“They’re a Multitoode” and other stories [Illustration: “I wish you would tell me the story of Yin-dee.”] “They’re a Multitoode” and Other Stories COMPILED BY THE SECRETARY OF THE YOUNG PEOPLE’S FORWARD MOVEMENT FOR MISSIONS [Illustration] TORONTO: The Missionary Society of the Methodist Church The Young People’s Forward Movement for Missions F. C. STEPHENSON, Secretary “They’re a Multitoode” “We ain’t expected to do only our part.” Christopher Morton, Jr., was looking through the morning mail in the office when there came a knock at the door. He glanced at the clock and frowned. It was too early for visitors by five minutes, and this vigilant young man of business was very careful of his minutes. While he hesitated, the door opened without ceremony and admitted a gaunt, unfashionable figure, hollow-chested and sallow-faced. “Hello, Christy, old chap!” cried the intruder, stretching out a hearty hand and feeling apparently no doubt of a welcome. “How are you?” For an instant the other looked at him vaguely, the crease still showing in his forehead. Then his eyes lit. “Why, Jim Perry, is it you!” he shouted, getting around the table with a bound. “Part of me,” said Jim, sinking into a chair. He panted a little, but he smiled yet. Christy looked him over discontentedly. “What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked. “Caught a fever,” explained Jim, with a nod. “The missionaries sent me home. I might better have stuck it out there, but I had no breath to argue with them, so they packed me off. I am to go back in September.” “I have always believed in foreign missions,” said Christy, “but when they took you out of the country I found it hard to keep my faith. And now—” he stopped abruptly. “It was a mighty good day for me when I went,” said Jim Perry. “I have got a good deal out of living these past three years.” There was no mistaking the ring in his voice. “You have snug quarters here,” said Perry. “They tell me that you are a prosperous man of affairs.” “I am getting on,” said Christy, modestly, “I have some turn, I think, for making money.” “We out in China,” said Jim, with a chuckle, “haven’t any; it is the last thing we can do. Our strong point is spending. We claim that nobody on earth can surpass us in that. We will invest for you if you like. By the way—” He plunged his hand into his pocket and brought out a flat strip of cardboard which he proceeded to fit together into a money box. “There!” he said, setting it up gravely on the corner of the mantelpiece. “You will kindly contribute.” “What is it?” asked Christy, regarding the small object distrustfully, very much as if it were a dynamite bomb.