e is on
me. If I do the least little thing I'm snapped up in a second."

"Then the obvious moral is, don't do the least little thing."

Dorothy pulled a long face.

"Auntie! You were brought up by a private governess, and you don't know
what it is to go to a huge school. One can't always be absolutely
immaculate; if one could, one would be a saint, not an ordinary girl. I
can't resist talking sometimes, or shuffling my feet, or fidgeting with
my pencil, or--no, no; if you're going to lecture, I shall fly! It's ten
past eight, and it's too wet to take the short cut across the field."

Dorothy certainly considered she had a grievance at present. She had
unfortunately not made a very good impression upon her new teacher. She
could not bear to curry favour, and, seeing that Hope and some of the
others were trying by every means in their power to pay special court to
Miss Pitman, she went to the opposite extreme, and became so abrupt as
to be almost uncivil in her manners.

"I'm not going to bring her flowers every morning, and offer her walnut
creams in the interval," she thought. "It seems like bribery, and I
should think much better of her if she wouldn't accept them. Miss Hardy
never did."

Miss Hardy, the mistress of the Lower Fourth, had been strict but
scrupulously just; she might be sometimes disliked by her pupils, but
she was always respected. Miss Pitman was a totally different type of
teacher: she was younger, better looking, dressed more prettily, and
cared very much more for the social side of life. She lacked power to
enforce good discipline, and tried to supply her deficiency by making a
bid for popularity among her girls. She dearly loved the little
attentions they paid her: she liked to pin a rose on her dress, or carry
home a bunch of hothouse flowers; she found tickets for concerts or
lectures most acceptable; and invitations--provided they were to nice
houses--were not despised. Probably she had not the least idea that she
was allowing her predilection for some of her pupils to bias her
judgment of their capacities in class, but in the few weeks that she had
taught the Upper Fourth she had already gained a reputation for
favouritism.

"She can be so particularly mean," said Dorothy, continuing the recital
of her grievances to Alison in the train. "She deliberately helped
Blanche out with one question yesterday, and she wouldn't give me even
the least hint."

"I don't like her myself," commented