A Missionary Twig Part 9

"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.

Marty was very much interested in what Mrs. Scott said, and asked a question or two on her own account.

"Who stays with your little girl when you are away?"

"Bless your sweet eyes! n.o.body stays with her. She just lies there her lone self, unless some of the other children in the house run in and out, but mostly she doesn't want their noise."

"How long has she been in bed?"

"Most of the time for eight months, miss," replied the poor mother with a sigh.

"Doesn't she ever sit up in the rocking-chair?"

"We have no rocking-chair, but sometimes when I go home from work, or the days I have no work, I hold her in my arms a bit to rest her."

"Has she got anything to amuse her?"

"Yes, she has a picture-book I got her last Christmas."

"Mamma!" exclaimed Marty, as soon as the door closed behind Mrs. Scott, "just think of lying in bed since Christmas, and now it's the first of May, with nothing but _one_ picture-book!"

"Ah! Marty," said her mother, "there are many people in the world who have very hard times."

"Well, I don't know them all, and I couldn't help them all if I did; but I feel that I know Jennie real well, and mayn't I give her some of my books and playthings? a whole lot, so that she wont be so lonesome when her mother's away."

"I was thinking of going to see her soon, and if you wish you may go too and carry her a picture-book or something of the sort."

Marty in her usual wholesale way would have carried half her possessions to Jennie, but Mrs. Ashford prevailed upon her to limit her gift to a small book and a few bright cards.

"You would better see Jennie first," she said. "She may not care for books and may be too miserable to care much for playthings."

It happened the day they fixed upon to go Mrs. Ashford brought home from market a small measure of strawberries, though they were yet somewhat expensive. Marty, seeing them on the lunch-table, nearly went wild over them, being very fond of the fruit, but her mother noticed that after she was served she barely tasted them, and then sat with the spoon in her hand gravely thinking.

"Don't you like them after all, Marty?"

"O mamma, they're perfectly delicious! I was just thinking how good they would taste to Jennie. Can't we take her some of them?"

"I am afraid there are none to spare. You know Katie must have some, and I want to save a few for your papa."

"I might take her mine," said Marty slowly. "I've only eaten one." But she looked at the berries longingly.

"That would be too much of a sacrifice, I fear," said Mrs. Ashford, "but I'll tell you what we will do if you are willing. You set yours aside for Jennie and I will give you half of mine, and then we will all have some."

Marty was afraid it would not be fair to have her mother make a sacrifice also, but Mrs. Ashford declared she should like it of all things, and was very glad Marty had thought of taking some berries to Jennie.

So the strawberries were put in a basket with two gla.s.ses of jelly, some nice rusks that Katie was famous for making, and a closely-covered dish of chicken broth. Marty had her parcel ready, and they set out on their expedition.