Nancy's mother . ckets ofwater. The firemen took their orders, with-out a protest, from a despised foreignwoman, though I dont believe any one, intheir heart of hearts, ever despised mymother. Well, of course you can guess from mywriting this that our last houseboat jour-ney ended in safety. You could never un-derstand, unless you had taken the journey,with an organ, a violin, a pulpit, eighteenbeds, fricassee chickens, beside women andchildren, how perfectly delighted we werewhen we sailed around the last curve of theHwai River, and old West Mountain cameinto view. It looked awfully pretty th
Nancy's mother . ckets ofwater. The firemen took their orders, with-out a protest, from a despised foreignwoman, though I dont believe any one, intheir heart of hearts, ever despised mymother. Well, of course you can guess from mywriting this that our last houseboat jour-ney ended in safety. You could never un-derstand, unless you had taken the journey,with an organ, a violin, a pulpit, eighteenbeds, fricassee chickens, beside women andchildren, how perfectly delighted we werewhen we sailed around the last curve of theHwai River, and old West Mountain cameinto view. It looked awfully pretty thatbright October morning, with the queerChinese sails on the winding river, with East^nd West mountains at the back of thepicture and at the foot, our hospital andchurch spire in the dear little town of HwaiYuan. When I saw the Chinese women comingforward to greet my mother and welcome 60 her home, I knew she felt it was worth thehard trip, and that she was so glad she hadthe joy of being a foreign missionary. 6i. 1^ CHAPTER VI In TKat Beautiful Leiiicl July, 1914 ERE we are again in dear oldKuling. We are the same chil-dren, Nancy, Billy, Jimmy andBaby Gwen, only we are quite agood deal bigger; the bungalow is the same,and the little bridge across our brook, andthe mountains with their queer Chineseshapes; and our good, kind friends are aslovely as ever. None of these things orpeople have changed at all, yet it seems sodifferent, so strange and queer and veryempty. Often in my play I stop and listen,thinking I hear a voice calling, Nancy,Nancy dear, and suddenly I remember thatthat can not be, for her voice never callsme now. I turn again and try to play, butthe play spirit is gone away, for I no longerhave a loving Mother Into whose ear I canwhisper all about the make-believe games,one who knows what I mean without thelong explaining that most grown-up peopleneed. You see, it came about in this way. Af-ter the terrible famine in China, all the mis- 63 sionaries were worn out
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