deserted； like an empty prison waiting the return of tramping
feet。
Ursula went forward to the teachers' room that burrowed in a
gloomy hole。 She knocked timidly。
〃e in！〃 called a surprised man's voice； as from a prison
cell。 She entered the dark little room that never got any sun。
The gas was lighted naked and raw。 At the table a thin man in
shirt…sleeves was rubbing a paper on a jellytray。 He looked up
at Ursula with his narrow； sharp face； said 〃Good morning；〃 then
turned away again； and stripped the paper off the tray； glancing
at the violet…coloured writing transferred； before he dropped
the curled sheet aside among a heap。
Ursula watched him fascinated。 In the gaslight and gloom and
the narrowness of the room； all seemed unreal。
〃Isn't it a nasty morning；〃 she said。
〃Yes；〃 he said； 〃it's not much of weather。〃
But in here it seemed that neither morning nor weather really
existed。 This place was timeless。 He spoke in an occupied voice；
like an echo。 Ursula did not know what to say。 She took off her
waterproof。
〃Am I early？〃 she asked。
The man looked first at a little clock； then at her。 His eyes
seemed to be sharpened to needle…points of vision。
〃Twenty…five past；〃 he said。 〃You're the second to e。 I'm
first this morning。〃
Ursula sat down gingerly on the edge of a chair； and watched
his thin red hands rubbing away on the white surface of the
paper； then pausing； pulling up a corner of the sheet； peering；
and rubbing away again。 There was a great heap of curled
white…and…scribbled sheets on the table。
〃Must you do so many？〃 asked Ursula。
Again the man glanced up sharply。 He was about thirty or
thirty…three years old； thin； greenish； with a long nose and a
sharp face。 His eyes were blue； and sharp as points of steel；
rather beautiful； the girl thought。
〃Sixty…three；〃 he answered。
〃So many！〃 she said； gently。 Then she remembered。
〃But they're not all for your class； are they？〃 she
added。
〃Why aren't they？〃 he replied； a fierceness in his voice。
Ursula was rather frightened by his mechanical ignoring of
her； and his directness of statement。 It was something new to
her。 She had never been treated like this before； as if she did
not count； as if she were addressing a machine。
〃It is too many；〃 she said sympathetically。
〃You'll get about the same；〃 he said。
That was all she received。 She sat rather blank； not knowing
how to feel。 Still she liked him。 He seemed so cross。 There was
a queer； sharp； keen…edge feeling about him that attracted her
and frightened her at the same time。 It was so cold； and against
his nature。
The door opened； and a short； neutral…tinted young woman of
about twenty…eight appeared。
〃Oh； Ursula！〃 the newer exclaimed。 〃You are here early！ My
word； I'll warrant you don't keep it up。 That's Mr。 Williamson's
peg。 This is yours。 Standard Five teacher always has this。
Aren't you going to take your hat off？〃
Miss Violet Harby removed Ursula's waterproof from the peg on
which it was hung； to one a little farther down the row。 She had
already snatched the pins from her own stuff hat； and jammed
them through her coat。 She turned to Ursula； as she pushed up
her frizzed； flat； dun…coloured hair。
〃Isn't it a beastly morning；〃 she exclaimed； 〃beastly！ And if
there's one thing I hate above another it's a wet Monday
morning；……pack of kids trailing in anyhow…nohow； and no
holding 'em〃
She had taken a black pinafore from a newspaper package； and
was tying it round her waist。
〃You've brought an apron； haven't you？〃 she said jerkily；
glancing at Ursula。 〃Oh……you'll want one。 You've no idea
what a sight you'll look before half…past four； what with chalk
and ink and kids' dirty feet。……Well； I can send a boy down
to mamma's for one。〃
〃Oh； it doesn't matter；〃 said Ursula。
〃Oh； yes……I can send easily；〃 cried Miss Harby。
Ursula's heart sank。 Everybody seemed so cocksure and so
bossy。 How was she going to get on with such jolty； jerky； bossy
people？ And Miss Harby had not spoken a word to the man at the
table。 She simply ignored him。 Ursula felt the callous crude
rudeness between the two teachers。
The two girls went out into the passage。 A few children were
already clattering in the porch。
〃Jim Richards；〃 called Miss Harby； hard and authoritative。 A
boy came sheepishly forward。
〃Shall you go down to our house for me； eh？〃 said Miss Harby；
in a manding； condescending； coaxing voice。 She did not wait
for an answer。 〃Go down and ask mamma to send me one of my
school pinas； for Miss Brangwen……shall you？〃
The boy muttered a sheepish 〃Yes； miss；〃 and was moving
away。
〃Hey；〃 called Miss Harby。 〃e here……now what are you
going for？ What shall you say to mamma？〃
〃A school pina〃 muttered the boy。
〃'Please； Mrs。 Harby； Miss Harby says will you send her
another school pinafore for Miss Brangwen； because she's e
without one。'〃
〃Yes； miss；〃 muttered the boy； head ducked； and was moving
off。 Miss Harby caught him back； holding him by the
shoulder。
〃What are you going to say？〃
〃Please； Mrs。 Harby； Miss Harby wants a pinny for Miss
Brangwin；〃 muttered the boy very sheepishly。
〃Miss Brangwen！〃 laughed Miss Harby； pushing him away。 〃Here；
you'd better have my umbrella……wait a minute。〃
The unwilling boy was rigged up with Miss Harby's umbrella；
and set off。
〃Don't take long over it；〃 called Miss Harby； after him。 Then
she turned to Ursula； and said brightly：
〃Oh； he's a caution； that lad……but not bad； you
know。〃
〃No；〃 Ursula agreed； weakly。
The latch of the door clicked； and they entered the big room。
Ursula glanced down the place。 Its rigid； long silence was
