"O Sally! I wish we'd told her. She thinks we were in church all
morning, and we've gone on deceiving her. If we'd told her at first
how it was--how sweet th' hawthorn smelt through the open church
door, and how we were on th' last bench in the aisle, and how it
were the first butterfly we'd seen this spring, and how it flew into
th' very church itself; oh! mother is so gentle, I wish we'd told
her. I'll go to her next time she comes in sight, and say, 'Mother,
we were naughty last Sabbath.'"

She stopped, and a few tears came stealing down the old withered
cheek, at the thought of the temptation and deceit of her childhood.
Surely many sins could not have darkened that innocent child-like
spirit since. Mary found a red-spotted pocket-handkerchief, and put
it into the hand which sought about for something to wipe away the
trickling tears. She took it with a gentle murmur.

"Thank you, mother."

Mary pulled Margaret away from the bed.

"Don't you think she's happy, Margaret?"

"Ay! that I do, bless her. She feels no pain, and knows nought of
her present state. Oh! that I could see, Mary! I try and be
patient with her afore me, but I'd give aught I have to see her, and
see what she wants. I am so useless! I mean to stay here as long
as Jane Wilson is alone; and I would fain be here all to-night,
but"--

"I'll come," said Mary decidedly.