A Missionary Twig Part 7

"It is a book to help us find all those verses in the Bible you have been asking me about. You see I'm not as good and wise as your friend Mrs. Howell, and don't know as much about the Bible as she does."

"You're every bit as good," declared Marty, who by this time had got both arms around her mother's waist as she stood on the rug, and was looking up in her face lovingly, "and you will be as wise when you are as old, for she is a great deal older than you."

Her father and mother both laughed at Marty's earnestness, and Mr.

Ashford said,

"That's right, Marty. Stand up for your mother."

They found the concordance very useful, and from time to time spent many happy hours searching the Scriptures with its aid, comparing pa.s.sages and talking them over. Not only did they find texts for the band, but other subjects were traced through the sacred pages. Occasionally Marty saw her mother busy with the concordance and Bible when she had not asked her a.s.sistance about verses.

It was while Marty was giving wholes instead of tenths and the red box was so well filled, that it met with an accident that disfigured it for life. Though the occurrence was a sad and humiliating one for Marty, it led to good results.

She had the box out one day and was counting the money, although she knew precisely how much there was. As a good deal of it was in pennies it made quite a noise, so that Freddie, attracted by the bright outside and noisy inside, thought he would like to have the box to play with. He asked Marty to give it to him, but she, busy with her counting, answered rather sharply,

"No, indeed; you can't have it. Go away, now. Don't touch!"

But Freddie was very quick in his movements, and before she could get it out of his reach he had seized it and shaken the contents all over the floor. Marty, very angry at having her beautiful box treated so roughly, and seeing the money rolling about in all directions, cried in loud tones,

"Let go, you naughty boy! You'll break it!"

Freddie, now angry also, and determined to have what he wanted, held on manfully, screaming, "Dive it to me! dive it to me!" and in the struggle a small piece was broken off the lid.

Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room, and arrived in time to see Marty strike Freddie with one hand while she held the box high above her head with the other. Freddie was pounding her with all his little strength and crying uproariously.

"Marty, Marty!" called Mrs. Ashford, "don't strike your little brother.

What is the matter? Come here, Freddie."

But Freddie stamped his foot and screamed, "Will have it! Will have pretty box!" and Marty wailed, "Oh! he's broken my lovely box and spilled all my money."

It was some time before peace was fully restored, though Marty was soon very repentant for what she had done and Freddie's ill-temper never lasted very long. After standing a while with his face to the wall, as was his custom on such occasions, crying loudly, the little tempest was all over. He turned around, and putting up his hands to wipe his eyes said pitifully,

"My teeks are so wet, and I have no hamit.i.tch to dry them."

"Come here and I'll dry them," said his mother, taking him on her knee.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room. Page 58]

"My chin is all wet," he said.

"So it is, but we'll dry all your face."

"And my hands are all wet."

"What a poor little wet boy!" said his mother tenderly, but cheerfully too.

After making him comfortable she said,

"Now are you sorry you were such a naughty boy?"

He nodded his head, and turning to Marty, who was crawling around gathering up her money, he said, "Sorry, Marty."

Marty crept up to him, and kissing over and over the little arm she had struck, said with eyes full of tears,

"You dear little darling, you don't know how awfully sorry Marty is for being so bad to you!"

Then they rubbed their curly heads together until Freddie began to laugh, and in a few moments he was playing with his tin horse as merrily as if nothing had happened, while Marty gathered up and put away her treasures.

"Now, Marty," said her mother, "you must keep that out of Freddie's sight. He is nothing but a baby, and doesn't know that it is any different from any other box. Let me see where it is broken. Perhaps I can mend it."

"No, mamma," said Marty, "I don't want it mended. I am going to let it be this way to remind me of how naughty I was to my dear little brother, and maybe it will keep me from getting so angry with him again.

It does seem dreadful, too, to think that just when I'm trying to be good to children away over the sea, I should be partic'lerly bad to my own little brother, doesn't it?"

"I sha'n't say a word," replied her mother, "for I see you can rebuke yourself."

So the broken missionary box was a constant reminder to Marty that her work for those far away should make her all the more loving to the dear ones at home.

CHAPTER VIII.

"NOT IN THE GOOD TIMES."

One Sat.u.r.day afternoon as Edith and Marty entered the room where the meetings of the band were held, half a dozen girls rushed to them, exclaiming,

"Oh, what do you think! Mary Cresswell has a letter from Mrs. C----!"

How eager they all were to hear that letter! As soon as the opening exercises were over, Miss Walsh told Mary she might read it. The young secretary looked quite proud and important as she unfolded the letter, very tenderly, indeed, for it was written on thin paper, as foreign letters are, and she was afraid of tearing it.

After speaking very nicely of the letter she had received from them, Mrs. C---- went on to tell them something about Lah.o.r.e and about the school they were interested in. She said:

"You must not imagine a well-arranged schoolroom with desks, maps, black-boards, and so on. We cannot afford anything like that, and in any case it would be useless to the kind of pupils we have. We pay a woman a little for the use of part of the room in which she lives, and while the school is in session she goes on with her work in one corner. This room is quite dark, as, having no windows, all the light it receives is from the door. It has no furniture to speak of. The teacher and pupils sit on the earth floor."

She then described the dress of the little girls, which certainly did not appear to be very comfortable for the cool weather they sometimes have in North India, and said, "No matter how poor and scanty the clothing, they must have some kind of jewelry, even if it is only gla.s.s or bra.s.s bangles. They are anything but cleanly, as they are not taught in their own homes to be so; besides, some of their customs are considerably against cleanliness. For instance, they must not wash themselves at all for a certain length of time after the death of relatives. So it sometimes happens the children come to school in a very dirty condition."

These children, Mrs. C---- said, were bright and learned quite readily.

She mentioned some of the hymns and Scripture verses they knew, and some of the answers they had given to questions she put to them.

"But the great difficulty is," she wrote, "they are taken away from school so young to be married and thus lost to us. Still it is good to think that they receive some religious instruction, and matters in regard to girls and women in India are gradually improving. Not quite so much stress is laid on child-marriage; indeed, some native societies are being formed for the purpose of opposing this custom, and many more girls are allowed to attend school than used to be the case.

"But there is room yet for great improvement. You, my young friends, in your happy childhood and girlhood, cannot conceive the miseries of these poor little creatures. Thank G.o.d your lot is cast in a Christian land, and oh! do all you can to send the gospel light into these dark places of the earth."

The girls had a great deal to say about this letter, and as it was sewing afternoon, Miss Walsh allowed them to talk over their work instead of having any reading.

"Somebody told me," said little Daisy Roberts, "that in India they don't care as much about girls as boys, and sometimes they kill the girl babies. Is that so?"

"Yes," replied Miss Walsh. "It used to be a very common custom, and is still so to some extent, though the British Government has done much to stop it."