"But working and giving are not everything--there is praying. And if, as I do hope, there are some here who have found a precious Friend in Jesus for themselves, will you not pray that your Chinese sisters may find Him too? There are millions of them who have never heard His name, even _once_, yet; and they are dying _so_ fast, without God, and without hope. So I am praying that He will touch some of the girls’ hearts here this afternoon, and fill them with an intense longing to go and bear His message, in the years to come, to the women and girls in far-off China. "Now shall we sing a hymn, so simple that even the smallest can understand it, and will you try to mean every word?" And soon, girlish voices were singing, with real earnestness, The fields are all white, And the reapers are few; We children are willing, But what can we do To work for our Lord in His harvest? Our hands are so small, And our words are so weak, We cannot teach others; How then shall we seek To work for our Lord in His harvest? We’ll work by our prayers, By the gifts we can bring, By small self-denials; The least little thing May work for our Lord in His harvest. Until, by-and-by, As the years pass, at length We, too, may be reapers, And go forth in strength To work for our Lord in His harvest. Just a few solemn words of prayer followed, in which Miss Daverel asked that her young hearers might realise the need of the heathen, and with God’s help seek to do their part towards satisfying it; and then the meeting ended. While tea was being handed round by Mrs. Murray’s maids, Miss Daverel, who had noted Monica’s rapt attention, drew her aside, and after a few whispered words, she and a little maiden of not much over six accompanied the missionary indoors, to reappear in a few minutes in Chinese costume. "Oh!" cried the girls, as first one and then another discovered what appeared to be a Chinese lady and her little girl coming across the lawn towards them, and they all crowded round, while Hope Daverel showed them the beautifully embroidered red satin coat and kilted skirt, such as the wife of a mandarin or high official would wear, and which Monica’s tall figure showed off to advantage. They all laughed merrily at the quaint little object in mauve and yellow jacket and _trousers_, who, they were told, looked just like a little Chinese girl, with the exception of her hair and feet. Tea over, all the girls were given magazines or little booklets about missionary work, and Miss Daverel showed them samples of all sorts of nice easy things that are valued so much as gifts, not only in China, but in all parts of the mission field; and she gladly promised to send all particulars (and a missionary box!) to any or every girl who would write to her, and tell her that she had found some others to help her, and they wanted to start working.