THE MOUNTAIN MISSION-BAND.

“I am very glad Marty came up here this summer, for I do believe, with her to help us, we shall get the mission-band started at last,” said pretty, blue-eyed Ruth Campbell, after they had all been talking for an hour or so as hard as their tongues could go.

When she had learned what her visitors' errand was, she had called her sister and brothers and had sent Hugh over for Maria and Joe Pratt. Then they had quite a conference on the shady porch, Ruth sewing busily all the while.

“I'm afraid I can't help much,” said Marty.

“Why, you have helped and are helping ever so much. You've got Evaline all worked up, and Maria too, and by telling us what you do in your band you have given us many hints for ours.”

“Now, Ruth,” said Evaline, “let's begin the band right away, so that we can have some meetings while Marty's here. You must be president, of course.”

“Evaline has it all settled,” said Ruth, laughing. Then turning to Almira she asked, “Which do you think would be best—just start a kind of temporary band and wait until school opens to organize, or organize now, trusting to persuade others to join?”

“I think it would be best to organize now. It will be easier to get them to join a band already started than it will be to get them stirred up to begin,” was Almira's opinion.

Then she wished to know what they would do about her. She wanted to belong, but then she was not a child.

“Do you know of any band, Marty, that has both children and young ladies?” she asked.

“No,” replied Marty. “In our church the young ladies have a band themselves.”

“But this isn't a church band; it's a neighborhood band,” Ruth interposed; “and as we haven't many folks up here, I think it will be well not to divide our forces, but to include all in one organization. Of course Almira must belong. I think, though, before organizing we had better see and invite some of the other neighbors. Effie, couldn't you and Maria go over to McKay's and see what they think of it?”

Effie, a gentle girl of thirteen, just as pretty and blue-eyed as her sister, thought she could.

Joe Pratt said he knew a boy he thought might come.

“How about the Smiths, Evaline? Do you think any of them would be interested?” Ruth inquired.

“Sophy might,” Evaline replied rather doubtfully.

“Well, you see her, wont you? They are not far from you.”

It was finally resolved that as everybody was so busy through the week during this harvesting season, a meeting should be held the next Sunday afternoon. The place chosen was a grove which was just half way between Mr. Stokes' and Mr. Campbell's. If, however, the day was not suitable for an out-door meeting, they were to assemble in Mr. Stokes' barn, a fine, new affair, much handsomer than his house, and occupying a commanding situation from which there was a beautiful view.

When everything was settled the children ran off to play, and Almira helped Ruth and her mother to get supper.

The next Sunday was a lovely day, not too warm, and the meeting in the grove was a decided success. Altogether there were fourteen present, though two were visitors, Marty and one of Capt. Smith's summer boarders, who came with Sophy. Ruth had a nice little programme made out, and after the exercises they organized. Ruth was elected president, Almira, for the present, secretary, and Hugh Campbell, treasurer. They decided as long as the weather remained pleasant to meet every Sunday afternoon. In winter, of course, they could not get together so frequently.

They had already had, and continued to have, many discussions about ways of earning their missionary money. One thing the boys thought of was to gather berries and sell them to the people in the valleys, mountain blackberries being esteemed very delicious. There would be plenty of work about that—first climbing the heights and then carrying their burdens for miles.

Ruth was so much taken with Marty's plan of making tenths the basis of what she gave to missions that she concluded to adopt the same plan.

“That's easy enough for you,” said Almira. “You have your salary and half the butter-money, but I have no income. You know we don't sell much butter. I'll have to think of some other way to earn a little money.”

“Well, do hurry and think what we can do, Almira,” said Evaline fretfully. She depended on her sister always to do the thinking. “I'm afraid we wont have anything to give.”

“I am thinking,” said Almira.

The result was she asked her father if he would let her and Evaline have a strip of the field adjoining the garden next summer, where they might raise vegetables. When he consented she asked Mrs. Dutton at the hotel if she would buy these vegetables. To this Mrs. Dutton, who knew the good quality of everything from the Stokes farm, and what a “capable” girl Almira was, readily agreed.

