The Cure: A School Story by D. E. Tyson

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23601, 9 March 1940, Page 3 (Supplement)

The Cure: A School Story by D. E. Tyson

THERE was nothing really bad about Brenda, She was kindhearted and good tempered ; she was also bright and intelligent when she, liked, but she possessed one serious fault. It had a dicadfully long name, too —"Pro-crast-in-a-tion" —which simply means putting off until to-morrow what should be done to-day. Eor instance, it was too late, and she was far too sleepy and tired to see to her homework one evening. "I will get up half an hour earlier and look over it in the morning," said Brenda quite happily. The next morning, however, when the sun sent a shining ray into the dainty pink and silver bedroom, it came to rest on a dark curly head still burrowed deeply into a soft white pillow—not earlier, but later than usual, L am afraid, was "procastinating" Brenda. It was a private school that eleven-vear-old Brenda Leeds attended, and on Fridays Miss Tweedleton, the greyhaired principal, held a "refresher" class, at which specially selected questions on all the subjects the pupils had studied the previous week were to be answered. "Funny old-fashioned idea," was the private opinion some of the pupils held, but Miss Tweedleton was old-fashioned. In her own schoolgirl days she had been lined up for the "general knowledge" class, only in Miss Tweedleton's experience it had been a parrot-like reciting of "William the Conqueror, 1066," to the still youthful Queen Victoria, followed by the capital cities of the world, and the whole uninteresting performance brightened up by some appalling French verbs! Brenda stirred, yawned lazily, and opened her eyes. The first object that met her gaze was the pile of unopened lesson books. The second was the little chromium clock, that strangely seemed to he an hour too fast. Actually, there was just time to dress and dispose of a hurried breakfast before the bus was due at the end of the road. There was certainly no time to study up the twenty-four questions written in her exercise book.

"Oh, dear; Oh, dear! Whatever shall I do?"' wailed Brenda. in a panic. Then an idea flashed into her mind. Why not look up just the answers that would com 6 to her? Miss I'weedleton always started the class from her left-hand side, and that would mean that questions six, fourteen and twenty-two would come to her in turn. Of course, that was cheating, but Brenda did not really mean to cheat. She truly intended to study the whole of the lesson later on —when she had more time — TO-MORROW, perhaps. ... Scanning the page. Brenda glanced at question six. That was an easy one • just the height of the highest mountain. Brenda liked geography, and although she was a little liazy of the actual height of Mount Everest, she

knew it was over five miles. The next question led lier into the domestic science hook —"The best way to treat moat." That was equally as easy, and besides, many a time Brenda had seen her mother dealing with n coarsegrained piece of steak the butcher had sent. Hurry, hurry . . . the last question probed English history. With her right band. Brenda vigorously brushed her hair, while her left hand fumbled with the history book. Bother Kinjj John. Not only did ho have to sign the

Magna Charta, hut he was, foolish enough to get caught by the tide ot the Lincolnshire Wash, and all his treasure wns lost —and sor\G him thought Brenda, crossly. The morning passed as usual _ until after the recess, and it was with a qualm of nervousness that Brenda took her seat for the "refresher class.'' but, as usual. !Miss r Fwood 1 otou started from her ieft. Relieved. Brenda prepared her first answer. Tn a moment or two her turn came. , . "What is the average rise and fall 01 the tide, Brenda?" "Twenty-nine thousand feet, or over five miles." answered Brenda promptly. There was a dead silence. "That would be rather unfortunate for all of us, I'm afraid," was Miss Tweedleton's only comment. "Next, please." Meeting the startled looks of her fellow piTpils, -with a confident smile, Brenda mentally rehearsed her next replv. At last her turn arrived. ".' . . and what is the best way to destroy harmful germs?" came the question. Brenda blinked. Something was decidedly wrong, although the question seemed to refer to domestic science, hut — "Come. Brenda. T am waiting." said Miss Tweed let on sharplv. "What is the b<--t way to destroy harmful germs?" she repeated. " R-r-rub with oil. hut if the oil is objected to. the required effect can be obtained by beating with a rollingpin." answered Brenda, with a rush. This time a gale of laughter arose from i''e class. Scarlet with mortification. Brenda looked round helplessly, and it was then she discovered that one member of her class was absent. How stupid she had been. Never acain would she put off her homework. Never again would she do such a dreadful thing ns this. . . . She was cured of her fault for good. Meanwhile the laughter had been hastilv chocked, and the lessor, proceeded. "What is the matter with you to-dav. Brenda?" came a voice. "Are you not feeling well?" It was the principal speaking again. With a start of confusion. Brenda looked up from her desk. ". . . we have just learned that two of the wives of Henry the Eighth were beheaded, poor tilings." affirmed Miss Tweedleton, "What happened to the others?" , There was no escape. "They—they—began Brenda miserably. "They were lost in the Wash," she said.