eason and out of season. And not with the authorities alone.

There was, for instance, that unfortunate evening when she was one of
the batch of girls invited to Mrs. Strachey's drawingroom. Laura,
ignorant of what it meant to be blasee, had received her note of
invitation with a thrill, had even enjoyed writing, in her best hand,
the prescribed formula of acceptance. But she was alone in this; by the
majority of her companions these weekly parties were frankly hated, the
chief reason being that every guest was expected to take a piece of
music with her. Even the totally unfit had to show what they could do.
And the fact that cream-tarts were served for supper was not held to
square accounts.

"It's all very well for you," grumbled Laura's room-mate, Lilith
Gordon, as she lathered her thick white arms and neck before dressing.
"You're a new girl; you probably won't be asked."

Laura did not give the matter a second thought: hastily selecting a
volume of music, she followed the rest of the white dresses into the
passage. The senior girl tapped at the drawingroom door. It was opened
by no other than the Principal himself.

In the girls' eyes, Mr. Strachey stood over six feet in his
stocking-soles. He had also a most arrogant way of looking down his
nose, and of tugging, intolerantly, at his long, drooping moustache.
There was little need for him to assume the frigid contemptuousness of
Mrs. Gurley's manner: his mere presence, the very unseeingness of his
gaze, inspired awe. Tales ran of his wrath, were it roused; but few had
experienced it. He quelled the high spirits of these young [P.93]
colonials by his dignified air of detachment.

Now, however, he stood there affable and smiling, endeavouring to put a
handful of awkward girls at their ease. But neither his nor Mrs.
Strachey's efforts availed. It was impossible for the pupils to throw
off, at will, the crippling fear that governed their relations with the
Principal. To them, his amiability resembled the antics of an
uncertain-tempered elephant, with which you could never feel safe.--
Besides on this occasion it was a young batch, and of particularly
mixed stations. And so a dozen girls, from twelve to fifteen years old,
sat on the extreme edges of their chairs, and replied to what was said
to them, with dry throats.

Though the youngest of the party, Laura was the least embarrassed: she
had never known a nursery, but had mixed with her elders since her
babyhood