WEEDING.

When the plan for Thursday was announced, both Mrs. Ashford and Mrs. Stokes objected to the little girls going so far into the woods by themselves; and nobody could go with them.

“Then we'll have no flowers for the ladies,” sighed Marty.

“And no more missionary money,” added Evaline.

“Why not give them flowers out of the garden?” said Mrs. Stokes. “Sakes alive! there's plenty there. And they're just the kind I've seen city folks going crazy over. Some of the hotel folks were up here last summer, and deary me! but they did make a to-do over my larkspur, sweet-william, china pinks, candytuft, cockscomb, and such. You just give the ladies some of 'em, and they'll be pleased enough; for there's hardly any flowers in Riseborough—too shady, I guess.”

“That's all well enough for Evaline,” said Mrs. Ashford, “but Marty has no right to sell your flowers.”

“She has if I give 'em to her, hasn't she? I'm sure she's welcome to every bloom in the garden to do what she pleases with. Not that I want my flowers sold; I'd rather give 'em to the ladies, but as long as it is for mission work—” and the good woman finished with a little nod.

But Mrs. Ashford still objected to Marty's taking the flowers, and Evaline would not have anything to do with the scheme unless Marty could “go halves.”

“Dear Mrs. Stokes,” said Marty, “can't you think of some way I could work for the flowers, and then mamma wouldn't object to my taking them?”

“Well, I'll tell you. The gravel walk 'round the centre bed is pretty tolerable weedy, and if you and Evaline'll weed it out nice and clean, you may have all the flowers you want all summer.”

That satisfied all parties, and the weeding began that afternoon. When Marty was going to do anything she always wanted to get at it right away. Besides Almira advised them to do some that afternoon.

“Then maybe you can finish it up to-morrow morning before the sun gets 'round there,” she said. “This is a very good time to do it too—just after the rain.”

The girls were armed with old knives—not very sharp ones—to dig out the weeds with, if they would not come with pulling.

“You must be sure to get them up by the roots,” said Almira, “or they'll grow again before you know where you are.”

“Oh, we are going to do it good,” Marty declared.

They divided the walk into sections, and set to work vigorously. In a few moments Marty remarked complacently,

“The bottom of my basket is quite covered with weeds. But then,” she added in a different tone, “I don't see where they came from. I hardly miss them out of the walk.”

A few moments more of quiet work, and she called out,

“Evaline, are many of your weeds in tight?”

“Awful tight,” answered Evaline disconsolately. “They've got the longest roots of any weeds I ever saw. 'T would take a week of rain to make this walk fit to weed.”

“Well,” said Marty, “of course it isn't just as easy as taking a quarter for some clematis that was given to us in the first place, but as it is for missions I think we ought to be willing to do it, even if it is a little hard.”

“That's so,” Evaline replied, brightening up.

“And I'm very glad your mother thought of this,” Marty went on, “for it would be dreadful disappointing not to have any flowers for the ladies when they come, and not to get any more missionary money.”

Again Evaline agreed with her, and the work went on.

In about half an hour there was quite a large clean patch, and much encouraged by seeing the progress they were making, they worked more diligently than ever. Then Marty had a sentimental idea that it might help them along to sing a missionary hymn, but found upon trial that it was more of a hindrance than a help.

“I can't sing when I'm all doubled up this way,” she said, “and anyway when I find a very tough weed I have to stop singing and pull. Then I forget what comes next.”

“I guess it's better to work while you work and sing afterward,” was Evaline's opinion.

Here they heard somebody laughing, and looking up saw Mrs. Ashford, who had come out to see how they were getting on.

“I think Evaline is about right,” she said; “singing and weeding don't go together very well. But how nicely you have been doing! Why, you are nearly half through!”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Evaline, “and the other side of the circle a'n't half so bad as this was. We'll easy get it done to-morrow morning.”

“Yes; and, mamma,” cried Marty, “we've got them out good. I don't believe there'll ever be another weed here!”

“They'll be as bad as ever after a while,” said Evaline, who knew them of old.

