It was a hot-dinner Sunday at the cottage.  These occurred alternately; on the in between Sundays Julia, supported by Johnny and the Captain, went to church.  On those sacred to hot dinners she stayed at home and did the cooking, the Captain staying with her.  Mr. Gillat used to also in the winter, but lately, during the spring, he had been induced to teach in the Sunday school, and now went every Sunday to the village, first to teach and afterwards to conduct his class to church.

It was Mr. Stevens, the Rector of Halgrave, who had made this surprising suggestion to Mr. Gillat.  He, good man, had in the course of time been to see his parishioners at the remote cottage, grinding along the deep sandy road on his heavy old tricycle; but it was not during the visit that he thought of Johnny as a teacher; it was when he made further acquaintance with him at Halgrave.  Johnny was the member of the party who went most often to the village shop; he liked the expedition, it gave him a feeling of importance; he also liked gossiping with the woman who kept the shop, and he dearly loved meeting the village children.  On one of these occasions, when Johnny was engaged in making peace between two little girls—­little girls were his specialty—­the rector met him and it was then it occurred to him that Mr. Gillat might help in the school.  It was not much of an honour, the school was in rather a bad way just now, and boasted no other teachers than the rector and a raspy-tempered girl of sixteen, but Johnny was much flattered.  He thought he ought to refuse; he was quite sure he could not teach; the idea of his doing so was certainly new and strange; he was also sure he was not virtuous enough.  But in the end he was persuaded to try; Julia told him that he might hear the catechism with an open book, choose the Bible tales he was surest of, to read and explain, and have his class of little girls to tea very often.  So it came about that Mr. Gillat set out Sunday after Sunday to school, and if his reading and expounding of the Scriptures was less in accord with modern light than the traditions that held in the childhood of the nation, no one minded; the children at Halgrave were not painfully sharp, and they soon got to love Mr. Gillat with a friendly lemon-droppish love which was not critical.

Captain Polkington did not approve of the Sunday-school teaching, especially on those days when he had to clean the knives.  The Sunday when Joost Van Heigen came was one of these.  The Captain watched Mr. Gillat’s preparations with a disgusted face; at last he remarked, “I wonder if you think you do any good by this nonsense?”

Johnny, who had got as far as the doorstep, stopped and considered rather as if the idea had just occurred to him.

“There must be teachers,” he said at length, looking round at the open landscape; “and there aren’t many about.”

“You are a fine teacher!” the Captain sneered.

Mr. Gillat rubbed his finger along the edge of the Bible he carried.  “I was wild,” he confessed; “yes, I was, I don’t think—­but then the rector said—­and Julia—­”