n intrusion. Annie taught a class of tiny girls near
the front. She had taken her place beside them and sat with bent head
and scarlet cheeks. Long ago she had learned that from her position it
was very easy to catch the eye of the teacher of a class of big boys
across the aisle. But one swift glance at him sitting up straight,
haughty, and severe, convinced her she must never expect a kindly
glance from that source again. She had bidden him go, because her aunt
had commanded her, but, oh, how could she have suspected that he would
obey? She sat in misery, striving desperately to keep back her tears.

Ordinarily Elizabeth would have noticed her sister's distressed face,
but Trip once more claimed her attention. Just across the aisle was
Old Silas Pratt's class, to which John and Charles Stuart belonged.
They had just entered, and, with a squirm and a grunt, the little dog
jerked himself free from the nervous grip of his preserver's feet, and
darted across the aisle to his master. Charles Stuart shoved him under
the scat, pinning him there with his legs, and looked inquiringly
towards Elizabeth. Such an improper proceeding as this entirely suited
Charles Stuart's ideas, but how Elizabeth came to be a partner in it
was something he did not understand.

But Sunday school was opening, and, as no one seemed to have noticed
the dog, Elizabeth, greatly relieved, gave her attention to duty. Noah
Clegg had sent Wully Johnstone's Johnny to look up and down the line to
see if there was anyone coming, and Johnny having reported no one but
Silas Pratt's brindled cow, the service commenced.

"Now, boys and girls," said the superintendent, with a fine old London
accent, "we'll sing 'ymn number fifty-four:

"_There is a 'appy land
Far, far away._"

Noah Clegg was a good little man, with a round, cheery face, iron-gray
hair, and a short, stubby beard. He wore a shiny black suit, and his
new Sabbath boots, which turned up at the toes like Venetian gondolas
and sang like gondoliers. He held a stick in his hand, with which he
beat time, and now gave the signal to the organist to commence.

Miss Lily Pratt struck up the tune, and the school arose.

"Now, boys an' girls, an' grown-ups, too," cried the superintendent,
"sing up fine an' 'earty. This is a 'appy land we live in an' we're
goin' to a 'appier one; an' this is a 'appy day, an' I 'ope the good
Lord 'll give us all 'appy 'earts."

The school burst into song