pins from her own stuff hat, and jammed them through her coat. She turned to Ursula, as she pushed up her frizzed, flat, dun-coloured hair.

“Isn't it a beastly morning,” she exclaimed, “beastly! And if there's one thing I hate above another it's a wet Monday morning; — pack of kids trailing in anyhow-nohow, and no holding 'em — — ”

She had taken a black pinafore from a newspaper package, and was tying it round her waiSt. “You've brought an apron, haven't you?” she said jerkily, glancing at Ursula.

“Oh — you'll want one. You've no idea what a sight you'll look before half-past four, what with chalk and ink and kids' dirty feet. — Well, I can send a boy down to mamma's for one.”