or the future. I suppose we shall see
her again some time, and hear how she is getting on."

"Oh, yes," said Ursula, stammering, blushing, laughing. "Oh,
yes, I shall come and see you."

Then she realized that this sounded too personal, and she
felt foolish.

"Miss Schofield suggested these two books," he said, putting
a couple of volumes on the table: "I hope you will like
them."

Ursula feeling very shy picked up the books. There was a
volume of Swinburne's poetry, and a volume of Meredith's.

"Oh, I shall love them," she said. "Thank you very
much--thank you all so much--it is
so----"

She stuttered to an end, and very red, turned the leaves of
the books eagerly, pretending to be taking the first pleasure,
but really seeing nothing.

Mr. Harby's eyes were twinkling. He alone was at his ease,
master of the situation. It was pleasing to him to make Ursula
the gift, and for once extend good feeling to his teachers. As a
rule, it was so difficult, each one was so strained in
resentment under his rule.

"Yes," he said, "we hoped you would like the
choice----"

He looked with his peculiar, challenging smile for a moment,
then returned to his cupboards.

Ursula felt very confused. She hugged her books, loving them.
And she felt that she loved all the teachers, and Mr. Harby. It
was very confusing.

At last she was out. She cast one hasty glance over the
school buildings squatting on the asphalt yard in the hot,
glistening sun, one look down the well-known road, and turned
her back on it all. Something strained in her heart. She was
going away.

"Well, good luck," said the last of the teachers, as she
shook hands at the end of the road. "We'll expect you back some
day."

He spoke in irony. She laughed, and broke away. She was free.
As she sat on the top of the tram in the sunlight, she looked
round her with tremendous delight. She had left something which
had meant much to her. She would not go to school any more, and
do the familiar things. Queer! There was a little pang amid her
exultation, of fear, not of regret. Yet how she exulted this
morning!

She was tremulous with pride and joy. She loved the two
books. They were tokens to her, representing the fruit and
trophies of her two years which, thank God, were over.

"To Ursula Brangwen, with best wishes for her future, and in
warm memory of the time she spent in St. Philip's School," was
written in the headmaster's neat, scrupulous handwriting. S