She was not jealous. Gertie was too young and too obscure for that; but she was annoyed with Godfrey’s evident admiration for the “yellow-haired girl.” And still, if she would please him as she really wished to do, she must be interested, too, and after she was through with Mrs. Rogers she went out to Gertie, and, wishing to say something to her, asked abruptly if she had ever been confirmed? Alice always felt more seriously inclined on Saturday afternoons than on any other week day. It was near to Sunday, and became one who taught in the Mission school, and gave all sorts of good advice to sundry forlorn, ragged little wretches, among whom Godfrey Schuyler and Schuyler Godfrey and Alice Creighton Vandeusenhisen figured conspicuously. Alice would never have taught in the regular Sunday-school, where she was liable to come in contact with persons who might lay claim to her notice socially. She preferred the Mission school, where she was looked upon as something far above the common order of mortals, and here she was very zealous, and very devout, and very good, and sometimes took Alice Creighton Vandeusenhisen in her lap, and let Tommie Trotter stroke her silk dress with his dirty hands, and once she actually kissed a little girl who brought her a bouquet. To these children, and such as these, she and the Misses Schuyler, who taught there also, were kind of divinities, as was proven by an incident which occurred just before the arrival of Edith at the Hill. There was a new rector at St. Luke’s,—a young man fresh from old Trinity in New York,—and he went one Sunday to catechise the little ones at the Mission. “Now boys,” he said to the row of eager faces confronting him so eagerly, “speak up loud and tell me who made the world?” Instantly Tommie Trotter, with the three Vandeusenhisens, screamed lustily: “Miss Alice Creighton, sir!” and were answered from a rival crowd: “Miss Julia Schuyler, sir!” while one faint little voice brought up the rear with: “I tell you, Tom Trotter, she didn’t. ’Twas Miss Emma, sir!” After that Alice and Julia esteemed themselves as saints, and were more zealous than ever to gather in any stray lambs which had no particular fold. Hence the reason for Alice’s attack on Gertie, whom she startled with the question: “Have you ever been confirmed?” Gertie had not, and did not particularly care to be just yet, she said; and Alice was as much shocked and surprised as if the child had been convicted of a crime. “Not wish to be confirmed and be good! How shocking!” she exclaimed. And Gertie replied: “I did not say I did not wish to be good, for I do; but I don’t want to be confirmed until I am older and understand it better.” “Who is your teacher in Sunday-school?” Alice asked next, with a good deal of severity. “I don’t go to Sunday-school. I get my lesson at home, and recite it with the Collect and the Commandments to Auntie,” Gertie said, while Miss Creighton grew more and more amazed.