The nurse told granny that the child was dying, not of the blow on the head, but of swift decline. Nothing could save her, she said. The shock to her nervous system had of course hastened the end; but for that she might have lived till another spring, but certainly not longer. She did not seem to suffer in the least. Hour after hour she lay quite still, while the tide of her little life ebbed swiftly out, and the darkness stole on apace; but she did not fear the gloom. The brave little heart that had borne so patiently the frowns of an unkindly world, was now resting in the love of God.

The smile that had so long flickered over her face like firelight on a wall, now settled into a look of deep content. No murmur ever escaped her lips, not even a sigh; now and then her lips moved as if in prayer, that was all.

And thus she lay waiting for the messenger that should still the little heart into an everlasting rest, and listening for the footfalls that should tell of the coming of her Lord.

After her last look at Benny, she was never seen to open her eyes again, but gradually sank to rest.

So fades a summer's cloud away,
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er,
So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies a wave along the shore.

Two days after, Joe and Benny went together to the Infirmary. But they were too late: the pure spirit had gone to God, and the little tired feet were for ever at rest.

"Cannot we see her?" said Benny.

"No, you had better not," was the reply.

Benny felt it very keenly that he might not see his little dead sister, and yet it was best.

They were told, however, if they would be at the New Cemetery at the east of the town on the following day, they might see her buried, and mark her grave.

It was a cold cheerless afternoon when little Nelly Bates was laid in her grave. There was no pomp or display about that funeral, for she was buried at the public expense. Only two mourners stood by the grave, Benny and Joe, but they were mourners indeed.

Benny went from the grave-side of little Nell to his corner under granny's stairs, and sobbed himself to sleep. And Joe went to his hut to muse on the mercy of God, and to revel in his new-found hope of heaven.

Chapter XIII - The Tide Turns

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Be what thou seemest: live thy creed,
Hold up to earth the torch divine;
Be what thou prayest to be made;
Let the great Master's steps be thine.
—Bonar.