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THE KING’S BUSINESS
the making of a very fine Christian woman; the best we can give her is not too good. Each little girl comes to us with her own little history, and so many times when we consider how little the girl is and how innocent her young life ought to be, that little history is quite tragic, and only then do We realize what a shelter and sanctuary they have come to when they have become our little girls. It never surprises me to see them try to break rules. No, I marvel, the way they allow their wild, unregulated natures to bend under the restrictions of a Mission School. How different from what they have been used to, is it to live on a clean cement floor, to eat their meals at regular times and off real plates and tables, to sleep, not beside a smoking log, but under a blanket without any fire in the house, and fold that blanket up carefully every morning. How hard for them to learn that chiggers in their feet and itch on their bodies cannot be tolerated. Yes, no doubt, there are times when their little hearts long for that dirty, smoky hut, where they can crouch by the fire, eat their food out of a kettle and have nobody after them when they do just as they please. But they never complain, but repay, with all the love their little dark hearts can give, the efforts we put forth to help them on and on unto those paths where the Lord Jesus wants them to be. And He is gathering them in, even though often we cannot see it as yet. A child coming from a walk in the garden said to her mother: “Mother, every rose in the garden has an ugly thorn on it.” Soon her little sister, who had been in the garden, said: “Mother, every thorn-bush in the garden has a beautiful rose on % it.” It depends upon whether we are seeking thorns or roses.
she had started to run, because the cattle must certainly be following her. In her mad hurry down the hill she had stumbled and sprained her ankle. Hobbling along the rest of the way, she had finally reached her destination. Never a word of complaint during the days she could not use her foot. Of course, I had to know her past history, and neither did she make a secret of it. The serious expression on her face almost made me laugh, for she always speaks in such a droll way. She had run away from an old husband, whom she most thoroughly hated, and “now,” she concluded, “I am looking for a new husband.” No disgrace in this land for a girl to be looking for her husband. I had to talk so much to her about walking, she always hung behind, and didn’t want anybody to go with her wherever she went. When I demanded that she never go anywhere by herself, she looked at me with a half-hurt, half- appealing look on her face. “Ah, Frau- lein, have I come all the way from my town alone, and you don’t want me to walk alone when I ’m here at the Station?” I have never been quite certain what her object was, whether she just loved to be alone, or whether she thought her search would be moré successful. If ever a girl was conscientious about little matters, it certainly is this girl. She wouldn’t for all the world do anything that she didn’t consider absolutely proper. She was shelling peanuts for one of the ladies here, in order1to earn a little money. She received her pfennigs, took them without a word. A few days later she came back with five pfennig. In a very dignified manner she said she had something very real on her heart. She thought she had received five pfennig too much for her work and she wanted to give them back. All her actions and words correspond to that. We believe she has
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