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The Rainbow

Page 416

The boy kicked his way insolently down the passage.

The afternoon came again. Williams was there, glancing at

her, and her heart beat thick, for she knew it was a fight

between them. She watched him.

During the geography lesson, as she was pointing to the map

with her cane, the boy continually ducked his whitish head under

the desk, and attracted the attention of other boys.

"Williams," she said, gathering her courage, for it was

critical now to speak to him, "what are you doing?"

He lifted his face, the sore-rimmed eyes half smiling. There

was something intrinsically indecent about him. Ursula shrank

away.

"Nothing," he replied, feeling a triumph.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, her heart-beat

suffocating her.

"Nothing," replied the boy, insolently, aggrieved, comic.

"If I speak to you again, you must go down to Mr. Harby," she

said.

But this boy was a match even for Mr. Harby. He was so

persistent, so cringing, and flexible, he howled so when he was

hurt, that the master hated more the teacher who sent him than

he hated the boy himself. For of the boy he was sick of the

sight. Which Williams knew. He grinned visibly.

Ursula turned to the map again, to go on with the geography

lesson. But there was a little ferment in the class. Williams'

spirit infected them all. She heard a scuffle, and then she

trembled inwardly. If they all turned on her this time, she was

beaten.

"Please, miss----" called a voice in distress.

She turned round. One of the boys she liked was ruefully

holding out a torn celluloid collar. She heard the complaint,

feeling futile.

"Go in front, Wright," she said.

She was trembling in every fibre. A big, sullen boy, not bad

but very difficult, slouched out to the front. She went on with

the lesson, aware that Williams was making faces at Wright, and

that Wright was grinning behind her. She was afraid. She turned

to the map again. And she was afraid.

"Please, miss, Williams----" came a sharp cry, and

a boy on the back row was standing up, with drawn, pained brows,

half a mocking grin on his pain, half real resentment against

Williams--"Please, miss, he's nipped me,"--and he

rubbed his leg ruefully.

"Come in front, Williams," she said.

The rat-like boy sat with his pale smile and did not

move.

"Come in front," she repeated, definite now.

"I shan't," he cried, snarling, rat-like, grinning. Something

went click in Ursula's soul. Her face and eyes set, she went

through the class straight. The boy cowered before her

glowering, fixed eyes. But she advanced on him, seized him by

the arm, and dragged him from his seat. He clung to the form. It

was the battle between him and her. Her instinct had suddenly

become calm and quick. She jerked him from his grip, and dragged

him, struggling and kicking, to the front. He kicked her several

times, and clung to the forms as he passed, but she went on. The

class was on its feet in excitement. She saw it, and made no

move.

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