official and chilling。 Half…way down was a glass partition； the
doors of which were open。 A clock ticked re…echoing； and Miss
Harby's voice sounded double as she said：
〃This is the big room……Standard
Five…Six…and…Seven。……Here's your
place……Five〃
She stood in the near end of the great room。 There was a
small high teacher's desk facing a squadron of long benches； two
high windows in the wall opposite。
It was fascinating and horrible to Ursula。 The curious；
unliving light in the room changed her character。 She thought it
was the rainy morning。 Then she looked up again； because of the
horrid feeling of being shut in a rigid； inflexible air； away
from all feeling of the ordinary day； and she noticed that the
windows were of ribbed； suffused glass。
The prison was round her now！ She looked at the walls； colour
washed； pale green and chocolate； at the large windows with
frowsy geraniums against the pale glass； at the long rows of
desks； arranged in a squadron； and dread filled her。 This was a
new world； a new life； with which she was threatened。 But still
excited； she climbed into her chair at her teacher's desk。 It
was high； and her feet could not reach the ground； but must rest
on the step。 Lifted up there； off the ground； she was in office。
How queer； how queer it all was！ How different it was from the
mist of rain blowing over Cossethay。 As she thought of her own
village； a spasm of yearning crossed her； it seemed so far off；
so lost to her。
She was here in this hard； stark reality……reality。 It
was queer that she should call this the reality； which she had
never known till to…day； and which now so filled her with dread
and dislike； that she wished she might go away。 This was the
reality； and Cossethay； her beloved； beautiful； wellknown
Cossethay； which was as herself unto her； that was minor
reality。 This prison of a school was reality。 Here； then； she
would sit in state； the queen of scholars！ Here she would
realize her dream of being the beloved teacher bringing light
and joy to her children！ But the desks before her had an
abstract angularity that bruised her sentiment and made her
shrink。 She winced； feeling she had been a fool in her
anticipations。 She had brought her feelings and her generosity
to where neither generosity nor emotion were wanted。 And already
she felt rebuffed； troubled by the new atmosphere； out of
place。
She slid down； and they returned to the teacher's room。 It
was queer to feel that one ought to alter one's personality。 She
was nobody； there was no reality in herself； the reality was all
outside of her； and she must apply herself to it。
Mr。 Harby was in the teachers' room； standing before a big；
open cupboard； in which Ursula could see piles of pink
blotting…paper； heaps of shiny new books； boxes of chalk； and
bottles of coloured inks。 It looked a treasure store。
The schoolmaster was a short； sturdy man； with a fine head；
and a heavy jowl。 Nevertheless he was good…looking； with his
shapely brows and nose； and his great； hanging moustache。 He
seemed absorbed in his work； and took no notice of Ursula's
entry。 There was something insulting in the way he could be so
actively unaware of another person； so occupied。
When he had a moment of absence； he looked up from the table
and said good…morning to Ursula。 There was a pleasant light in
his brown eyes。 He seemed very manly and incontrovertible； like
something she wanted to push over。
〃You had a wet walk；〃 he said to Ursula。
〃Oh； I don't mind； I'm used to it；〃 she replied； with a
nervous little laugh。
But already he was not listening。 Her words sounded
ridiculous and babbling。 He was taking no notice of her。
〃You will sign your name here；〃 he said to her； as if she
were some child……〃and the time when you e and go。〃
Ursula signed her name in the time book and stood back。 No
one took any further notice of her。 She beat her brains for
something to say； but in vain。
〃I'd let them in now；〃 said Mr。 Harby to the thin man； who
was very hastily arranging his papers。
The assistant teacher made no sign of acquiescence； and went
on with what he was doing。 The atmosphere in the room grew
tense。 At the last moment Mr。 Brunt slipped into his coat。
〃You will go to the girls' lobby；〃 said the schoolmaster to
Ursula； with a fascinating； insulting geniality； purely official
and domineering。
She went out and found Miss Harby； and another girl teacher；
in the porch。 On the asphalt yard the rain was falling。 A
toneless bell tang…tang…tanged drearily overhead； monotonously；
insistently。 It came to an end。 Then Mr。 Brunt was seen；
bare…headed； standing at the other gate of the school yard；
blowing shrill blasts on a whistle and looking down the rainy；
dreary street。
Boys in gangs and streams came trotting up； running past the
master and with a loud clatter of feet and voices； over the yard
to the boys' porch。 Girls were running and walking through the
other entrance。
In the porch where Ursula stood there was a great noise of
girls； who were tearing off their coats and hats； and hanging
them on the racks bristling with pegs。 There was a smell of wet
clothing； a tossing out of wet； draggled hair； a noise of voices
and feet。
The mass of girls grew greater； the rage around the pegs grew
steadier； the scholars tended to fall into little noisy gangs in
the porch。 Then Violet Harby clapped her hands； clapped them
louder； with a shrill 〃Quiet； girls； quiet！〃
There was a pause。 The hubbub died down but did not
cease。
〃What did I say？〃 cried M