“But, ma, I have seen some missionaries who are so long-faced and sanctimonious that some way I can’t enjoy their reports.”
“I am glad you hate cant, Annie. So do I, but if you should see this friend of mine who wrote that letter, you’d feel very sure there was none of it about her. She is one of the merriest, sunniest, most genial ladies I ever knew. And I never knew a person hate shams or pretense of any kind more thoroughly than she. How I wish you had been home when she was here two years ago; but you must take the letter to Mrs. Duncan, for she is a dear friend of hers too.”
“Is she, ma? I’m so glad.”
Annie stopped next morning at Mrs. Duncan’s and left the letter with the servant at the door, saying she’d call for it on her way home. When she called in the afternoon, Mrs. Duncan told her how delighted she’d been to hear from her old school friend, and that she must certainly help that brave little colored girl build her school house. Annie then ventured timidly to say her ma felt she ought to do that instead of buying so expensive a gift for Bell.
“Now, Annie, that is just like your sweet mother,” said Mrs. Duncan. “I wish I was half as good. I did hope, though, little May’s prayer might be answered.”
“Ma says it might be if you could get a simple gift like the one we get Bell,” shyly suggests Annie.
“Sure enough,” exclaimed Mrs. Duncan; “how stupid I was not to think of that. I’ll do it, and then I’ll have twice much to give the little Georgia missionary.”
So the two mothers purchased for the children inexpensive gifts, and sent to the Georgia colored girl a generous donation for her chosen work.