she would make it a condition that none should be in her audience. When
some distinguished minister or Church leader had been requisitioned to
preside, a situation was created as embarrassing to him as to her. She
did not, however, seem to mind if the disturbing factor was out of
sight, and the difficulty was usually overcome by placing the chairman
somewhere behind. These meetings taxed her strength more than the work
in Africa, and she began to long for release. In December the Committee
gave her permission to return, but, as conditions in the field had
changed, decided to send her in the meantime to Creek Town to assist
Miss Johnstone, who was not in good health.

Within a few weeks a situation developed which altered her plans. The
severe weather had told on the delicate constitution of her youngest
sister Janie, a quiet, timid girl, but bright and intelligent, and
somewhat akin to herself in mind and manner; and it was made clear that
only a change to a milder climate would save her life. Mary was torn
with apprehension. She had a heart that was bigger than her body, and
she loved her own people with passionate intensity, and was ready for
any further sacrifice for their sake. Never bold on her own behalf, she
would dare anything for others. Thinking out the problem how best she
could reconcile her affection for her sister and her duty to the
Mission, she fell upon a plan which she would have shrunk from
proposing had she alone been concerned. If she could take the invalid
out with her to Creek Town, and if they were allowed to dwell by
themselves, the life of her sister would not only be prolonged, but she
herself would be able to continue, by living native fashion, to pay her
share of the expenses at home. To the Committee, accordingly, she wrote
early in 1885, stating that she would not feel free to go to Creek Town
unless she were permitted to take her sister with her, and unless she
were allowed, instead of boarding with any of the Mission agents, to