'I'm sure I don't know what to do with him,' she complained; 'he runs away from school whenever he get a chance, and last Sunday he breaks into my neighbour's chicken-house, and smashes a whole set of eggs that was being 'atched! School do keep him a bit quiet in the week, but Sundays he's just rampageous!'
'Does he go to Sunday School?' I asked.
'There's no Sunday School in our village, miss; the bigger ones they goes to the next parish; but it's two good miles, and my Roddy he can't walk so fur. Now thank the leddy and gentleman, you scamp, for bringin' you home!'
Roddy turned his big blue eyes upon us, then suddenly held out his arms to me.
'I'll kiss her, for she callied me much nicer nor the gempleum!'
I gave the little fellow a hug. He looked such a baby in his mother's arms, and I felt quite drawn to him.
'I love little children so,' I said to Kenneth as we were walking home. 'I wish there was a Sunday School in this place. I should like Roddy in my class.'
'You might start a Sunday School,' suggested Kenneth gravely. 'Our old rector will let you do exactly as you like, I am sure.'
'I wonder if I could,' I said reflectively; 'just a class for the little ones, and those that can't walk as far as the bigger, stronger ones. I should be glad if I could do something on Sunday.'
Then remembering to whom I was speaking, I checked myself and said no more on the subject, though my thoughts were busy.