The woman looked at Ursula with her pale, dead eyes.
"No," replied the girl, "I did not know."
She stood still with repulsion and uncertainty. Mr. Harby,
large and male, with his overhanging moustache, stood by with a
slight, ugly smile at the corner of his eyes. The woman went on
insidiously, not quite human: "Oh, yes, he has had heart disease ever since he was a child.
That is why he isn't very regular at school. And it is very bad
to beat him. He was awfully ill this morning--I shall call
on the doctor as I go back."
"Who is staying with him now, then?" put in the deep voice of
the schoolmaster, cunningly.
"Oh, I left him with a woman who comes in to help
me--and who understands him. But I shall call in the doctor
on my way home."
Ursula stood still. She felt vague threats in all this. But
the woman was so utterly strange to her, that she did not
understand.
"He told me he had been beaten," continued the woman, "and
when I undressed him to put him to bed, his body was covered
with marks--I could show them to any doctor."
Mr. Harby looked at Ursula to answer. She began to
understand. The woman was threatening to take out a charge of
assault on her son against her. Perhaps she wanted money.
"I caned him," she said. "He was so much trouble."
"I'm sorry if he was troublesome," said the woman, "but he
must have been shamefully beaten. I could show the marks to any
doctor. I'm sure it isn't allowed, if it was known."
"I caned him while he kept kicking me," said Ursula, getting
angry because she was half excusing herself, Mr. Harby standing
there with the twinkle at the side of his eyes, enjoying the
dilemma of the two women.
"I'm sure I'm sorry if he behaved badly," said the woman.
"But I can't think he deserved beating as he has been. I can't
send him to school, and really can't afford to pay the
doctor.--Is it allowed for the teachers to beat the
children like that, Mr. Harby?"
The headmaster refused to answer. Ursula loathed herself, and
loathed Mr. Harby with his twinkling cunning and malice on the
occasion. The other miserable woman watched her chance.
"It is an expense to me, and I have a great struggle to keep
my boy decent."
Ursula still would not answer. She looked out at the asphalt
yard, where a dirty rag of paper was blowing.
"And it isn't allowed to beat a child like that, I am sure,
especially when he is delicate."
Ursula stared with a set face on the yard, as if she did not
hear. She loathed all this, and had ceased to feel or to
exist.