'Yes,' said Mrs. Allonby when he had finished, 'when we come near the gates, Bobby, and all our life rises before us with all our sins, it is the thought of the Lamb's precious blood that brings us peace and courage. I like the verse about doing His commandments for life; but for death your verse is far and away the best.'
The children could hardly follow this. True climbed upon the bed and sat close to her mother.
'Is it a very nice thing to die, mother?' she asked.
'My darling, it is nice to feel that our dear Saviour is holding me tight. "Lo, I am with you alway," He says to me. And so I am content.'
'Oh,' said Bobby, 'I should like to see the gates open and let you in. Will you walk up the street by those lovely trees? And will you come to the gates to meet us when it's our time?'
Mrs. Allonby smiled her answer, and Margot now crept softly in and told the children they must go.
'I must have a kiss from each of them,' Mrs. Allonby said feebly. 'I don't think—I never know, Margot, whether I shall get through another night.'
So they kissed her, and reluctantly left the room. That was a strange, long day to them. Mr. Allonby came in and spent the rest of the day in his wife's room. The children had to go to bed without wishing him good-night. Bobby unhung his picture and placed it on the dressing-table opposite his bed, where he could look at it. In the early morning he lay gazing at it with fascinated eyes. He followed in thought his mother's arrival there, her entrance through the gates, and her triumphal march up to the shining, golden throne in the distance. He seemed to hear the blast of trumpets, the rapt singing of the angels attending her, and he was completely lost in his vision when he was suddenly roused by his father's entrance. He looked strangely untidy and wretched, his little boy thought. Bobby was peculiarly susceptible to outside appearances. His father was dressed in his ordinary tweed suit, but his eyes were haggard, his hair rough, his white collar crumpled, and his face heated and tear-stained.
He came in impulsively and threw himself on his knees by his child's bed.
'Oh, Bobby, little chap, she has gone, she has left me, and I've promised to meet her again! We must help each other. May God Himself teach me, for I'm not fit to teach you. I don't know how I shall get through life without her. I always felt that since her accident she has been too good to live. She never made one murmur.'