Desire became the focus of all eyes and a watchful dumbness settled down upon them like a pall. Frantically she tried to remember her instructions. But never had a light conversational manner seemed more difficult to attain.
"I hope," she faltered, seeking for a sympathetic entry, "that your regular teacher is not ill?"
The row of inquiring eyes showed no intelligence.
"Is she?" asked Desire, looking directly at the child opposite.
"Ma says she only thinks she is," said the child. The row rustled pleasantly.
"I understand," went on Desire hastily, "that we are to talk about Moses. How many here can tell me anything about Moses?"
The row of eyes blinked. But Moses might have been a perfect stranger for any sign of recognition from their owners.
"Moses," went on Desire, "was a very remarkable man. In his age he seems even more remarkable—"
A small hand shot up and an injured voice inquired: "Please, teacher, don't we have the Golden Text?"
"I suppose we do." There was evidently some technique here of which the hurried assistant had not informed her. "We will have it now. What is the Golden Text?"