"He'd ha' liked the green grass, an' the trees' an' the flowers," said Ailie.
"Mamma says heaven's ever so much beautifuller than the country," said Lettie. "I don't know how, but she says it is."
"Gran'father didn't seem to want to come, 'cause he was afraid he'd learn to love it more than heaven," said Ailie. "I hope we won't,—but I do think it'll be hard not to," she added, looking through the window at the sunshine without. "It do seem pretty."
"Maybe if we try, we won't neither," said Lettie. "Josie will want me, and I'll go now."
Smiling a farewell, she too went off along the gravel path, in somewhat more sober fashion than Josie.
Ailie stood gazing after the little departing figure, thinking to herself how she would need to know and love and trust God much, even as old Job Kippis had known and loved and trusted, if she would keep the thought of Heaven first in her heart, before the thought of this her new sweet cottage-home.
THE END.