"Halt!"
There was a halt, the piano stopped. The boys who were just starting through the other door, pushed back. The harsh, subdued voice of Mr. Brunt was heard, then the booming shout of Mr. Harby, from far down the room:
"Who told Standard Five girls to come in like that?"
Ursula crimsoned. Her girls were glancing up at her, smirking their accusation.
"I sent them in, Mr. Harby," she said, in a clear, struggling voice. There was a moment of silence. Then Mr. Harby roared from the distance.
"Go back to your places, Standard Five girls."
The girls glanced up at Ursula, accusing, rather jeering, furtive. They pushed back. Ursula's heart hardened with ignominious pain.
"Forward—march," came Mr. Brunt's voice, and the girls set off, keeping time with the ranks of boys.
Ursula faced her class, some fifty-five boys and girls who stood filling the ranks of the desks. She felt utterly nonexistent. She had no place nor being there. She faced the block of children.
Down the room she heard the rapid firing of questions. She stood before her class not knowing what to do. She waited painfully. Her block of children, fifty unknown faces, watched her, hostile, ready to jeer. She felt as if she were in torture over a fire of faces. And on every side she was naked to them. Of unutterable length and torture the seconds went by.
Then she gathered courage. She heard Mr. Brunt asking questions in mental arithmetic. She stood near to her class, so that her voice need not be raised, too much, and faltering, uncertain, she said:
"Seven hats at two-pence ha'penny each?"
A grin went over the faces of the class, seeing her commence. She was red and suffering. Then some hands shot up like blades, and she asked for the answer.
The day passed incredibly slowly. She never knew what to do, there came horrible gaps, when she was merely exposed to the children; and when, relying on some pert little girl for information, she had started a lesson, she did not know how to go on with it properly. The children were her masters. She deferred to them. She could always hear Mr. Brunt. Like a machine, always in the same hard, high, in-
