a lot about it, and tried to laugh her out of the habit, but
she just laughed back. When she and two or three friends met during the
meal hour and held a little prayer meeting opposite the factory, the
other girls would come and peep in, and one of her companions would be
vexed and scold them. "Dinna bother, Janet," she would say quietly, "we
needna mind what they do."

She was not always serious, but could enjoy fun and frolic with the
wildest. Once while walking in the country with a girl she knocked
playfully at some cottage doors and ran away. "Oh, Mary," said her
friend, "I'm shocked at you!"

Mary only laughed, and said, "A little nonsense now and then is relished
by the wisest men."

From one old friend we get a picture of her at this time. "Her face was
always shining and happy. With her fresh skin, her short ringlets, and
her firm mouth she somehow always made me think of a farmer's daughter
coming to market with butter and eggs!"

Her life during these years was a training for what she had to do in the
future. She must have had an inkling of it, for her dreams now were all
of service in the far lands beyond the seas. Through the gloom of the
smoky streets she was always seeing visions of tropical rivers and
tangled jungle and heathen huts amongst palm trees, and above the noise
of the factory she was hearing the cries of the little bush-children;
and she longed to leave busy Dundee with its churches and Sunday Schools
and go out and help where help was most needed. She did not say
anything, for she knew it was her brother John that her mother was
anxious to make a missionary. He was a big lad, but very delicate, and
there came a time when the doctor said he must leave the cold climate of
Scotland or die. He sailed to New Zealand, but it was too late, and he
passed away there. His mother grieved again over her lost hopes, and
Mary, who was very fond of him, wept bitterly. As she went about her
work she repeated the hymn, "Lead, kindly Light," to herself, finding
comfort in the last two lines:

And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

And then she came back to her dazzling day-dream. Could she not, after
all, be the missionary? But she was not educated, and she was the chief
breadwinner of the family, and her mother leant upon her so much. How
could she manage it? She thought it all out, and at last said, "I _can_
do it. I _will_ do it." She was o