Paul, gently. "There
are other children ill in the place besides Kitty."

"No, sir; it's true enough. My John got up in the dark and went to ask
for her; and he saw the nurse, who told him she was dying then. She
could not last the hour."

"And the rector?" inquired Sally, who was crying quietly. "Did she
mention him?"

"Miss Kitty lay in his arms, poor lamb! He's never had his clothes off
since she was taken ill, and he would not let her be frightened; he'd
hold her fast until He came to fetch her," said Mrs. Macdonald, with
simple conviction that the Good Shepherd Himself would lift little
Kitty straight from her father's arms into His own.

Late that afternoon Paul called at the rectory to leave a wreath of
white flowers from Sally and a bunch of arums from himself; and the
rector, who saw him pass the study window, opened the door to him.

"I've only brought a few flowers from Sally and me," said Paul,
omitting the usual greeting.

Mr. Curzon looked down at them for a moment, fingering the card
attached to Paul's spray with hands that trembled. On it was written
"For Kitty, from one who loved her."

"Thank you," he answered with a smile that was more pathetic than
tears. "She loved you, too, very dearly. Will you give her them
yourself?"

But Paul drew back with a shiver.

"Oh no; her bright, living face is the memory that I would have of her."

So it was the rector who carried up the flowers to the room where Kitty
lay, and placed the wreath at her feet; and the arums framed the sweet,
smiling face, and the card with its message of love was laid upon her
breast, with the murmured prayer that the one who loved Kitty might
learn to love Kitty's God.

All the villagers that were able attended Kitty's funeral two days
later, drawn there by love and sympathy. Paul was there with Sally,
sitting down in the belfry, close to the spot where Kitty's carriage
had been placed upon the only other occasion when Paul had attended a
service in Rudham church.

"If there is any meaning at all in the service, it is appropriate for
Kitty," was the reason he had assigned to Sally for accompanying her.
It seemed like a beautiful dream to him: the church nearly filled with
people, the fragrance of the flowers as the little white coffin was
carried into church headed by the rector and the choir, who sang, as
they led the way to the chancel, the words of a hymn quite unfamiliar
to Paul, and a few lines of which sou