Word combinations

To apply for the stock

The lion’s share

To be in charge

To be efficient in design

To be well equipped

To be worth while

To be justified

To be prejudiced

Disparity a step in the right direction

Tasks

1. Why was the last day of the month so enjoyable for Miss Read?

Say how Miss Read usually prepared for the next academic year.

3. Why did Miss Read think it was worth while teaching Fairacre children how to play cricket?

4. What did Miss Read tell the inspector about the atmosphere of a country school compared to a modern one of new estates? Why was she thought to be prejudiced?

5. What inspector was Mr. Arnold?

6. How did dependence of schools on local rates create disparities?

7. How could intelligent parents improve the situation of a country school to Mr. Arnold’s mind?

THE OUTING

The first Saturday in July is always kept free in Fairacre for the Outing.

'At one time,' said Mr. Richards, the farmer, 'the schools here closed for a fortnight at the end of June for a fruit-picking holiday, and as they were paid at the end of that time the outing was held then. And now, somehow, we just stick to the first Saturday in July. It seems to suit us all.'

The coach was filled with thirty-three villagers, of all shapes and sizes, each one dressed in his best.

Behind us ran another coach equally full, for mothers were encouraged to accompany their children on this expedition

Mrs. Pratt was there with her two children and behind her sat Mr. Annett and Miss Gray. They were both making heroic efforts to be civil and attentive to their fellow-travellers, for they were at that stage of mutual infatuation when the mere presence of other people is a burden. I wondered how quickly they would abandon us when we reached the seashore. They would certainly need a breathing-space on their own* for an hour or two after behaving with such admirable self-control under the gaze of thirty-one pairs of eyes.

Miss Clare sat beside me. There had been a few seats to spare and she had agreed to come 'just to smell the sea and collect a fresh seaweed ribbon to hang in the back porch, so that she could tell the weather.'

*

Barrisford, as everyone knows, is a watering-place with wonderful, firm, broad sands.

The children were ready to rush to the sea's edge the minute that the coaches came to a stand­still, but were restrained by the vicar, who using his bell-like voice, made an announcement.

'We shall disperse until four-thirty, when we shall meet at our old friend Bunce's,* on the Esplanade. I gather that an excellent tea is to be prepared for us there, with cold ham and other meats, salad, cakes, ices, and so on.

The sky was blue but cloudy, which kept the temperature down. Despite this, most of the chil­dren seemed content to be in bathing costumes, but it was interesting to see with what respect and awe they treated the sea. Not one of them, it appeared, could swim — not surprising perhaps, when one considered that Fairacre was a downland village,* and the nearest swimming water was at Caxley, six miles distant.

I wished, not for the first time, that I could take my older children into the Caxley Swimming Baths* once a week, but the poor bus service, combined with the difficulties of rearranging the time-table to fit in this activity,* made it impos­sible at the moment. Paddlers there were, in plenty, but not one of the Fairacre children went more than a yard or two from the beach edge into the surf, and while they stood with the swirling, water round their ankles, they kept an eye cocked on dry land, ready to make a dash for safety* if this strange, unfamiliar element* should play any tricks with them.

At digging they came into their own.* Armchairs, sandworks, channels, bridges, and castles of incredible magnitude were constructed with patience and industry. The Fairacre children could handle tools, and had the unhurried methods of the country-man that produce amazing results. Here was the perfect medium for their inborn skill.* The golden sand was turned, raked, piled, patted and ornamented with shells and seaweed, until I seriously thought of importing a few loads into the playground at home to see what wonders they could perform there.

One or two went with their parents for a trip in the boat, but they sat, I noticed, very close to the maternal skirts, and looked at the green water rushing past them with respectful eyes.

The day passed cheerfully and without incident. Tea at Bunce's was the usual happy family affair, held in an upstairs room with magnificent views of the harbour.

At five-thirty, we were back in our coaches, with seaweed, shells, and two or three unhappy crabs in buckets in an inch or two of seawater.

Mr. Annett and Miss Gray mounted the steps and resumed their seats amidst sympathetic smiles, and only one seat remained empty.

'Mrs. Pratt,' called someone, 'Mrs. Pratt and her two little ones.'

'I think I see one of them coming across from the chemist's shop,' answered Miss Clare. A fat little girl in a pink frock ran across to the coach, panted heavily up the steps and to her place, and sat, swinging her legs cheerfully. We continued to wait. The driver flipped back his little glass window and said:

That the lot?'*

'No, no, one more and a little boy to come!' said somebody. 'Peggy, my dear, is your mummy still in the chemist's?'

'Yes,' said the child, smiling smugly. 'Robin's got something in his eye.' She sounded both proud and pleased. Miss Clare rose from hers seat, leaving her gloves and bag neatly behind her.

'I'll just run across to her,' she said and went across to the open door of the chemist's shop.

At last she came hurrying back with the news. 'The chemist seems to think that the child should see a doctor. He suggests that we take him to the out-patient's department at the hospital.* It's quite; near here evidently. The child is in great pain,' went on Miss Clare, looking quite distracted. 'Cigarette ash evidently, and it seems to have burnt the eye. I really feel that he should go to the hospital.'

Then a plan was outlined.

'If you will stop with Mrs. Pratt and Robin,' I said to Miss Clare, 'I'm sure Mr. Bunce will be able to find you a night's lodging and then hire a taxi, my dear, to bring you all back tomorrow.'

Then a little voice said, 'And what about me?' We all turned to look at Peggy who sat, wide-eyed and rather cross, waiting to hear her fate. There was an awkward pause.

'There's no one at home,' said Mrs. Pringle, 'that I do know.'*

'Would you sleep in my house?' I asked her, 'I've got a nice teddy-bear in the spare room.' The girl agreed at once.

The coach buzzed with conversation.

'I feel sorry for that little Robin. Must be painful, that. Poor little thing!'

In a few minutes a sad little group emerged from the chemist's shop. Robin had a large pad of cottonwool over one eye, Mrs. Pratt was drying her tears as bravely as she could, while Miss Clare held Robin by one hand and Mrs. Pratt's bag in the other. They approached the coach and made their farewells.

'You try and be a good girl now, Peg,' said her tearful mother, 'and do as Miss Read tells you. And if you'd be so kind as to keep a night-light burning, Miss, I'd be really grateful — she gets a bit frightened if she wakes up in the dark.'

I assured her that Peggy should have all she wanted, and amid sympathetic cries and encour­agement the three made their farewells end departed in the direction of Bunce's.

The driver set off at once; nine o'clock was striking from St Patrick's church as we got out and within half an hour Peggy Pratt was sitting up in the spare bed, drinking hot milk and crunch­ing ginger-nuts. A candle was alight on the chest of drawers.

'I likes this nightie,' said the child, looking admiringly at a silk vest of mine that was doing duty as nightgown for my small guest. There had been no tears for the distant mother and little brother left behind at Barrisford. I hoped that she would fall asleep quickly before she had time to feel homesick.

'I shall leave the door open,' I told her, tucking in the moth-eaten teddy-bear beside her, 'in case you want me. And in the morning we'll have some boiled eggs for breakfast that Miss Clare's chickens laid yesterday.' I took her mug and plate and went to the door.

She wriggled down among the pillows, smiled enchantingly, sighed, and closed her eyes. She was asleep, I think, before I had reached the foot of the stairs.

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