The back door, just across the little basement hall, scrooped inwards across the oilcloth, jingling its little bell, and was banged to. The flounter-_crack_ of a rain-cloak smartly shaken out was followed by a gentle scrabbling in a shoe-box,--the earliest girl, peaceful and calm, a wonderful sort of girl, coming into the empty basement quietly getting off her things, with all the rabble of the school coming along the roads, behind. The jingling door was pushed open again just as her slippered feet ran upstairs. “Khoo--what a filthy day!” said a vibrating hard mature voice. Miriam glanced at her time-table, history--dictation--geography--sums--writing--and shrank to her utmost air of preoccupation lest either of the elder girls should look in. Sounds increased in the little hall, loud abrupt voices, short rallying laughs, the stubbing and stamping of feet on the oilcloth. At the expected rattling of the handle of her own door she crouched over her book. The door opened and was quietly closed again. A small figure flung itself forward. Miriam was clutched by harsh serge-clad arms. As she moved, startled, firm cracked lips were pressed against her cheekbone. “Good morning, Burra,” she said, turning to put an arm round the child. She caught a glimpse of broad cheeks bulging firmly against a dark bush of short hair. Large fierce bloodshot eyes glared close to her own. “Hoo--angel.” The little gasping body stiffened against her shoulder, pinning down her arm. The crimson face tried to reach her breast. “Have you changed your boots,” said Miriam coldly. “Hoo--hoo.” The short hard fingers hurt her. “Go and get them off at once.” Head down Burra rushed at the door, colliding with the incoming figure of a neat little girl dressed in velvet-trimmed red merino, with a rose and white face and short gentle gold hair. She put a little pile of books on the table and stood still near to Miriam, with her hands behind her. They both looked down the room out of the window, with quiet unsmiling faces. “What have you been doing since Friday, Gertie?” Miriam said presently. “We went for a walk,” said Gertie in a neat liquid little voice, dimpling and faintly raising her eyebrows.