Give up thy charge,

And hold not back, O South,
And hold not back, O South," etc.

"Land! ain't they smart, seesawin' up and down in that part they
learnt in singin' school! I wonder what they're actin' out,

singin' hymn-tunes up in the barn chamber? Some o' Rebecca's
doins, I'll be bound! Git dap, Aleck!"

Aleck pursued his serene and steady trot up the hills on the
Edgewood side of the river, till at length he approached the

green Common where the old Tory Hill meeting-house stood, its
white paint and green blinds showing fair and pleasant in the

afternoon sun. Both doors were open, and as Abijah turned into
the Wareham road the church melodeon pealed out the opening bars

of the Missionary Hymn, and presently a score of voices sent the
good old tune from the choir-loft out to the dusty road:

"Shall we whose souls are lighted
With Wisdom from on high,

Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?"

"Land!" exclaimed Abijah under his breath. "They're at it up
here, too! That explains it all. There's a missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary meeting at

the church, and the girls wa'n't allowed to come so they held one
of their own, and I bate ye it's the liveliest of the two."

Abijah Flagg's shrewd Yankee guesses were not far from the truth,
though he was not in possession of all the facts. It will be

remembered by those who have been in the way of hearing Rebecca's
experiences in Riverboro, that the Rev. and Mrs. Burch, returned

missionaries from the Far East, together with some of their
children, "all born under Syrian skies," as they always explained

to interested inquirers, spent a day or two at the brick house,
and gave parlor meetings in native costume.

These visitors, coming straight from foreign lands to the little
Maine village, brought with them a namelessenchantment to the

children, and especially to Rebecca, whose imagination always
kindled easily. The romance of that visit had never died in her

heart, and among the many careers that dazzled her youthful
vision was that of converting such Syrian heathen as might

continue in idol worship after the Burches' efforts in their
behalf had ceased. She thought at the age of eighteen she might

be suitably equipped for storming some minor citadel of
Mohammedanism; and Mrs. Burch had encouraged her in the idea,

not, it is to be feared, because Rebecca showed any surplus of
virtue or Christian grace, but because her gift of language, her

tact and sympathy, and her musicaltalent seemed to fit her for
the work.

It chanced that the quarterly meeting of the Maine Missionary
Society had been appointed just at the time when a letter from

Mrs. Burch to Miss Jane Sawyer suggested that Rebecca should form
a children's branch in Riverboro. Mrs. Burch's real idea was that

the young people should save their pennies and divert a gentle
stream of financial aid into the parent fund, thus learning early

in life to be useful in such work, either at home or abroad.
The girls themselves, however, read into her letter no such

modest participation in the conversion of the world, and wishing
to effect an organization without delay, they chose an afternoon

when every house in the village was vacant, and seized upon the
Robinsons' barn chamber as the place of meeting.

Rebecca, Alice Robinson, Emma Jane Perkins, Candace Milliken, and
Persis Watson, each with her hymn book, had climbed the ladder

leading to the haymow a half hour before Abijah Flagg had heard
the strains of "Daughters of Zion" floating out to the road.

Rebecca, being an executive person, had carried, besides her hymn
book, a silver call-bell and pencil and paper. An animated

discussion regarding one of two names for the society, The Junior
Heralds or The Daughters of Zion, had resulted in a unanimous

vote for the latter, and Rebecca had been elected president at an
early stage of the meeting. She had modestly suggested that Alice

Robinson, as the granddaughter of a missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary to China, would be
much more eligible.

"No," said Alice, with entire good nature, "whoever is ELECTED
president, you WILL be, Rebecca--you're that kind--so you might

as well have the honor; I'd just as lieves be secretary, anyway."
"If you should want me to be treasurer, I could be, as well as

not," said Persis Watson suggestively; "for you know my father
keeps china banks at his store--ones that will hold as much as

two dollars if you will let them. I think he'd give us one if I
happen to be treasurer."

The three principal officers were thus elected at one fell swoop
and with an entire absence of that red tape which commonly

renders organization so tiresome, Candace Milliken suggesting
that perhaps she'd better be vice-president, as Emma Jane Perkins

was always so bashful.
"We ought to have more members," she reminded the other girls,

"but if we had invited them the first day they'd have all wanted
to be officers, especially Minnie Smellie, so it's just as well

not to ask them till another time. Is Thirza Meserve too little
to join?"

"I can't think why anybody named Meserve should have called a
baby Thirza," said Rebecca, somewhat out of order, though the

meeting was carried on with small recognition of parliamentary
laws. "It always makes me want to say:

Thirza Meserver
Heaven preserve her!

Thirza Meserver
Do we deserve her?

She's little, but she's sweet, and absolutely without guile. I
think we ought to have her."

"Is 'guile' the same as 'guilt?" inquired Emma Jane Perkins.
"Yes," the president answered; "exactly the same, except one is

written and the other spoken language." (Rebecca was rather good
at imbibing information, and a master hand at imparting it!)

"Written language is for poems and graduations and occasions like
this--kind of like a best Sunday-go-to-meeting dress that you

wouldn't like to go blueberrying in for fear of getting it
spotted."

"I'd just as 'lieves get 'guile' spotted as not," affirmed the
unimaginative Emma Jane. "I think it's an awful foolish word; but

now we're all named and our officers elected, what do we do
first? It's easy enough for Mary and Martha Burch; they just play

at missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionarying because their folks work at it, same as Living
and I used to make believe be blacksmiths when we were little."

"It must be nicer missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionarying in those foreign places," said
Persis, "because on 'Afric's shores and India's plains and other

spots where Satan reigns' (that's father's favorite hymn) there's
always a heathen bowing down to wood and stone. You can take away

his idols if he'll let you and give him a bible and the
beginning's all made. But who'll we begin on? Jethro Small?"

"Oh, he's entirely too dirty, and foolish besides!" exclaimed
Candace. "Why not Ethan Hunt? He swears dreadfully."

"He lives on nuts and is a hermit, and it's a mile to his camp
through the thick woods; my mother'll never let me go there,"

objected Alice. "There's Uncle Tut Judson."
"He's too old; he's most a hundred and deaf as a post,"