mes in that corner.
Flossy ignored the discourteous treatment of her "good-morning," and
opened her Bible.

"Do you know," she said, with a soft little laugh, "that I haven't the
least idea how to teach a Sunday-school lesson? I never did such a thing
in my life; so you mustn't expect wisdom from me. The very most I can do
is to talk the matter over with you, and ask you what you think about
it."

Whereupon they looked at each other again and laughed; but this time it
was a puzzled sort of laugh. This was a new experience. They had had
teachers who knew extremely little about the lesson, and proved it
conclusively, but never once did they _own_ it. Their plan had rather
been to assume the wisdom of Solomon, and in no particular to be found
wanting in information. They did not know what answer to make to
Flossy.

"Have you Bibles?" she asked them.

"No."

"Well, here are Lesson Leaves. These are pieces of the Bible, I suppose.
Are they nice? I don't know anything about them. I have never been in
Sunday-school, you see; not since I was a little girl. What are these
cards for, please?"

Now, they understood all about the management of the library cards, and
the method of giving out books by their means, and Flossy was so
evidently ignorant, and so puzzled by their attempts at explanation, and
asked so many questions, and took so long to understand it, that they
really became very much interested in making it clear to her, and then
in helping her carry out the programme which they had explained; and
everyone of them had a queer sense of relationship to the school that
they had not possessed before. They knew more than she did, and she was
willing to own it.

"Now about this lesson," she said, at last. "I really don't see how
people teach such lessons."

"They don't," said one whom they called "Rich. Johnson." "They just
pretend to, and they go around it, and through it, and ask baby
questions, and pretend that they know a great deal; that's the kind of
teaching that we are used to."

Flossy laughed.

"You won't get it to-day," she said, "for I certainly don't know a great
deal, and I don't know how to pretend that I do. But I like to read
about this talk that Christ had with the people; and I should have liked
of all things to have been there and heard him. I would like to go now
to the place where he was. Wouldn't you like to go to Jerusalem?"

What an awkward way they had of looking from one to the other,