petitions with those of the grandfather. Starting suddenly from his
chair, he exclaimed, "I'm going down there. It will look queerly, too,
to go alone. Ah, I have it! I'll drive back to Aikenside for Jessie,
who has talked so much of the girl that her lady mother, forgetting
that she was once a teacher, is disgusted. Yes, I'll take Jessie with
me, but you must order it; you must say it is good for her to ride,
and, Hal, give me some medicine for her, just to quiet Agnes, no
matter what, provided it's not strychnine."

Contrary to Guy's expectations, Agnes did not refuse to let Jessie go
for a ride, particularly as she had no suspicion where he intended
taking her, and the little girl was soon seated by her brother's side,
chatting merrily of the different things they passed upon the road.
But when Guy told her where they were going, and why they were going
there, the tears came at once into her eyes, and hiding her face in
Guy's lap she sobbed bitterly.

"I did like her so much that day," she said, "and she looked so sorry,
too. It's terrible to die!"

Then she plied Guy with questions concerning Maddy's probable future.
"Would she go to heaven, sure?" and When Guy answered at random,
"Yes," she asked, "How did he know? Had he heard that Maddy was that
kind of good which lets folks in heaven? Because, Brother Guy," and
the little preacher nestled closely to the young man, fingering his
coat buttons as she talked, "because, Brother Guy, folks can be good--
that is, not do naughty things--and still God won't love them unless
they--I don't know what, I wish I did."

Guy drew her nearer to him, but to that childish yearning for