Inchkeld was a most pleasant place in which to have one's home--a city set among hills and watered by a broad river; and surely no young and witless couple ever had a kinder and more indulgent congregation than we had. "The first Sunday I appeared in church I was almost dead with fright. I had to walk through the church to reach the Manse seat, and every eye seemed to be boring into me like a gimlet. As if that weren't bad enough, I was accosted on my way out by a tall, bland elder, who said he supposed I would want to teach a class in the Sabbath school. As a matter of fact, he supposed quite wrong, for it had never entered into my head that such an awful duty would be required of me. Think--until a short time before I myself had been a scholar (and a restless, impertinent one at that!), and the very thought of trying to control a class made my brain reel. But I was as clay in the hands of this suave Highland potter, who went on to tell me that the last minister's wife had carried on a most successful class for older girls. 'She, of course,' he added, 'was a niece of the late Lord Clarke,' as if that fact explained any amount of talent for teaching the young. He led me away--I was now in a state of passive despair--and introduced me to a class as their new teacher. There were seven of them, girls about fifteen--always, I think, the worst and a most impudent age (you were a brat at fifteen, Ann!), and they fixed me with seven pairs of eyes, round brown eyes, rather like brandy-balls--I suppose they couldn't all have had brown eyes, but the general effect was of brandy-balls--silently taking me in. I heard the elder telling them how honoured they were to have the minister's wife as teacher; then I was left with them. Later on, when I got to know the girls, I sometimes laughed at the terror of the first Sunday. They were the nicest girls, really, gentle and kind; but that day they seemed to me inhuman little owls. They told me the lesson--one of the parables--but my mind was a blank, and I could think of no comment to make over it. I stumbled and stuttered, every moment getting more hot and ashamed, and finally went home, feeling, in spite of my sealskin coat and prune bonnet, the most miserably inadequate minister's wife that had ever tried to reign in a manse, scourged as with whips by the thought of the late Lord Clarke's niece. What a comfort your father always was! He made it seem all right in a twinkling, assured me that I needn't teach a class unless I liked, but vowed that if I did no one could teach it half so well; and as for the late Lord Clarke's niece, he had never seen her, but he was sure she was a long-faced woman, with no sense of humour."