like herself; still--still perplexed, and feeling herself foolish; not
understanding: toiling after a something which she could not grasp. The
only difference was that it was no trouble to her now. She smiled at
herself and at her dullness, feeling sure that by and by she would
understand.

"And don't you wonder too?" she said to her companion, which was a speech
such as she used to make upon the earth, when people thought her little
remarks disjointed, and did not always see the connection of them. But
her friend of heaven knew what she meant.

"I do nothing but wonder," she said, "for it is all so natural, not what
we thought."

"Is it long since you have been here?" the Pilgrim said.

"I came before you; but how long or how short I cannot tell, for that is
not how we count. We count only by what happens to us. And nothing yet
has happened to me, except that I have seen our Brother. My mother sees
him always. That means she has lived here a long time, and well--"

"Is it possible to live ill--in heaven?" The little Pilgrim's eyes grew
large, as if they were going to have tears in them, and a little shadow
seemed to come over her. But the other laughed softly, and restored all
her confidence.

"I have told you I do not know if it is heaven or not. No one does ill,
but some do little, and some do much, just as it used to be. Do you
remember in Dante there was a lazy spirit that stayed about the gates and
never got farther? But perhaps you never read that."