your name on the title-page, and I think, dear, you will value the
little volume for my sake." As she spoke Aunt Judith handed a small
book, beautifully bound in blue and gold, to her young visitor, who
received it at first in speechless silence. She looked at the pretty
volume--the elegant binding and clear, bold type; then with a great cry
flung herself down by Miss Latimer's side and sobbed out, "Oh, I love
you so, you are so kind to me; and it is so hard to say good-bye."

Aunt Judith seemed amazed. "I do not understand you, child," she said
simply. "What do you mean? Try to calm yourself and explain, dear."

Then between sobs the story of a child's grief was laid before Miss
Latimer, and told with such a depth of pathos that the listener's soft
womanly heart ached in response to the plaintive tale.

"And your mother does not know you are here to-day, Winnie?" she
inquired when the sad little voice had ceased. "You had no permission
from her to come?"

The girl shook her head. "I suppose I am very disobedient," was the
simple answer; "but, Aunt Judith, the temptation was too hard to
resist. I felt I must see you all again, even though it was only to
say good-bye."

Miss Latimer sighed. "You must not come any more, dear, never after
to-night--at least not until your mother gives her full, free consent.
You think all this very hard, little Winnie, but you do not know how
deeply I feel about it also. You had stolen into my heart, child, and
I was beginning to find your love very sweet and precious--not that I
shall love you less or cease to care for you, but all this pleasant
social intercourse must end now. Nay, do not grieve so, darling. It
is all very dark and perplexing to you at present perhaps; but rest
assured God has some beautiful lessons for us to learn--lessons that
will give us a glimpse of, and may yet prove as stepping-stones to,
that higher life which is the only life worth living."

Winnie sighed despairingly. "Aunt Judith," she said, raising a pair of
wet eyes full of a child's agony to the listener's face, "I shall never
be good now. You do not know the pleasure it has been to me to come
here, or the strange thoughts that fill my heart when I see how happy
you all are in this dear little home. Somehow God seems very near
here, Aunt Judith, and the Christ-life you talk about so beautiful, I
go away determined to try to lead it too--to be good, brave, and true.
But that is all over