dea; but it was the Rev. Mr. Allan who
asked me, and it had always been a matter of principle with me never
to do anything a man asked me to do if I could help it. I was noted
for that. It saves a great deal of trouble and it simplifies everything
beautifully. I had always disliked men. It must have been born in me,
because, as far back as I can remember, an antipathy to men and dogs
was one of my strongest characteristics. I was noted for that. My
experiences through life only served to deepen it. The more I saw of
men, the more I liked cats.

So, of course, when the Rev. Allan asked me if I would consent to take a
class in Sunday School, I said no in a fashion calculated to chasten
him wholesomely. If he had sent his wife the first time, as he did the
second, it would have been wiser. People generally do what Mrs. Allan
asks them to do because they know it saves time.

Mrs. Allan talked smoothly for half an hour before she mentioned the
Sunday School, and paid me several compliments. Mrs. Allan is famous
for her tact. Tact is a faculty for meandering around to a given point
instead of making a bee-line. I have no tact. I am noted for that. As
soon as Mrs. Allan's conversation came in sight of the Sunday School, I,
who knew all along whither it was tending, said, straight out,

"What class do you want me to teach?"

Mrs. Allan was so surprised that she forgot to be tactful, and answered
plainly for once in her life,

"There are two classes--one of boys and one of girls--needing a teacher.
I have been teaching the girls' class, but I shall have to give it up
for a little time on account of the baby's health. You may have your
choice, Miss MacPherson."

"Then I shall take the boys," I said decidedly. I am noted for my
decision. "Since they have to grow up to be men it's well to train
them properly betimes. Nuisances they are bound to become under any
circumstances; but if they are taken in hand young enough they may not
grow up to be such nuisances as they otherwise would and that will be
some unfortunate woman's gain." Mrs. Allan looked dubious. I knew she
had expected me to choose the girls.

"They are a very wild set of boys," she said.

"I never knew boys who weren't," I retorted.

"I--I--think perhaps you would like the girls best," said Mrs. Allan
hesitatingly. If it had not been for one thing--which I would never in
this world have admitted to Mrs. Allan--I might have liked the girls'
class best myself.