“There now, Eva,” said Almira, “by weeding and gathering vegetables you can earn your missionary money.”

“But, Almira,” said Marty, “how will you ever get the things down to the hotel?”

“Well, the evenings Hiram has to go to Trout Run to meet the market train, he can take my baskets for the next day along. Other days, if I can't do any better, I can harness Nelly and take them down in the morning myself before she is needed in the fields.”

“You'd have to get up awfully early.”

“Oh, yes!” said Almira, laughing. “I'll have to get up about three o'clock, I suppose, to have the things ready in time.”

“Three o'clock!” exclaimed Marty in dismay.

“There's going to be plenty of hard work about your missionary money, Almira,” said Mrs. Ashford.

“Oh, I'm willing to do the work,” replied Almira. “From all Ruth says, it is a cause worth working for.”

“Yes; but all that wont be till next summer—a year off,” objected Evaline. “How are we going to get any money sooner?”

But Almira had another plan.

“Father,” she said, one evening, “instead of hiring an extra hand this fall to sort and barrel apples, wont you let Evaline and me do it, and pay us the wages?”

“Do you think you could do as much work as a man?” inquired the farmer good-humoredly.

“I'll back Almiry for fast and good work against any man I ever saw,” said Hiram emphatically.

Mr. Stokes laughed quietly. “Well,” he said, “'t will be hard work, with all else you have to do, but I'm willing you should try.”

“I can do it,” Almira answered determinedly.

After another spell of thinking she said to Evaline, “We might raise some turkeys next summer. They bring a good price.”

“Oh, turkeys are such a bother!” cried Evaline. “They take so much running after—always going where they might get hurt.”

She had had some experience in minding young turkeys.

“But just think of the money we'd have,” Almira reminded her. “And you know we'll have to work for our missionary money somehow.”

“That's so,” said Evaline, who was not fond of work. “It might as well be turkeys as anything else.”

“Mamma,” said Marty one morning, “Hiram says he'd like to join the band. But a great big man can't belong to a mission-band, can he?”

“He might be an honorary member,” suggested Mrs. Ashford.

“What sort of a member is that?”

“He could attend the meetings, take part in the exercises, and contribute money, but he could not vote.”

“Well, maybe Hiram would like to join that way. S'pose we ask him;” and off she and Evaline flew in search of Hiram.

They found him up by the barn.

“O Hiram!” said Marty. “I just now told mamma about your wanting to join the mission-band, and she says you might join as an honorary member.”

Hiram stuck his pitchfork in the ground, rested his hands on the top of it, and his chin on his hands.

“What's that kind of a member got to do?” he asked slowly.

“You may give money, but you can't vote,” Marty instructed him.

Hiram thought over it a good while, and then said very gravely, though his eyes twinkled, “Well, I guess giving money's the main thing after all, isn't it? I reckon I'll join if you'll let me.”

“We'll be ever so glad to have you,” said Marty warmly. She felt as if it was partly her band, and was interested in seeing it growing and flourishing.

They were nearly back to the house when Evaline suddenly stopped, exclaiming,

“You never told him he might come to the meetings!”

“Neither I did! How came I to forget that! We must go right back and tell him.”

When they reached the barn again, they saw Hiram at the foot of the hill, just entering the next field; but hearing the girls shouting, “Hiram! Hiram!” and seeing them running to overtake him, he strode back across the fence, and seated himself on the top rail to wait for them.

“I forgot a most important thing,” said Marty, panting for breath. “Mamma says honorary members may attend the meetings.”

“Maybe I hadn't better attend them,” said Hiram with a quizzical look. “I might want to vote.”

“Oh, do you think you should?” asked Marty anxiously.

Hiram bit off a piece of straw and chewed it, slowly moving his head from side to side, appearing to meditate profoundly, while the little girls waited in suspense.

“Well,” he said, after he had apparently thought the matter over, “I suppose I can hold up from voting; and I reckon you can count on me to come.”

And come he did, the very next Sunday, appearing to take great interest in the proceedings.

Top