l a service. Miss Cortlandt is going to the gymnasium, and she will
give them a drill, or let them dance, if they like--you don't think they
feel like dancing? No more do I! I shall not leave Lobelia's room
myself till the change comes; I am going back there now, as soon as the
doctor comes. Ah! there he is now! Remember, dear girls, quiet; and for
the rest, hope and patience--and trust!"

She kissed them each in turn, quietly and gravely, and was gone. Turning
to Emily Cortlandt, they saw that her eyes were full of tears; yet she
spoke cheerfully. "Miss Russell is so wise, girls!" she said. "I am sure
you will do all you can--it is an anxious time. One thing she forgot to
say,--I wouldn't let the other girls know, if you can help it, how grave
the danger is. Some of them are nervous, and might have hysterics, or
even be ill. Viola, my child, you look very pale. Don't you feel well?"

Viola was trembling all over. She came close to Miss Cortlandt and
nestled up to her like a little child. "I'm afraid!" she said, simply.
"I never was near where anybody died. I'm dreadfully afraid, Miss
Cortlandt."

Very gently Emily Cortlandt spoke then to the frightened child, and to
the other three girls, whose strong, sensible faces were grave enough,
but who were able to possess themselves in courage and quiet. She told
them some of her thoughts, the thoughts of a gentle Christian woman; of
the hope and love and promise that made death seem to her only the white
door that led into life, a life toward which we must all look, and for
which we must shape ourselves as we pass through this world of joy and
sorrow. She told them of young lives which had seemed cruelly cut off
here; and of how it was her thought that death had been to them not the
end, but the beginning; and of the lovely light they had shed behind
them, of gentleness and hope and love. Then she spoke more brightly, and
told them how strong, after all, life was in the young, and how one
could always hope, while even a spark remained. Doctor Hendon had good
hope, she repeated, and they must have it, too.

"And now," she said, "I must go, and you must go, too. Find the girls
quietly, and bring them to me, or take them out for one of your good
walks; and let us, whatever we do, do it cheerfully!"

Faithfully the Owls and Peggy laboured, that November afternoon. First
they soothed and comforted Viola, finishing the good work that Miss
Cortlandt had begun; and they induced h