“Yes; and teach the Sunday school, and go around with a subscription list, and—”
“O, the subscription list finishes me. I should stop at every gate, and put down a certain amount, and pay it out of my own pocket. Begging I utterly abhor.”
“But if you had nothing in your pocket? If your neighbors were richer than you, and if you were trying to teach people that it was their duty to provide for the sick and the needy?”
“Why, what a little preacher you are! Let us go out in the moonlight. What a lovely night! Suppose we walk down to meet your father. He said he should not stay long.”
I could think of no good excuse to offer; so we sauntered slowly through the little yard and out to the street, both keeping silent for some time.
“Miss Endicott,” he began presently, “I wish I could interest you in my brothers. You have such a quaint, elder-sister air, that I know you would have a good influence over them; though they may not prove so very interesting,” he went on, doubtfully. “Louis is nervous, and has been ill; and boys are—well, different from girls.”
I was not such a great ignoramus. I suppose he thought, because we had a houseful of girls, we knew nothing whatever of boys; so I answered, warmly,—
“The parishioners sometimes come to tea with two or three boys, who think they ought to demolish the furniture as well as the supper. Then there are the Sunday schools, and the picnics, and the children’s festivals—”
“So you do see boys in abundance.”
“They are no great rarity,” I replied, drily.