"Very well. But remember, dear, Bible pictures don't mean fun. You must tell her reverently—remembering that the Bible Is God's Book. Can I trust you, Hecla?"
"Yes, auntie."
They went into the drawing-room; and Aunt Millicent lay down on the easy sofa, with a shawl over her; and Miss Anne settled the children in the big sunny bow-window, bringing the promised pictures before she went off to the school.
Hecla would much have preferred to be left in sole charge. But as Miss Storey had her face towards the wall, and could not see what they were doing, this was next best. She began energetic preparations for holding her "class," dragging a chair for herself, and then running into the passage for a small bench which always stood there. Pulling this along made a considerable clatter, and Miss Storey asked wearily, "What are you doing?"
"I'm only getting this for my class, auntie. I won't go on making noises," promised Hecla cheerfully. "It's only just a teeny minute—and it will bump and flump so."
Miss Storey sighed, and endured as best she might.
"You're to sit there, Ivy, 'cause you've got to be my class," eagerly explained Hecla. "And you're four little girls. When you're there, right-top of the class, you're Ivy; and when you're there, you're Mary; and the next is Jane; and the next is Susan. And you've got to slide along—so—" She whisked the submissive child aside, and showed how it was to be done. "And so you'll be all the little girls. And if Ivy can't answer a question, you'll slip along and be Mary. And if Mary can't, you'll slip along and be Jane. Don't you see?"
Ivy did not see, though her eyes were solemnly wide open and attentive. Hecla plumped down into her own chair, took up a book, and asked with an important air—
"How many people got into the Ark, children?"
Silence. Ivy stared calmly and helplessly. The arrangement was too complicated.