Marked For A Mast

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Title:     Marked For A Mast
Author: Margaret White Eggleston [More Titles by Eggleston]

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."

[The end]
Margaret White Eggleston's short story: Marked For A Mast

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