CHAPTER IX

A STRANGE SUNDAY SCHOOL

THE children were very sorry when their friend David Gilbank quitted Egloshayle. He had made a longer stay than he had intended at the Cornish village, and he carried away with him many beautiful sketches, to be worked up to perfection in his London studio. Not the least excellent of these was a water-colour sketch of Coral and Beryl, seated side by side in the shelter of a fisherman's boat, turned keel upwards on the beach. Mr. Gilbank hoped in time to finish this picture, and make it a worthy memorial of the little friends in whom he took such interest.

The children missed him sadly when he had gone away. There were no nice talks on the beach now, no preaching on Sunday afternoons, no friend who could tell them what they wanted to know. They wandered about listlessly on the Sunday afternoon following his departure, and found the time long and dull.

Beryl had been unusually silent for some time, and Coral, finding her remarks unheeded, had also grown thoughtful, when suddenly Beryl exclaimed, "Oh, Coral, I've thought of such a splendid thing!"

"What is it?" asked Coral, eager to hear any new idea which might brighten the dulness of their day.

"You know what Mr. Gilbank was saying last Sunday, how we might all help to make the kingdom grow and spread in the world? You remember that, don't you, Coral?"

"No," said Coral, shaking her head, and speaking in a tone of indifference, as she began to think that Beryl's grand idea was, after all, nothing very delightful. "No, I don't remember nothing about it."

"Oh, Coral, and it was so plain!" said Beryl. "Don't you recollect that he said we could be workers with God, and that even a child could do something for the kingdom?"

"No, I don't," said Coral decidedly. "Is that all you have to tell me?"

"Of course not; but that was what made me think of it. Coral, I've been thinking how nice it would be if we could keep a little Sunday school."

"Oh, Beryl, a Sunday school! What do you mean?"

"Why, don't you know that Mr. Gilbank said, what a pity it was that there was no Sunday school at Egloshayle, and the children were left to play about on the beach all Sunday afternoon? Now, I think you and I might keep a sort of school, just for the very little ones, you know."

"Oh, Beryl, do you really think we could?" exclaimed Coral, delighted, as all children are, with the idea of keeping school. "But do you think we are big enough? What could we teach them?"

"Oh, we could teach them something," said Beryl, confidently. "We must know more than they do;—at least we ought to," she added, with a momentary sense of her own mental poverty. "Anyhow, we could read to them, and teach them hymns. There's—'Around the throne of God in heaven,' and 'When mothers of Salem';—I could ask Lucy to lend us her hymn-book, which has them in."

"Oh yes, that would be very nice," said Coral; "but where could we have the school?"

"We must have it somewhere on the beach," said Beryl; "it would never do to bring the children into the house. Aunt Cecilia would be in a rage. Oh, I know what, Coral. There's that cave which runs such a long way back, that would do splendidly. The rock at the entrance would do nicely to put our books on, and the children could sit on the ground, or stand. Yes, that is the very thing."

"But the cave is sometimes full of water," suggested Coral.

"Yes, when the tide is high," said Beryl; "but it is very often empty, and when it is high water we must go somewhere else. Come, Coral, let us run and have a look at it, and then we will try and find some nice little children, and ask them to come to us there next Sunday afternoon."

The appearance of the cave was considered to be satisfactory, on the whole, for though its walls were damp and slimy with seaweed, Beryl declared that no one need sit close to them, and the rock in the middle would do equally well for a table or a seat.

Having decided on the place of meeting, Beryl set to work to form a class. There were a number of children playing rather noisily at the further end of the beach. She walked towards them, followed by Coral, and as the young ladies drew near, the rougher children ceased their play, and stared wonderingly at them. Beryl was always very dignified in her approaches to the fisher-folk and their children, but at the same time, she was gracious, and the young people of Egloshayle admired the young lady greatly, though they stood rather in awe of her.

When Beryl, addressing one of the little ones, began to explain her scheme for a Sunday class, the child shrank away frightened, and would say nothing but "No" in reply to her invitation. The others to whom she spoke were just as unresponsive. This was discouraging, but Beryl, undaunted, proceeded to take the elder sisters into her confidence, and got them to promise to bring the little ones to the cave on the following Sunday afternoon. Then, contented with the arrangement they had made, she and Coral went home.

During the rest of the week, Coral and Beryl talked and thought of little else but the Sunday class. They did not say a word about it to Lucy, for fear she should oppose their plans; but whenever they were alone they discussed the matter at great length. They hunted through the house for books suitable to read to their Sunday scholars, but could find hardly any that seemed of the right kind. Many a book was thrown aside, because the words were too long and difficult, and the matter they expressed was often quite beyond the comprehension of those who were taking upon themselves the work of teachers. At last, Beryl decided that it would be best to dispense with all books except the Bible and Lucy's hymn-book, which she lent them readily enough, without asking any questions as to the purpose for which it was required.

The children watched the sky with some anxiety on Saturday afternoon. How annoying it would be if rain came and spoiled all!

But Sunday dawned fair and bright, and the children's hearts beat high at the thought of their grand undertaking. Lucy took them to church in the morning, and she thought she had never known them so restless and fidgety. Miss Beryl, who had so improved of late, seemed suddenly to have returned to all her tiresome ways. The fact was the children were impatient for the long service to be over, and the afternoon to come.

