Monica's Choice

by George Bird Grinnell

  *CHAPTER XVIII.*

  *"I EXPECT IT WILL BE RATHER SLOW AND--POKEY!"*

  Olive, whose nervous system had received a severe shock, did not regainher usual strength for some days, and in accordance with the doctor'sadvice (for Mrs. Beauchamp had hastily sent for a medical man) wascompelled to take things very quietly during the remainder of their stayat Sandyshore.

  It was quite a new experience for the high-spirited, romping girl to becut off from the pursuits that they had all been accustomed to, and anot altogether pleasant one. But at first she felt totally unable tojoin Monica and Elsa at their bathing or tennis, and was only too gladto lie in a deck chair on the sands, and watch the others engaged inactive exercise which she seemed to have lost the courage to enter into.

  It was a very quiet Olive who was Mrs. Beauchamp's companion duringthose days, and but for the doctor's assurance that she would soonrecover her usual robust health, both the old lady and Mrs. Drury wouldhave been very anxious about her. As it was, they all strove to cheerand amuse her, as much as possible, and Monica and Elsa were untiring intheir devotion. They never alluded to the episode on Gullane Cliffs inher hearing, as any reference to it seemed to revive the old, nervousfear which had seized her at the time; but they often found her lookingwith a sort of fascinated, and yet awestruck intentness, at the whitecliffs in the distance, which closely resembled those beyond thelighthouse.

  One day Olive broke through the reserve herself. Monica, who had beenbathing, was sitting beside her, her hair hanging dank and loose abouther shoulders, in order that the sun might dry it.

  "Monica," she said, "you none of you ever say a word about _that day_,but I am always thinking of it.

  "Then I should begin to forget it at once," was the brusque reply. "Itis all over and done with, and there is no need for _you_ to remember'that day,' as you call it, any more. As for me, I do not wish ever toforget it." And a happy smile overspread Monica's sunburnt face.

  "Oh, I know," interposed Olive hastily, who was afraid her friend wouldopen up the subject which she dreaded. "But even when I sleep, I alwaysseem to feel myself slipping down, down, down; and I only stop when Iwake. Oh, it is an awful feeling!" And the girl shudderedconvulsively.

  "I am sure you could forget it if you made an effort to," was Monica'sapparently unfeeling reply. But she had overheard the doctor sayingsomething similar, and, to her strong-minded nature, Olive's fancyseemed ridiculous. "You will never be well until you do."

  Whether Monica's sensible advice had any effect upon Olive, or whethershe really was on the mend already, it would be difficult to say, but,at any rate, it was noticeable that from about that time the improvementin her was very marked indeed, and by the time their return to Osmingtondrew near, she had become practically herself again. Mrs. Beauchamp wasextremely glad, as she would have been very sorry for either of hercharges to have gone home the worse, rather than the better, for theholiday.

  "Oh, dear!" sighed Amethyst dolefully, as the quartette ensconcedthemselves for the last time in one of their favourite nooks, on agrassy slope overlooking the bay--"oh, dear! I _am_ sorry to be goinghome."

  "So am I!" echoed the others, and Elsa added, "Except that it will bejust lovely to see mamma again."

  "If it weren't for all of them at home," put in Olive, "I should like tostay until school begins."

  "We should find it rather dull," said Monica; "there would be no oneleft but us, for the Drurys would be gone. I miss the Herschelsalready, although they only went yesterday."

  "You got so awfully friendly with them after the picnic," retortedOlive.

  "We all liked them," interposed Elsa, for she saw a little flush uponMonica's cheek. "I think Miss Herschel was a dear; but, of course, shewould naturally be most friendly with Monica, because she is the eldestof us!"

  A grateful little squeeze told Elsa that Monica was pleased with her forchampioning her cause, as she said softly, with far-seeing eyes, "Ishall always be thankful that I have known the Herschels, even if Inever see them again. They have helped me a great deal."

  Olive, fearful lest the conversation should drift in a direction shewould fain shun, interrupted the silence that had fallen upon them, bysaying hurriedly, and with apparent enthusiasm: "I say, girls, whatabout that missionary meeting we are invited to? When is it?"

  "To-morrow afternoon."

  "Shall we go? I expect it will be rather slow and--pokey."

  "Why should it?" queried Monica, who was continually finding herselfdiffering from her friend, now-a-days.

  "Oh, I don't know why, I'm sure; but missionary meetings are always dullaffairs. They read long reports, you know, and tell silly little talesabout goody-goody children, who would a hundred times rather put theone, and only, penny they possess in a missionary box, than spend it onthemselves." And the girl laughed satirically.

  "Oh, Olive!" expostulated Elsa, while Amethyst opened her eyes to theirwidest proportions.

  "Well, _I_ am going, anyhow," said Monica decisively, for whom, sinceshe had been influenced by Leslie Herschel, every thing of a missionarynature had great attractions. "It will be my first experience of amissionary meeting, so I am going to find out what it's like."

