he house.

One lovely October afternoon, when air and sky were a breath and vision
of delight, after a morning spent in dressing and practising, Daisy went
to Molly. She went directly after luncheon. She had given Molly her
lesson; and then Daisy sat with a sober little face, her finger between
the leaves of the Bible, before beginning her accustomed reading. Molly
eyed her wistfully.

"About the crowns and the white dresses," she suggested.

"Shall I read about those?" said Daisy. And Molly nodded. And with her
little face exceedingly grave and humble, Daisy read the seventh chapter
of the Revelation, and then the twenty-first chapter, and the
twenty-second; and then she sat with her finger between the leaves as
before, looking out of the window.

"Will they all be sealed?" said Molly, breaking the silence.

"Yes."

"What is that?"

"I don't know exactly. It will be a mark of all the people that love
Jesus."

"A mark in their foreheads?"

"Yes, it says so."

"What mark?"

"I don't know, Molly; it says, 'His name shall be in their foreheads.'"
And Daisy's eyes became full of tears.

"How will that be?"

"I don't know, Molly; it don't tell. I suppose that everybody that looks
at them will know in a minute that they belong to Jesus."

Daisy's hand went up and brushed across her eyes; and then did it again.

"Do they belong to him?" asked Molly.

"O yes! Here it is--don't you remember?--'they have washed their robes
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.'"

"So they are white, then?" said Molly.

"Yes. And his mark is on them."

"I wish," said the cripple slowly and thoughtfully,--"I wish 'twas on
me. I do!"

I do not think Daisy could speak at this. She shut her book and got up
and looked at Molly, who had put her head down on her folded arms; and
then she opened Molly's Testament and pressed her arm to make her look.
Still Daisy did not speak; she had laid her finger under some of the
words she had been reading; but when Molly raised her head she
remembered the sense of them could not be taken by the poor woman's
eyes. So Daisy read them, looking with great tenderness in the cripple's
face--

"'I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of
life freely.' That is what it says, Molly."

"Who says?"

"Why Jesus says it. He came and died to buy the life for us--and now he
will give it to us, he says, if we want it."

"What life?" said Molly vaguely.

"Why _that