teps down a hard
road, carrying the dream within her. Ursula went through the
class teaching as through a meaningless daze.

Her class tumbled out at midday in haphazard fashion. She did
not realize what host she was gathering against herself by her
superior tolerance, her kindness and her laisseraller. They were
gone, and she was rid of them, and that was all. She hurried
away to the teachers' room.

Mr. Brunt was crouching at the small stove, putting a little
rice pudding into the oven. He rose then, and attentively poked
in a small saucepan on the hob with a fork. Then he replaced the
saucepan lid.

"Aren't they done?" asked Ursula gaily, breaking in on his
tense absorption.

She always kept a bright, blithe manner, and was pleasant to
all the teachers. For she felt like the swan among the geese, of
superior heritage and belonging. And her pride at being the swan
in this ugly school was not yet abated.

"Not yet," replied Mr. Brunt, laconic.

"I wonder if my dish is hot," she said, bending down at the
oven. She half expected him to look for her, but he took no
notice. She was hungry and she poked her finger eagerly in the
pot to see if her brussels sprouts and potatoes and meat were
ready. They were not.

"Don't you think it's rather jolly bringing dinner?" she said
to Mr. Brunt.

"I don't know as I do," he said, spreading a serviette on a
corner of the table, and not looking at her.

"I suppose it is too far for you to go home?"

"Yes," he said. Then he rose and looked at her. He had the
bluest, fiercest, most pointed eyes that she had ever met. He
stared at her with growing fierceness.

"If I were you, Miss Brangwen," he said, menacingly, "I
should get a bit tighter hand over my class."

Ursula shrank.

"Would you?" she asked, sweetly, yet in terror. "Aren't I
strict enough?"

"Because," he repeated, taking no notice of her, "they'll get
you down if you don't tackle 'em pretty quick. They'll pull you
down, and worry you, till Harby gets you shifted--that's
how it'll be. You won't be here another six weeks"--and he
filled his mouth with food--"if you don't tackle 'em and
tackle 'em quick."

"Oh, but----" Ursula said, resentfully, ruefully.
The terror was deep in her.

"Harby'll not help you. This is what he'll do--he'll let
you go on, getting worse and worse, till either you clear out or
he clears you out. It doesn't matter to me, except that you'll
leave a class behind you as I hope I sha