I, with the others, was very much delighted to welcome our visitors, but on my own account, rather nervous and excited to think that my trial was so near. Two or three times that afternoon, I stole out of the room to glance over my Bible lesson. I hardly know whether I most dreaded or longed to be called upon for my reading, and to have it over.
Soon after tea, my aunt sat down in a window seat, and called me to her side. Without many words, I took my little Testament from my pocket, opened at the fifth chapter of Matthew, and began reading very glibly,--"_And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain, and_"--
"Stop!" said my aunt, "you must not choose your own place to read--it's my business to do that!"
She then took the book from me, and actually opened at the first chapter. Now, my dear children, you remember, don't you, what this first chapter of Matthew's Gospel is? It is made up almost entirely of the hardest kind of Scripture names--many of which I should not like to be called upon to read aloud, even now. I felt my heart sink at once, and already mourned my book as lost. But I went to work quite calmly--I conquered four or five of the first names, then I began to stammer--then paused to spell them out in my mind--then stopped altogether.
My aunt said "a-hem!" and looked at me over her spectacles, with a queer, quizzical, "I've caught you!" sort of a look.
I dropped my head in shame and perplexity. My aunt sat still and stern, and awfully silent. At length, I looked up through the long hair that had fallen forward over my face, and said, as coaxingly as I knew how--
"You know, dear aunt, these are the names of great kings and patriarchs--and it's not just proper to read them over fast--is it?"
"Ah, you naughty girl," she replied--"that is a foolish get-off--it won't do. You cannot always expect to choose where and what you are to read. A _good_ reader will be at home anywhere. It is plain you do not deserve the book."
I was wretchedly disappointed and mortified; but I did not cry this time. I was too indignant for that. I did not plead for the lost book. I said nothing at all, but went out calmly enough to the gate, with the rest, to see our visitors off.