water. She was a link with the home that had been, and Mary regarded
her as specially her own: she shared her bed and her meals, and even
her thoughts, for she would talk to her about those who had gone. The
child's memory of Britain soon faded, but she never ceased to pray for
"all in Scotland who remember us." She was made more of than was good
for her, but was always brought to her level outside of Creek Town.
Mary had heard that both her parents were dead, but one day the father
appeared at the Mission House. She asked him to come and look at his
child. He shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Let me look from a
distance." Mary seized him and drew him towards the child, who was
trembling with terror. In response to a command in Efik the girl threw
her arms around his neck, and his face relaxed and became almost
beautiful. When he looked into her eyes, and she hid her head on his
breast, the victory was complete. He set her upon his knee and would
scarcely give her up. Although he lived a long way off he returned
every other day with his new wife and a gift of food.

Next came a girl of six years, whose father was a Christian. She also
was full of tricks, and, with Janie, was enough for one house. But
there was also Okin, a boy of about eight, whose mother was a slave
with no voice in his upbringing, but whose mistress wished him to be
trained up for God, a mischievous fellow whose new clothes lasted
usually about a week, but willing and affectionate and, on the whole,
good; and another boy of ten called Ekim, a son of the King of Old
Town, whose mother gave him to Mary when she first went out. On her
departure for Scotland he had gone back to his heathen home and its
fashions, but returned to her when she settled in Creek Town. He was
truthful, warm-hearted, and clever, and as a free boy and heir to a
responsible position the moulding of his character gave her much
thought and care. The last was Inyang, a girl of thirteen, but bigger