Publisher's Synopsis
The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, which had made its asphaltspringy like turf, when suddenly the children threw themselves out of the great doors at either endof the Sunday-school-boys from the right, girls from the left-in two howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full ofclamour and movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid tints, and proudlyexhibited these volumes to their companions and to the teachers, who, tall, languid, andcondescending, soon began to appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl oftwelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and heavy straw hat, stood quietlykicking her foal-like legs against the wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once ortwice she took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with a vague smile ofsatisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed expectantly on the doorway; then they wouldwander, and she started to count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on threesides enclosed the yard-chapel, school, lecture-hall, and chapel-keeper's house. Most of thechildren had already squeezed through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steamcar was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense shadow. The teachersremained a little behind. Gradually dropping the pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuoussensation of duty accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew amiablyvivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual complacency the two sexes mixed againafter separation. Greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; andthen, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women slowly followed their pupils outof the gate. The chapel-keeper, who always had an injured expression, left the white step of hisresidence, and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the side-windows of thechapel one after another. As he approached the little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctantacid recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone.'Well, young lady?'She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her little shoulders, whenshe recognised the two men who were coming towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. Theone who had called out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school andconductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday afternoons. The other wasWilliam Price, usually styled Willie Price, secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the afternoon superintenden