"I am quite sure, Miss Thorpe. Mrs. Hemson has been here several times this last week or two; I knew it was about a new pupil. And when she brought her to-night, she gave me half a crown, and told me to be kind to her. A nice lady is Mrs. Hemson as ever I spoke to." "I daresay she may be, for her station," spoke Miss Thorpe, going back to her seat with a stalk. "I say, girls—I have been asking Betsey—come close." And they all huddled their heads together. "I thought I'd ask Betsey: she says she does come from the Hemsons. Did you ever know such a shame?" "It _can't be_, you know," cried the one with the large mouth. "Miss Fenton would not dare to do it. Would my papa, a prebendary of the Cathedral, allow me to be placed where I could be associated with tradespeople?" "Ask Betsey for yourselves," retorted Miss Thorpe. "She says it was Mrs. Hemson who brought her to school." "Nonsense about asking Betsey," said Nancy Tayler; "ask herself. Come here, child," she added, in a louder tone, beckoning to me. I went humbly up, behind the form, feeling very humble indeed just then. They were nearly all older than I, and I began again to think it must be something sadly lowering to be connected with the Hemsons. "Are you related to Hemsons, the shopkeepers?" "Yes. To Mrs. Hemson. Mamma was——" "Oh, there, that will do," she unceremoniously interposed, with a scornful gesture. "Go back to your seat, and don't sit too close to Miss Webb; she's a gentleman's daughter." My readers, you may be slow to believe this, but I can only say it occurred exactly as written. I returned to my seat, a terrible feeling of mortification having passed over my young life. They never spoke to me again that evening. There was no supper, and at half-past eight we went up to bed; three smallish beds were in the room where I was to sleep, and one large one with curtains round it. The large one was Miss Dale's, and two of us, I found, shared each of the smaller ones; my bedfellow was Clara Webb. She was a good-humoured girl, more careless upon the point of 'family' than most of the rest seemed to be, and did not openly rebel at having to sleep with me. Miss Dale came up for the candle after we were in bed. The bell rang at half-past six in the morning, our signal for getting up: we had to be down by seven. There were studies till eight, and then breakfast—the same wretched tea, and the same coarse bread-and-butter. At half-past eight Miss Fenton read prayers; and at nine the school business commenced. At ten Mademoiselle was assembling her German class. Seven only of the pupils learnt it. I rose and went up with them: and was rewarded with a stare. "What will be the use of German to _her?_" rudely cried Miss Peacock, a tall, stout girl, directing to me all the scorn of which a look is capable. "I should not fancy Miss Hereford is to learn German, Mademoiselle Leduc. It may be as well to inquire."