Phebe's answer was to strain the little form passionately to her breast.
"Come, come," said Nanna, more firmly, "let me take her."
"To wake her?" asked Phebe, looking at her with wild eyes.
"Yes, there's a dear. You will be quite worn out."
"She will never wake again," wailed Phebe, and then tears came to her relief, tears which in the first moments of her agony seemed to be freezing her life's blood.
"Phebe! Phebe! Why did you not tell me before? Did you know that she was gone when I spoke to you before?"
"Yes, but I could not let you have her, and I cannot let you have her now." She rose to go upstairs, still carrying the little cold form.
"But I must have her, Phebe, dear," said Nanna, planting herself firmly in Phebe's way.
"Surely, you will not take her from me yet! I cannot, oh, I cannot part with her. It is so hard! Oh, so hard!"
"It is hard just now, darling, I know. Sit down again, and let us look at the sweet little face." Phebe did so. "And won't you really let me have her at all?" Nanna continued; "surely, you will!" and Phebe, pressing a passionate kiss on the cold brow, yielded, knowing that never again in this life would she hold that little form in her arms. Was it any wonder she was loth to part with it, when, however much her arms might ache for it in the future, she could never again press it to her heart!