As soon as they could, after dinner, Coral and Beryl escaped from Lucy's care, and went into the garden. From the garden, they soon made their way to the beach, and hurried along in the direction of the cave.

Early though they were, their scholars were earlier. There was quite a crowd of children gathered about the cave. And now Beryl began to feel nervous and doubtful of what she was going to do, though she would not allow Coral to suspect the least failure of self-confidence. She was dismayed to see so many great boys and girls in the party. Summoning her courage, she addressed herself to the little ones, and tried to coax them to sit down within the cave. This was a difficult matter, for they were shy and frightened, and seemed to have no notion of sitting still and keeping quiet. If one child was settled for a minute, another would start up and run away, and as soon as that one was brought back there would be a fresh defaulter. Beryl grew hot and cross in her endeavours to reduce to order this unruly school.

To add to her embarrassment, the elder boys and girls hung about the place, and seemed to derive great amusement from observing what was going on. In vain Beryl told them to go away. They moved off a few yards in obedience to her command, but had evidently no intention of going out of sight and hearing of what passed between her and her little scholars.

At last, after a great deal of trouble, Beryl managed to get the little ones seated in a row on the ground, with Coral closely guarding them to prevent their escape. Then Beryl began to read to them out of the Bible the story of Joseph. But Beryl's reading, as she stumbled over the long words, and paid not the least heed to punctuation, could not attract her audience.

The ignorant young scholars did not attend to her for a moment; they kicked and writhed, played the queerest pranks, pinched each other, and laughed and talked as if they had not the least idea of the purpose for which they were assembled.

At last Beryl closed her Bible in despair.

"It is of no use, Coral," she said; "we had better try to teach them a hymn."

This attempt was no more successful than former ones. But one child could Beryl persuade to repeat the words after her, and she only managed to imitate the sounds, and had clearly not the least notion of the meaning of what she said.

Beryl persevered as long as she could, in spite of a dreary sense of the futility of her efforts; but at last the attention of her brightest scholar was attracted by the sight of a sailing boat nearing the shore.

She started up, and, clapping her hands with delight, exclaimed, "Daddy's boat! Daddy's boat!"

Then darting out of the cave before Coral could stop her, she ran at full speed across the beach. The children outside also scampered off to meet the incoming boat, and this was the signal for the sudden break-up of the school.

In a moment, the class was in utter confusion, each child struggling to escape.

"Never mind, Coral; let them go!" exclaimed Beryl, in a tone of disgust, as Coral attempted to hold back the runaways. "It is of no use trying to teach them anything; they are the stupidest little things I ever saw."

"Oh, what a pity!" said Coral regretfully. "And I thought that biggest one was just beginning to learn something."

"I wish I had not tried to keep school," said Beryl, tears of disappointment in her eyes. "I could not have believed they would be so tiresome. And I did so want to do something for the kingdom."

"Perhaps they will behave better next Sunday," suggested Coral.

Beryl shook her head despondingly. She could not trust herself to speak, for she felt so inclined to cry, and she could not bear that even Coral should know how keenly wounded she was.

Without another word she quitted the cave, and with grave, downcast face marched homewards. Coral, taking up the Bible and hymn-book, which Beryl had forgotten in her despair, followed at a little distance.

Beryl strode on in silence till she reached the steps leading to the garden. There she paused, and waited for Coral to come up.

"Well, no one can say that I have not tried to do something for the kingdom," was Beryl's remark as Coral gained her side.

"I expect we are not big enough," said Coral.

"We don't know enough, perhaps," returned Beryl.

When they went into the house, Beryl slipped away from Coral and shut herself into their bedroom. She was there for a long time alone, and when she came down again she looked brighter and happier, though her eyes were very red, as though she had shed many tears in the solitude of her room.

"Coral," she said, "I have thought of what I will do."

"What?" asked Coral, eagerly.

"It is plain that those children will not listen to reading," said Beryl, in a tone of grave deliberation, "so I think I must try to tell them the Bible stories in my own words, and I've been thinking that if I could get some pictures, pretty coloured ones, you know, like those that I have in my scrapbook, it would make it easier for them to understand."

"What will the pictures be about?" asked Coral, full of wonder.

"Why, Bible pictures of course," replied Beryl. "We might be able to get one of Joseph in the coat of many colours, perhaps."

"But where will you get them?" asked Coral.

"Oh, I shall write and ask papa to send them to me," was Beryl's ready reply.

On the following day Beryl devoted much time to manufacturing a letter to her father, in which she begged him to procure her some beautiful coloured Bible pictures, the largest he could get, and to send them as quickly as possible. The letter, at which she toiled laboriously, was, when finished, a blurred, ill-written, and atrociously spelled epistle; but Beryl despatched it with but slight sense of shame. Her father would know what she meant, and that was enough, she thought.

Mr. Hollys, however, read his daughter's letter with considerable dismay. He forgot to wonder what had prompted her request in his horror at Beryl's peculiarities of orthography and penmanship.

"Dear, dear!" he said to himself, "This is a shocking production for a girl of eleven. Cecilia might have taught her to write and spell. But I must lose no time in finding a governess for her. I will call on Mrs. Everard to-morrow, and ask her advice on the subject. I dare say she can tell me how to secure the right person."