And seeing Mr. Ulshoeffer coming to open the door, the little conclave broke up. The children and teachers came pouring in for the Sunday-School.
Going out after it was over, Matilda noticed a face she had not seen; a boy older than herself, but not very old, standing near the door, looking at the small crowd that trooped along the aisle. The thought came to Matilda that he was a new scholar, and if so, somebody ought to welcome him; but nobody did, that she could see. He stood alone, looking at the people as if they were strange to him; with a good, bright, wide-awake face, handsome and bold. Matilda did not want to take the welcoming upon herself, but she thought somebody should do it; and the next minute she had paused in front of the stranger.
"Is this the first time you have been here?" she asked, with a kind of shy grace. The boy's bright eyes came down to her with a look of surprise as he assented.
"I am very glad to see you in our Sunday-School," she went on. "I hope it was pleasant."
"It was pleasant enough," said the stranger. "There is a jolly fellow over there asked me to come—Ben Barth; are you his sister?"
"Oh no," said Matilda. "Ben has his own sisters. I am not one of them."
"I thought maybe he told you to speak to me."
"Nobody told me," said Matilda. By this time they had followed the crowd out at the door, and were taking their way down the street.
"What did you speak to me then, for?" said the boy, with a roguish look at her.
"I thought you were a stranger."