itten a line.

"Go back and do the writing you have to do," said Ursula. And
she sat at her desk, trying to correct books. She was trembling
and upset. And for an hour the miserable boy writhed and grinned
in his seat. At the end of that time he had done five lines.

"As it is so late now," said Ursula, "you will finish the
rest this evening."

The boy kicked his way insolently down the passage.

The afternoon came again. Williams was there, glancing at
her, and her heart beat thick, for she knew it was a fight
between them. She watched him.

During the geography lesson, as she was pointing to the map
with her cane, the boy continually ducked his whitish head under
the desk, and attracted the attention of other boys.

"Williams," she said, gathering her courage, for it was
critical now to speak to him, "what are you doing?"

He lifted his face, the sore-rimmed eyes half smiling. There
was something intrinsically indecent about him. Ursula shrank
away.

"Nothing," he replied, feeling a triumph.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, her heart-beat
suffocating her.

"Nothing," replied the boy, insolently, aggrieved, comic.

"If I speak to you again, you must go down to Mr. Harby," she
said.

But this boy was a match even for Mr. Harby. He was so
persistent, so cringing, and flexible, he howled so when he was
hurt, that the master hated more the teacher who sent him than
he hated the boy himself. For of the boy he was sick of the
sight. Which Williams knew. He grinned visibly.

Ursula turned to the map again, to go on with the geography
lesson. But there was a little ferment in the class. Williams'
spirit infected them all. She heard a scuffle, and then she
trembled inwardly. If they all turned on her this time, she was
beaten.

"Please, miss----" called a voice in distress.

She turned round. One of the boys she liked was ruefully
holding out a torn celluloid collar. She heard the complaint,
feeling futile.

"Go in front, Wright," she said.

She was trembling in every fibre. A big, sullen boy, not bad
but very difficult, slouched out to the front. She went on with
the lesson, aware that Williams was making faces at Wright, and
that Wright was grinning behind her. She was afraid. She turned
to the map again. And she was afraid.

"Please, miss, Williams----" came a sharp cry, and
a boy on the back row was standing up, with drawn, pained brows,
half a mocking grin on his pain, half real resentment a