ld girl worked in the factory. And the pay was very
small. But it was a joy when she received her pay on Saturday night. Mary
hurried home.

"Mother, Mother," she called happily as she hurried into the house, "here
is the money I earned this week."

"Oh, Mary, that is so good of you," said Mother Slessor. She wiped tears
from her eyes with the end of her apron. She felt sad that Mary had to work
in a factory. She thought of her own childhood in a happy home where there
was always plenty to eat and plenty of money to buy things that were
needed. She quickly hid Mary's wages in the same place where she hid her
own wages, so that her husband would not find the money and spend it for
drink.

Mary did not lose courage by the long hours in the factory. She remembered
that David Livingstone, the great missionary, had worked in a weaving
factory, too.

"If I want to be a missionary, I must study," said Mary. "When can I find
time?" Again Mary remembered something David Livingstone did when he was a
boy. He would take books to work and read them when the weaving shuttles
were working right and did not have to have someone attend to them. Mary
did the same thing. She read many books from the Sunday school library. She
read books like Milton's _Paradise Lost_. But most of all she read the
Bible.

Conditions at home grew worse. Mary's drunken father became meaner and
meaner. Saturday nights were the worst. Mary and her mother would sit
waiting, after the younger children had been put to bed, for the father to
stumble home. One night he was so mean to Mary, she had to run out of the
house to get away from him. The whole family was unhappy because of
Mr. Slessor's sinful habit. Finally, one morning he did not waken from the
drunken sleep. In the night his soul fled to face the Judge in Heaven. The
death of the father was really a great blessing to the family, for he had
brought them only sorrow and trouble.

Now the family felt free. The load they had borne was lifted. Mary at once
began to take a more active part in church work.

"If I want to be a missionary, I better have some practice. I know what I
can do, I'll ask the Sunday school superintendent for a class to teach."
She did, and was given a class of girls. She enjoyed teaching the girls
very much. She called them her "lovable lassies."

But Mary was not satisfied. She wanted to get more practice.

On her way home from the factory Mary passed through the slums of