A Perfect Gentleman(3)
That horn was going to drive Matthew to Bedlam. Perhaps it wasn’t the toot itself, but the fact that when he thought the child was done and Matthew was able to return to drafting out the notes for his next sermon, the noise sounded again. On top of that, the horn was out of tune. How could anyone work with such noise?
With the quill poised and ready to dip into the ink he waited. The horn had sounded six times already. Was it safe to continue or would the racket begin once more? He counted to ten. Nothing. He dipped the quill. Still nothing. Finally, silence.
Matthew put the tip to parchment. The horn screeched and a shout rang out. Startled, his arm jerked and the quill scratched across the parchment, ruining the entire page. He shoved back his chair, stood and marched to the window. He arrived just in time to see stacks of wood from a small, poorly built fort, tumble to the ground. Children stood around the structure cheering. In the middle of this group was Miss Cooper. It was Sunday afternoon, why were these children not home with their families? He turned from the window, grabbed his coat and stomped out the back door of the parsonage and strode to the park-like setting behind the church.
A little girl with blond curls looked up at the young woman. “Did it happen just like that, Miss Cooper?”
“Something like that. But Jericho was much, much bigger. Why, the walls that fell surrounded an entire city.”
The children’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
An eager young boy pulled at her skirt. “What happened next?”
She turned to one of the older lads. “Perhaps you should read, James.”
A boy, whom Matthew assumed was James, picked up the Bible lying on a blanket under the tree. The children gathered around him and settled on the ground to hear more of the accounting.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cooper, children.”
Miss Cooper jumped and turned to look at him. A hand came up to her throat as if startled by his presence. The children became silent in an instant, their eyes wide, almost as if they were frightened of him. He couldn’t imagine why. They didn’t even know him and he certainly wasn’t someone who instilled fear in children. At least he didn’t think he did.
“Vicar Trent, what a surprise.”
For a moment, he was taken aback. He had never seen such green eyes sparkle with happiness before. It must be the sun’s reflection because he was sure they were not as green this morning outside of the church. Some of her hair had come loose and rich, mahogany curls framed her face. He took his focus off of her and looked around at the gathering. “Might I ask what you are doing?”
“Reenacting the fall of Jericho.” She answered and gestured to the logs lying on the ground. “As you can see, the walls have now fallen.”
“To what purpose?”
“This is Sunday School. We have lessons every Sunday after the meal.”
Matthew glanced at Miss Cooper and then the children. He moved away from the gathering and gestured for Miss Cooper to follow him to a place further from the children.
She frowned and followed him.
Matthew glanced behind them. The children should not be able to hear them.
“I thought Sunday school was for learning how to read, write and other such things, Matthew asked in a low voice.
She brought her hand up to her chin and appeared to give his words some consideration for a moment. “I suppose that is one purpose.”
“Then shouldn’t the children be reading from their Bible instead of playacting.”
Her face lit with excitement. “They learn so much more when they can pretend and take parts.”
“So they have already read the story.” Perhaps he needed to explain to her the reason for Sunday school so she could go about teaching the children in a proper way. It was a fairly new concept for the purpose of educating the poor, teaching them to read, write, cipher, and such.
“No, I told them. We were just about to read what came next.”
Miss Cooper clearly did not understand her role as the teacher. Perhaps she was too young. Maybe there was someone who was better suited for the position, such as an older, mature woman who would not want to play with the students. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and thought about how to explain.
“I am glad you are going to read now, but wouldn’t the children learn more if they had read the story from the beginning?”
She shook her head and frowned. “They enjoy this part and I see no harm.”
“No harm?” He threw his hands up and paced before her. “The children need to learn how to read, understand grammar. They cannot do that if you tell them the stories they are to read for themselves.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Vicar Trent, the purpose of this Sunday School is to teach Bible stories.”
He stopped and stared at her. “Then who is teaching them to read, and all those other subjects children need to learn in school?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the young woman was beyond frustrating. A few of the children glanced over at him.
“Mr. Petty, the school teacher,” Miss Cooper leaned in and whispered. “Once they are of age, the children attend during the week.”
He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Nobody told him there was a school in the village.
Grace glanced back at the children. They were having such fun until he came along. Now they were frightened as poor rabbits cornered by a fox. His stance was so rigid and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile. He was much too serious. “Would you care to join us? The children would learn so much more from you, I am sure.”
His eyes grew wide, his mouth formed an odd shape, as if he had tasted something quite horrid and he took a step back. “I do not think so, Miss Cooper.”
“Miss Cooper?”
She turned to James. “Yes?”
“What is pro… st . . prost… I don’t know this word.”
How could she have forgotten Rahab was a prostitute? Heat infused her cheeks. She certainly didn’t want to explain such a profession. “Don’t worry about it,” She called back to him before she turned to face Vicar Trent. His mouth was pursed, the left side tilted at a slight angle, his left eyebrow raised. Was he smirking at her? How dare he!
Her face burned. She turned her back on the man and looked back at James. “What is important is that Rahab hid the spies and helped Joshua.”
The boy shrugged his shoulders and appeared happy with the explanation.
“Why don’t you children pick up the wood and stack it so Vicar Trent will have kindling for his fire.”
Without a word, they went to work, gathering the branches and small logs and she focused her attention back on Vicar Trent’s light blue eyes and a mixture of mortification, vexation and embarrassment settled into the pit of her stomach. This second impression was worse than the first, and she had only met him three hours ago.
He turned and walked away from her and the children, his hands clasped behind his back. Grace hurried to catch up and matched her steps with his. Not sure how to proceed, she too clasped her hands behind her and mimicked his movements.
“Explain to me, Miss Cooper, why it is necessary to have Sunday school when there is already a school?”
Did the man not listen before? “To teach them Bible stories.”
“Why can’t they be taught in school?” He continued walking, his head down, as if he was pondering her questions and answers.
“There is not enough time.”
He stopped and turned to look at her. “Are they not in school all day?”
Why did she feel like she was in trouble somehow when she had done nothing wrong? “No. Only in the morning. Many of the children are needed at home for chores.”
“Ah.” He nodded his head, turned and continued to walk.
“Very few villages have schools. We are lucky to have Mr. Petty. He tutored all of Lord Crews’ boys, until they were old enough to go to school. The council offered him a cottage and a small pittance if he would stay and teach.”
“I see,” Vicar Trent mumbled.
What did he see?
“And this Mr. Petty does not have time to add Biblical teachings to his lessons?”
“I already said he did not.” Could this man not remember what was said to him but a few moments ago? Did he have an ailment of some sort which affected his memory?
Vicar Trent stopped and brought his hand up to rub his chin. “Perhaps I should speak to this teacher.”
Grace stepped in front of him and fought the panic. “Please, do not.”
He looked down at her. “Why ever not?”
She had to make her argument convincing, but who was he to decide to make changes after living in the village for not even a full week. She fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. “As I said, he does not have time. And second, teaching Sunday school is my job.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “They pay you to teach these children?”
She took a step back, a bit offended by his tone, as if she were not worthy. “Yes, they do.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his right foot. If that wasn’t bad enough, he narrowed his eyes as if judging her. “Exactly what are you qualifications?”
Qualifications? Did one now need to be qualified to teach children the Bible? “I love children and I know the Bible.”
“It sounded to me as if you were merely playing?”