Mary’s eyes were full of tears, and she sprang up eagerly, exclaiming,—
“Oh, Mrs. Lee! Oh, mamma, did you hear that? I declare, it’s too bad! Can’t the missionaries stop their killing babies so?”
“You sweet child,” said Mrs. Lee.
But Mrs. Gray only said,—
“Yes, my daughter, the missionaries are doing their best; but everything can’t be done in a day.”
“But it ought to be done this very minute, mamma.”
Mary’s whole face glowed; and Mrs. Lee, who sat directly in front of her, could not refrain from leaning over the pew and kissing her.
“We ought to bring more money, seems to me,” suggested good, moon-faced Blanche Jones, pressing her fat hands together.
“Yes, a cent every Sunday is too little,” said one of Mrs. Gray’s little boys.