Marty found out, somewhat to her surprise, that the "big society" her band was connected with was not the only one. Mrs. Thurston belonged to an entirely different one, and the young ladies, Fanny, Dora, and Mary, to still another. "You see we belong to different religious denominations," said Mrs. Thurston, "and each denomination has its own Society or Board." "This Nebraska missionary, now," suggested Marty, "I suppose he belongs to your de--whatever it is." "Denomination," said Mrs. Thurston, smiling. "No, he belongs to yours." "Yet you are all working for him!" exclaimed Marty. "Of course. It would not do for these different families of Christians to keep in their own little pens all the time and never help each other. But as yet it has been found best for each denomination to have its own missionary society, though there are some Union Societies, and perhaps in coming years it may be all union." "Now there's this mountain band," said Marty reflectively. "The people in it are not all the same kind. I mean some are Methodists, and some are Presbyterians, and the Smiths are Baptists. I heard Ruth say she didn't know what would be best to do with their money." She afterwards heard Ruth consulting Mrs. Thurston about the matter, and the latter spoke of one of these union societies. Ruth said she would speak to the others and see if they would wish to send their funds there. By half-past four a great deal of work had been done, and the new garments were piled up on a table in the corner of the room. Though needles were still flying, taking last stitches, the hard-driven machines were silent, having run out of work, as Miss Fanny said. In the comparative quiet Ruth was heard singing softly over her work. "Sing louder, Ruth," said Almira, and Ruth more audibly, but still softly, sang, "From Greenland's icy mountains." One voice after another took up the refrain, and by the time the second line was reached the old hymn was sent forth on the air as a grand chorus. The children came up on the porch, the girls came out of the kitchen to listen. The customers in Sims' store and the loungers around the blacksmith's shop stopped talking as the sound reached them. When the last strains died away, and before talking could be resumed, Ruth said, "Marty, wont you say those verses you said at our last band meeting?" "I'll say them if the ladies would like to hear them," said Marty, who was not at all timid, and knew the verses very thoroughly, having recited them at the anniversary of her own band. The ladies desired very much to hear them, and, taking her stand at one end of the room, she repeated very nicely those well-known lines beginning, "An aged woman, poor and weak, She heard the mission teacher speak; The slowly-rolling tears came down Upon her withered features brown: 'What blessed news from yon far shore! Would I had heard it long before!'"