Free Third Year at Malory Towers by Enid Blyton

wouldn't even take on any of her extra duties in the common room, which everyone had to do in turn. She got Mary-Lou to do them for her instead.
    Mary-Lou was so gentle and kindly that she would do anything for anybody. Jean was very cross when she found Mary-Lou doing the flowers in the common room instead of Bill.
    “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “You can see on the list it's Bill's week.”
    “I know, Jean,” said Mary-Lou, scared at Jean's sharp tone. “But Bill did so badly want to go and give Thunder an extra grooming today. He got so muddy yesterday.”
    “I'm getting tired of Bill racing off to the stables, never joining in anything the third form does, and getting other people to do her duties,” said Jean. “I shall talk to her about it.”
    But she made no more impression on Bill than Miss Peters had done. Bill had spent her life with horses. She had, as Miss Peters, said, thought, dreamt, smelt, groomed, ridden horses all her life, and she just didn't want to do anything else.
    She would have been excellent at lacrosse if she had practised. She was magnificent at gym, daring, supple and with a wonderful sense of balance. The gym mistress was delighted with her, and sang her praises to everyone.
    Bill could turn “cart-wheels” as easily as any clown in a circus, going over and over on hands and feet till the others were giddy with watching. She could fling herself in the air and turn a complete somersault. The gym mistress forbade anyone else to try and do it.
    “You'll only damage yourselves,” she said. But nobody else really wanted to turn somersaults in the air!
    Bill could also walk on her hands, and the others often made her perform to them in the evening when she could not go to the stables. Bill was good-natured and natural, and didn't get her head in the least turned by all the praise and acclamation given to her for her performances in gym or common-room.
    Zerelda watched and marvelled. She could not imagine how any girl could want to do such extraordinary things. She thought Bill was decidedly mad, but she couldn't help liking her. In fact, most of the girls liked her very much indeed, though they were annoyed and exasperated when she wouldn't join in with them over anything.
    Belinda did some beautiful drawings of Thunder. She was very good at drawing animals, and when Bill saw them she exclaimed in delight.
    “Belinda! They're simply marvellous! Please, please give them to me!”
    “No,” said Belinda, tucking them away into her portfolio. “I shall keep them with my collection of animal drawings.”
    “Well, Belinda, do some specially for me,” begged Bill. “Oh, Belinda, you might. I'd have them all framed and stood on my dressing-table.”
    “Gosh, Bill, you've got about six different photographs of horses there now,” said Belinda. “You've no room for a picture of Thunder.”
    “I have! I should put him right at the very front,” said Bill. “Belinda, will you do me some drawings of Thunder? I'll do anything for you if you will.”
    “Fibber!” said Belinda. “The only person you'll do anything for is Thunder. You wouldn't lift a finger to do anything for Miss Peters or for anyone in the third form and you know it.”
    Bill looked taken aback. “Am I really as bad as that?” she asked, anxiously. “Is that what you all think of me?”
    “Of course,” said Belinda. “Why, you don't even take on your own duties. I heard Jean ticking you off for that-but Mary-Lou's going on doing them just the same. So you can't have a drawing of Thunder, my dear Bill, because if you do you'll only go and stand and gaze devotedly at him all the evening when you can't go to the stables, and that will make us crosser than ever.”
    Belinda paused to take breath. Bill looked as if she was going to fly into a temper. Then her sense of fairness came to her help.
    “Yes. You're right, Belinda. I don't like you being right, but you are,” she said, honestly. “I probably