“Don't know. He doesn't bother much with that sort of thing, and I'm just as glad.”
“You ought really to speak to him about it,” said Mrs. Murray, after Hughie had left the room.
“Well, my dear,” said the minister, smiling, “you heard what Hughie said. It would be rather awkward for me to speak to him about smoking. I think, perhaps, you had better do it.”
“I am afraid,” said his wife, with a slight laugh, “it would be just as awkward for me. I wonder what those Friday afternoons of his mean,” she continued.
“I am sure I don't know, but everywhere throughout the section I hear the children speak of them. We'll just drop in and see. I ought to visit the school, you know, very soon.”
And so they did. The master was surprised, and for a moment appeared uncertain what to do. He offered to put the classes through their regular lessons, but at once there was a noisy outcry against this on the part of the school, which, however, was effectually and immediately quelled by the quiet suggestion on the master's part that anything but perfect order would be fatal to the programme. And upon the minister requesting that the usual exercises proceed, the master smilingly agreed.
“We make Friday afternoons,” he said, “at once a kind of reward day for good work during the week, and an opportunity for the cultivation of some of the finer arts.”
And certainly he was a master in this business. He had strong dramatic instincts, and a remarkable power to stimulate and draw forth the emotions.
When the programme of singing, recitations, and violin-playing was finished, there were insistent calls on every side for “Mark Antony.” It appeared to be the 'piece de resistance' in the minds of the children.
“What does this mean?” inquired the minister, as the master stood smiling at his pupils.