In what she called her spare time she was engaged in the endless task
of repairing and extending her forlorn little shanties. There was
always something on hand, and she worked as hard as the children,
nailing up corrugated iron, sawing boards, cementing floors, or cutting
bush. Jean, the ever-willing and cheerful, was practically in charge of
the house, keeping the babies, looking after their mothers, and
teaching the little ones in the school. Up to this period she had never
received more than her board, and "Ma" felt it was time to acknowledge
her services, and she therefore began to pay her 1s. per week.
Now and again in her letters there came the ominous words, "I'm tired,
tired." On the last night of the year she was sitting up writing. "I'm
tired," she said, "and have a few things to do. My mother went home
eighteen years ago on the passage of the old year, so it is rather
lonely to-night with so many memories. The bairns are all asleep. But
He hath not failed, and He is all-sufficient." She was often so wearied
that she could not sit up straight. She was too exhausted to take off
her clothes and brush her hair until she had obtained what she called
her "first rest." Then she rose and finished her undressing. She would
begin a letter and not be able to finish it. The ladies nearest her,
Miss Peacock and Miss Reid at Ikotobong, redoubled their attentions.
Miss Reid she said was "a bonnie lassie, tenderly kind to me." What
Miss Peacock was to her no one but herself knew. She was a keen judge
of character, though generous, almost extravagant in her appreciation
of those she loved, and Miss Peacock has justified her estimate and her
praise. "Sterling as a Christian, splendid as a woman, whole-hearted as
a missionary, capable as a teacher, she is one after my own heart," she
wrote. "She is very good and kind to me, and a tower of strength. I am
proud of her and the great work she is doing." Miss Peacock began the
habit about this time of cycling down on Saturday afternoons and
spending a few hours with her, and Mary looked forward to these visits
with the greatest zest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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