poor; and rather cunning。 A stiff bit of hair stood straight off
his forehead; the rest fitted close to his meagre head。 He was
pale and colourless。
〃Who told you to call out?〃 thundered Mr。 Harby。
The boy looked up and down; with a guilty air; and a cunning;
cynical reserve。
〃Please; sir; I was answering;〃 he replied; with the same
humble insolence。
〃Go to my desk。〃
The boy set off down the room; the big black jacket hanging
in dejected folds about him; his thin legs; rather knocked at
the knees; going already with the paupers crawl; his feet in
their big boots scarcely lifted。 Ursula watched him in his
crawling; slinking progress down the room。 He was one of her
boys! When he got to the desk; he looked round; half furtively;
with a sort of cunning grin and a pathetic leer at the big boys
in Standard VII。 Then; pitiable; pale; in his dejected garments;
he lounged under the menace of the headmasters desk; with one
thin leg crooked at the knee and the foot struck out sideways
his hands in the low…hanging pockets of his mans jacket。
Ursula tried to get her attention back to the class。 The boy
gave her a little horror; and she was at the same time hot with
pity for him。 She felt she wanted to scream。 She was responsible
for the boys punishment。 Mr。 Harby was looking at her
handwriting on the board。 He turned to the class。
〃Pens down。〃
The children put down their pens and looked up。
〃Fold arms。〃
They pushed back their books and folded arms。
Ursula; stuck among the back forms; could not extricate
herself。
〃What is your position about?〃 asked the
headmaster。 Every hand shot up。 〃The 〃 stuttered
some voice in its eagerness to answer。