hildren sat in rows on
the floor. All were clean and tidy, and she thought what a big change it
was from the terrible days when the naked villagers were only fond of
drink and bloodshed.

"Yes," said a church member later to one of the lady missionaries, "even
the leopards became less bold and dangerous when Ma came!"

She was glad to have a talk with Eme Ete, but sorry to know that she was
still a heathen, and sacrificed every day in her yard to a mud
white-washed figure of a woman that had egg-shells for eyes. There was
also a mud altar on which she laid her offerings of palm-wine, gin, and
food, and sometimes she put a fowl or eggs in the lap of the image. Her
rooms were full of charms, such as bunches of grass and feathers and
bottles. It made Ma very sad. Eme Ete died soon after, and from the roof
of her house was hung a great fold of white satin, which is a sign of
death in a heathen home, and the doors were shut and the place left to
rot and fall to pieces.

Though Ma was hidden away in the African forest and thought she was a
nobody, there were others who, knowing what she had done, and having
been helped by her example, made up their minds that her story should
not be left untold. They wrote it out, and by and by it came into the
hands of Sir Frederick Lugard, the Governor-General of Nigeria, as the
whole country was now called, and he, marvelling at the tale, sent it
home so that it might be brought to Royal notice.

One day a native runner appeared in the yard at Use with a bundle of
letters, amongst which was a large one that looked important. Ma turned
it over and wondered what it could be. It was from a very famous and
ancient society, the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem,
which has the King at its head and other Royal persons amongst its
officials, begging that she would agree to become one of its Honorary
Associates and accept the Silver Cross which it gave to those who were
noted for goodness and good work.

She looked at her torn dress and her rough hands and her bare feet, and
around at the poor little shanty of a house, and chuckled.

"Fancy me with a Royal medal!" she said. "What have I done? I dinna
deserve anything for doing my duty. I couldna' even have done that
unless God had been with me all the time. To Him be all the honour."

"But," she added, "it's nice too, for it will let the folk here ken that
the King is interested in the work that we are doing." And so, being a
l