'No. It's not time for anybody to be up yet.'

Nannie ought to have spent the night in grannie's room, for it was her
turn to watch; but finding her nicely asleep as she thought, she had
slipped away for just an hour of comfort in bed. The hour had grown to
three. When she returned the fire was out.

When I came down to breakfast the solemn look upon my uncle's face
caused me a foreboding of change.

'God has taken grannie away in the night, Willie,' said he, holding the
hand I had placed in his.

'Is she dead?' I asked.

'Yes,' he answered.

'Oh, then, you will let her go to her grave now, won't you?' I
said--the recollection of her old grievance coming first in association
with her death, and occasioning a more childish speech than belonged to
my years.

'Yes. She'll get to her grave now,' said my aunt, with a trembling in
her voice I had never heard before.

'No,' objected my uncle. 'Her body will go to the grave, but her soul
will go to heaven.'

'Her soul!' I said. 'What's that?'