Marty was pretty tired that evening and did not feel like running about as much as usual.

“There now!” exclaimed Mrs. Stokes, looking at Marty as she sat on the porch steps after supper leaning back against her mother, “there now! you're all beat out. 'T was too hard work for you. I oughtn't to have let you do it.”

“Oh! indeed, Mrs. Stokes, I'm not so very tired,” cried Marty, “and I was glad to do it.”

Another hour's work the next morning finished the weeding, and the girls reflected with satisfaction that they had earned their flowers. Mrs. Stokes said the work was done “beautiful,” and Hiram, who was brought to inspect it, said they had done so well that he had a great mind to have them come down to the field and hoe corn.

Thursday morning early they gathered and put in water enough flowers for seven fair-sized bouquets, thinking they had better have one more than Miss Fanny mentioned in case an extra lady came. By four o'clock these flowers—and how lovely and fragrant they were!—with Mrs. Ashford's valuable assistance were made into tasteful bouquets, placed on an old tray with their stems lightly covered with wet moss, and set in the coolest corner of the porch. The children, including Freddie, all nicely dressed, took up position on the steps, partly to keep guard over the flowers and prevent Ponto from lying down on them, and partly to watch for their callers.

Marty's bright eyes were the first to see the carriages.

“There they come around the bend!” she exclaimed, and shortly a carryall driven by Jim Dutton, and containing three ladies and two children, followed by a buck-board wherein sat Miss Fanny and Miss Dora, drew up at the gate.

Evaline's shyness came on in full force and she hung back, but Marty, with Freddie holding her hand, proceeded down the walk. They were met by Miss Fanny, who had thrown the reins to her friend and jumped out the moment the horse stopped. She kissed Marty, snatched up Freddie, exclaiming, “What a darling little boy!” and called out, “Come down here, Evaline! I want to see you.”

Mrs. Stokes, who was too hospitable to see people so near her house without inviting them in, now came forward to give the invitation, and as they were obliged to decline on the score of lateness, she called Almira to bring some cool spring water for them. Seeing Freddie approaching dangerously near one of the horses, Marty cried, “Freddie, Freddie, come away from the horse!” and he gravely inquired, “What's the matter with the poor old horse?”

This made every one laugh and brought Mrs. Ashford from the porch to take his hand and keep him out of danger. So they were all assembled at the roadside, and quite a pleasant, lively time they had.

The flowers were asked for and Evaline brought them, while Marty explained why they were garden instead of wild flowers, and Mrs. Stokes told how the girls earned them. The bouquets were extremely admired. When proposing the plan in the woods, Miss Fanny had suggested “ten-cent” bouquets, but everybody said ten cents was entirely too cheap for such large, beautifully arranged ones, that fifteen cents was little enough. There was one composed entirely of sweet peas, as Mrs. Ashford said those delicate flowers looked prettier by themselves. This Miss Fanny seized upon, insisted on paying twenty cents for, and presented to a pale, sweet-faced lady in mourning.

She drew Marty to the side of the carriage where this lady was, and said in a low voice,

“Mrs. Thurston, this is the little girl I told you of—the Missionary Twig who doesn't leave her missionary zeal at home when she goes away in vacation.”

The lady smiled affectionately as she pressed Marty's hand, and said,

“I am glad to meet such an earnest little comrade.”

“Oh! but you don't know,” protested Marty. “I came very near forgetting the whole thing. Indeed, it went out of my head altogether from Tuesday till Sunday.”

The ladies laughed, and Miss Fanny said,

“Mrs. Thurston was a missionary in India for many years, Marty, and would be there yet if she was able.”

“India!” exclaimed Marty, with wide-open eyes. “In Lahore!”

She had heard more about Lahore than any other place, and to her it seemed like the principal city in India.

