r folks, the Burges," as Mrs Canninge said,
while she kept an eye upon her son and the schoolmistress in turn.

As a rule the Rev Henry Lambent was the great man at the schools, but
upon this occasion he sank into a very secondary position, following the
inspector with a stiff kind of deference, as Mr Slingsby Barracombe
raised his glasses to his eyes, balanced them upon his nose, looked at
Hazel gravely for a few moments, and then bowed formally without a word,
before taking off his glasses and holding them behind him with both
hands as if they were hot, while he marched about the school.

National school children are at such times supposed to be all intent
upon their lessons, and never to raise their eyes to look at visitors,
especially such an awe-inspiring personage as an inspector; but it would
be just as reasonable to expect a pinch of steel filings to refrain from
turning towards a magnet plunged in their midst. Certainly the girls in
Hazel Thorne's charge followed the inspector, their eyes taking in every
movement and Feelier Potts's malicious features almost involuntarily
moulding themselves into an excellent imitation of the peculiarities of
his face.

When Mr Barracombe had solemnly walked round the school once, with the
Reverend Henry Lambent hat in hand, behind him, and the other visitors
forming themselves into a deferential audience, who watched him as if he
were going through some wonderful performance, he said, with a loud
expiration of his breath--

"Hah!" an ejaculation that might mean anything, and one that committed
him to naught.

"Is--ah, this your first class. Miss--ah--ah--"

"Thorne," said Hazel quietly. "No, sir, this is the second."

"Thorne, ah--exactly. Yes, I see--ah. Yes, needlework--ah. Stand."

The girls in the first class stood up smartly, and Feelier Potts's
thimble flew off, went tinkling across the floor, and was flattened
beneath one of Ann Straggalls's big feet.

"Oh, you see if I don't serve you out for that," began Feelier loudly,
her face scarlet with rage.

"Hush! silence! How dare you, child?"

"Well, but she's squeedged it flat."

"Silence, girl!" exclaimed the inspector indignantly. "Back to your
place."

Hazel turned crimson as she hurriedly took Feelier Potts by the arm, and
in her excitement and dread of a scene, knowing as she did the fearless
nature of the girl, she said softly--

"Be a good girl, Ophelia, and I will give you a new thimble."