I recovered myself sufficiently to express a bewildered sense of pleasure and gratitude.
"Do you sing, teacher?" asked Harvey Dole, a round-faced youth with an irrepressible fund of mirth in his eyes, who had broken in on the former silence with an unguarded little snicker.
Lovell Barlow, he of the dignified countenance and spade-shaped beard, had faintly and helplessly echoed that snicker, and now repeated Harvey's words:—
"Ahem, certainly—Do you sing, teacher? Do you, now? Do you sing, you know?"
I had some new and seriously awakened doubts on the subject. However, the degree of attainment not being brought into question, I felt that I could answer in the affirmative.
The countenances of the group brightened still more perceptibly.
"And do you sing No. 2?" inquired Harvey, eagerly.
I tried to assume, in reply, a tone of equal animation.
"Is it something new? I don't think I've heard of it before."
"Why, it's the Moody and Sankey hymn-book!" exclaimed Harvey, looking suddenly blank.