Матильда
The Weekly Test
TheTrunchbullbeganaslowmarchalongtherowsofdesksinspectingthehands.Allwentwelluntilshecametoasmallboyinthesecondrow."What’syourname?"shebarked.
"Nigel,"theboysaid.
"Nigelwhat?"
"NigelHicks,"theboysaid.
"NigelHickswhat?"theTrunchbullbellowed.Shebellowedsoloudshenearlyblewthelittlechapoutofthewindow.
"That’sit,"Nigelsaid."Unlessyouwantmymiddlenamesaswell."HewasabravelittlefellowandonecouldseethathewastryingnottobescaredbytheGorgonwhotoweredabovehim.
"Idonotwantyourmiddlenames,youblister!"theGorgonbellowed."Whatismyname?"
"MissTrunchbull,"Nigelsaid.
"Thenuseitwhenyouaddressme!Nowthen,let’stryagain.Whatisyourname?"
"NigelHicks,MissTrunchbull,"Nigelsaid.
"That’sbetter,"theTrunchbullsaid."Yourhandsarefilthy,Nigel!Whendidyoulastwashthem?"
"Well,letmethink,"Nigelsaid."That’sratherdifficulttorememberexactly.Itcouldhavebeenyesterdayoritcouldhavebeenthedaybefore."
TheTrunchbull’swholebodyandfaceseemedtoswellupasthoughshewerebeinginflatedbyabicycle-pump.
"Iknewit!"shebellowed."IknewassoonasIsawyouthatyouwerenothingbutapieceoffilth!Whatisyourfather’sjob,asewage-worker?"
"He’sadoctor,"Nigelsaid."Andajollygoodone.Hesayswe’reallsocoveredwithbugsanywaythatabitofextradirtneverhurtsanyone."
"I’mgladhe’snotmydoctor,"theTrunchbullsaid.
