“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.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Ursula.
“Oh, yes—I can send easily,” cried Miss Harby.
Ursula’s heart sank. Everybody seemed so cocksure and so bossy. How was she going to get on with such jolty, jerky, bossy people? And Miss Harby had not spoken a word to the man at the table. She simply ignored him. Ursula felt the callous crude rudeness between the two teachers.
The two girls went out into the passage. A few children were already clattering in the porch.
“Jim Richards,” called Miss Harby, hard and authoritative. A boy came sheepishly forward.
“Shall you go down to our house for me, eh?” said Miss Harby, in a commanding, condescending, coaxing voice. She did not wait for an answer. “Go down and ask mamma to send me one of my school pinas, for Miss Brangwen—shall you?”
The boy muttered a sheepish “Yes, miss,” and was moving away.
“Hey,” called Miss Harby. “Come here—now what are you going for? What shall you say to mamma?”
“A school pina——” muttered the boy.