"Mother."
Bella smiled, and patted one little hand with the other, and a sweet loving expression came into her eyes as the last words of the letter was read to her, and she said: "Darling mamma. I love her. I want to go to Heaven with her."
The dear little child had been told that there would be no pain or crying in Heaven, and so she knew it must be a very happy place.
When her papa came home, Bella ran up to him with her letter, exclaiming: "Oh papa, see! see the letter mamma writed to me!"
"Is it possible! Why, what a big woman you are getting to be!" and he took her upon his knee, and read the letter—out loud of course, for Bella could have heard it fifty times with delight.
"Ah! that is a beautiful letter," said her papa; "you must answer it, you know."
"Oh yes, papa; and I want to, 'ight away now."
"Oh! do you? Well, here is a sheet of paper, and pen and ink. Put out your tongue; dear me, how long it is! it looks in very good talking order. Now you talk, and I'll write, and see if we won't have a letter, for which mamma will give two cents, and all her old shoes, to the postman. Come! you must begin first."
Then Bella put her little curly head one side, and stared up at a corner of the ceiling. She was thinking, you see. Presently she put her finger in her mouth, as if to pull the words out—then she looked at her father. Her father smiled, which made her take her finger out of her mouth, and shut her eyes—for she felt funny—and a little bashful. You see this was a very grave business—writing a letter that her mamma would have to pay two cents for—very serious business indeed.
All at once her eyes rested on her dolly, fast asleep in her pretty bed; and then the words came right out—"Oh, dear mamma! I love my little baby, and the heels, and the bedstead, and—and—oh, papa! I love mamma the mostest. I gave my baby a piece of apple pie for her dinner. It was made of paper, just for fun, you know; not really apple pie. She hates pepper, it makes her tongue bite—mine too. She wants you to come home s—o bad—the bedstead wants you to come home, and I want the postman to bring me a letter, and you too—and—and—I don't know any more this day."