eart felt a little
lighter because she had told her kind Father just how she felt, and if
it was best for Prudy to get well, she was sure he would save her.

Prudy's mother came in the cars that night, looking pale and troubled.
Prudy did not know her.

"Why don't you bring my own mamma?" said she.

"Look at me, darling," said her mother, "here I am, right here. Mother
won't leave her little Prudy again."

"I ain't Prudy!" screamed the child; "Prudy's gone to heaven. God came
and helped her up the steps."

One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her little
daughter's beautiful curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer.

"Ah, sister Madge," said she, "you can't guess how it makes my heart
ache to have my child take me for a stranger."

"Perhaps she may know you to-morrow," said aunt Madge; though in her
heart she had very little hope of the child.

But Prudy did not know any body "to-morrow," nor the next day, nor the
next. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! The
terrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks looked
as if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildly
her eyes shone like flames.

A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sit
by the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk about dear little
Prudy. Horace had the heartache, too, and asked every day,--

"_Do_ you think she's going to die?"

Nobody could answer him, and he had to wait, like all the rest.

But God did not mean that Prudy should die. At last, after many days,
the fever died out like a fire when it has burned the wood all down to
cinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if a
breath would blow her away like white ashes. I think a little baby,
that tips over if you touch it, could not be weaker than Prudy was
when she began to get well.

Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, though
never so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lips
like a note of music.

Her father and mother, and the whole family, were full of joy, and
Grace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over the
pretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should be
well enough to enjoy them.

CHAPTER VII

PRUDY'S PRESENT

"Well, dear," said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out of
breath, "what did you call me for? What do you want, little one?"

"I don't know,