she in Heaven, too?"

"Yes, she is." John McIntyre spoke with a defiant firmness that
startled the boy.

"You're dead sure about that, ain't you?" he inquired, half admiringly.

"Yes. If there's a heaven, she's there, even if no one else is."

"But ain't there one?" cried Tim eagerly. It would be rather nice to
shock Miss Scott on Sunday with the news that there was no such place,
backed up by an authority like John McIntyre.

"Yes, there is." The answer was long in coming, but when it did come
it sounded final.

Tim was slightly disappointed. "Well," he argued at last, "I guess
there oughter be, anyhow, for good people like Mammy and Daddy Sawyer
and Dr. Allen and Mr. Scott--eh?"

"I suppose so."

"Why, daddy read about it one night in the Bible. It was a city, he
said--aw, shucks! I'd rather it was the country. But it had gold
streets, and was all pearls and diamonds and things. Say! find it,
will you?"

So the next reading was of the New Jerusalem, the city that had no need
of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God
did lighten it, and the Lamb was the light thereof.

"For there shall be no night there." When John McIntyre came to those
words his voice broke, and he closed the Book quickly, as though it
hurt him. He had not shed a tear since that day when he and Mary laid
their last child in the grave; and a far deeper sorrow had come upon
him since; but something shone in his eyes now as he turned his back to
the light.

For some minutes Tim lay staring into the fire, and wondering. It was
a wild winter night, and the storm came wailing across the Drowned
Lands, and shook the old door of the little cabin. But its
sorrow-laden notes, that always found an echo in the winter of John
McIntyre's lonely heart, spoke to him of something new and
wonderful--of that other land where there would be "no more death,
neither sorrow nor crying."

"It must be an awful pretty place," Tim ventured at last, rather
wistfully. "Say!"--he looked up eagerly--"d'ye s'pose it 'ud be
nicer'n Nova Scotia?" His companion did not answer, and he went on:
"Our mother's there, 'cause she was good; but if our father's dead, he
ain't."

John McIntyre looked down at the child, and Tim nodded his head
emphatically. "Oh, but I know he ain't," he said with firm conviction.
"He was so awful bad. Don't you mind I told you? He cheated a lot of
other folks, an' got all their money, an' then he