rich and rare,
had nearly been forgotten of late, but she might make them of use in
time--in time, and here were hives of children growing up in heathenism.
Suddenly an idea struck her--Richard, when at home, was a very diligent
teacher in the Sunday-school at Stoneborough, though it was a thankless
task, and he was the only gentleman so engaged, except the two
clergymen--the other male teachers being a formal, grave, little baker,
and one or two monitors.

"Richard," said Ethel, "I'll tell you what. Suppose we were to get up
a Sunday-school at Cocksmoor. We could get a room, and walk there every
Sunday afternoon, and go to church in the evening instead."

He was so confounded by the suddenness of the project, that he did not
answer, till she had time for several exclamations and "Well, Richard?"

"I cannot tell," he said. "Going to church in the evening would
interfere with tea-time--put out all the house--make the evening
uncomfortable."

"The evenings are horrid now, especially Sundays," said Ethel.

"But missing two more would make them worse for the others."

"Papa is always with Margaret," said Ethel. "We are of no use to him.
Besides these poor children--are not they of more importance?"

"And, then, what is to become of Stoneborough school?"

"I hate it," exclaimed Ethel; then seeing Richard shocked, and finding
she had spoken more vehemently than she intended--"It is not as bad
for you among the boys, but, while that committee goes on it is not
the least use to try to teach the girls right. Oh! the fusses about the
books, and one's way of teaching! And fancy how Mrs Ledwich used us.
You know I went again last Sunday, for the first time, and there I found
that class of Margaret's, that she had just managed to get into some
degree of nice order, taken so much pains with, taught so well. She
had been telling me what to hear them--there it is given away to
Fanny Anderson, who is no more fit to teach than that stick, and all
Margaret's work will be undone. No notice to us--not even the civility
to wait and see when she gets better."

"If we left them now for Cocksmoor, would it not look as it we were
affronted?"

Ethel was slightly taken aback, but only said, "Papa would be very angry
if he knew it."

"I am glad you did not tell him," said Richard.

"I thought it would only tease him," said Ethel, "and that he might
call it a petty female squabble; and when Margaret is well, it will come
right, if Fa