"I'm afraid there isn't any class you would enjoy," she began with a troubled look. "It's only a little country church, you know. They don't have all the modern system, and very few teachers."
"I should enjoy going into your class very much if I might."
"Oh, mine are just boys, just little boys like Harley!" said Shirley, aghast.
"I've been a little boy once, you know I should enjoy it very much," said the applicant with satisfaction.
"Oh, but—I couldn't teach you!" There was dismay in her voice.
"Couldn't you, though? You've taught me more in the few months I've known you than I've learned in that many years from others. Try me. I'll be very good. I'll be a boy with the rest of them, and you can just forget I'm there and go ahead. I really am serious about it. I want to hear what you have to say to them."
"Oh, I couldn't teach with you there!" exclaimed Shirley, putting her hands on her hot cheeks and looking like a frightened little child. "Indeed I couldn't, really. I'm not much of a teacher. I'm only a beginner. I shouldn't know how to talk before any but children."
He watched her silently for a minute, his face grave with wistfulness.
"Why do you teach them?" he asked rather irrelevantly.
"Because—why, because I want to help them to live right lives; I want to teach them how to know God."