The Rainbow

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.