little slower, till at last she stops, for her sister Mary is weeding
one of the pretty borders in the little garden.

"O Mary! grannie thinks just as you do about heaven; I don't think Mr.
Brown knows so much about it as she does."

"Why not, Nannie?"

"Oh, because grannie is almost there, Mary,--she ought to know!"

"What makes you think grannie is almost there?"

"Why, she said so; and then she loves to hear about heaven, just as I
did about home when I was at Aunt Sarah's."

"Do _you_ like to hear about heaven, Nannie?"

"Sometimes," she answered, while with her little shoe she played with
the pebbles.

"Not always! Nannie; when don't you like to hear about it?"

Nannie played with the pebbles a good while. At last she said, "I like
to hear _some_ things about it always, but not everything."

"And what do you like to hear about it always?"

"I like to hear about golden streets, and the beautiful water, and the
trees, and the harps of the angels, and their golden crowns."

"And what don't you like to hear about?"

The little foot moved backwards and forwards a good while, and when
Nannie did speak, she spoke almost as if she were afraid to do so.

"I don't like to hear about its always being Sunday there."

"Why, Nannie, don't you like Sunday here?"

"Why, yes, always once a week; but that's not like _always_. I don't
think I should like to go to church _every_ day, and learn the Catechism,
and have a cold dinner, and not play at all."

"Maybe I can help you a little, Nannie. Do you ever get tired of loving
father?"

"Why, no; I should never get tired of that, I'm sure he never gets tired
of loving me."

"Do you get tired of showing you love him by trying to please him?"

"No, Mary; but--"

"Never mind the 'buts' till I have done. Now, God is 'Our Father,' and
all we have to do in heaven is to love him, and to show how very much we
love him by trying to do all we can to please him. Do you think you'll
get tired of that?"

"No. But that isn't like Sunday."

"What do we do on Sunday, Nannie?"

"Why, go to church and--"

"Yes; but what do we go to church for?"

"Oh, I see now!" said Nannie, her face brightening up,--"oh, I see! We
worship God on Sunday, and that's what we'll do always in heaven; isn't
it, Mary?"

"Yes, that's why we say it's always Sunday there; and we shall love
God so much better there than we do now, that we can only be happy in
praising him. Even now, when we thin