her shoulder. "Na, na, laddie," she said, "it's my cat
and it helps to balance me."

Writing to Ratcliffe at this time, she says:

I have been without money for nearly a month! What do you think
of that? Sometimes, but not very often, we have been hungry
because we had not enough money to send to the market to buy
food. The workmen make such a hole in my pocket. It is very
difficult to get money brought from Calabar, and then the people
won't take English money when it does come. They use copper
wires, which we buy from the next station. Don't we live a very
funny life? Pure gipsies, only we don't steal.

"It is sometimes a rather wearying kind of living, the gipsying sort of
life," she told Christine; "but while there are no workers to go round
we must do this as the second best way of holding on." And then she
wonders what her little friend is doing and asks, "Are you going to do
something fine in the new year? I trust so. At least you will be good,
and To Be is a better verb than To Do in my estimation."

She began to remember that Christine was growing up, and did not like
the idea. So she says to her: "I shall try and keep you in my heart with
all the sweet mystery of girlhood. I should like, for many things, just
to keep you among the simple loves and pleasures of home, and not to let
you slip over into the womanhood which has such heights and depths that
alternately beckon and frighten one. But God's order is the only right
one, and you have a claim on Him."

"I shall be fifteen this August," Christine replied. "I am rather sorry
we are all getting so big. However, there is one comfort, when we grow
bigger we will be able to go out into the world and do good things, and
perhaps splendid things, and help to make people better and
happier--though, of course, we can do that always."

That was what Ma liked to hear, and when any of her young friends grew
up and married and went out into that world of which Christine spoke,
she would send them lovely messages. Here is one to a grand-niece of Mr.
and Mrs. Goldie (the pioneer missionaries of Calabar who had been so
good to her) when she was about to sail to America:

MY DEAR LASSIE--You do not know me, but your parents and all
belonging to you are very dear to me, and I have always, from
before you were born, loved you all and tried to follow you all.

And now God is calling you to live your life and to witness for