On the way to the front door they all looked into the principal schoolroom. Miriam saw a long wide dining-room table covered with brown American cloth. Shelves neatly crowded with books lined one wall from floor to ceiling. Opposite them at the far end of the room was a heavy grey marble mantelpiece, on which stood a heavy green marble clock frame. At its centre a gold-faced clock ticked softly. Opposite the windows were two shallow alcoves. In one stood a shrouded blackboard on an easel. The other held a piano with a high slender back. The prancing outward sweep of its lid gave Miriam the impression of an afternoon dress. Miss Deborah drew up one of the Venetian blinds. They all crowded to the window and looked out on a small garden backed by trees and lying in deep shadow. Beyond were more gardens and the brownish backs of small old brick houses. Low walls separated the school garden from the gardens on either side. “On our right we have a school for the deaf and dumb,” said Miss Perne; “on the other side is a family of Polish Jews.” 3 “Mother, why _did_ you pile it on?” They would soon be down at the corner of Banbury Park where the tram lines ended and the Favorite omnibuses were standing in the muddy road under the shadow of the railway bridge. Through the jingling of the trams, the dop-dop of the hoofs of the tram-horses and the noise of a screaming train thundering over the bridge, Miriam made her voice heard, gazing through the spotted veil at her mother’s quivering features. “They might have made me do all sorts of things I can’t do.” Mrs. Henderson’s voice, breathless with walking, made a little sound of protest, a narrowed sound that told Miriam her amusement was half annoyance. The dark, noisy bridge, the clatter and rattle and the mud through which she must plunge to an omnibus exasperated her to the limit of her endurance. “I’d got the post,” she said angrily; “you could see it was all settled and then you went saying those things.” Glancing at the thin shrouded features she saw the faint lift of her mother’s eyebrows and the firmly speechless mouth. “Piccadilly--jump on, chickie.” “Let’s go outside now it’s fine,” said Miriam crossly. Reaching the top of the omnibus she hurried to the front seat on the left hand side. “That’s a very windy spot.” “No it isn’t, it’s quite hot. The sun’s come out now. It’s rained for weeks. It won’t rain any more. It’ll be hot. You won’t feel the wind. Will you have the corner, mother?” “No, chick, you sit there.” Miriam screwed herself into the corner seat, crossing her knees and grazing the tips of her shoes. “This is the only place on the top of a bus.” Mrs. Henderson sat down at her side. “I always make Harriett come up here when we go up to the West End.”