s began to speak herself, in such a gentle voice--a voice quite
different from her usual brisk, decided accents.

"Pixie dear, I have something to tell you. God has been very kind to
the dear father whom you love so much. He saw that he could never be
well again--never able to move about, nor walk, nor ride, as he had done
before, and instead of leaving him to lie helpless upon his bed for long
weary years, as so many poor sufferers have had to do, He took him home
at once, and made him well and strong again. You must not think of your
father as dead, Pixie. He is alive and happy in heaven!"

But it was too early for the dead man's child to realise that beautiful
truth, and Pixie burst into a passion of grief, and the girls without
heard the long pitiful wails and nestled close to each other and sobbed
in sympathy.

Miss Phipps talked on and on, saying comforting words in that new sweet
voice, and Mademoiselle put her arms fondly round the little figure and
said--

"You will be brave, _cherie_. You are always brave! All the
O'Shaughnessys are brave--your Bridgie told me so, and said it was the
pride of the family! You will not be the first to act like a coward.
No!" But the shock was too sudden to be borne with resignation.

"We haven't got any family now! How can you have a family without a
father? He wouldn't have died if I had been at home. He was always
cheerful when I was with him, and he said himself I was better than a
doctor. Oh, Major, Major! Oh, Bridgie, Bridgie! Me heart's broken!
Me heart's broken!"

Pixie wept and wailed, and presently Miss Phipps stopped trying to
console, and let her weep her fill, knowing well that the noisy grief is
never the most lasting, and that when the first passion was exhausted
she would be more ready for comfort. She had purposely delayed telling
the sad news until tea was over, and presently it would be time for bed,
when the sleep of childhood would drop its soothing curtain over grief.
Pixie lay on the sofa, and cried until her face was swollen and she was
too exhausted to cry any longer, and Miss Phipps was just about to
propose a move to bed when, to her amazement, the child suddenly put her
feet to the ground, sat up, and said faintly--

"I want to see the girls!"

Well, after all, it was a natural request, for the bent of a lifetime
does not change in moments of grief, and Pixie was a sociable little
creature, who must needs have someone in whom to