There were a few boys whose clothes scarcely ever needed mending, and others who went through socks and underwear with incredible speed. And others, like young Roberts-Mills, who just could not avoid long rents, and who went about considerably patched. Arbuthnot, Cowdray, Fielding, Jones ... She came across socks so badly cobbled that she stopped to examine them further. That was Mrs. Hurring, the new girl. She was a young married woman, who came on two afternoons a week to do this mending, to earn herself some pocket money, and to gossip with other sewing maids, but if she could not do better than this, she would have to go. Such cobbled-up socks, such open-work darns on underwear that it would need doing again in a week—that wouldn’t do. She would have to speak to her next time about it.A knock sounded on the door.“Come in,” she called, expecting one of the boys.It was Laurence who came in, and it was so long since he had sought her out that she was surprised. There had been a time, shortly after his arrival at the school, when he had shown a predilection for her company.
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