I refused to take that class in Sunday School the first time I was asked. It was not that I objected to teaching in the Sunday School. On the contrary I rather liked the idea; but it was the . 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 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 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 . 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 for half an hour before she mentioned the Sunday School, and paid me several compliments. Mrs. Allan is famous for her . Tact is a for 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 . 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. But the truth was, Anne Shirley was in that class; and Anne Shirley was the one living human being that I was afraid of. Not that I disliked her. But she had such a habit of asking , unexpected questions, which a Philadelphia lawyer couldn’t answer. Miss Rogerson had that class once and Anne routed her, horse, foot and . I wasn’t going to undertake a class with a walking interrogation point in it like that. Besides, I thought Mrs. Allan required a slight snub. Ministers’ wives are rather apt to think they can run everything and everybody, if they are not wholesomely corrected now and again.
 
“It is not what I like best that must be considered, Mrs. Allan,” I said . “It is what is best for those boys. I feel that I shall be best for THEM.”
 
“Oh, I’ve no doubt of that, Miss MacPherson,” said Mrs. Allan . It was a fib for her, minister’s wife though she was. She HAD doubt. She thought I would be a failure as teacher of a boys’ class.
 
But I was not. I am not often a dismal failure when I make up my mind to do a thing. I am noted for that.
 
“It is wonderful what a reformation you have worked in that class, Miss MacPherson—wonderful,” said the Rev. Mr. Allan some weeks later. He didn’t mean to show how amazing a thing he thought it that an old maid noted for being a man hater should have managed it, but his face betrayed him.
 
“Where does Jimmy Spencer live?” I asked him crisply. “He came one Sunday three weeks ago and hasn’t been back since. I mean to find out why.”
 
Mr. Allan coughed.
 
“I believe he is hired as handy boy with Alexander Abraham Bennett, out on the White Sands road,” he said.
 
“Then I am going out to Alexander Abraham Bennett’s on the White Sands road to see why Jimmy Spencer doesn’t come to Sunday school,” I said firmly.
 
Mr. Allan’s eyes twinkled ever so slightly. I have always insisted that if that man were not a minister he would have a sense of humour.
 
“Possibly Mr. Bennett will not appreciate your kind interest! He has—ah—a singular aversion to your sex, I understand. No woman has ever been known to get inside of Mr. Bennett’s house since his sister died twenty years ago.”
 
“Oh, he is the one, is he?” I said, remembering. “He is the woman hater who threatens that if a woman comes into his yard he’ll chase her out with a pitch-fork. Well, he will not chase ME out!”
 
Mr. Allan gave a —a ministerial chuckle, but still a chuckle. It irritated me slightly, because it seemed to imply that he thought Alexander Abraham Bennett would be one too many for me. But I did not show Mr. Allan that he annoyed me. It is always a great mistake to let a man see that he can you.
 
The next afternoon I harnessed my sorrel to the buggy and drove down to Alexander Abraham Bennett’s. As usual, I took William Adolphus with me for company. William Adolphus is my favourite among my six cats. He is black, with a white dicky and beautiful white paws. He sat up on the seat beside me and looked far more like a gentleman than many a man I’ve seen in a similar position.
 
Alexander Abraham’s place was about three miles along the White Sands road. I knew the house as soon as I came to it by its neglected appearance. It needed paint badly; the blinds were and torn; weeds grew up to the very door. Plainly, there was no woman about THAT place. Still, it was a nice house, and the barns were splendid. My father always said that when a man’s barns were bigger than his house it was a sign that his income exceeded his . So it was all right that they should be bigger; but it was all wrong that they should be trimmer and better painted. Still, thought I, what else could you expect of a woman hater?
 
“But Alexander Abraham evidently knows how to run a farm, even it he is a woman hater,” I remarked to William Adolphus as I got out and tied the pony to the railing.
 
I had driven up to the house from the back way and now I was opposite a side door opening on the . I thought I might as well go to it, so I tucked William Adolphus under my arm and marched up the path. Just as I was half-way up, a dog around the front corner and made straight for me. He was the ugliest dog I had ever seen; and he didn’t even bark—just came silently and speedily on, with a business-like eye.
 
I never stop to argue matters with a dog that doesn’t bark. I know when is the better part of valour. Firmly clasping William Adolphus, I ran—not to the door, because the dog was between me and it, but to a big, low-branching cherry tree at the back corner of the house. I reached it in time and no more. First thrusting William Adolphus on to a limb above my head, I up into that blessed tree without stopping to think how it might look to Alexander Abraham if he happened to be watching.
 
