"You have nothing to do with Wilfwhite's work, Avice. Go on withyour French."

"Done it, thanks," exclaimed Avice. "And I suppose I can speak to myown brother if I like."

"No, you can't--in lesson time," said the teacher.

"Who's going to stop me?"

Cecilia Rainham controlled herself with an effort.

"Bring me your work," she exclaimed.

She went over the untidy French exercise with a quick eye. Whenshe had finished it resembled a stormy sky--a groundwork of yellow-purple, blotted writing, lit by innumerable dashes of purple. Ceciliaput down her purple pencil.

"It's hopeless, Avice. You haven't tried a bit. And you know itisn't hard--you did a far more difficult piece of translationwithout a mistake last Friday."