“It was such a sweet, comforting service. I wish you could have heard it, and—” would she understand about Mrs. Crawford—her “beautiful woman?”
“I’m afraid when you leave me. Don’t go away again,” and the thin lips quivered.
“But you have slept all the time, and you do feel better.”
“If I could move about—” fretfully.
“Can I help?”
“Oh, no. I want to do it myself, but my limbs won’t stir. Is it spring, that the sun shines so?”
“No, dear. Tomorrow will be Christmas.”
“Do you remember Sally? She had a party you know and you wouldn’t go—”
“But I was only a little girl, a school girl, and they were young ladies.”
“Lilian do you mean never to have a lover? It is the happiest time for a girl. He takes you out and buys you pretty little things. He gave me that work box on Christmas, and a ring afterward. I don’t see how God could have let him get killed—we were so happy. He wasn’t your father. Both his babies died. Do you suppose he found them in heaven?”