he Board-schools it is a vivid
memory. But even the teachers and the committees, the inspectors and
the Board members, have remained ignorant of the part little Bloomah
Beckenstein played in it.

To explain how she came to be outside the school-gates instead of
inside them, we must go back a little and explain her situation both
outside and inside her school.

Bloomah was probably '_Blume_,' which is German for a flower, but she
had always been spelt 'Bloomah' in the school register, for even
Board-school teachers are not necessarily familiar with foreign
languages.

They might have been forgiven for not connecting Bloomah with blooms,
for she was a sad-faced child, and even in her tenth year showed deep,
dark circles round her eyes. But they were beautiful eyes, large,
brown, and soft, shining with love and obedience.

Mrs. Beckenstein, however, found neither of these qualities in her
youngest born, who seemed to her entirely sucked up by the school.

'In my days,' she would grumble, 'it used to be God Almighty first,
your parents next, and school last. Now it's all a red mark first,
your parents and God Almighty nowhere.'

The red mark was the symbol of punctuality, set opposite the child's
name in the register. To gain it, she must be in her place at nine
o'clock to the stroke. A moment after nine, and only the black mark
was attainable. Twenty to ten, and the duck's egg of the absent was
sorrowfully inscribed by the Recording Angel, who in Bloomah's case
was a pale pupil-teacher with eyeglasses.

But it was the Banner which loomed largest on the school horizon,
intensifying Bloomah's anxiety and her mother's grievance.

'I don't see nothing,' Mrs. Beckenstein iterated; 'no prize, no
medal--nothing but a red mark and a banner.'

The Banner was indeed a novelty. It had not unfurled itself in Mrs.
Beckenstein's young days, nor even in the young days of Bloomah's
married brothers and sisters.

As the worthy matron would say: 'There's been Jack Beckenstein,
there's been Joey Beckenstein, there's been Briny Beckenstein, there's
been Benjy Beckenstein, there's been Ada Beckenstein, there's been
Becky Beckenstein, God bless their hearts! and they all grew up
scholards and prize-winners and a credit to their Queen and their
religion without this _meshuggas_ (madness) of a Banner.'

Vaguely Mrs. Beckenstein connected the degenerate innovation with the
invasion of the school by 'furriners'--all these hordes of Ru