Part 9 (1/2)

”We'd be working for our missionary money then, shouldn't we?” remarked one of the girls.

”Yes, _indeed_!” replied another, with a laugh and shrug. She was not fond of committing to memory.

”It's a good way, though,” said Marty, standing up for Edith's suggestion, ”and I'm going to start right in and learn something. Miss Agnes, I wonder how much they'd give for the 119th Psalm?”

Marty asked this in real earnest, and although Miss Walsh felt like smiling, she answered gravely,

”I don't think it is quite the right spirit in which to study the Bible, Marty--doing it only for the sake of the money, even if the money is for missions.”

”Oh! I shouldn't do it _just_ for the money, but I thought if I could get more for a long Psalm than for a short one, I'd rather learn the long one, and have more missionary money. But I shouldn't want to do it if it was wrong, you know,” Marty added, looking distressed.

”I know you would not,” said Miss Walsh kindly. ”I have no doubt your motives are all right, though you can hardly explain them. I can understand that you would be willing to do considerable hard work for missions, and I am glad of your willingness and enthusiasm. They help me.”

Then Marty looked radiant.

There were other plans proposed, and every one had so much to say that Miss Walsh had some trouble in getting the meeting to break up.

CHAPTER IX.

JENNIE.

”I do b'lieve,” said Marty one day, after she had been a member of the mission-band for several months, ”I do b'lieve that hearing so much about the poor little children in India and China and those places, and trying to do something to help them, makes me feel far more like helping poor children here at home. Now, there's Jennie--I know I shouldn't have thought much about her if I hadn't been thinking of those far-away children.”

This was after she had made some sacrifices for the benefit of poor little Jennie, and this is the way she first came to know of her.

When the spring house-cleaning was going on, Mrs. Ashford's regular helper one day could not come and sent another woman. In the evening when Mrs. Ashford went into the kitchen to pay this Mrs. Scott for her day's work, Marty, who had a great habit of following her mother around the house, went also. Mrs. Scott had just finished her supper, and after receiving her money and replying to Mrs. Ashford's pleasant remarks, she said hesitatingly, pointing to a saucer of very fine canned peaches which was part of her supper, but which she had apparently only tasted, ”Please, mem, may I take them splendid peaches home to my sick little girl? She can't eat nothin' at all hardly, and she would relish them, I know. If you'd jist give me the loan of an old bowl or somethin--”

”Oh! have you a sick child?” said Mrs. Ashford sympathizingly. ”She shall certainly have some peaches, but you must eat those yourself.

Katie, get--”

”Oh! no, mem,” protested Mrs. Scott, ”that's too much like beggin'. I jist wanted to take mine to her.”

”No, it isn't begging at all,” said Mrs. Ashford. ”I'm very glad you told me about your little girl. Katie, fill one of those small jars with peaches.”

Then Mrs. Ashford went into the pantry, and returning with two large oranges and some Albert biscuit, asked,

”Can you carry these also?”

Mrs. Scott was full of thanks, and said she knew such nice things would do Jennie a world of good.

”I can make enough to keep her warm in winter and get her plain vittles, but it isn't at all what she ought to have now, I know,” she said sorrowfully.

Mrs. Ashford asked what was the matter with Jennie and how long she had been ill. Mrs. Scott replied that she had hurt her back more than a year ago; and though she had been ”doctored” then and appeared to get a little better, since they moved to their present abode--for they came from a distant town--she had become worse and was now not able to walk at all, but was obliged to lie in bed, sometimes suffering much pain.

”How was she hurt?” Mrs. Ashford inquired.

”She fell down the stair,” was all the reply given, but Katie said afterward that she had heard that Jennie was thrown or pushed down stairs by her drunken father. She said poor Mrs. Scott had had a very hard life with this s.h.i.+ftless, drunken husband, who abused her and the children. All the children were dead now except Jennie, who was about a year older than Marty, and early in the winter ”old Scott,” as Katie called him, died himself from the effects of a hurt received in a fight while ”on a spree.” As Mrs. Scott had been ill part of the winter and unable to work much, she had got behind with her rent, and altogether had been having a very hard time.