Help! It’s Harriet!

COPYRIGHT

First published in Great Britain by

CollinsAudio 1994

First published in Great Britain by

CollinsChildren’sBooks 1995

CollinsChildren’sBooks is a division of

HarperCollinspublishers Ltd,

77-85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

Text copyright © Jean Ure 1994

Illustrations copyright © Stephen Lee 1995

Jean Ure and Stephen Lee assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780006750338

Ebook Edition © NOVEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780008124274

Version: 2014-11-12

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Help! It’s Harriet!

A Very Busy Sort of Day

The Peasants’ Revolt

The Beautiful Baby Competition

Keep Reading

About the Publisher

Harriet Johnson was a most unfortunate child. She could never do anything right. If she offered to help with the washing up, she would be sure to smash a glass or drop one of her mother’s best dinner plates, while if you sent her down the road to buy a loaf of bread she would more than likely come back with three yellow dusters and a dishcloth because she had “seen a man selling them and felt sorry for him.”

As for asking her to do a bit of vacuuming – well! Nobody who had had experience of Harriet’s vacuuming would be foolish enough. Harriet was the sort of girl who only had to walk through a door for every ornament in the room to go crashing floorwards. Give her a vacuum and she broke everything in sight.

She was just as unfortunate at school. Nobody but Harriet could manage to lose the class register on the short journey between her classroom and Mrs Atkins’ office. Only Harriet could bring the curtain down right on top of the baby Jesus in the middle of the Christmas nativity play. Harriet should never have been allowed anywhere near the curtain, of course, but that was when Mrs Middleton, her class teacher, had been new and hadn’t realised what sort of child Harriet was.

Mrs Middleton had learnt, since then. She knew that whenever possible it was wise to keep Harriet out of things. The trouble was, Harriet was always so eager. When it came to Do A Good Turn Week she was especially eager.

Do a good turn week happened once a year, during the summer term. The top juniors were the only ones who were allowed to take part because they were the only ones considered responsible enough. Harriet was a top junior…

“So!” said Mrs Middleton, one morning at the beginning of June. (She tried not to look at Harriet as she spoke.) “I think we all know what Do A Good Turn Week means?”

Class 6 sat up straight on their chairs and did their best to look intelligent. Harriet sat up straighter and looked more intelligent than anyone. Harriet loved doing good turns.

“Who would like to tell us what it means?”

A forest of hands shot up, Harriet’s in the lead. Mrs Middleton pretended not to see Harriet’s.

“Alison?” she said. (Alison Leary was every teacher’s favourite.)

“It means we get our-friends-and-families-to-sponsor-us-for-doing-a-good-turn-and-all-the-money-we-collect-goes-to-charity,” gabbled Alison.

“Quite right, Alison! Thank you. And now I’m going to hand out the sponsor forms. One for Alison. One for Jonathan. One for Prahtiba…”

Mrs Middleton went round the class until she reached Harriet. When she reached Harriet, she came to a stop. Mrs Middleton was never quite sure about Harriet. The child meant well – at least, Mrs Middleton supposed that she did. It was just that everything she touched seemed to go catastrophically wrong. Mrs Middleton could still recall with a shudder the time she had locked Mr Marsh-Jones in the gardening shed. Mr Marsh-Jones was the head teacher. He had been in the gardening shed for over an hour, and might have been there all night if the school caretaker hadn’t heard his cries for help.

“I thought he was a burglar,” explained Harriet afterwards. “I was going to tell somebody, but then I went up the park and I forgot.”

For one wild moment Mrs Middleton wondered if there was any way of persuading Harriet that it might be better if she didn’t take part in Do A Good Turn Week; but then she looked at Harriet’s face, all round and freckled and trusting, and she knew that there wasn’t. With a sigh, she handed over the last sponsor form.

“And one for Harriet. Now please remember, everybody-” she placed a hand firmly on the back of Harriet’s chair “-only offer to do tasks which you know you are capable of. We don’t want any disasters, do we?”