ashamed as she was bid, and forget what it was that she remembered.

Bessie Bell might have remembered one time when a great house was
all desolate, and when nobody or nothing at all breathed in the
whole great big house, but one little tiny girl and one great big
white cat, with just one black spot on its tail.

The nurse that always had played so nicely with the tiny little girl
was lying with her cheek in her hand over yonder.

The Grandmother who had always talked so much to the tiny little
girl was not talking any more.

The tiny little girl was so sick that she only just could breathe
quickly, just so--and just so--.

If Bessie Bell could remember that, it was only that she remembered
the big white cat like a big soft dream. And she might have
remembered how, now and then, the big cat put out a paw and touched
the little girl's cheek, like a soft white dream-touch.

And that little girl had on a night-gown that was long, and soft,
and white, and on that little white night-gown was worked, oh so
carefully, in linen thread: ``Bessie Bell.''

Then the few people who walked about the world in Fever-time came in
to that big house, and they took up that little tiny girl that
breathed so softly and so quickly--just so!

And they read on her little white night-gown the words written with