Mrs. Gray smiled quietly.
“What good will the views do the babies in China?”
There was a sudden droop of Mary’s head.
“Why, mamma, as true as you live I forgot all about those babies; I really did! You see, mamma, I didn’t stop to think last Sunday. Must I give all my money to Mrs. Lee—three dollars and a half?”
“To Mrs. Lee? I was under the impression that you were to give it to the missionaries to convert the Chinese.”
“Oh, yes, but I said it to Mrs. Lee; the missionaries don’t know anything about it.”
“So it seems,” returned Mrs. Gray dryly; “you said it to Mrs. Lee merely to please her.” Mary’s head sank still lower. “Well, you might ask Mrs. Lee to let you off, my daughter.”
“But, mamma, how it would look to go to her and ask that! I couldn’t!”
“Then you’ll be obliged to give the money,” responded Mrs. Gray unfeelingly. How easily she might have said, “Never mind, Mary, I will see Mrs. Lee and arrange it for you.” And she was usually a thoughtful, obliging mother. Mary pressed the bills together in her hand, spread them out tenderly, gazed at them as if she loved them. It was a large sum, and looked larger through her tears.
“I can’t ask Mrs. Lee to let me off; you know I can’t, mamma. I’d rather lose the money!”