  "So am I," echoed Elsa and Amethyst, and Olive was obliged to fall inwith the general opinion, as she did not care about being left out.

  The meeting, to which the quartette, as well as many other girls amongthe visitors, had been invited a few days previously, had been kindlyarranged by a lady living in Sandyshore, and was to be held on herbeautiful lawn the next afternoon. Only girls, of all ages, had receivedinvitations, and no grown-up people were expected to be present.

  When the appointed time came, the hostess, a dear old lady of seventy ormore, whose heart, home, and purse were devoted to the cause ofspreading the gospel news, welcomed her young guests as they arrived,and three, at any rate, of our party felt their hearts go out to her asher kindly smile and gentle words greeted them. Olive, who feltbelligerent, prided herself on not being so easily won.

  They found quite a number of girls, most of whom they knew well bysight, from continual meetings on the sands or tennis-courts, alreadyseated on the chairs which had been carefully placed in a shady portionof the lawn, and slipping into some empty places, they waited forfurther developments.

  Two ladies, standing under a pretty rose-covered verandah, were engagedin conversation near a little table strewn with various books andpamphlets; another had just taken her seat before a small harmonium,while yet a fourth was handing round hymn-sheets.

  "Which do you suppose is the speaker?" whispered Monica to Elsa, who wasnext to her, "the lady in the nurse's uniform, or the one in black?"

  "I can't tell, they both look so nice. The tall, dark one in mourninglooks clever; but I almost hope it will be the other, she looks sosweetly pretty." And both girls looked admiringly at the fair, healthy,girlish face framed in its dark blue bonnet.

  Soon a hymn was given out, in which the twenty-five or thirty girlsjoined somewhat shyly at first; this sort of meeting was an unusualexperience for the majority of them. But the easily caught-up tune,sung so heartily by the lady helpers, inspired them, and by the time thelast verse was reached quite a volume of sound rose from the youthfulaudience.

  After a short, informal prayer, by the elder of the two ladies, whichwas a revelation to Monica, who had never heard a woman's voice upliftedin extempore prayer before, the girls sang another hymn; and then, aftera few explanatory words from the same lady, who they discovered was adaughter of their hostess, the nurse stepped forward, and began to speakin clear, ringing tones, which could be heard all over the lawn, andwhich secured the attention of all.

  "I was so very pleased," she began, "when Mrs. Murray asked me if Iwould have a little 'talk' with some girl-friends of hers one afternoonwhile I was staying with her for a few days in this delightful place.And I will tell you why. First, because I love English girls; second,beca
use I love Chinese girls; and third, because I long to get theformer to become interested in their sisters with a pig-tail, in thatfar-off land, behind the Great Wall.

  "So now, while we are all here together, I want you to listen while Itell you something of my work for the last five years in China, and thenI will try to show you what you can do, _if you will_, to help make thelives of Chinese girls brighter and happier. First and foremost, I muststart by saying that girls are thought little or nothing of in China;they are _not wanted_. And, although it is not really allowed, in oneway or another nearly one-half of all the baby girls who are born inChina are either drowned, or murdered, or what is even worse, buriedalive directly they are born! And when I tell you that out of everythree people in the whole world one is born in China, you can guesssomething of how many there are. It made my heart ache, often andoften, to be in the midst of such dreadful cruelty; and yet we must notaltogether blame the Chinese, for they do not know that our HeavenlyFather values girls just as much as He does boys, and is grieved whenthey are ill-treated.

  "But though it is sad to think of the little babies dying, they arereally better off than many of the little girls who are left to grow up.For there is a cruel custom in China of squeezing the feet of littlegirls up tight, by means of a bandage--so"--and Hope Daverel picked up astrip of calico, and deftly bound up her left hand to illustrate herwords--"until it hurts most dreadfully. Of course, the little girlcries with the pain, but no one pities her, and in a few days it isunbound, and done up tighter still. Sometimes a mother will take a bigstick to bed with her, in order to beat the child if she screams withthe awful pain. I wonder how _you_ would like that?"

  The young missionary paused a moment, and looked down enquiringly intothe young faces before her, which expressed horror at the recital ofChina's woes.

  "Well, the poor feet have to go on being squeezed smaller and smaller,until after about two years they are considered small enough to bepretty! Oh! girls, you who love pretty things, think of it an ugly lump,without any shape, tiny enough to totter about in shoes like this," andMiss Daverel held up a wee Chinese shoe. "This is a full-sized shoe fora lady, and it only measures two inches and a half! This pair has beenactually worn by a woman belonging to one of my classes, and she gavethem to me on purpose to bring home and show to you. A girl's chances ofgetting married depend entirely upon the smallness of her feet: they donot trouble at all about whether she is clever, or handsome or good.And she is married, often, as young as six months old! and is taken awayfrom her own mother, to go and live with the mother of the little boy,or lad, who is her husband. It is difficult for you English girls toimagine such a state of affairs; but unless you know _something_ aboutthem, you cannot do much towards helping your Chinese sisters. Once theyare married, the poor girls have a very, very dull life, if they arefortunate enough to escape ill-treatment from their husbands. One ofthe first questions asked by the Chinese ladies whom I go to visit, intheir dim, cheerless rooms at the back of the house, is 'Does yourhusband beat you?' and when I shake my head and say I am not married,they look astounded, and say: '_So_ old, and no husband!'

