Матильда
Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake
WhenallthetwohundredandfiftyorsoboysandgirlsweresettleddowninAssembly,theTrunchbullmarchedontotheplatform.Noneoftheotherteacherscameinwithher.Shewascarryingariding-cropinherrighthand.Shestoodupthereoncentrestageinhergreenbreecheswithlegsapartandriding-cropinhand,glaringattheseaofupturnedfacesbeforeher.
"What’sgoingtohappen?"Lavenderwhispered.
"Idon’tknow,"Matildawhisperedback.
Thewholeschoolwaitedforwhatwascomingnext.
"BruceBogtrotter!"theTrunchbullbarkedsuddenly.
"WhereisBruceBogtrotter?"
Ahandshotupamongtheseatedchildren.
"Comeuphere!"theTrunchbullshouted."Andlooksmartaboutit!"
Aneleven-year-oldboywhowasdecidedlylargeandroundstoodupandwaddledbrisklyforward.Heclimbedupontotheplatform.
"Standoverthere!"theTrunchbullordered,pointing.Theboystoodtooneside.Helookednervous.Heknewverywellhewasn’tuptheretobepresentedwithaprize.HewaswatchingtheHeadmistresswithanexceedinglywaryeyeandhekeptedgingfartherandfartherawayfromherwithlittleshufflesofhisfeet,ratherasaratmightedgeawayfromaterrierthatiswatchingitfromacrosstheroom.Hisplumpflabbyfacehadturnedgreywithfearfulapprehension.Hisstockingshungabouthisankles.
