posed. She
hated to hear us arguing and bickering as was generally our way when we
met. "Please bring the measuring tape, Frank," she said, "you will find
it on that bench in the corner; and come and see how long my wreath is.
It should be just nineteen feet, but I'm afraid I am a yard short."

By the time I had done as my old friend requested, the conversation
which I had interrupted by my advent resumed its course. They were
talking about the future world, and ventilating sundry curious thoughts
on the subject.

"And what do _you_ think heaven will be like?" asked Seraphine Dasher,
appealing to me. "Everybody's opinion has been given but yours and Miss
Pimpernell's, and Mr Mawley's; and I'm coming to them presently."

"I'm sure I can't say," I answered, "perhaps a combination of choral
music, running water, I mean the sound of brooks gliding and fountains
splashing, with almond toffee at discretion: that's my idea of earthly
felicity at least."

"Oh, fie!" said my interlocutor; while I could hear Miss Spight murmur
"What deplorable levity," as she glowered at me severely and looked
sympathisingly at Mr Mawley.

"Well," said I, "I was only joking then; for, really, I've never
seriously thought about the matter. As far as I can believe, however, I
do not imagine heaven is going to be a place where we'll be singing
hymns all day. I think we shall be happy there, each in our several
ways, as we are on earth, and be in the company of those we love: heaven
would be miserable without that, I think."

"And what do you say, Miss Pimpernell?" next asked Seraphine.

"I do not say anything at all, my dear: the subject is beyond me. I
leave it to One who is wiser than us all to tell me in his own good
time."

"And you, Mr Mawley?" continued our fair questioner.

"We should not seek to understand the mysteries of the oracles of God,"
said the curate pompously.

"My dear, I can tell you," said the vicar, who had slipped in quietly,
unknown to us all, "`Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have
entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for
them that love him!'"

"I wonder, sir," said I, "whether that text, `In My Father's house are
many mansions,' means that there are different degrees of happiness in
the future world?"

"That passage," said the vicar, "is one whose interpretation has been
more disputed than any I know. Some say it has the meaning which you
attach to it; while othe