"At any rate, Miss Marsham is satisfied with me--she told me so last week." She felt it undignified to be justifying herself, but she feared that silent contempt would be lost on Miss Vigers. Also, such an attitude was not easy to Alwynne; she had a tongue; when she was angry, the brutal effectiveness of Billingsgate must always tempt her. Henrietta countered coldly-- "I am sorry that I shall be obliged to undeceive her; that is, unless you apologise----" "To Miss Hartill? Certainly! I intend to. I hope I know when I'm in the wrong." "To me----" "To you?" cried Alwynne, with a little high-pitched laugh. "If you tell me what for?" "In Miss Marsham's absence I take her place," began Henrietta. "Miss Hartill, I was told, did that." "You are mistaken. The younger mistresses come to me for orders." "I shall be the exception, then. I am not a housemaid. Will you let me get to my desk, please, Miss Vigers? I want my books." She brushed past Henrietta, cheeks flaming, chin in air, and opened her desk. The secretary, for all her anger, hesitated uncertainly. She was unused to opposition, and had been accustomed to allow herself a greater licence of speech than she knew. Alwynne's instant resentment, for all its crude young insolence, was, she realised, to some extent justified. She had, she knew, exceeded her powers, but she had not stopped to consider whether Alwynne would know that she had done so, or, knowing, have the courage to act upon that knowledge. She had been staggered by the girl's swift counter-attack and was soon wishing that she had left her alone; but she had gone too far to retreat with dignity; also, she had by no means regained control of her temper. "I can only report you to Miss Marsham," she remarked lamely, to Alwynne's back. Alwynne turned. "You needn't trouble. If Miss Hartill doesn't, I shall go to her myself." "You?" said Henrietta uneasily. "Why," cried Alwynne, flaming out at her, "d'you think I'm afraid of you? D'you think I am going to stand this sort of thing? I know I was careless, and I'm sorry. I'm going straight down to Miss Hartill to tell her so. And if she slangs me--it's all right. And if Miss Marsham slangs me--it's all right. She's the head of the school. But I won't be slanged by you. You are rude and interfering and I shall tell Miss Marsham so." Shaking with indignation she slammed down the lid of her desk: and with her head held high, and a dignity that a friendly word would have dissolved into tears, walked out of the class-room. CHAPTER III