"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!" "A very sad state of affairs," said Mr. Ashford, but he could hardly help smiling a little at Marty's profound indignation. "I should think the people in this country couldn't sit still and see things going on in such a way," she said. "Why, do you know, Miss Agnes says there are places where the poor people are asking for missionaries, and there are none to send, because there's not money enough to support them. I should think that people would just go and take all their money out of the banks and send it to the Board. Then there would be so much money pouring in that the Board would have to sit up nights to count it." "No, no; that wouldn't do," said her father. "Little girls don't understand these matters." "Well, but, papa," she said, coming close to him, dragging her coat after her by one sleeve, "don't you think if everybody were to give as the Lord has prospered them, there would be nearly enough money to do the right thing by the heathen?" "Yes, there's something in that," answered Mr. Ashford, looking with a queer kind of a smile at his wife, over Marty's head. "But you can't compel every one to do what is right. All you can do is to attend to your own contributions." "Well," said Marty, half crying in her earnestness, "I started out to give tenths; but as long as there are so many heathen, and so few missionaries, I'm going to give halves or wholes. I can't stand tenths." And she marched off and put every cent she had in the red box. When she got her weekly allowance, that also went in. Her mother suggested that she would better not give all her money away at once. "I think," she said, "it would be much better to do as you started to do, and not give in that impulsive way."