ide, is
just such a place for you. Should you like it?--and--shall you
remember?"

I found voice to say "Yes," and said it firmly.

"And then," added she, after a short, deliberating pause, during which
she, with my assistance, raised herself to sit on the side of the chair
with her feet still resting on the turf, "while we are upon the
subject,--one thing more. If I should be the first to go,--nobody knows
whose turn may come the first,--then I should like to have you do--just
what would make you happiest; but I _don't_ like mourning. I shouldn't
_wish_ to have it worn for me. My feelings about it have all changed
since we made it for mamma. It seemed as if we were only working at a
great black wall, for our minds to have to break through, every time
they yearned to go back into the past and sit with her. It was as if the
things she chose for us, and loved to see us in, were part of her and of
her life with us,--as if she would be able still to think of us in them,
and know just how we looked. And it seemed so strange and unsympathizing
in us, that, when we loved her so, we should go about all muffled up in
darkness, because our God was clothing her in light!"

I answered,--rather slowly and tremulously this time, I fear,--that I
had felt so too.

"Then, Katy," resumed she, pleadingly, as she leaned back in her usual
attitude in the chair, and made a sign that I might draw her home, "we
will not either of us wear it for the other,--without nor within either,
will we?--any more than we can help. Don't you remember what dear mamma
said once, when you had made two mistakes in your lessons at school, and
lost a prize, and took it hard, and somebody was teasing you, with
making very light of it, and telling you to think no more about it? You
were very sorry and a little offended, and said, you always chose not to
be hoodwinked, but to look at things on all sides and in the face. Mamma
smiled, and said, 'It is good and brave to look all trials in the face;
but among the sides, never forget the bright side, little Katy.' If I
had my life to live over again, I would try to mind her more in that.
She always said, there lay my greatest fault. I hope and think God has
forgiven me, because he makes it so easy for me to be cheerful now."

"Fanny," said I, as we drew near the house, "things in this world are
strangely jumbled. Here are you, with your character, to wit, that of a
little saint, if you will have the goodness to ov