The curate accepted his dismissal, and joined the little man by
Leopold's chair.

"I wish you two could be with me when I am dying," said Leopold.

"If you will let your sister know your wish, you may easily have
it," said the curate.

"It will be just like saying good-bye at the pier-head, and pushing
off alone--you can't get more than one into the boat--out, out,
alone, into the infinite ocean of--nobody knows what or where," said
Leopold.

"Except those that are there already, and they will be waiting to
receive you," said Polwarth. "You may well hope, if you have friends
to see you off, you will have friends to welcome you too. But I
think it's not so much like setting off from the pier-head, as
getting down the side of the ocean-ship, to laud at the pier-head,
where your friends are all standing looking out for you."

"Well! I don't know," said Leopold, with a sigh of weariness. "I'm
thankful sometimes that I've grown stupid. I suppose it's with
dying. I didn't use to feel so. Sometimes I seem not to know or care
anything about anything. I only want to stop coughing and aching and
go to sleep."

"Jesus was glad to give up his spirit into his Father's hands. He
was very tired before he got away."

"Thank you. Thank you. I have him. He is somewhere. You can't