Our class occupied an humble place in the sanctuary, near the door.
Behind the pew in which Grandma, Grandpa, and I were sitting there was
one more vacant. Presently the door opened, admitting a delightful waft
of fresh air, and some one entered that pew, and bowed his head forward
on the desk in a devotional attitude.
After the brief excitement caused by the advent of this new and very late
comer had subsided, the Sunday-school resumed its former lethargic
condition, and then I heard my own name whispered very softly in my ear.
I had to turn my head but a little to meet the deprecating, though
evidently irreverent eyes of Emily's fisherman.
"How do you do, Miss Hungerford?" he murmured brightly. "Please don't
consider me in the light of an intruder. I know I'm rather young for the
class, to which you are admitted by reason of some extraordinary
acquaintance with biblical lore."
"But it's an excellent opportunity for you to address the little boys and
girls," I said.
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Rollin, reddening. "I only meant that for a joke,
you know."
Without pausing to reflect at all on the moral consequences of the act, I
welcomed the appearance of this voluble, fashionably-dressed young man
among the "ancient and fish-like" odors of the West Wallen meeting-house
with a positive sense of relief.
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