Listening Valley Read Online Free PDF Page A

fall on the floor, and then he would laugh uproariously and call her “Butterfingers.” But strangely enough, Bay’s teasing did not distress Tonia; in fact, it gave her a feeling of importance when she found that he teased her more than the other children.
    Nita’s teasing was a different matter, for Nita had a different technique. She was past master in the art of getting others into trouble and remaining out of it herself. Nita was that shameless recreant, the teacher’s pet; Miss Mann and Mrs. Grant liked her and praised her and she was held up as a pattern to her fellow students. “Look at Nita!” they would say. “Why can’t you behave like her!” and the other children would look at Nita with something approaching hatred in their souls. There she sat, smug and complacent, enjoying the approbation she ill deserved. She was not very nice to look at, anyhow, for she was tall and very thin with a pale face and a self-assertive nose, and she wore her mouse-colored hair in two long plaits tied with green ribbon.
    One day when the children arrived at school, they found that Bay had been up to his tricks again. Two figures had been drawn on the blackboard, one short and fat, the other tall and thin, and (so that there should be no mistake as to their identity) he had written beneath them in large letters: “MRS. CANT and MISS CAN.”
    The children were enchanted with this effort, but their teachers were not amused. Oddly enough Miss Mann was more upset than her sister. She made Bay stand in the corner for half an hour.
    â€œHe’s getting worse,” said Miss Mann to Mrs. Grant when the children had gone.
    â€œOh, I don’t think so,” replied Mrs. Grant comfortably. “It was just a joke—and rather funny, really. He’s quite right, you know. I’m not a good teacher; I can’t hold the children’s interest like you can. Of course they know that, the little wretches.”
    â€œHe ought to respect you. How are you going to keep order if the children don’t respect you?”
    â€œBay respects nobody.”
    â€œThat’s just it!” cried Miss Mann. “We can’t manage Bay. He’s too much for us. We shall have to ask his father to take him away.”
    â€œOh no, Margaret. His father is such a delightful man.”
    â€œThat may be,” said Miss Mann grimly. “But Bay is an imp. I’m terrified of what he will do next.”
    Several days passed without incident, and then something really terrible occurred, something none of the children would ever forget. It was eleven o’clock and the usual scrimmage took place in the changing room, the children searching for their schoolbags containing their lunches, but when the bottles of milk were produced, it was found that the bottles had been opened and topped up with ink that had seeped all through the milk in violet streaks. Bay’s bottle was the only one that had not been tampered with, so there was no doubt as to the culprit.
    â€œYou wicked boy!” cried Miss Mann as she collected the bottles and emptied them into the sink. “You naughty, wicked boy. It’s the most dreadful sin to spoil good food. Don’t you know that there are children starving, children who never get milk like this to drink! There are children here, in this city, who would be thankful for milk like this—and you’ve ruined it. I can’t deal with you, Bay. I shall take you around to your father’s office—that’s the only thing I can do. He’ll have to deal with you; he’ll have to take you away. You’re too naughty for me.” She was trembling with rage and fright—almost weeping—for it seemed to her that this was something abnormal. This was no ordinary childish prank.
    Miss Mann could not take Bay to his father at once, for the other children must be considered, so she sent him into the back room to wait for her