Матильда
The Third Miracle
ShedroppedWilfredontothefloor.Thensheyelledatnobodyinparticular,’’Who’sdoingthis?Who’swritingit?
Thechalkcontinuedtowrite.
EveryoneintheplaceheardthegaspthatcamefromtheTrunchbull’sthroat."No!"shecried,"Itcan’tbe!Itcan’tbeMagnus!"
MissHoney,atthesideoftheroomglancedswiftlyatMatilda.Thechildwassittingverystraightatherdesk,theheadheldhigh,themouthcompressed,theeyesglitteringliketwostars.
ForsomereasoneveryonenowlookedattheTrunchbull.Thewoman’sfacehadturnedwhiteassnowandhermouthwasopeningandshuttinglikeahalibutoutofwaterandgivingoutaseriesofstrangledgasps.
Thechalkstoppedwriting.Ithoveredforafewmoments,thensuddenlyitdroppedtothefloorwithatinkleandbrokeintwo.
Wilfred,whohadmanagedtoresumehisseatinthefrontrow,screamed,"MissTrunchbullhasfallendown!MissTrunchbullisonthefloor!"
Thiswasthemostsensationalbitofnewsofallandtheentireclassjumpedupoutoftheirseatstohaveareallygoodlook.Andthereshewas,thehugefigureoftheHeadmistress,stretchedfull-lengthonherbackacrossthefloor,outforthecount.
MissHoneyranforwardandkneltbesidetheprostrategiant."She’sfainted!"shecried."She’soutcold!Someonegoandfetchthematronatonce."Threechildrenranoutoftheroom.
Nigel,alwaysreadyforaction,leaptupandseizedthebigjugofwater.
