She felt she wanted to scream. She was responsible for the boy's 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 composition about?” asked the headmaster. Every hand shot up. “The — — ” stuttered some voice in its eagerness to answer.

“I wouldn't advise you to call out,” said Mr.

Harby. He would have a