Peter. ‘Aren’t we, Scamper, old boy?’ The golden spaniel wagged his tail hard, and gave a small bark. ‘He says, he hopes he can come to the last meeting too,’ said Janet. ‘Of course you can, Scamper.’
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A Genius At The Chalet School

by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer

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 Sir Guy Rutherford sat glaring at the school girl sitting at the other side of the table with a good deal of impatience. She glared back and there was furious indignation in the dark eyes that fronted him. “I wish you’d hear reason!” he said suddenly. “You’re—how old? Fifteen, isn’t it? Very well, then. You’re still at an age when what you need is school and a jolly good school at that!”
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