"
"There is a tendency among modern translators," began Mr.
McClintock, "a tendency which I deplore, to render the word
'chasteneth' as 'teacheth or directeth.' This rendering, in my
opinion, is regrettably lax. We will therefore confine our attention
to the older version. It is my belief that. . . ."
Desire listened attentively to a lengthy and blood-curdling
exposition of this belief and was still in the daze which followed
the hearty singing of the doxology on top of it when the assistant
Sunday School Superintendent asked her to take a class. He was a
very hot assistant and a very hurried one. Even while he spoke to
Desire his eye wandered past her to some of his flock who were
escaping by the church door.
"Do take a class, Mrs. Spence," he urged.
"Do you mean teach one?" asked Desire. "I'm sorry, but I don't know
how."
"Beg pardon? Oh, but of course you do. It is only for today. We are
so short. You will do splendidly, I'm sure. They are very little
girls and it's in the Old Testament."
"But I don't--"
"Oh, that will be quite all right. It's Moses. Quite easy."
"I have never--"
"It doesn't matter, really. Just the plain story, you know. I find
myself the best way is to adopt a cheerful, conversational manner
and keep them from asking questions. At that age they never ask the
right ones. Stump you every time if you're not careful. Give them
the facts. They'll understand them later."
"I don't understand them myself," objected Desire.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199