to borrow it before it is your own, the white mother will
please lend it to you, so you always give it back, and do
not lose the letters and the pieces of my hairs that will
be in it. I did not learn all of Helen's verses for the
King's Daughters' meeting, for I got too sick to study,
and my memory feels so queer. I have put a cross behind
the ones I learned, and, dear Cordelia, wilt you try to
learn them, too, and all the rest that Helen marked?
The one I tried to think of most is St. Matthew, chapter 5:44.

"Good-by, dear sister, for I cannot live much longer,
I am so pained with the hard coughing all the time. These
words I write so you will not forget me. I wish to see
my father and my mother and my little sister very much.
But if I cannot, you must give my love to them, and all
my other friends, and tell them they must meet me in
the better world. And you must, too.

"So again I say good-by, dear sister,
"ANNIE RUNNING BIRD,
"Aged 16."

"P. S.--Write good-by to Helen and my love."

"She lies at the agency. She sleeps with those that are happy," mused
Cordelia, looking at the lock of hair with reverent eyes. "It was very
cold one year ago this winter, when she had the whooping-cough so hard
it made her lungs so sick she could not live.

"My mother had the fever very long and hard at home and could not come