Mr. Hollys glanced quickly at Miss Burton. Her head was bent, and she was turning over the leaves of a book which lay in her lap, but Mr. Hollys could see traces of tears on her face. He wished he could recall his careless words. He tried to think of something kind that he could say to her about her father, but nothing suitable suggested itself to him.
There was silence for a few minutes, a silence which Mr. Hollys felt to be embarrassing.
"Your father was a clergyman, I think, Miss Burton?" he said at length.
"Yes," was all the reply she made.
"Then I suppose you have had some experience of Sunday schools?" he observed, without knowing in the least what prompted him to make the remark.
"Yes, I think I may say I have considerable experience of Sunday schools," said Hettie smiling. "I had to take the management of the largest class in my father's school, and very much I enjoyed the work."
"Have you ever heard the story of the ambition of these children to keep a Sunday school, and the dire plight it brought them into?" he asked, with a laugh.
"Oh, papa, don't bring that up again," exclaimed Beryl impatiently; "Miss Burton has heard all about that."
"And Beryl has my entire sympathy," said Miss Burton, eager to embrace this unexpected opportunity of saying what she had long wished to say to Mr. Hollys, but had lacked the courage; "I am as anxious as she is to see a Sunday school established at Egloshayle."
"Do you really think that it would be such a good thing?" he asked.