talking to me, and now I know that He makes no mistakes,
and is doing the very best for all of us by taking me now. I shall
look for you and father, and one day we shall be all together again, I
hope, in that beautiful country that now seems so far away.'

There was a little silence in the room; then Mrs. Allonby turned to
Bobby.

'Bobby, dear, will you say me that verse in that old Italian Bible of
your grandmother's? Somehow, now I am so near the gates, it seems to
bring me more comfort than our English version. I have so often broken
God's commandments. But the other--is so simple--so comforting!'

Bobby repeated his favourite verse with glad assurance.

'"Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that
they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in through the gates
into the City."'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Allonby when he had finished, 'when we come near the
gates, Bobby, and all our life rises before us with all our sins, it is
the thought of the Lamb's precious blood that brings us peace and
courage. I like the verse about doing His commandments for life; but
for death your verse is far and away the best.'

The children could hardly follow this. True climbed upon the bed and
sat close to her mother.

'Is it a very nice thing to die, mother?' she asked.

'My darling, it is nice to feel that our dear Saviour is holding me
tight. "Lo, I am with you alway," He says to me. And so I am content.'

'Oh,' said Bobby, 'I should like to see the gates open and let you in.
Will you walk up the street by those lovely trees? And will you come
to the gates to meet us when it's our time?'

Mrs. Allonby smiled her answer, and Margot now crept softly in and told
the children they must go.

'I must have a kiss from each of them,' Mrs. Allonby said feebly. 'I
don't think--I never know, Margot, whether I shall get through another
night.'

So they kissed her, and reluctantly left the room. That was a strange,
long day to them. Mr. Allonby came in and spent the rest of the day in
his wife's room. The children had to go to bed without wishing him
good-night. Bobby unhung his picture and placed it on the
dressing-table opposite his bed, where he could look at it. In the
early morning he lay gazing at it with fascinated eyes. He followed in
thought his mother's arrival there, her entrance through the gates, and
her triumphal march up to the shining, golden throne in the distance.
He seem