I went with a new thought and a new fear, though I did not know what I
thought or what I feared.

When I reached Squire Allen's, Ann Smiley came down the path to meet
me.

I asked, "_Is_ Fel very low? Polly said so."

And she answered,--

"Why, no, indeed; she is as well as common. Polly is so queer."

I went into the house, and Madam Allen drew me close to her, and
said,--

"Bless you, child, for coming here to cheer our little darling."

When she set me down, I saw she had been crying. I had never seen her
with red eyes before.

"You and Fel may stay in the warm sitting-room," said she; "and Ann
shall carry in some sponge cake and currant shrub, for Fel hardly
tasted her dinner."

I remember how Fel clapped her hands, and smiled to see me; and how
Ann brought the cake into the sitting-room, and drew up a little table
before the fire. We sat and played keep house, and sipped currant
shrub out of some silver goblets which had crossed the ocean.

It is a beautiful picture I am seeing now, as I shut my eyes: Fel,
with that lovely smile on her face, as if some one were whispering
pleasant things in her ear.

"I love you so, and it's so nice;" said I.

Gust came in, and she took his hand and patted it.

"Yes," said she; "I love you and Gust, and it is nice; but we'll have
nicer times when we get to heaven, you know."

Gust gave her one little hug, and rushed out of the room. Then I
remember throwing myself on the rug and crying; for there was an ache
at my heart, though I could not tell why.

Grandpa Harrington came in, and began to poke the fire.

"Well, well," said he; "its hard for one to be taken and the other
left, so it is. But Jesus blessed little children; and I wouldn't cry,
my dear."

That was the last time I ever played with Fel. She grew feverish that
night, and the doctor said she must not see any one. Something was the
matter with her head, and she did not know people. I heard she had
"water on the brain," and wondered if they put it on to make it feel
cool.

There, children, I do not like to talk about it. It was all over in
three short weeks, and then the angels called for Fel. She was "taken"
and I was "left," and it seemed "very hard." I grieved for a long
while, and wanted to go too; but Madam Allen said,--

"You are all the little girl I have now to take in my arms. Don't you
want to stay in this world to make Fel's mother happy?"

"Yes," said I; "I do."

And my own mamma sa