"Oh, Paula, Paula!" said my father—"where is all this going to end?"
But Paula was not easily daunted, especially when the thing asked for was for the benefit of other people.
"Now, why won't you let me teach them, dear uncle?" She came and kneeled at my father's feet, and took both his hands in hers.
"But you're only a very young and very little student, Paula. You must be taught yourself before you can teach others." My father's voice was very tender, but firm as well, and it didn't look to me as if Paula would win. She said nothing in reply, but stayed kneeling there at his feet with those great appealing eyes of hers fixed on his face.
"We shall see, we shall see," said my father gently, "when you've finished your own studies. Besides I think you're reasonable enough to see that such a task along with your studies would be too big a burden for a child like you. I could not let you take this up."
"I suppose you're right, dear uncle," said Paula humbly, as she rose and rested her head against my father's shoulder, "and yet if you could only know how happy it would make the Breton and his comrades. And besides," she added, "I had fondly hoped that if I could have taught them, they would learn much about the Lord Jesus and take Him as their Saviour, as the Breton has done."
"You seem to think of nothing but how to serve your 'Lord Jesus,'" and there was a wistful sort of tone in my father's voice.
"Well, am I not His servant?"
"No!" said my father, "I'd call you a soldier of His, and one that's always under arms!"
"That's because I have such a wonderful, such a kind, and such a powerful Captain. I wish everybody might come to know Him! And to know Him is to love Him!"