"Remember God is here: let us not mock Him; now begin." His voice was a deep, rich baritone, which resounded through the chapel, carrying the scholars and teachers with him. At the close, he stood with his hand extended toward a little girl near him. Boys and girls pressed forward, each one giving his own name, until only the teachers remained. To these, as they gathered around him, he said,—
"Will it be too much for me to ask that each one of you will ponder the questions I gave you? The work of a Sunday-school teacher may be wearisome and unpleasant, or it may be glorious, most blessed. It is God's own work; and He is a good paymaster."
Annie persuaded her brother to wait for Mr. Angus, but hesitated about joining him when she saw how sad he looked. With a frankness which was her peculiar charm she said, timidly,—
"We waited to walk home with you, but perhaps you would rather go alone."
"Thank you, yes." Then, rousing himself, he added, "You are very kind. I shall be glad of your company."
It was true that in the excitement of the past hour his own personal grief had been absorbed in the sorrow he felt at finding the Sunday school in such a low condition. He began to realize that this was the keynote by which he must judge of the spiritual state of the church. Then doubts of his fitness for the work assailed him, and he was appalled with the reflection that it was too late now to recede. It was at this minute that Annie met him. He would have given much to be alone, to fight his battle unobserved; but no, it was better that he should not dwell on such painful, unavailing thoughts.
Annie glanced at him occasionally, as with knitted brows he hurried forward, but did not speak until he was about to turn the wrong way.
"This is our street, Mr. Angus," she said.
"Pardon me, Annie, I am usually quick at finding my way, but—I am thinking about your Sunday school. Were the children more inattentive to-day than usual?"
"No, sir. Marion goes wild about it. She thinks everything in it is horrid. I heard her talking to the superintendent; she told him the mode of teaching, the want of order, the singing, were all as bad as could be; but Marion is a singer, you know."