I woke to discover a paper on the desk before me; a paper bristling with questions, each of them challenging me to get into the school if I could.

Then I remember dashing my pen into the ink and beginning to write.
"Keep cool.

Keep your eye on the clock.

Try one question at a time," echoed a voice in my ear.
How lonely I felt there all by myself! How I wished I could turn and see _her_ at my side! The clock crawled round from eleven to three, and I went on writing.
Then I remember a hand coming along the desk and taking the papers out of my sight.

Then a bewildered train journey home, and a hundred questions at the other end.
I went on dreaming for a week, conscious sometimes of my mother's face, sometimes of Miss Steele's, sometimes of Mr Evans's.