d said: "Sister Helen
Vincula, I want to give you a ticket to carry you away to the high
mountain, and I want you to go to stay a month in my house on the
mountain, and I want you to carry this little sick girl with you. And
when you are there, Sister Helen Vincula, my bread-man will bring you
bread, and my milk-man will bring you milk, and my market-man from the
cove will bring you apples and eggs, and all the rest of the good
things that come up the mountain from the warm caves."

"For," the Only-Just-Lady said, "I want this little sick girl to grow
well again, and I want her little arms and legs and fingers to get
round and pink again."

Bessie Bell thought that that was a very pretty tale that the Lady was
telling, but she did not know or understand that that tale was about
her. Then the Only-Just-Lady said, "Sister Helen Vincula, it will do
you good, too, as well as this little girl to stay in the high
mountains."

Not until all of Bessie Bell's little blue checked aprons, and all of
her little blue dresses, and all of her little white petticoats, and
all of her little white night-gowns, and even the tiny old night-gown
with the linen thread name worked on it, had been put with all the rest
of her small belongings into the old trunk with brass tacks in the
leather, the old, old trunk that had belonged to Sister Helen Vincula,
did Bessie Bell know that it was herself, little Bessie Bell, who was
going away Somewhere.

* * *
* *
*

It was a very strange new world to Bessie Bell, that new world up on
the High Mountain.

She did not think the grand views off the edge of the high mountain so
strange. But she loved to look out on those views as she stood by
Sister Helen Vincula on the gray cliff; Sister Helen Vincula holding
her hand very fast while they both looked down into the valleys and
coves. As the shadows of evening crept up to the cliff whereon they
stood, and as those shadows folded round and round the points and
coves, those points and caves lying below and beyond fold over fold,
everything grew purple and violet.

Everything grew so purple, and so violet, and so great, and so wide
that it seemed sometimes to the little girl, standing on the cliff by
Sister Helen Vincula, that she was looking right down into the heart of
a violet as great, as wide--as great, as wide--as the whole world.

But this did not seem so strange to Bessie Bell, for she yet remembered
that window out of which on