going to masses and mass-meetings; and there couldn't anybody die but
they must be 'waked,' you know."

"Why, I didn't know they could be waked up when they was dead," said
Prudy, opening her eyes.

"O, but they only _make believe_ you can wake 'em," said Mrs. Piper; "of
course it isn't true! For my part, I don't believe a word an Irish girl
says, any way."

"Hush, my child," she continued, turning to Dotty, who was now
sharpening the silver knife on the edges of the iron grate. "Betsey, why
in the world don't you see to that baby? I believe you are losing your
mind!"

"That makes me think," said Prudy, suddenly breaking in with a new
idea; "what do you s'pose the reason is folks can't be waked up? What
makes 'em stay in heaven all the days, and nights, and years, and never
come down here to see anybody, not a minute?"

"What an idea!" said Annie. "I'm sure I don't know."

"Well, I've been a thinkin'," said Prudy, answering her own question,
"that when God has sended 'em up to the sky, they like to stay up there
the best. It's a nicer place, a great deal nicer place, up to God's
house."

"O, yes, of course," replied Annie, "but our play--"

"I've been a thinkin'," continued Prudy, "that when I go up to God's