"I know you have," she replied, trying to speak so as not to waken the baby and yet be heard above the din of voices. "I really cannot let you inside unless you first sit down and listen to what I have to say." Then as they still hesitated she continued, "If you will sit down and listen, I will promise to let you inside and show you everything." This promise had the desired effect—down they sat on mats, some on benches,—a few timid ones kept close to the gate so as to be ready to flee at the first approach of danger! As the mother tried to tell them why she had come—of a Saviour from sin—of a hope after death, some listened intently and seemed to get a gleam of light, but for the most part the crowd was restless and keen only to get inside the house about which they had heard so many strange stories. At last baby Nell wakened, and making the fact known by lusty cries, gave the women the opportunity they desired. As the mother ran to her little one the crowd of forty or fifty women and children pressed in after her. With the baby in her arms the mother faithfully kept her promise. Nothing escaped their curious eyes—beds were turned back, drawers opened, sewing machine examined, and organ played before they appeared satisfied. Whereupon they rushed off as quickly as they had come, saying to one another, "The foreign devil woman does not seem as bad as people say she is." Others said, "But who knows, you can never judge by appearances!" Half an hour later the husband returned from the man’s preaching to find his wife in tears. "Why, what’s wrong?" he asked. "Oh, everything," his wife replied between her sobs. "I just can’t bear it. You don’t know how they despise me and what terrible things they are saying. Besides when I came back to my work I found they had carried off my last pair of scissors and part of the material I was making a dress of. That is not all. The cook has just been in to say that several teaspoons are missing." "Tut, tut," replied her husband, man-like. "That’s nothing. Why they are only _things_ anyway!" A few days later came the missionary’s turn to need sympathy. He came in from the front looking pale and apparently quite worn out. "I tell you what, wife," he said, "I cannot stand this strain much longer without help! If I only had a good preacher to put in charge of the preaching hall, I could get along; but with lime to weigh, bricks to count, wood and timber to measure, and all the Mission accounts to keep, besides the oversight of all these workmen, and the preaching to these crowds of men that are coming daily, well—I just must get help." He went into his study, but returned a moment later with an open Bible in his hand. Pointing to these words, "My God shall supply all your need," he said, "Wife, do we really believe this? If we do, then let us join in asking God to meet this pressing need of ours for an evangelist."