he died?" Jack asked.

"Just four years old. I heard mother tell all about her. She was so
pretty, with long brown curls and brown eyes; and mother said she was
always happy, and when anybody seemed sad, she would put her little
hands in theirs, and say, 'What make you feel sorry? I love you.' One day
she came in, and climbed up into mother's lap--her mother's, you know,
grandmother's--and laid her head down, and said, 'I'm so tired,' and went
to sleep. She slept on and on, until grandmother got frightened, and sent
for the doctor. When he came, he said she was going to die. She was sick
for about a day, and didn't know anything. The next afternoon, while
grandmother was holding her in her lap, she opened her eyes, and seeing
the tears in grandmother's eyes, she said, 'What make you feel sorry? I
love you!' and that was the last thing she said."

"Did she die, then?" said Nannie.

"Yes; mother said she only breathed a few minutes after it. I saw the
grave when I was at grandmother's. There's a little stone, and her name
written on it. 'Nellie Bliss, aged four years.'"

"Just as old as Charlie," said Nannie. "How old would she be now?"

"Almost as old as mother," said Belle.

"How long she must have been in heaven. I wonder if she'll know our baby
is named after her?"

* * * * *

The little Nellie soon began to find her way into their hearts. Nannie
and Belle loved to sit and hold her, very carefully; and even Jack would
step softly, and not slam the door quite so hard, when told that little
Nellie was asleep,--though he did say, "He wished people would be as
particular when he was asleep, and not make such a racket in the
morning."

So for three short weeks the little bud shed its perfume, making
happy those around it; then--oh, how often comes that _then_ in human
life!--then it withered.

The children stepped softly about, or sat in silence round the fire,
while the baby lay in their mother's arms panting for breath; and when
all was still, and they saw their father lay the little form in the
crib, and close the eyes, they knew that it was dead.

Sadly passed that evening. Dr. Merry was absent to see some patients,
and sister Mary was in the room with their mother. The children gathered
round the fire, and talked in low, subdued voices, for death was new to
them.

"How strange," said Nannie, "that our little baby should die before old
Grannie Burt, who has been waiting so