Thus talking, the children strolled away in groups, and Charlotte and Annie walked slowly toward their homes.  Annie looked thoughtful, and Charlotte spoke first.

“I wish,” said she, “that father would give me sixpence; but I know he wont, for he never goes to church, and cares nothing about the heathen, and as for mother, she would call me a simpleton if I was to ask her.  I am determined I wont go to school next Sunday if I can’t take something, it looks so mean; I will say I am sick and cannot go.”

“Oh, Charlotte!” said Annie, “that would be a great deal worse than not giving anything, for it would not only be a falsehood, but you would tempt God to make you sick.  I know you do not mean what you say.”

“You always take everything so seriously,” replied the other, laughing and looking a little ashamed.  “But what are you going to do, Annie?  Your mother cannot give you anything; but I am sure she would if she had it, she is so kind, and never scolds.  I wish mother was so always.”

“I have been thinking,” returned Annie, “that if I take the two hours mother gives me to play in the garden, and card wool for her, as she has more than she can do this week, perhaps she will give me two or three pennies.  I wish I could earn more, but I will do what I can.”

“Maybe your mother will let me help her too,” said Charlotte, eagerly; “but I have so little time to play that I could not earn much, and I would be ashamed to give so little.  I would rather put in more than any one, it would please the teacher and make the girls envy me.”

“I am sure,” answered Annie, gently, “the teacher would not like us to do anything that would make another envy us, because that is a very wicked and unhappy feeling, and though she might be pleased to see us put in so much, yet it is God whom we are seeking to serve, and he looks at the heart, and knows our feelings.  He tells us not to give alms to be seen of men, and you remember, Charlotte, what the superintendent said about the widow’s mite, which pleased Jesus, though the gift was so small.”

“You speak like a superintendent yourself,” cried Charlotte, gaily, “but ask your mother, Annie, and I will come over to-night and hear what she says.”

They had now reached Mrs. Grey’s house, and bidding each other good-by they parted.  Charlotte hurried home to tell her mother about the contributions, and was laughed at, as she expected; however, Mrs. Murray said she would give, if she had it to spare, but charity began at home, and it was not for poor folks to trouble their heads about such matters.  Let those who had means, and nothing else to do, attend to it.

When Annie told her mother what had been said in school, Mrs. Grey told her that it had also been given out in church, and a collection was to be taken up on the following Sunday, when the missionary himself would preach for them.

“I shall give what little I can,” she added, with a slight sigh.  “I wish it was more, but my earnest prayers shall accompany this humble offering to the Lord.”