for still they were hers and she was theirs, more than all the angels
and all the blessed could be. And thus she learned that though the new
may take the place of the old, and many things may blossom out of it
like flowers, yet that the old is never done away. And then they sat
together, telling of everything that had befallen, and all the little
tender things that were of no import, and all the great changes and
noble ways, and the wonders of heaven above and the earth beneath, for
all were open to them, both great and small; and when they had satisfied
their souls with these, her father and mother began to teach her the
other language, smiling often at her faltering tongue, and telling her
the same thing over and over till she learned it; and her father called
her his little foolish one, as he had done in the old days; and at last,
when they had kissed her and blessed her, and told her how to come home
to them when she was weary, they gave her, as the Father had permitted
them, with joy and blessing, her new name.

The little Pilgrim was tired with happiness and all the wonder and
pleasure, and as she sat there in the silence leaning upon those who
were so dear to her, the soft air grew sweeter and sweeter about her,
and the light faded softly into a dimness of tender indulgence and
privilege for her, because she was still little and weak. And whether
that heavenly suspense of all her faculties was sleep or not she knew
not, but it was such as in all her life she had never known. When she
came back to herself, it was by the sound of many voices calling her,
and many people hastening past and beckoning to her to join them.

"Come, come," they said, "little sister: there has been great trouble in
the other life, and many have arrived suddenly and are afraid. Come,
come, and help them--come and help them!"