“You are a vile, repulsive, repellent, malicious little brute!” the Trunchbull was shouting.
“You are not fit to be in this school! You ought to be behind bars, that's where you ought to be!”
“I shall have you drummed out of this establishment in utter disgrace!”
“I shall have the prefects chase you down the corridor and out of the front door with hockey sticks!”
“I shall have the staff escort you home under armed guard!”
“And then I shall make absolutely sure you are sent to a reformatory for delinquent girls for the minimum of forty years!”
The Trunchbull was in such a rage that her face had taken on a boiled colour and little flecks of froth were gathering at the corners of her mouth.
But she was not the only one who was losing her cool. Matilda was also beginning to see red.
She didn't in the least mind being accused of having done something she had actually done. She could see the justice of that.
It was, however, a totally new experience for her to be accused of a crime that she definitely had not committed.
She had had absolutely nothing to do with that beastly creature in the glass.
By golly, she thought, that rotten Trunchbull isn't going to pin this one on me!
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