e unlaced and unbuttoned and put to bed
by the lady that he loved. She had come in sometimes in a wondrous
dress to say good night, but often, stopping at the mirror on the way
across to him, she had seen a beautiful vision and forgotten to say
it. And Murray had not wondered, for he had seen the vision, too.

[Illustration: Murray had ... seen the vision, too]

"Your mamma's gone away, hasn't she? I saw her."

Daisy was still there! Murray pulled himself out of his dreaming, to
be polite.

"Yes; but she's coming back to-night. She promised."

"S'posing the cars run off the track so she can't?" Daisy said,
cheerfully.

"She'll come," Murray rejoined, with the decision of faith. "She
promised, I said."

"S'posing she's killed 'most dead?"

"She'll come."

"_Puffickly_ dead--s'posing?"

Murray took time, but even here his faith in the Promise stood its
ground, though the ground shook under it. Sheelah had taught him what
a promise was; it was something not to be shaken or killed even in a
railroad wreck.

"When anybody promises, _they do it_," he said, sturdily. "She
promised an' she'll come."

"Then her angel will have to come," remarked the older, girl child,
coolly, with awful use of the indicative mood.

When the half-hour was over and Murray at liberty, he went in to the
clock and stood before it with hands a-pocket and wide-spread legs. A
great yearning was upon him to know the mystery of telling time. He
wished--oh, how he wished he had let Sheelah teach him! Then he could
have stood here making little addition sums and finding out just how
long it would be till night. Or he could go away and keep coming back
here to make little subtraction sums, to find out how much time was
left _now_--and now--and now. It was dreadful to just stand and
wonder things.

Once he went up-stairs to his own little room out of the nursery and
sat down where he had always sat when Sheelah unlaced him, before he
had begun to unlace himself, and stood up where he had always stood
when Sheelah unbuttoned him. He sat very still and stood very still,
his grave little face intent with imagining. He was imagining how it
would be when _she_ did it. She would be right here, close--if he
dared, he could put out his hand and smooth her. If he _dared_, he
could take the pins out of her soft hair, and hide in it--

He meant to dare!

"Little silly," perhaps she would call him; perhaps she would
remember to kiss him good-night.