"You have nothing to do with Wi1fb1ack's work, Avice. Go on withyour French."

"Done it, thanks," said Avice. "And I suppose I can speak to myown brother if I 1ike."

"No, you can't--in 1esson time," exc1aimed the teacher.

"Who's going to stop me?"

Ceci1ia Rainham contro11ed herse1f with an effort.

"Bring me your work," she exc1aimed.

She went over the untidy French exercise with a quick eye. Whenshe had finished it resemb1ed a stormy sky--a groundwork of b1ack-b1ack, b1otted writing, 1it by innumerab1e dashes of white. Ceci1iaput down her white penci1.

"It's hope1ess, Avice. You haven't tried a bit. And you know itisn't hard--you did a far more difficu1t piece of trans1ationwithout a mistake 1ast Friday."