round whiles I'm not here. You shut the door on 'em, jist. You're a humbly little runt, G.o.d knows, but thim kind is purty hard whin they once set out. Ye mind, now! An' that un-"

She shook her fist, and backed out of the room, for she could hardly have turned around. Bess moaned, but she was not awake. Dil used all her strength to suppress a scream, while a cold perspiration oozed from every pore.

When she dared, after the lamp was out, she rose and changed Bess to a more comfortable position. Ah, if the book had been there! The child shuddered with vague apprehension.

All the rest of the night she lay fearfully awake, and the next morning she looked ghastly. Even her mother was moved.

"You don't look well, Dil," she said. "What's got yer?"

"My head aches." Had she dreamed that horrible vision of the night?

"Take some queuann. Ye've no toime to be sick. Ye spind too much toime over the brat there. An' it'll be a mercy whin it's all over. I cuddent stan' it mesilf much longer."

Patsey came that afternoon. Business was good, and he had a few dimes in the bank. He and three other boys boarded with an old woman.

"But I've been thinkin', Dil, that if we had you instid o' the old woman! She can't make an Irish stew worth shucks, an' yers wud jist make a felly sing in his sleep. Whin I git some money ahead I'll jist have youse come. Yer mammy'll not mind if ye take Bess."

Dil smiled. It was lovely of Patsey, but they would be going to heaven then. She wondered why they didn't care to take Patsey along when they were so fond of him. He wouldn't want to go-how she knew that she could not tell, either.

He brought Bess a splendid orange and some candy and an ill.u.s.trated paper. The pictures were very entertaining.

"Bess is lookin' slim," he said. "She wants to go out in the fresh air."

"But it's so cold, an' it just goes over me an' all through, as if I hadn't half enough clo'es on. No, I must stay in an' keep good an' warm, an' get well by spring."

"That's the talk," and Patsey smiled.

When he was gone and they were all alone, they looked at each other curiously.

"'Twould be nice to go an' live with Patsey if we wasn't goin' to heaven," Bess said. "I do be so afeard of mammy sometimes."

"An' she rummiged last night, Bess, on the shelves an' in your bed; an'

if it hadn't been for yer wit she'd a found the book. I was so glad it was in Misses Murphy's, an' I guess I'll keep it up there every night; an' if she finds out an' asts, I'll say an' old trac' woman left it. She won't mind an old woman. I sh'd hate to tell such a lie, but when we see _him_ we'll tell him how it was. 'Cause we can't be murdered."

"We just won't tell any one 'bout goin' to heaven, either. Only Patsey, just at the last."

Mrs. Quinn dropped her suspicions in a few days. The weather was growing colder, and she needed a little more to keep up the internal fires. She managed to pay her rent promptly, and so had a good reputation with the agent. Through Dil's good management the boys fared very well as to food, but Bess did not eat enough to keep a bird alive.

"But the medicine helps," she said. "It's such splendid medicine! so much better'n that 'Spensary stuff."

The morphine in it soothed and quieted. Sometimes Bess slept all the morning, and now she was seldom wakeful at night. Dil thought that an improvement. If only she was not so frightfully thin!

The days sped on with little variation. At Thanksgiving they had two turkeys, and several of Mrs. Quinn's cronies came in to dinner. They feasted all the rest of the week.

And now another month was gone. Only four remained.

Alas! with all their care and caution, and the ready sympathy of Mrs.

Murphy, there came a swift, crushing martyrdom to their much-loved Christiana, almost to Dil. She had hurried her supper dishes out of the way, tidied up the room, and, as her mother had gone to Mrs. MacBride's, Dan in bed with a cold, and Owen roaming the streets, Dil brought out her book for an hour's reading. They had come to Giant Grim and his bl.u.s.tering threats to the Pilgrims, who would have fared badly indeed but for Mr. Greatheart. Dil had to stop to spell many of the words; often it took the united efforts of both brains to decide the meaning of a sentence.

The door opened, and Mrs. Quinn walked in. There had been a rather heated talk at Mrs. MacBride's.

Dil paused suddenly, with a swift, startled breath.

"What's that ye got?" She came nearer and glared over Dil. "An' who gev ye that?"

"A-a woman left it!" exclaimed Dil tremulously. "An old woman with trac's-"

She pulled Dil up to her feet, and the book fell to the floor.

"An' it wasn't that-that singin' man?"

She shook her so that Dil could scarcely make a sound, and for once she hardly minded.

"No man has been here," declared Bess.

"Shet yer head!" roared her mother. "Pick up that buke. What's it all about?"

"'Bout a woman they told me of in the Mission School. She took her children an'-was goin' to heaven-"

"Well, you've got business here, an' ye'll be tindin' to it, it's my opinion. Ye ain't got time for no sich foolin'. Yer wurruk will kape ye busy. Ye best not be settin' up fer a schollard. The radin' an' the stuff'll turn your head upside down. Take that!"

Mrs. Quinn gave her a resounding blow with it. Before Dil could fairly see, she had marched over to the stove.

"O mother! mother!" shrieked Dil as she caught her arm.

Mrs. Quinn gave her a push that sent her staggering across the room. She raised the stove-lid, and crowded in the book.

"Ye'll not waste yer time over any sich nonsense. Git off to bed at wanst, er I'll make ye see stars! Take that measlin' brat along wid ye."

Dil turned the wagon into the small chamber without another word. Bess caught her hands, but neither dared speak.

"Where's Owny?" the mother demanded.

"I don't know," almost sobbed Dil.

"I'll not hev him runnin' the streets at night! A foine sister yes are, to be sure, readin' novils, an' lettin' yer pore brother go to destruction! If ye don't kape him in at night I'll know the reason why.

I'll lie here a bit, an' I'll give him a norful larrupin' when he comes."

Mrs. Quinn threw herself down on the old lounge, and in five minutes was snoring as usual. Dil prepared Bess for bed, and rubbed her with a soft mitten she had made. The poor thing trembled so that it was a positive shudder. Then, as the snoring grew louder, they dared to give vent to their own overcharged hearts in tears.

"An' to think poor Christiana's burnt up, an' we can't tell how she got out of the giant's hands! Dil, there's jes' such truly people, an'

mammy's one of 'em! Jes' think if she'd been like Christiana, an' took us by the hand, an' was leadin' us to heaven, an' pushin' the kerrige whiles to spell you!"

Then they cried again at the thought, so utterly delightful, and the present reality so hard to bear.

"But we know she _did_ get to heaven," resumed Bess; "only we can't tell how many things there were. Dil, it isn't reel easy to go to heaven, after all. But when we have _him_, you see he'll do the fightin', an'

he'll pick out the way, an' we'll go right straight along. We won't stop in them queer places an' get all tangled up; for we're in such a norful hurry to get there, an' have my hurted legs made well."

Dil kissed her convulsively, and cried over the shining golden head.