My time for reflection came when I found myself perched half way up the tree with William Adolphus beside me. William Adolphus was quite calm and unruffled. I can hardly say with what I was. On the contrary, I admit that I felt upset.
 
The dog was sitting on his haunches on the ground below, watching us, and it was quite plain to be seen, from his manner, that it was not his busy day. He bared his teeth and when he caught my eye.
 
“You LOOK like a woman hater’s dog,” I told him. I meant it for an insult; but the beast took it for a compliment.
 
Then I set myself to solving the question, “How am I to get out of this predicament?”
 
It did not seem easy to solve it.
 
“Shall I scream, William Adolphus?” I demanded of that intelligent animal. William Adolphus shook his head. This is a fact. And I agreed with him.
 
“No, I shall not scream, William Adolphus,” I said. “There is probably no one to hear me except Alexander Abraham, and I have my painful doubts about his tender mercies. Now, it is impossible to go down. Is it, then, William Adolphus, possible to go up?”
 
I looked up. Just above my head was an open window with a tolerably branch extending right across it.
 
“Shall we try that way, William Adolphus?” I asked.
 
William Adolphus, wasting no words, began to climb the tree. I followed his example. The dog ran in circles about the tree and looked things not to be uttered. It probably would have been a relief to him to bark if it hadn’t been so against his principles.
 
I got in by the window easily enough, and found myself in a bedroom the like of which for and dust and general awfulness I had never seen in all my life. But I did not pause to take in details. With William Adolphus under my arm I marched downstairs, hoping I should meet no one on the way.
 
I did not. The hall below was empty and dusty. I opened the first door I came to and walked boldly in. A man was sitting by the window, looking out. I should have known him for Alexander Abraham anywhere. He had just the same uncared-for, appearance that the house had; and yet, like the house, it seemed that he would not be bad looking if he were trimmed up a little. His hair looked as if it had never been combed, and his whiskers were wild in the extreme.
 
He looked at me with blank in his .
 
“Where is Jimmy Spencer?” I demanded. “I have come to see him.”
 
“How did he ever let you in?” asked the man, staring at me.
 
“He didn’t let me in,” I retorted. “He chased me all over the lawn, and I only saved myself from being torn by up a tree. You ought to be for keeping such a dog! Where is Jimmy?”
 
Instead of answering Alexander Abraham began to laugh in a most unpleasant fashion.
 
“Trust a woman for getting into a man’s house if she has made up her mind to,” he said disagreeably.
 
Seeing that it was his intention to vex me I remained cool and collected.
 
“Oh, I wasn’t particular about getting into your house, Mr. Bennett,” I said calmly. “I had but little choice in the matter. It was get in lest a worse fate befall me. It was not you or your house I wanted to see—although I admit that it is worth seeing if a person is anxious to find out how dirty a place CAN be. It was Jimmy. For the third and last time—where is Jimmy?”
 
“Jimmy is not here,” said Mr. Bennett gruffly—but not quite so assuredly. “He left last week and hired with a man over at Newbridge.”
 
“In that case,” I said, picking up William Adolphus, who had been exploring the room with a disdainful air, “I won’t disturb you any longer. I shall go.”
 
“Yes, I think it would be the wisest thing,” said Alexander Abraham—not disagreeably this time, but reflectively, as if there was some doubt about the matter. “I’ll let you out by the back door. Then the—ahem!—the dog will not with you. Please go away quietly and quickly.”
 
I wondered if Alexander Abraham thought I would go away with a . But I said nothing, thinking this the most course of conduct, and I followed him out to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as he could have wished. Such a kitchen!
 
Alexander Abraham opened the door—which was locked—just as a buggy containing two men drove into the yard.
 
“Too late!” he exclaimed in a tone. I understood that something dreadful must have happened, but I did not care, since, as I fondly supposed, it did not concern me. I pushed out past Alexander Abraham—who was looking as guilty as if he had been caught burglarizing—and came face to face with the man who had sprung from the buggy. It was old Dr. Blair, from Carmody, and he was looking at me as if he had found me shoplifting.
 
“My dear Peter,” he said gravely, “I am VERY sorry to see you here—very sorry indeed.”
 
I admit that this me. Besides, no man on earth, not even my own family doctor, has any right to “My dear Peter” me!
 
