"Why, Ma," said the natives in
wonder, "what is a dead child? You can have hundreds of them."

None of the children could read or write, nor, indeed, could any of the
older people, and so Ma started schools, which she held in the open air
in the shade of the forest trees. At first everybody came, even the
grey-headed men and women, and learned A B C in Efik and sang the hymns
that Ma taught them. The beautiful birds which flew above their heads
must have wondered, for they had only been accustomed to the wild chant
of war-songs. And at night the twinkling stars must have twinkled harder
when they looked down and saw, not a crowd of people drinking and
fighting, but a quiet company, and a white woman standing talking to
them in grave sweet tones about holy things.

But when Ma spoke about their bad customs they would not listen. "Ma,"
they would say, "we like you and we want to learn book and wear clothes,
but we don't want to put away our old fashions."

"Well," replied Ma patiently, "we shall see."

And so the battle began.

The first time she failed, because she did not know what was happening.
A lad had been accused of some fault, and she saw him standing, girt
with chains, holding out his arms before a pot of boiling oil. A man
took a ladle and dipped it into the burning stuff, which he began to
pour over the boy's hands. Ma sprang forward, but was too late; the boy
screamed and rolled on the ground in agony. She was very angry,
especially when they told her the meaning of the thing. It was a test to
show whether the boy was innocent or guilty of the charge brought
against him. If he had not been guilty, they said, he would not have
suffered.

"Oh, you stupid creatures," cried Ma. "Everybody will suffer if you do
that to them. Let me try it on you," she said to the man with the ladle,
but he rushed off amidst the laughter of the crowd.

Next time she did better. A slave was blamed for using witchcraft, and
condemned to die. Ma knew he was innocent, and went and stood beside him
in front of the armed warriors of the chief, and said:

"This man has done no wrong. You must not put him to death."

"Ho, ho," they cried, "that is not good speaking. We have said he shall
die, and he must die."

"No, no; listen," and she tried to reason with them, but they came round
her waving their swords and guns, and shouting at the pitch of their
voices. She stood in the midst of them as she had stood in the midst of
the Du