I could scarcely believe my senses. Miss Leigh! "Do you know Miss Leigh?
What Miss Leigh are you speaking of?" I hurriedly asked to cover my own
confusion, for John had grown red and I knew instinctively that it was
she--there could be but one.
"Miss Eleanor Leigh--yes, I know her--she--ah--teaches in my
Sunday-school." John's old trick of stammering had come back.
Teaching in his Sunday-school! And I not know her! That instant John
secured a new teacher. But he went on quickly, not divining the joy in
my heart, or the pious resolve I was forming. "She is one of the good
people who holds her wealth as a trust for the Master's poor--she comes
over every Sunday afternoon all the way from her home and teaches a
class."
Next Sunday at three P. M. a hypocrite of my name sat on a bench in
John's little church, pretending to teach nine little ruffians whose
only concern was their shoes which they continually measured with each
other, while out of the corner of my eye I watched a slender figure
bending, with what I thought wonderful grace, over a pew full of little
girls on the other side of the church intent on their curls or bangs.
The lesson brought in that bald-headed and somewhat unfeeling prophet,
who called forth from the wood the savage and voracious she-bears to
devour the crowd of children who ran after him and made rude
observations on his personal appearance, and before I was through, my
sympathies had largely shifted from the unfortunate youngsters to the
victim of their annoyance. Still I made up my mind to stick if John
would let me, and the slim and flower-like teacher of the fidgety class
across the aisle continued to attend.
I dismissed my class rather abruptly, I fear, on observing that the
little girls had suddenly risen and were following their teacher toward
the door with almost as much eagerness as I felt to escort her. When I
discovered that she was only going to unite them with another class, it
was too late to recall my pupils, who at the first opportunity had made
for the door, almost as swiftly as though the she-bears were after them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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