lled Mrs. Ashford, "don't strike your little brother.
What is the matter? Come here, Freddie."

But Freddie stamped his foot and screamed, "Will have it! Will have
pretty box!" and Marty wailed, "Oh! he's broken my lovely box and
spilled all my money."

It was some time before peace was fully restored, though Marty was soon
very repentant for what she had done and Freddie's ill-temper never
lasted very long. After standing a while with his face to the wall, as
was his custom on such occasions, crying loudly, the little tempest was
all over. He turned around, and putting up his hands to wipe his eyes
said pitifully,

"My teeks are so wet, and I have no hamititch to dry them."

"Come here and I'll dry them," said his mother, taking him on her knee.

[Illustration: Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the
room. Page 58]

"My chin is all wet," he said.

"So it is, but we'll dry all your face."

"And my hands are all wet."

"What a poor little wet boy!" said his mother tenderly, but cheerfully
too.

After making him comfortable she said,

"Now are you sorry you were such a naughty boy?"

He nodded his head, and turning to Marty, who was crawling around
gathering up her money, he said, "Sorry, Marty."

Marty crept up to him, and kissing over and over the little arm she had
struck, said with eyes full of tears,

"You dear little darling, you don't know how awfully sorry Marty is for
being so bad to you!"

Then they rubbed their curly heads together until Freddie began to
laugh, and in a few moments he was playing with his tin horse as merrily
as if nothing had happened, while Marty gathered up and put away her
treasures.

"Now, Marty," said her mother, "you must keep that out of Freddie's
sight. He is nothing but a baby, and doesn't know that it is any
different from any other box. Let me see where it is broken. Perhaps I
can mend it."

"No, mamma," said Marty, "I don't want it mended. I am going to let it
be this way to remind me of how naughty I was to my dear little
brother, and maybe it will keep me from getting so angry with him again.
It does seem dreadful, too, to think that just when I'm trying to be
good to children away over the sea, I should be partic'lerly bad to my
own little brother, doesn't it?"

"I sha'n't say a word," replied her mother, "for I see you can rebuke
yourself."

So the broken missionary box was a constant reminder to Marty that her
work for those far away s