ere!" she cried, "really, really here!"

"I know, I know," I said, "it's very hard. But try to think it,
ma'am--it helped me for weeks. Think they're in the room next you,
here, and you'll sleep better for it."

"Shall I?" she whispered, gripping my hand hard. "I believe I
would--how well you understand me, Sarah! And will you help me to
believe it?"

I saw she was feverish and I knew what it means to get one good
refreshing night without crying, and so I said, "Of course I will,
ma'am; see, I'll open the door into the next room and you can fancy
them in their cribs, and I'll sleep in there as if it was to look after
them, like."

Well, she was naught but a child herself, the poor dear, and she let me
get her into bed like a lamb and put her cheek into her hand and went
off like a baby. It almost scared me, to see how easy she was to
manage, if one did but get hold of the right way. She looked brighter
in the morning and as Hodges had told me that Shipman used to do for
her, I went in and dressed her--not that I was ever a lady's maid, mind
you, but I've always been one to turn my hand easily to anything I had
a mind to, and I was growing very fond of my poor lady--and then, I was
a little proud, I'll own, of being able to do more for her than her own
medical man, who couldn't trust a sensible woman with the truth!

She clung to me all the morning, and after my work was done, I
persuaded her to come out for the air. The doctor had ordered it long
ago, but she was obstinate, and would scarcely go at all. That day,
however, she took a good stroll with me and it brought a bit of colour
into her cheeks. Just as we turned toward the house she sat down on a
big rock to rest herself, and I saw her lip quiver and her eyes begin
to fill. I followed her look and there was a child's swing, hung from
two ropes to a low bough. It must have been rotted with the rains, for
it looked very old and the board seat was cracked and worn. All
around--it hung in a sort of little glade--were small piles of stones
and bits of oddments that only children get together, like the little
magpies they are.

There's no use to expect any one but a mother or one who's had the
constant care of little ones to understand the tears that come to your
eyes at a sight like that. What they leave behind is worse than what
they take with them; their curls and their fat legs and the kisses they
gave you are all shut into the grave, but what the