The hours were long.  Twelve hours every day for six days a week the fourteen-year-old girl worked in the factory.  And the pay was very small.  But it was a joy when she received her pay on Saturday night.  Mary hurried home.

“Mother, Mother,” she called happily as she hurried into the house, “here is the money I earned this week.”

“Oh, Mary, that is so good of you,” said Mother Slessor.  She wiped tears from her eyes with the end of her apron.  She felt sad that Mary had to work in a factory.  She thought of her own childhood in a happy home where there was always plenty to eat and plenty of money to buy things that were needed.  She quickly hid Mary’s wages in the same place where she hid her own wages, so that her husband would not find the money and spend it for drink.

Mary did not lose courage by the long hours in the factory.  She remembered that David Livingstone, the great missionary, had worked in a weaving factory, too.

“If I want to be a missionary, I must study,” said Mary.  “When can I find time?” Again Mary remembered something David Livingstone did when he was a boy.  He would take books to work and read them when the weaving shuttles were working right and did not have to have someone attend to them.  Mary did the same thing.  She read many books from the Sunday school library.  She read books like Milton’s Paradise Lost.  But most of all she read the Bible.

Conditions at home grew worse.  Mary’s drunken father became meaner and meaner.  Saturday nights were the worst.  Mary and her mother would sit waiting, after the younger children had been put to bed, for the father to stumble home.  One night he was so mean to Mary, she had to run out of the house to get away from him.  The whole family was unhappy because of Mr. Slessor’s sinful habit.  Finally, one morning he did not waken from the drunken sleep.  In the night his soul fled to face the Judge in Heaven.  The death of the father was really a great blessing to the family, for he had brought them only sorrow and trouble.

Now the family felt free.  The load they had borne was lifted.  Mary at once began to take a more active part in church work.

“If I want to be a missionary, I better have some practice.  I know what I can do, I’ll ask the Sunday school superintendent for a class to teach.”  She did, and was given a class of girls.  She enjoyed teaching the girls very much.  She called them her “lovable lassies.”

But Mary was not satisfied.  She wanted to get more practice.

On her way home from the factory Mary passed through the slums of the city.  Mary herself did not live in a fine house; in fact, it was a very poor one.  But in the slums the children lived in small, dark apartments.  The streets on which they played were narrow and dirty.  The children here did not know about the Saviour.  They grew up rough and tough, cursing, swearing, stealing, and doing many mean things.  Mary’s heart ached for these children of the slums.  She wanted to teach them that Jesus could make them happy.  She talked with many people about it.