"It must be Mr. Brown's," she said to herself, "for I do not know of any one else who has young ducks," and she took the frightened and suffering duck in her arms and carried it to Mr. Brown, but that gentleman looking down upon the little girl smilingly said, "See here, little one, what would you do with it if it were yours?"
"I'd try to make it well, and then I'd make a missionary duck of it."
"A missionary duck! What is that?"
Then Helen explained that a missionary hen was one the proceeds of which in eggs and chickens were set apart by the owner for missionary money and of course a missionary duck would be the same. Mr. Brown laughed. "Well, that is a funny idea. Suppose I give you a pair—that is, I will give you this one if you will cure it, and I will give you a mate to it and we will see how much money you make out of the investment."
Helen's eyes danced with pleasure. The wounded duck soon recovered, and before the end of summer she had quite a flock of young ducks which afforded her no end of enjoyment. True she had to watch them closely and look out for her mischievous brothers lest her flock come to harm, but she did not mind the trouble. Meantime there was a great interest growing up among the scholars in missionary enterprises. There were missionary hens and turkeys; missionary cabbages and turnips, and even missionary pigs. The months went by and Thanksgiving was near at hand. After considerable thinking as to the feasibility of the scheme, Miss Lee, the teacher in Number Five, proposed a plan by which some of the chickens and turkeys might be disposed of to good advantage. Willie Smith was the owner of a small printing press, and about two weeks before Thanksgiving twenty tickets bearing the words, "Thanksgiving dinner at two o'clock at the schoolhouse. Admit one," were put into the hands of two of the most energetic boys to be sold at forty cents each.
