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.