"I only came to paint your picture, Sunnie, and now my work is done, and my friend in London is ill. You mustn't wish to keep me back. I wish sometimes that I could live here always, but you see, it isn't my home."
Sunnie lay back on her cushions, and regarded her with tearful eyes; then a glint of sunshine came like a rainbow across them.
"You must marry a prince and drive to Scotland in a big coach, like they used to do long ago. And your prince must come and live close here, and you must come and see me in the twilight, when the fire is blazing and Cousin Leslie is playing the piano. I shall always be here, you know; I shall never move away until—I go to heaven."
"Oh! Sunnie," said Jean, kneeling by the child's couch, and taking her little hands in her own, "how I wish I felt as sure of heaven as you do!"
Sunnie looked perplexed.
Jean went on in a little burst of confidence—
"You are all so good here, and I feel so wicked! Will you ask God in your prayers, darling, to teach me what He has taught you?"
"Has God taught me anything?" questioned Sunnie, wonderingly. "I think Cousin Leslie teaches me most. If you would only stay, he could teach you too."
"I wish I could stay."
Jean's tone was almost passionate.