had faded, and only an indistinct mass of soft black loomed across
the light. Behind the trees the fire was going out, here and there
were yellow, vivid streaks yet, but the flaming sun-edge, had dipped
beyond the world, and the purple, delicate veil was dropping down.

A curlew's note broke the silence, wild, mournful, unearthly. Meg
shivered, and sat up straight. Judy's brow, grew damp, her eyes
dilated, her lips trembled.

"Meg!" she said, in a whisper that cut the air. "Oh, Meg, I'm
frightened! MEG, I'm so frightened!"

"God!" said Meg's heart.

"Meg, say something. Meg, help me! Look at the dark, Meg. MEG,
I can't die! Oh, why don't they be quick?"

Nellie flew to the fence again; then to say, "Make her better,
God--oh, please, God!"

"Meg, I can't think of anything to say. Can't you say something,
Meg? Aren't there any prayers about the dying in the Prayer Book?--
I forget. Say something, Meg!"

Meg's lips moved, but her tongue uttered no word.

"Meg, I'm so frightened! I can't think of anything but `For what
we are about to receive,' and that's grace, isn't it? And there's
nothing in Our Father that would do either. Meg, I wish we'd gone
to Sunday-school and learnt things. Look at the dark, Meg! Oh, Meg,