“Oh, Ursula!” the newcomer exclaimed. “You are here early! My word, I’ll warrant you don’t keep it up. That’s Mr. Williamson’s peg. This is yours. Standard Five teacher always has this. Aren’t you going to take your hat off?” Miss Violet Harby removed Ursula’s waterproof from the peg on which it was hung, to one a little farther down the row. She had already snatched the pins from her own stuff hat, and jammed them through her coat. She turned to Ursula, as she pushed up her frizzed, flat, dun-coloured hair. “Isn’t it a beastly morning,” she exclaimed, “beastly! And if there’s one thing I hate above another it’s a wet Monday morning;—pack of kids trailing in anyhow-nohow, and no holding ’em——” She had taken a black pinafore from a newspaper package, and was tying it round her waist. “You’ve brought an apron, haven’t you?” she said jerkily, glancing at Ursula. “Oh—you’ll want one. You’ve no idea what a sight you’ll look before half-past four, what with chalk and ink and kids’ dirty feet.—Well, I can send a boy down to mamma’s for one.” “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Ursula. “Oh, yes—I can send easily,” cried Miss Harby. Ursula’s heart sank. Everybody seemed so cocksure and so bossy. How was she going to get on with such jolty, jerky, bossy people? And Miss Harby had not spoken a word to the man at the table. She simply ignored him. Ursula felt the callous crude rudeness between the two teachers. The two girls went out into the passage. A few children were already clattering in the porch. “Jim Richards,” called Miss Harby, hard and authoritative. A boy came sheepishly forward. “Shall you go down to our house for me, eh?” said Miss Harby, in a commanding, condescending, coaxing voice. She did not wait for an answer. “Go down and ask mamma to send me one of my school pinas, for Miss Brangwen—shall you?” The boy muttered a sheepish “Yes, miss,” and was moving away. “Hey,” called Miss Harby. “Come here—now what are you going for? What shall you say to mamma?” “A school pina——” muttered the boy. “‘Please, Mrs. Harby, Miss Harby says will you send her another school pinafore for Miss Brangwen, because she’s come without one.’” “Yes, miss,” muttered the boy, head ducked, and was moving off. Miss Harby caught him back, holding him by the shoulder. “What are you going to say?” “Please, Mrs. Harby, Miss Harby wants a pinny for Miss Brangwin,” muttered the boy very sheepishly. “Miss _Brangwen!_” laughed Miss Harby, pushing him away. “Here, you’d better have my umbrella—wait a minute.” The unwilling boy was rigged up with Miss Harby’s umbrella, and set off. “Don’t take long over it,” called Miss Harby, after him. Then she turned to Ursula, and said brightly: “Oh, he’s a caution, that lad—but not bad, you know.” “No,” Ursula agreed, weakly.