  "But sad as their lives are, their fear of what comes after death is farmore sad. The women are taught that there is no heaven for them, andall that the very best of them can look forward to is that, afternumbers of future lives spent in torment, they _may_ be born again intothis world as a little boy! And they are so afraid of evil spirits, whothey think are constantly on the look-out to do them untold harm: theyeven call the boys by girls' names, so that they may not be thought_worth_ harming! and when the poor creatures die, as the funeralprocession goes along the road, imitation money made in paper like this"(and the speaker held up samples) "is scattered about, to propitiate anyevil spirits that may be near; while clothes, money, and various otherthings, all made in paper, are burned at the grave side, in order thatthe dead person may have them to use in the other world. And that sortof thing is continually being done before what they call ancestraltablets, or at the graves of relations who have died, lest the spiritsof the departed should come back to earth and trouble those that areliving. Millions of pounds are spent every year, in that way alone.

  "Is it not all terribly sad? I am sure that you agree with me that itis, and are wishing that you knew of some way to help. Well, I willtell you; there are many things you might do. I suppose that most ofyou elder girls go to school; when you meet your school-friends again,you can pass on to them what I have told you this afternoon; and perhapsyou could gather some of them together to dress dolls, or make littlepresents such as we missionaries love to be able to give to the childrenand girls who attend our schools, or come to us for medicine. A littlegift from England is _such_ a treasure; it would repay you for anyself-denial it may cost, if you could only see the delight on the poor,little, dull faces, when they catch sight of the doll, or the pair ofbright knitted cuffs, or the little cotton-box, that the _guniong_, asthey call us, is going to give them. And besides that, you can givesome of your pocket-money: those pence and shillings which it is _so_easy to fritter away on mere nothings, and things which do not last.Oh! girls, which do you think you will value _most_ in the great day ofreckoning which is coming, the sweets you have eaten, the grandcollection of picture post-cards you were so eager to get, or theMaster's 'Well done!' which will surely be spoken to those who havedenied themselves for His sake?

  "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 inJesus for themselves, will you not pray that your Chinese sisters mayfind 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 withouthope. So I am praying that He will touch some of the girls' hearts herethis afternoon, and fill them with an intense longing to go and bear Hismessage, 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 canunderstand it, and will you try to mean every word?" And soon, girlishvoices 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 askedthat her young hearers might realise the need of the heathen, and withGod's help seek to do their part towards satisfying it; and then themeeting 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 fewwhispered words, she and a little maiden of not much over sixaccompanied the missionary indoors, to reappear in a few minutes inChinese costume.

  "Oh!" cried the girls, as first one and then another discovered whatappeared to be a Chinese lady and her little girl coming across the lawntowards them, and they all crowded round, while Hope Daverel showed themthe beautifully embroidered red satin coat and kilted skirt, such as thewife of a mandarin or high official would wear, and which Monica's tallfigure showed off to advantage. They all laughed merrily at the quaintlittle object in mauve and yellow jacket and _trousers_, who, they weretold, looked just like a little Chinese girl, with the exception of herhair and feet.

  Tea over, all the girls were given magazines or little booklets aboutmissionary work, and Miss Daverel showed them samples of all sorts ofnice easy things that are valued so much as gifts, not only in China,but in all parts of the mission field; and sh
e gladly promised to sendall particulars (and a missionary box!) to any or every girl who wouldwrite to her, and tell her that she had found some others to help her,and they wanted to start working.

  "I say, girls, we'll make some things, won't we, when we get back?" saidMonica, as the quartette wended their way homewards.

  "Oh, yes!" cried Amethyst and Elsa, simultaneously; and if Olive saidnothing, her voice was not missed. "And we'll get a lot of the HighSchool girls to join us."

  "I wish Miss Daverel lived at Osmington," said Elsa wistfully; "shewould show us just what to do."

  "Oh, she is wanted in China," was Monica's decisive reply; "she can'tpossibly be spared from there. I daresay we shall be able to make thethings by her directions, and we'll send them to her to give away."

  "Mother will help, I'm sure," said Amethyst.

  "And Lois, too," added Elsa; "she cuts out splendidly, and makes thestuff go ever so far, because she fits everything in so well."

  "It is evident we must begin to save up our pocket-money," said Monica,"because there will be a lot of things to buy, and we want to give itall ourselves, don't we, girls?"

  And again, in the eager assent that Monica's words called forth, if onevoice was silent, it passed unnoticed.