"Miss Temple，Miss Temple，what- what is that girl with curled hair? Red hair，ma"am，curled- curled all over?" And extending his cane he pointed to the awful object，his hand shaking as he did so.

"It is Julia Severn," replied Miss Temple，very quietly.

"Julia Severn，ma"am! And why has she，or any other，curled hair? Why，in defiance of every precept and principle of this house，does she conform to the world so openly- here in an evangelical，charitable establishment- as to wear her hair one mass of curls?"

"Julia"s hair curls naturally," returned Miss Temple，still more quietly.

"Naturally! Yes，but we are not to conform to nature; I wish these girls to be the children of Grace: and why that abundance? I have again and again intimated that I desire the hair to be arranged closely，modestly，plainly. Miss Temple，that girl"s hair must be cut off entirely; I will send a barber tomorrow: and I see others who have far too much of the excrescence- that tall girl，tell her to turn round. Tell all the first form to rise up and direct their faces to the wall."

Miss Temple passed her handkerchief over her lips，as if to smooth away the involuntary smile that curled them; she gave the order，however，and when the first class could take in what was required of them，they obeyed. Leaning a little back on my bench，I could see the looks and grimaces with which they mented on this manoeuvre: it was a pity Mr. Brocklehurst could not see them too; he would perhaps have felt that，whatever he might do with the outside of the cup and platter，the inside was further beyond his interference than he imagined.

He scrutinised the reverse of these living medals some five minutes，then pronounced sentence. These words fell like the knell of doom-