"No, for I saw them put her in a pretty box of white wood, and my
grandma took me to her to kiss her and bid her good-by!--She was all
white and cold, and every night my aunt tells me to pray to the good
Lord to let her get warm with Him in heaven. Do you think she's there
now?"

"I hope so, my child; but you must keep on praying: that shows your
mother that you love her."

"I am going to say my prayer," replied the child; "I did not think of
saying it this evening. But I can't say it all by myself; I always
forget something. Little Marie must help me."

"Yes, Pierre, I will help you," said the girl. "Come, kneel here by my
side."

The child knelt on the girl's skirt, clasped his little hands, and began
to repeat his prayer with interest and fervently at first, for he knew
the beginning very well; then more slowly and hesitatingly, and at last
repeating word for word what Marie dictated to him, when he reached that
point in his petition beyond which he had never been able to learn, as
he always fell asleep just there every night. On this occasion, the
labor of paying attention and the monotony of his own tones produced
their customary effect, so that he pronounced the last syllables only
with great effort, and after they had been repeated three times; his
head grew heavy, and fell against Marie's breast: his hands relaxed,
separated, and fell open upon his knees. By the light of the camp-fire,
Germain looked at his little angel nodding against the girl's heart,
while she, holding him in her arms and warming his fair hair with her
sweet breath, abandoned herself to devout reverie and prayed mentally