heart…wearying task that she loathed。 And the work got worse and
worse。 When she tried to flatter herself that the position
grew more alive； more interesting； she had to see that the
handwriting grew more and more slovenly； the books more filthy
and disgraceful。 She tried what she could； but it was of no use。
But she was not going to take it seriously。 Why should she？ Why
should she say to herself； that it mattered； if she failed to
teach a class to write perfectly neatly？ Why should she take the
blame unto herself？
Pay day came； and she received four pounds two shillings and
one penny。 She was very proud that day。 She had never had so
much money before。 And she had earned it all herself。 She sat on
the top of the tram…car fingering the gold and fearing she might
lose it。 She felt so established and strong； because of it。 And
when she got home she said to her mother：
〃It is pay day to…day； mother。〃
〃Ay；〃 said her mother； coolly。
Then Ursula put down fifty shillings on the table。
〃That is my board；〃 she said。
〃Ay；〃 said her mother； letting it lie。
Ursula was hurt。 Yet she had paid her scot。 She was free。 She
paid for what she had。 There remained moreover thirty…two
shillings of her own。 She would not spend any； she who was
naturally a spendthrift； because she could not bear to damage
her fine gold。
She had a standing ground now apart from her parents。 She was
something else besides the mere daughter of William and Anna
Brangwen。 She was independent。 She earned her own living。 She
was an important member of the working munity。 She was sure
that fifty shillings a month quite paid for her keep。 If her
mother received fifty shillings a month for each of the
children； she would have twenty pounds a month and no clothes to
provide。 Very well then。
Ursula was independent of her parents。 She now adhered
elsewhere。 Now； the 'Board of Education' was a phrase that rang
significant to her； and she felt Whitehall far beyond her as her
ultimate home。 In the government； she knew which minister had
supreme control over Education； and it seemed to her that； in
some way； he was connected with her； as her father was connected
with her。
She had another self； another responsibility。 She was no
longer Ursula Brangwen； daughter of William Brangwen。 She was
also Standard Five teacher in St。 Philip's School。 And it was a
case now of being Standard Five teacher； and nothing else。 For
she could not escape。
Neither could she succeed。 That was her horror。 As the weeks
passed on； there was no Ursula Brangwen； free and jolly。 There
was only a girl of that name obsessed by the fact that she could
not manage her class of children。 At week…ends there came days
of passionate reaction； when she went mad with the taste of
liberty； when merely to be free in the morning； to sit down at
her embroidery and stitch the coloured silks was a passion of
delight。 For the prison house was always awaiting her！ This was
only a respite； as her chained heart knew well。 So that she
seized hold of the swift hours of the week…end； and wrung the
last drop of sweetness out of them； in a little； cruel
frenzy。
She did not tell anybody how this state was a torture to her。
She did not confide； either to Gudrun or to her parents； how
horrible she found it to be a school…teacher。 But when Sunday
night came； and she felt the Monday morning at hand； she was
strung up tight with dreadful anticipation； because the strain
and the torture was near again。
She did not believe that she could ever teach that great；
brutish class； in that brutal school： ever； ever。 And yet； if
she failed； she must in some way go under。 She must admit that
the man's world was too strong for her； she could not take her
place in it； she must go down before Mr。 Harby。 And all her life
henceforth； she must go on； never having freed herself of the
man's world； never having achieved the freedom of the great
world of responsible work。 Maggie had taken her place there； she
had even stood level with Mr。 Harby and got free of him： and her
soul was always wandering in far…off valleys and glades of
poetry。 Maggie was free。 Yet there was something like subjection
in Maggie's very freedom。 Mr。 Harby； the man； disliked the
reserved woman； Maggie。 Mr。 Harby； the schoolmaster； respected
his teacher； Miss Schofield。
For the present； however； Ursula only envied and admired
Maggie。 She herself had still to get where Maggie had got。 She
had still to make her footing。 She had taken up a position on
Mr。 Harby's ground； and she must keep it。 For he was now
