Movie Shoes by Noel Streatfeild Page A

was showy. The passengers were enraptured, and cheered as well as clapped. Rachel curtsied several times, but when the clapping and cheering went on, she hurried to Bee and John.
    “What shall I do? I don’t know another solo, and I’ve no more music.”
    John was pleased that his children had given enjoyment to everybody, but he thought it was time the concert finished and they went to bed.
    “Tell them so, then, and thank them nicely.”
    Rachel went back and curtsied again. Then she cleared her throat. She had never made a speech before, so her voice squeaked a little. “I’m afraid I can’t do another dance. I haven’t any more music, and it’s the only one I’ve practiced.”
    The audience clapped again, and a voice shouted, “Well, let’s have the same dance.”
    Rachel danced the dance again. It was not very good that time as she was excited and wobbled on her pirouettes and her arabesque, but the audience, who knew nothing about dancing, thought her wonderful and clapped louder than ever.
    After “God Save the King” had been played, the passengers crowded around Bee and John, and words like “wonderful” and “genius” buzzed about. Jane, who had been sitting between John and Bee for the concert, tried to get out of the crowd and off to bed, but it was difficult. Just as she reached the door she heard a woman say to a man, “That child going out of the door is a sister, you know, but she doesn’t do anything.”
    The man answered, “Queer having that plain kid with the other two so good-looking.”
    When Jane reached the cabin, Rachel and Tim were telling Peaseblossom all about the concert.
    “But it’s so odd,” Rachel said. “They clapped just as much when I danced my worst.”
    Jane shut the door and began to undress.
    “That’s what is known as an undiscriminating audience, dear,” Peaseblossom said, “but I feel sure our side did splendidly.”
    Rachel folded her apron. “Tim bowed beautifully.”
    Tim nodded. “I thought that was rather good. It was copied from Sir Malcolm Sargent last Christmas when we went to the carols at the Albert Hall.”
    Jane felt so miserable she would have liked to cry, but she cried only over desperate things like leaving Chewing-gum behind. What mattered was that those silly fools said was true. She couldn’t do anything, not anything at all, and she was the only plain Winter. She looked so sour that at last the others noticed. Peaseblossom said, “What’s the matter, dear?”
    Jane was brushing her teeth. She took the brush out of her mouth. “Nothing. It’s just that I’ve already listened to that awful concert, and I was not exactly enjoying hearing about it all over again.”
    Peaseblossom was shocked. She had known that Jane had been getting out of hand ever since she had quoted, “It’s going to be such splendid fun.” She spoke in her usual voice and not the fade away, gentle voice she had spoken in ever since her first morning on board.
    “Jane! That’s a disgraceful way to talk! You’re jealous. Jealousy is a horrible fault. We may not all be equally talented, but we can all be equally nice people.”
    Jane said no more. She climbed into her bunk with indignation sticking out all over her. She lay down and turned her face to the wall and for the first time since the Mauretania had sailed missed Chewing-gum so much that it hurt. Chewing-gum, who thought her much the nicest of the family; who even thought her the best-looking; who did not care a bit if she could dance or play the piano; who liked her just as she was with no alteration at all. “I’ll say exactly what I like,” she told herself. “I don’t mind being plain, and I don’t mind not doing anything. I hate them all; I’ll just be me whether they like it or not.”
    The whole family, even Peaseblossom, was on deck to catch a first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. After so long at sea it was thrilling to see land and ships darting about. At first there was no sign of