I was outside a rather long building with some other people-two or three anyway, one of whom was Kathy Reynault.  We were getting ready to walk down a dusty country road which ran by the building.  I doubted that Kathy would come with us, because of me, but she did join us, from a door farther down the road, and was friendly enough to me-though I don't remember her as being affectionate.  When we returned, we were a considerable group -- of teachers -- and it was a school to which we were returning.  We entered a door at the rear, and there was a teacher standing impatiently at the door of her classroom, with her arms crossed.  Apparently we were practice teachers and got mixed up about the schedule and were late for our classes.  I walked all the way through the building, then realized I had only about half as many books as I started out with, and couldn't figure out what I could have done with the rest of them.