Murray was appalled! He was aghast! He simply could not take this extraordinary request seriously. It seemed as if he must somehow get back to his former associates and tell them the joke. They wanted him to take a Sunday-school class of young ladies! Was ever anything more terribly ludicrous in all the world?
But he managed to keep a perfectly courteous face while he let her talk on for a minute or two; and while he summoned his senses and tried to figure out a line of safe reply that would not be inconsistent with his supposed character, the door-bell rang again. Ah! Now! Perhaps here was deliverance!
The caller proved to be the Sunday-school superintendent, Mr. Marlowe.
“Mr. Murray, I hope I’m not too late,” he began, after the introductions. “I’ve been away in New York all the week. I just got back late last night, and I missed you this morning at the service. Mr. Harrison had some things to talk over, and when I looked around you were gone. I’ve come over to see if you won’t take a class of boys in our Sunday-school. I’ve sort of been saving them for you. They’re bright little chaps about ten years old, and up to all that’s going, of course, but they need a young man of your calibre, and I’ve just eased them along with some of the elders for a few Sundays until you would arrive. I do hope you’ll be interested in them. They are one of the most promising classes in the school, and just at an age when they need the touch of a young man.”
“Now, Mr. Marlowe,” pouted Jane, as soon as she could break into the conversation, “Mr. Murray is going to take our class, aren’t you, Mr. Murray? I came over first, Mr. Marlowe. We’ve had it in mind ever since we heard Mr. Murray was coming, and the girls are just crazy to have him—”
The superintendent turned a keen, scrutinizing glance on Murray.
“Well, that’s up to you, Mr. Murray, of course. Which do you prefer to teach? The young ladies or the kids? Of course I’ve no wish to bias you if the girls have got in their request before me, but I certainly shall be disappointed. It isn’t everybody can teach these boys.”
Murray was going to say eagerly that he had never taught young ladies in his life, nor anybody else, till it suddenly occurred to him that he did not know what reports of his exploits in Sabbath-school teaching had reached Marlborough. He must go carefully. He caught his sentence between his teeth and whirled it around.
“With all due apology to the young ladies,” he said gracefully, turning a look on Jane that almost made her forgive him for what he was saying, “I think I’d fit better with the kids, if I’m to teach at all. You see—I’m—” he floundered for an explanation—“I’m just crazy about kids, you know!”
“Oh, Mr. Murray!” pouted Jane stormily.