WHOLES INSTEAD OF TENTHS.
When Marty came home from the meeting the next Saturday evening, and entered the sitting-room in her usual whirlwind style, she found her father there having a romp with Freddie.
“Why, here is little sister! Well, missy, where have you been?” he asked.
“Why, papa!” exclaimed Marty reproachfully. “To the mission meeting, of course. I told you this morning I was going.”
“So you did; and you have told me every morning this week that this was the important day. I don't know how I came to forget it. Well, how did you like the meeting?”
“Oh, ever so much! I heard a great many sad things.”
“That's a new reason for liking a thing,” said her father.
“I mean,” replied Marty, “I liked it because it was so nice and interesting, but I did hear some sad things. Don't you think it's sad to hear of a little school in one of those big, bad Chinese cities, where the children were beginning to learn about Jesus, being broken up because the folks in this country don't send money enough to pay a teacher? And it would only take a little money, too.”
“That is certainly very sad.”
“Yes; and Miss Agnes told us of other schools that have to send the girls and boys away because there isn't possibly room for them, and there is no money to make the buildings larger. I asked her why the big society in this country—the one where the money from all the bands is sent, you know—didn't just take hold and build plenty of schools, so that all the heathen children might be taught; and she said that the Board—that's the big society—has no money to send but what the churches and Sunday-schools give them, and lately they haven't been giving enough to build all the schools that are wanted. Isn't it awful!”