rl. Her brother James
considered it nothing short of sacrilege, and her oldest sister Eunice
reasoned with her very gravely, and tried to show her that, in order to
teach the truths of God, one should have some personal knowledge of
them, and that the only acceptable motive for religious work was a
sincere desire to please God and benefit the souls of those whom Christ
came to save. But Etta was not accustomed to be guided by her brother
and sister; she went to her father, told him she wanted to take a class
in Sunday-school, and of course he said "Yes." Then she went to the
superintendent and made known her request, saying it was at her father's
desire, which, as he was book-keeper at the paper-mill, would, she knew,
have great weight.

Mr. Scoville paused, hesitated, and finally resolved to consult the
pastor, promising Etta her answer before Sunday came round. He would
have given an unqualified refusal had the petitioner been any one else
than his employer's daughter.

Mr. Morven, the pastor, however, thought differently. He had known the
young girl ever since she was a very little one; he knew there was no
positive evil in her, and though he had not heretofore suspected her of
any serious thought, he looked upon her request as an indication of
good, and said that perhaps the very familiarity with sacred things
which teaching a Sunday-school class would necessitate might be as
beneficial to the teacher as to the scholars. So Mr. Scoville, though
rather against his better judgment, sent a note to Miss Etta granting
her request, having in his mind a certain class of little ones just out
of the infant class, the teacher of which had announced her intention of
leaving the school. When he went to see this teacher, however, he found
she had changed her mind, and there was no other class available except
one composed of seven "big girls," of whom Katie Robertson was one. Of
course, Mr. Scoville could not go back on his word, so Miss Etta
Mountjoy was formally installed as teacher of one of the most important
classes of the school.

Most of the girls liked her; some were seized with a violent admiration,
if not of her, of her beautiful hats, delicate kid gloves, and all the
_et cetera_ which go to make up the toilet of a modern young lady.
Others liked her fresh, frank manner and sympathy with them and their
interests. Indeed, she was so nearly on their own level as to age that
there was no room for condescension on this