Mary had just come from the little post-office in the town where she was
spending the summer, and in her hand she held a bunch of letters. Mail
time was the event of the day, and all the summer people flocked about the
office as soon as the little boat carrying the mail was heard blowing her
whistle below the bend.
To-day Mary had been very impatient as the old postmaster had slowly
sorted the mail. She had watched him look carefully at one address after
another, and, knowing him as she did, she was sure that many in the town
would know by night how many interesting letters had come to people in the
town. She had been almost the first at the little window for her mail and
then had had to brave the laugh of the rest when Mr. Blake had said,
"Here's your letter and it's a fat one that took four cents. My, but he
must like you."
Mary had been waiting for this very letter because in the last one George
had said, "I have a big surprise in store for you but I can't tell you
yet--maybe in the next letter."
So this long one must be the surprise. Eagerly she tore it open and read
the first two pages that told of things happening in the home town and
good times the young people were having. Then she read,
"And now for my secret. You know we are going to our camp for a whole
month of fun in August. Mother likes you and you are such good company for
us all that she tells me to write in her name and ask you to spend the
first two weeks with us there. Don't say no for we--no, I--must surely
have you to share our good times."
The first two weeks! Those were the weeks she had planned to go to the
conference and train for some special work for the church during the
coming winter. The church had said they would pay her expenses if she
cared to go, and already she had made application. Oh, dear! Now what
should she do? She had said to her pastor, "I want to go to the conference
more than anything I have ever wanted but I can't afford to go." Now she
wanted to go with her friends and she would have to say to him, "I want a
good time more than I want the conference." The conference would come
again the next year, but this invitation might never come again.
To be sure, she had many, many good times. Maybe she would have a good
time at the conference. Which did she want the more? If she went with her
friends, she could not do the winter work at the church as it ought to be
done. But there was the last sentence. "We--no, I--must have you to share
our good times." That meant a lot to her as she read it. Should she go to
the conference or should she go to the camp?
Mechanically she turned the other letters over. There was one from mother,
and one from a school friend, and a business letter--oh, here was a
correspondence card from Mrs. Lane, her teacher in the Church School.
"Dear Mrs. Lane," thought Mary. "How I should love to see her! She was
going to Maine. I wonder if this little snapshot is a picture of some
pines where she is staying."
After looking long at the beautiful, tall pines in the picture, she turned
to the card and read,
"Dear Mary:
"As we came up the beautiful Sebago Lake last week, I saw something
that reminded me of you so strongly that I must tell you of it. Away
off in the distance, we saw some wonderful pines that towered high
above the rest. They seemed so tall that we spoke to the pilot of the
boat about them and he told us this story about them.
"'Years and years ago, before this land was settled by any but the
Indians, King George of England sent men to this country to look for
tall trees that would make good masts for his ships. They went up the
rivers and lakes looking everywhere for the special trees. Here on
these hills they found these great trees. So the men marked "K.G." on
the trees, charted them on a map which they carried, and went on
their way. But for some reason they were never cut and carried away
to be used on his ships. There they stand to-day, strong and
straight, marked for masts.'
"After the old man had finished his story and had left us, I said to
my friend, 'Marked for a mast because it is straight and strong. I
have a girl who also is marked for a mast and some day she will carry
with her, under her colors, many boys and girls. We are sending her
to the leaders' conference this summer so that she may begin to make
ready for her work.' Mary, dear, it is wonderful to have been chosen
by the King of England and to have been marked for use with his
initials, but it is more wonderful to have been chosen by a greater
king and marked with his name. Perhaps you can guess what the mark I
see on you might be--It is C. L. Write and tell me all about the
conference, won't you?
"Lovingly your friend,
"Margaret Lane."
'Twas a very thoughtful girl who went down the street. In one hand a long
letter and in the other a closely written card. The one said, "Come and
have a real jolly, good time." The other said, "Get ready for service."
Which should it be?
As she sat in the hammock thinking of her good friend in Maine, there came
again to her mind the last night Mrs. Lane had been with them. They had
been talking over plans for the summer and Mrs. Lane had quietly said, "I
like to think that a good time is one which you carry with you and which
means more to you as the weeks go by than it did when you were enjoying
it." Which good time would she carry with her longer? Which would make of
her the finer girl? Which did she want most to carry with her? And as she
thought, the way became clearer.
Finally she went to her room and returned in a few minutes with a writing
case and pen.
"Dear George," she began. "Weren't you good to ask me to go with the
family to the camp! I can't think of any camp where I would enjoy
myself more and I surely appreciate the invitation. But I can't
accept it this time for that is the time set for the conference to
which I am really going this year. Our church has made it possible
for me to go, and I know it will do much in getting me ready to be of
help to those who have helped me so much. I shall have so much more
to give when I have studied for the two weeks with those who know,
and have given their lives to the service of others. 'Tis an
opportunity that I couldn't miss--not even for two weeks with you
all. Thank you just the same."
Mary read the letter, then as she sealed it, she said with a smile,
"Marked for a mast! Marked for a mast! Surely I mustn't bend or break if I
can be a mast some day and carry a king's colors. C. L.?... C. L.?... Ah,
I have it. 'Tis the word that Mrs. Lane uses so often--a Christian
Leader! 'Tis wonderful to have her think I have been chosen to bear such a
splendid name. I can hardly wait to meet the rest of the girls, who also
wear the mark of the King, who will be there at the conference. I may
be--oh, I hope I am--marked for a mast."