beginning a regular attack on her； to drive her away out of his
school。 She could not keep order。 Her class was a turbulent
crowd； and the weak spot in the school's work。 Therefore she
must go； and someone more useful must e in her place； someone
who could keep discipline。
The headmaster had worked himself into an obsession of fury
against her。 He only wanted her gone。 She had e； she had got
worse as the weeks went on； she was absolutely no good。 His
system； which was his very life in school； the oute of his
bodily movement； was attacked and threatened at the point where
Ursula was included。 She was the danger that threatened his body
with a blow； a fall。 And blindly； thoroughly； moving from strong
instinct of opposition； he set to work to expel her。
When he punished one of her children as he had punished the
boy Hill； for an offence against himself； he made the
punishment extra heavy with the significance that the extra
stroke came in because of the weak teacher who allowed all these
things to be。 When he punished for an offence against her； he
punished lightly； as if offences against her were not
significant。 Which all the children knew； and they behaved
accordingly。
Every now and again Mr。 Harby would swoop down to examine
exercise books。 For a whole hour； he would be going round the
class； taking book after book； paring page after page； whilst
Ursula stood aside for all the remarks and fault…finding to be
pointed at her through the scholars。 It was true； since she had
e； the position books had grown more and more untidy；
disorderly； filthy。 Mr。 Harby pointed to the pages done before
her regime； and to those done after； and fell into a passion of
rage。 Many children he sent out to the front with their books。
And after he had thoroughly gone through the silent and
quivering class he caned the worst offenders well； in front of
the others； thundering in real passion of anger and chagrin。
〃Such a condition in a class； I can't believe it！ It is
simply disgraceful！ I can't think how you have been let to get
like it！ Every Monday morning I shall e down and examine
these books。 So don't think that because there is nobody paying
any attention to you； that you are free to unlearn everything
you ever learned； and go back till you are not fit for Standard
Three。 I shall examine all books every Monday〃
Then in a rage； he went away with his cane； leaving Ursula to
confront a pale； quivering class； whose childish faces were shut
in blank resentment； fear； and bitterness； whose souls were full
of anger and contempt for her rather than of the master； whose
eyes looked at her with the cold； inhuman accusation of
children。 And she could hardly make mechanical words to speak to
them。 When she gave an order they obeyed with an insolent
off…handedness； as if to say： 〃As for you； do you think we would
obey you； but for the master？〃 She sent the blubbering；
caned boys to their seats； knowing that they too jeered at her
and her authority； holding her weakness responsible for what
punishment had overtaken them。 And she knew the whole position；
so that even her horror of physical beating and suffering sank
to a deeper pain； and became a moral judgment upon her； worse
than any hurt。
She must； during the next week； watch over her books； and
punish any fault。 Her soul decided it coldly。 Her personal
desire was dead for that day at least。 She must have nothing
more of herself in school。 She was to be Standard Five teacher
only。 That was her duty。 In school； she was nothing but Standard
Five teacher。 Ursula Brangwen must be excluded。
So that； pale； shut； at last distant and impersonal； she saw
no longer the child； how his eyes danced； or how he had a queer
little soul that could not be bothered with shaping handwriting
so long as he dashed down what he thought。 She saw no children；
only the task that was to be done。 And keeping her eyes there；
on the task； and not on the child； she was impersonal enough to
punish where she could otherwise only have sympathized；
understood； and condoned； to approve where she would have been
merely uninterested before。 But her interest had no place any
more。
It was agony to the impulsive； bright girl of seventeen to
bee distant and official； having no personal relationship
with the children。 For a few days； after the agony of the
Monday； she succeeded； and had some success with her class。 But
it was a state not natural to her； and she began to relax。
Then came another infliction。 There were not enough pens to
go round the class。 She sent to Mr。 Harby for more。 He came in
person。
〃Not enough pen