st of
them to say, 'Wait, wait; time enough.' But we've waited too long
already, so to-morrow the message goes, as sure as my name's Catharine
Anne Turner. Then there's granny--Guy's poor mother at Denescroft. We've
put her off and kept her in the dark quite long enough, even if there is
a risk in letting her know the truth. I'm going there myself, Alice
Turner," announced Aunt Catharine resolutely, "the minute I get that
cablegram off my mind. I, and I alone, shall bear the pain of telling
her that the grandchildren she adored have gone to be with their mother
in heaven--her son's dear dead Dorothy. After that, I suppose the next
thing will be seeing about our black gowns," whispered the elder lady,
with a grievous burst of sorrow for which her sister had no words of
comfort ready, because she too was softly sobbing.

"Come, cheer up," said Miss Alice at length, after she had dried her
eyes. "Try to keep brave--for this one day at least. Who knows what may
happen! Why, at any moment they may walk in," she added brightly, and
her cheerfulness was not altogether assumed. For Auntie Alice could not
bring herself to believe that the children were really lost, or gone
from their sight for all time--that until they met together, small and
great, around the throne of God in heaven they should see them no more.
In the dead of night, when the house was still and baby sleeping quietly
in his bassinet by Perry's bedside, she would leave her room and go into
the nursery, where the sight of the empty cribs, the waiting garments,
the books and toys lying in their usual places, was almost more than she
could bear. Then she would feel with her sister that they were indeed
gone for ever, and an earnest prayer for the absent father, upon whom
the sudden blow would fall with stunning force, would wing its way out
of the silence of the midnight hours to the God who is so specially a
children's God. And would He not watch over them faithfully and keep
them in safety? Ay, surely. But whether He should give them back in life
to those who grieved so deeply for their loss, or fold them gently in
the everlasting security of His own bosom, was a question to which as
yet there had come no answer.

But in broad daylight, when the sky was blue, the sun shining, and the
kittens whisking merrily round after their own tails among the autumn
flowers in the garden, Auntie Alice was able to put away from her the
dread fears which in the darkness took su