The Rainbow

Ursula shrank.

"Would you?" she asked, sweetly, yet in terror. "Aren't I

strict enough?"

"Because," he repeated, taking no notice of her, "they'll get

you down if you don't tackle 'em pretty quick. They'll pull you

down, and worry you, till Harby gets you shifted--that's

how it'll be. You won't be here another six weeks"--and he

filled his mouth with food--"if you don't tackle 'em and

tackle 'em quick."

"Oh, but----" Ursula said, resentfully, ruefully.

The terror was deep in her.

"Harby'll not help you. This is what he'll do--he'll let

you go on, getting worse and worse, till either you clear out or

he clears you out. It doesn't matter to me, except that you'll

leave a class behind you as I hope I shan't have to cope

with."

She heard the accusation in the man's voice, and felt

condemned. But still, school had not yet become a definite

reality to her. She was shirking it. It was reality, but it was

all outside her. And she fought against Mr. Brunt's

representation. She did not want to realize.

"Will it be so terrible?" she said, quivering, rather

beautiful, but with a slight touch of condescension, because she

would not betray her own trepidation.

"Terrible?" said the man, turning to his potatoes again. "I

dunno about terrible."

"I do feel frightened," said Ursula. "The children seem

so----"

"What?" said Miss Harby, entering at that moment.

"Why," said Ursula, "Mr. Brunt says I ought to tackle my

class," and she laughed uneasily.

"Oh, you have to keep order if you want to teach," said Miss

Harby, hard, superior, trite.

Ursula did not answer. She felt non valid before them.

"If you want to be let to live, you have," said Mr.

Brunt.

"Well, if you can't keep order, what good are you?" said Miss

Harby.

"An' you've got to do it by yourself,"--his voice rose

like the bitter cry of the prophets. "You'll get no help

from anybody."

"Oh, indeed!" said Miss Harby. "Some people can't be helped."

And she departed.

The air of hostility and disintegration, of wills working in

antagonistic subordination, was hideous. Mr. Brunt, subordinate,

afraid, acid with shame, frightened her. Ursula wanted to run.

She only wanted to clear out, not to understand.

Then Miss Schofield came in, and with her another, more

restful note. Ursula at once turned for confirmation to the

newcomer. Maggie remained personal within all this unclean

system of authority.

"Is the big Anderson here?" she asked of Mr. Brunt. And they

spoke of some affair about two scholars, coldly, officially.

Miss Schofield took her brown dish, and Ursula followed with

her own. The cloth was laid in the pleasant Standard Three room,

there was a jar with two or three monthly roses on the

table.

"It is so nice in here, you have made it different,"

said Ursula gaily. But she was afraid. The atmosphere of the

school was upon her.