“Now children, Mrs. Spence is going to tell you about Moses.  Mrs. Spence is a newcomer.  We must make her welcome and show her how well behaved we are.”

“I’m not,” volunteered an angel-faced child with an engaging smile.

“I got a lickin’ on Friday,” added the round boy, who as sole member of his sex felt that he must stand up for it.

The assistant shook a finger at them cheerfully and hurried away.

Desire became the focus of all eyes and a watchful dumbness settled down upon them like a pall.  Frantically she tried to remember her instructions.  But never had a light conversational manner seemed more difficult to attain.

“I hope,” she faltered, seeking for a sympathetic entry, “that your regular teacher is not ill?”

The row of inquiring eyes showed no intelligence.

“Is she?” asked Desire, looking directly at the child opposite.

“Ma says she only thinks she is,” said the child.  The row rustled pleasantly.

“I understand,” went on Desire hastily, “that we are to talk about Moses.  How many here can tell me anything about Moses?”

The row of eyes blinked.  But Moses might have been a perfect stranger for any sign of recognition from their owners.

“Moses,” went on Desire, “was a very remarkable man.  In his age he seems even more remarkable—­”

A small hand shot up and an injured voice inquired:  “Please, teacher, don’t we have the Golden Text?”

“I suppose we do.”  There was evidently some technique here of which the hurried assistant had not informed her.  “We will have it now.  What is the Golden Text?”

Nobody seemed to know.

“I don’t see how we can have it, if you don’t know it,” said Desire mildly.

Another hand shot up.  “Please teacher, you say it first.”

There was also, then, an established order of precedence.

“I don’t know it, either,” said Desire.

This might have precipitated a deadlock.  But, fortunately, the row did not believe her.  They smiled stiffly.  Their smile revealed more clearly than anything else how unthinkable it was for a teacher not to know the Golden Text.  Desire, in desperation, remembered the paper-covered “Quarterly” which the assistant had put into her hands and, with a flash of inspiration, decided that what the children wanted was probably there.  She opened it feverishly and was delighted to discover “Golden Text” in large letters on the first page she looked at.  She read hastily.

“And thou Bethlehem in the land of Juda—­”

A whole row of hands shot up.  “Please teacher, that was last Christmas!” announced the class reproachfully.

With shame Desire noticed that the lessons in the Quarterly were dated.  But she was regaining something of her ordinary poise.

“You ought to know it, even if it is,” she remarked firmly.  This was more according to Hoyle.  The little boy’s hand answered it.