know about sending it."

"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled
alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to
Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home."

The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine,
rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole
village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window
was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed:

"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those
snow-shoes for an hour!"

Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the
well-known countenance of the village doctor.

"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine
to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat
my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the
snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients
dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?"

"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes.
"My price is--one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are
yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton."

So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes,
and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was
ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund.