Crossing the corridor we find two rooms given up to dressmaking and needlework; here again both students-in-training and girls are working in separate classes. One of the students, who has nearly completed her course of training, is helping a teacher with a class of girls (fifteen in number again we notice), and the other students, under the head dressmaking teacher, are busy on their own work—this morning they are drafting bodice patterns for various types of figures, but that their work is not confined to pattern-making is evident when the cupboards are opened and dresses taken out for our inspection—dresses made by each student to fit herself, funds being provided as in the case of the girls by the Technical Education Board. Very neatly made the dresses are, and proud the students seem to be of them, though their pride is tempered by anxiety as to what the examiner’s opinion of them may be when the time of examination for their diplomas comes. Each student has to make two dresses, that is, sample garments to show her plain needlework, and to learn to patch and mend old dresses and under-garments, her pride culminating in a sampler of patches, darns, and drawnthread work, such as that hanging in a show cupboard on the wall. The girls, we are told, in their shorter course make themselves one dress, one apron, and an under-garment each, and spend one lesson of two hours each week in practical mending of worn garments. We ask why it is that every class we have seen consists of fifteen pupils only, and are told that in all classes for practical work for which funds are supplied by the Technical Education Board the number of pupils is limited to fifteen, so that the teacher may be able to attend thoroughly to the practical work of each pupil, instead of having to teach her class somewhat in the manner of a drill sergeant, as must inevitably be the case when dealing with large numbers.