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.