“There is no loud call for sorrow, doctor,” I said loftily. “If a woman, forty-eight years of age, a member of the Presbyterian church in good and regular , cannot call upon one of her Sunday School scholars without all the , how old must she be before she can?”
 
The doctor did not answer my question. Instead, he looked reproachfully at Alexander Abraham.
 
“Is this how you keep your word, Mr. Bennett?” he said. “I thought that you promised me that you would not let anyone into the house.”
 
“I didn’t let her in,” growled Mr. Bennett. “Good heavens, man, she climbed in at an upstairs window, despite the presence on my grounds of a policeman and a dog! What is to be done with a woman like that?”
 
“I do not understand what all this means,” I said addressing myself to the doctor and ignoring Alexander Abraham , “but if my presence here is so extremely to all concerned, you can soon be relieved of it. I am going at once.”
 
“I am very sorry, my dear Peter,” said the doctor impressively, “but that is just what I cannot allow you to do. This house is under quarantine for . You will have to stay here.”
 
Smallpox! For the first and last time in my life, I openly lost my temper with a man. I wheeled furiously upon Alexander Abraham.
 
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I cried.
 
“Tell you!” he said, glaring at me. “When I first saw you it was too late to tell you. I thought the kindest thing I could do was to hold my tongue and let you get away in happy ignorance. This will teach you to take a man’s house by storm, madam!”
 
“Now, now, don’t quarrel, my good people,” interposed the doctor seriously—but I saw a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll have to spend some time together under the same roof and you won’t improve the situation by disagreeing. You see, Peter, it was this way. Mr. Bennett was in town yesterday—where, as you are aware, there is a bad outbreak of smallpox—and took dinner in a boarding-house where one of the maids was ill. Last night she developed unmistakable symptoms of smallpox. The Board of Health at once got after all the people who were in the house yesterday, so far as they could locate them, and put them under quarantine. I came down here this morning and explained the matter to Mr. Bennett. I brought Jeremiah Jeffries to guard the front of the house and Mr. Bennett gave me his word of honour that he would not let anyone in by the back way while I went to get another policeman and make all the necessary arrangements. I have brought Thomas Wright and have secured the services of another man to attend to Mr. Bennett’s barn work and bring provisions to the house. Jacob Green and Cleophas Lee will watch at night. I don’t think there is much danger of Mr. Bennett’s taking the smallpox, but until we are sure you must remain here, Peter.”
 
While listening to the doctor I had been thinking. It was the most predicament I had ever got into in my life, but there was no sense in making it worse.
 
“Very well, doctor,” I said calmly. “Yes, I was a month ago, when the news of the smallpox first came. When you go back through Avonlea go to Sarah Pye and ask her to live in my house during my absence and look after things, especially the cats. Tell her to give them new milk twice a day and a square inch of butter apiece once a week. Get her to put my two dark print wrappers, some , and some changes of underclothing in my third best valise and have it sent down to me. My pony is tied out there to the fence. Please take him home. That is all, I think.”
 
“No, it isn’t all,” said Alexander Abraham grumpily. “Send that cat home, too. I won’t have a cat around the place—I’d rather have smallpox.”
 
I looked Alexander Abraham over gradually, in a way I have, beginning at his feet and traveling up to his head. I took my time over it; and then I said, very quietly.
 
“You may have both. Anyway, you’ll have to have William Adolphus. He is under quarantine as well as you and I. Do you suppose I am going to have my cat ranging at large through Avonlea, smallpox germs among innocent people? I’ll have to put up with that dog of yours. You will have to endure William Adolphus.”
 
Alexander Abraham , but I could see that the way I had looked him over had chastened him considerably.
 
The doctor drove away, and I went into the house, not choosing to linger outside and be grinned at by Thomas Wright. I hung my coat up in the hall and laid my carefully on the table, having first dusted a clean place for it with my handkerchief. I longed to fall upon that house at once and clean it up, but I had to wait until the doctor came back with my wrapper. I could not clean house in my new suit and a silk shirtwaist.
 
Alexander Abraham was sitting on a chair looking at me. Presently he said,
 
“I am NOT curious—but will you kindly tell me why the doctor called you Peter?”
 
“Because that is my name, I suppose,” I answered, shaking up a cushion for William Adolphus and disturbing the dust of years.
 
Alexander Abraham coughed gently.
 
“Isn’t that—ahem!—rather a name for a woman?”
 
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