"You know what Mr. Gilbank was saying last Sunday, how we might all help to make the kingdom grow and spread in the world? You remember that, don't you, Coral?"
"No," said Coral, shaking her head, and speaking in a tone of indifference, as she began to think that Beryl's grand idea was, after all, nothing very delightful. "No, I don't remember nothing about it."
"Oh, Coral, and it was so plain!" said Beryl. "Don't you recollect that he said we could be workers with God, and that even a child could do something for the kingdom?"
"No, I don't," said Coral decidedly. "Is that all you have to tell me?"
"Of course not; but that was what made me think of it. Coral, I've been thinking how nice it would be if we could keep a little Sunday school."
"Oh, Beryl, a Sunday school! What do you mean?"
"Why, don't you know that Mr. Gilbank said, what a pity it was that there was no Sunday school at Egloshayle, and the children were left to play about on the beach all Sunday afternoon? Now, I think you and I might keep a sort of school, just for the very little ones, you know."
"Oh, Beryl, do you really think we could?" exclaimed Coral, delighted, as all children are, with the idea of keeping school. "But do you think we are big enough? What could we teach them?"
"Oh, we could teach them something," said Beryl, confidently. "We must know more than they do;—at least we ought to," she added, with a momentary sense of her own mental poverty. "Anyhow, we could read to them, and teach them hymns. There's—'Around the throne of God in heaven,' and 'When mothers of Salem';—I could ask Lucy to lend us her hymn-book, which has them in."
"Oh yes, that would be very nice," said Coral; "but where could we have the school?"