If to live for a purpose, if to do one's work with earnestness, if to seek out opportunities for doing good, if to carry the spirit of Christ into every day's living—in short, if to be a sincere, consistent Christian, if this is to be odd, then Mabel was odd. As a child she had been a Sunday-school scholar, but as she grew up, she had yielded to her mother's persuasions and discontinued her attendance.
"It was such an inconvenience," explained Mrs. Wynn. "So tiresome to remain after service, and such a trouble to send back the carriage. Thomas did not like it at all."
But now Mabel determined that circumstances must yield; fortunately Thomas had departed, and a very obliging Michael reigned over the stables.
Thus she stood ready and willing, while Mr. Clarke deliberated a moment. His first impulse was to send her to Dr. Eaton's class of young ladies, and this was just what she expected—indeed she had at first intended to take her place there at once, but some of her mother's teachings in regard to observing the proprieties under all circumstances, impelled her to report herself at headquarters. But they were short of teachers; so many of those who had come in for the first time, had asked for a scholar's place, that old classes were overflowing and new ones had to be formed.
While Mr. Clarke deliberated, a scene of confusion across the room attracted his attention. A thought struck him. "Who knows but she may be able to do something with those boys? Anyway they must have a teacher to-day." And with a smile for the eager face before him, he nodded in the direction of the five unruly boys.
"Mr. Clarke," began Mabel, then stopped suddenly.
"Well?"
"Nothing. I forget that it is my business to obey a superior officer. I'll go."
As the opening exercises went on, Mabel had time to still her throbbing heart and lift her soul to God for help. She had not thought of becoming a teacher at once, and what to say or do first, was a puzzling question. She tried to remember what they did in those days so long ago when she went to Sunday-school. Then she tried to recall some of the instructions of the past week, but she could think of nothing that would exactly fit the case. Dissimulation was no part of her nature, and when the time came, she turned toward the class; but what a class it was!
Five bright-looking boys, combed and brushed and neatly dressed, but the element of quietness seemed entirely wanting. There they were—five bobbing heads, five pairs of elbows pushing this way and that, five pairs of shuffling feet, five pairs of eyes and ears, open and eager to take in any sight or sound that might be turned into fun. Evidently they understood all the boy-tricks in the catalogue. Now and then a head would be thrown back with a peculiar spasmodic jerk, and when the cause was looked for, another boy's arm would be found quietly resting upon the back of the seat, thrown lovingly around his neighbour's. Of course the owner of the arm had nothing to do with it. Suddenly the small boy at the end of the seat found himself on the floor, a concerted pushing along the line having brought about the catastrophe. There were pinching and nudging and treading upon toes, and winking and laughing, and much whispering. Altogether a scene of disorder. And these five active, eager minds were to be fed—those five souls to be led to Christ! What a work for some earnest disciple! No wonder that Mabel's heart almost quailed. But she said, simply and frankly,—