“Oh, no!” replied Mrs. Thurston. “Far from there, hundreds of miles. Lahore, you know, is in Northern India, in the part known as the Punjab, while my home was in the extreme south near a city called Madura. Are you especially interested in Lahore?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's where our band sends its money. We have a school there. That is, we pay the teacher. It is one of those little schools in a room rented from a poor woman, who does her work in one corner while the school is going on, and the teacher is a native.”

“Ah, yes; I understand.”

“Mrs. C—— is the missionary who superintends it, along with a lot of other schools. Do you know her?”

“No, but I have seen her name in the missionary papers.”

“Did you have some of those little schools when you were a missionary, Mrs. Thurston?” Marty inquired.

“Yes, I did some school work, but more zenana work.”

“What is zenana work?”

Just then Mrs. Thurston noticed that preparations were being made to drive on, so she merely replied,

“Come down to the village and see me, and we will have a good missionary talk.”

“Thank you ever so much,” said Marty. “I do hope mamma will let me go.”

Evaline was quite overcome when she learned that Mrs. Thurston was a “real live missionary,” and said,

“She's the first one I ever saw. I wonder if they're all as nice as that.”

After consultation with her mother, Marty decided to give half her “flower money” —which altogether amounted to eighty cents—to the mountain band, and keep the other half for the home band. “Because, you see, this is all out-and-out missionary money; there's no tithing to be done,” she said.

Evaline never felt so large in her life as she did when going to the band meeting the next Sunday, with her eighty cents ready to hand to Hugh Campbell.

The Saturday following that memorable Thursday, Miss Fanny and Miss Mary again presented themselves at the farmhouse, where they were welcomed like old friends. After some pleasant chat, and a lunch of gingerbread and fresh buttermilk, Miss Fanny said,

“We came this morning chiefly to bring you an invitation from Mrs. Thurston. She wants you all, or as many as possible, to come to an all-day missionary meeting at the hotel next Tuesday.”

“All day!” exclaimed Almira.

“Yes. That sounds formidable, doesn't it?” laughed Miss Fanny. “But I'll tell you about it. We are going to sew for a home missionary family. You must know that Mrs. Thurston, after spending the best part of her life and the greater part of her strength in the foreign field, still does all, in fact, more than her poor health will allow her to do for missions both at home and abroad. She heard the other day that a missionary family, acquaintances of hers, in Nebraska, had been burnt out, and lost everything but the clothes they had on. She told us about them with tears in her eyes, and some of us discovered she was laying aside some of her own clothes for the missionary's wife and planning how she could squeeze out a little money—for she is not rich by any means—to buy some clothes for the children. Well, the result was we took up a collection of clothes and money at the hotel, and Mrs. Thurston got Mr. Dutton to go to Trout Run and telegraph to the Mission Board that this missionary is connected with that we would send a box of things in a few days that will keep the family going until some church can send them a good large box.”

“But how will you know what kind of garments to send?” asked Mrs. Ashford. “I mean, what sizes?”

“Mrs. Thurston knows all about how many children there are, and their ages, so we can guess at their sizes.”

Mrs. Ashford, discovering there was a little girl near Freddie's age, and as he was, of course, yet in “girl's clothes,” said she could spare a couple of his suits, having brought an ample supply. Some of Marty's clothes also were found available.

“We have had some things given us for the lady,” said Miss Fanny, “a wrapper, a jersey, a cashmere skirt, a shawl; also two or three children's dresses. We have bought nearly all the muslin in Mr. Sims' store, with some flannel and calico. He is going to Johnsburgh Monday, and will get us shirts for the missionary, stockings, and such things. Monday is to be a grand cutting-out day. Tuesday we are to have three sewing-machines. Several of the village ladies are coming to help, and we shall be very glad if some of you will come. Mrs. Thurston particularly desires that the little girls shall come.”

“Oh, do let us go,” Marty said, while Evaline looked it.

Mrs. Ashford could not leave Freddie, and it was not possible for both Mrs. Stokes and Almira to go, so it was settled that the latter, the little girls, and Ruth Campbell, whom Miss Fanny wished Almira to invite, should walk down pretty early in the morning, and Hiram should bring the light wagon for them in the evening.

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