"Mamma," said David, again, "it is like a dream. Nothing in the whole
world seems worth a thought--standing where we stood just now."

"Except to keep one's armour bright, my David," said his mother. "Happy
Miss Bethia! She will soon be done with all her trouble now."

They watched that night and the next day, scarcely knowing whether she
recognised them, or whether she were conscious of what seemed terrible
suffering to those who were looking on; and then the end came.

It was all like a dream to David, the coming and going of the
neighbours, the hush and pause that came at last, the whispered
arrangements, the moving to and fro, and then the silence in the house.
He seemed to be living over the last days of his father's life, so well
remembered--living them over for his mother, too, with the same sick
feeling that he could not help or comfort her, or bear her trouble for
her, or lighten it. And yet, seeing her there so calm and peaceful in
every word and deed; so gentle, and helpful, and cheerful, he knew that
she was helped and comforted, and that it was not all sorrow that the
memory of the other death-bed stirred.

When he went out into the air again, he came to himself, and the dazed,
dreamy feeling went away. It was their good and kind old friend who had
gone to her rest, and it would be wrong to regret her. There were many
who would remember her with respect and gratitude, and none more than he
and his mother and the children at home. But her death would leave no
great gap, that could never be filled as his father's had done. She had
been very kind to them of late years, and they would miss her; and
then--it suddenly came into David's mind about his father's books, and
about the sum that had three times been paid to his mother since they
had been in Miss Bethia's care. He was ashamed because of it; but he
could not help wondering whether it would be paid still, or whether they
would take the books away or leave them where they were. He did not
like to speak to his mother. It seemed selfish and ungrateful to think
about it even; but he could not keep it out of his mind.

There was another day of waiting, and then the dead was carried away to
her long home.

There were none of her blood to follow her thither. The place of
mourners was given to Mrs Inglis and David, and then followed Debby and
her sister. A great many people followed them; all the towns-folk
joined in doing honour to Miss Bethia'