"She wants to go out to Africa to teach black people!" said another, and there were shrieks of laughter as though this were the strangest desire ever heard of. "Black people!" repeated the largest boy of all. "I'll black her eye." As he spoke he swung a heavy object at the end of a string. It looked like a piece of lead and was a dangerous weapon. At this moment a figure appeared at the corner and advanced toward the group. "She's coming!" shouted a girl. "She's coming!" There was delighted laughter and a sudden stooping to the earth. There were loose stones on Queen Street and there was also mud, both soft, sticky mud and hard, dried mud. "We'll do for her!" cried another girl. "We'll make her let us alone." "I'm a good shot." A foe worthy of these many fierce opponents should have been tall and strong and well-armed, but the approaching figure was that of a girl. Her name was Mary Slessor; she was fourteen years old and short for her age. She had not had a chance to grow to her full height because she got up at five o'clock in the morning, helped her mother until she went to the factory at six, worked until six in the evening, and then helped her mother until a late bedtime. When she had a spare moment she read, even propping her book up on her loom as the great missionary Livingstone had done when he was a factory boy. The shouts of the boys and girls grew louder. "Hi, Mary Slessor!" "Hit her!" "You let us alone, or we'll do for you!" The little figure came straight on. "We're not going to come to your meetings!" shouted a loud voice. "We don't care for your meetings!" yelled another. "You clear right out of here!" howled a third. Still the little figure advanced. "I won't give up," she shouted back, white-faced and stubborn. "You can do what you like; I won't give up!" In answer to this defiance there was a moment's silence. Then the largest boy stepped out with his weight tied to a cord in his hand. "All right," he said. "Then look out for your head!" His companions moved back out of danger, and he began to swing the lead round and round. "You can't frighten me," said Mary. "I'm going to go to the meetings and I'm going to invite you to the meetings. You can't stop me." She stood perfectly still. The tall boy moved nearer. He lifted his arm and began to swing the piece of lead round and round in the air. It passed within six inches of Mary's face; another swing, and it was within four inches. Now it touched a flying tendril of her hair. Another swing and it might kill her. But the boy dropped his arm and let the cruel weapon fall. For the first time in his unruly life he had been beaten—not by force, but by love. "Let her alone," he said gruffly. "She's game." A little color came into Mary's pale cheeks. Most persons would have been satisfied with this victory, but Mary was not. She boldly repeated the crime for which she had been so nearly punished. "Will you come to my meeting?" she asked.